Archive of Our Own

Warmth and a murmur of voices fall out onto the street as Louis slides into the pub. He shakes his hair out and the immediate pull of Nick’s presence eases him after his long day at the office. He’d stayed at the marketing firm later than normal the past couple days to get an actual entire weekend free. He’d managed and it had taken its toll, but it was worth it. Louis plans on eating, drinking, and being merry tonight and doing nothing but cuddle his dogs and his Nick until Sunday evening.

He spots Nick at the bar, his elegant hands waving wildly as he speaks with one of the bar’s owners, Niall. Tucking his gloves into his coat pocket, he sneaks behind Nick, winking at Niall to keep quiet.

“Starting without me?”

Nick flails in his seat, spinning to meet Louis’ eyes.

“Loubert!” Nick grasps Louis’ scruffy cheeks, squishing them together dramatically before planting a sloppy hello kiss on his mouth. “Nailfile here was just saving me from your abandonment.”

 “Aband- you literally texted me,” he glances at the opened text on his phone, “36 minutes ago saying you’d just arrived.”

“HOURS, Louis. I’ve been so alone.” His eyes are shiny and happy and Louis’ chest throbs.

“You’re right, darling, I’m sorry,” he slips his arm around Nick’s waist, his tone a combination of dramatic and condescending. “I’ll never finish another work day again. We can both quit our jobs and live in Niall and Zayn’s spare room.”

Nick throws his arm over Louis’ shoulder and bellows his agreement while Niall splutters. Zayn, Niall’s co-owner and mate, yells an “Absolutely not!” from his spot behind the other end of the bar.

As Nick blathers on about turning their potential new home into a Tomlinson/Grimshaw sex dungeon, Louis rubs at the V marking on the skin of Nick’s arm that’s draped over him, feeling the phantom press of his own V etched into his ankle.

When Louis got his mark 8 months before, it’d been a relief he’d never felt before. He’d been 24 years old and terrified it’d never show up. Even his 17 year old sister had hers. The sharp sting on his ankle had frozen him on a hot June afternoon in Manchester, leading to a very stressful 7-hour search of someone with a V until he and Eleanor had stumbled into the same pub they’re sat in now, defeated. They’d found nothing and no one. As relieved as Louis was to finally have it, it was overshadowed by panic and anxiety; he’d heard endless horror stories of people getting their marks, but not meeting their mate for months on end.

He was nearly in tears, exhausted from the fruitless day when El had suddenly perked up and scrambled away from their table. She’d grabbed a tall man with large hair from the bar and tossed him into the seat of front of Louis. She beamed at them, walked back towards the group she’d pulled the man from, and… that was that.

Nick pushes his face into Louis’ neck and huffs a laugh, his lips moving against his coat collar.

“Alrighty then, Niall, load me up. I’ve some catching up to do,” Louis says. Niall, already prepared, slides him a pint of his regular and a whiskey sour. Taking the tumbler, Louis toasts the air and downs it.

The evening wears on and Louis is warm and comfortable, both from the drinks and being tucked into Nick’s side. Two of their friends, Aimee and Ian had joined them earlier, the former lighting their corner of the bar with her pink hair, terrifyingly long orange nails, and woes of being an assistant at a high-end photography studio. She’s regaling with a story about a smarmy photographer who’d been ‘accidentally’ punched in the face by the nearly underage model when a squawking laugh echoes over the sounds of the bar, causing Nick and Louis to jolt apart.

No one else seems disrupted by the noise, the other couple still immersed in her story, but Louis feels suddenly sober. Nick’s eyes are clearer than they were 30 seconds before.

A sharp stinging Louis recognizes suddenly burns on his upper thigh. He presses his hand into it just as Nick’s hand flies to the black of his neck. The pair stares at each other. Then, scrambling out of their seats, Nick and Louis tumble towards the bathroom together, ignoring the calls of their friends and locking themselves into a too-small stall.

It’s not unheard of to have two soulmate markings, but it is rare.

“Let me see!” Louis clamors onto Nick’s back to get a look. Squinting a little in the darkness, it seems to be… “A poorly drawn anchor.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, Nicholas, I swear. It’s like an anchor a 2 year old tried to draw,” Louis says, snapping a picture with his phone and showing it to Nick.

“Huh…” Nick’s breathing is heavy. “Well, what about yours then?”

Louis unbuttons his trousers and shimmies them down his hips. A small bird sits on his inner right thigh.

“Oh.”

Nick reaches out to brush his fingers against it, but snaps back when Louis gasps.

“Your V…” Louis’ voice shakes when he says it, his fingers mimicking it when it touches the now small Triangle.

Nick collapses onto the toilet seat while Louis struggles to get his pants back up and present his ankle. Pant hems already rolled, a triangle matching Nick’s stares back at them.

“So, we’ve got another soulmate.” It’s not a question. Nick curls his hand on Louis’ hip and presses his face into his stomach.

Louis looks down at the top of Nick’s head with wide eyes. This is not something he was prepared for.

“What does this mean?” Louis asks. His fingers tightly clench in Nick’s quiff.

“I think it means we need to find him before he gets away.” Nick pulls away from Louis, looking at him with a slight grin. “I mean, we spent a whole day just barely missing each other. Maybe with the two of us, it’ll be easier.”

Louis snorts and yanks on the hair his fingers are still twisted in. Sitting in front of Louis that first night, Nick had told him that he too had run himself ragged looking for Louis before he and Aimee had given up. Nick had planted himself at the first bar they’d found and planned to drink away the night. He’d been moaning about the Fates’ unkind toying with him before Eleanor had spotted him, pointing at his V before snatching him from the bar.

Louis still agrees that the Fates could’ve been a little less cruel. The small mark appears on your skin the moment you’re within access of your soulmate, but beyond that and a basic gut instinct at first sight, that’s all you have to go on.

The pair leaves the stall, giggling at the scandalized glare from the older gentleman at the sink. When they step out on floor, their hands are clasped between them. Nick’s are clammy and Louis would poke fun at him any other time, but he knows his are the same. Louis feels the eyes of Aimee and Ian on them, probably wondering if they just finished a quickie in the toilet. He flashes a smile, but continues to look beyond them. His gaze skitters to a stop when he meets another pair of eyes. He can’t tell their color from the distance, but they’re strong and deep and bore into his, a small crinkle folded in between the person’s brows. Louis’ thigh burns.

“Nick,” he whispers.

Somehow, Nick seems to hear him over the noise. He feels Nick looking at him, but he’s still staring at the stranger, whose eyes are now bouncing between him and Nick. The crinkle has grown deeper. He hears Nick breathe out an “Oh,” but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Louis almost doesn’t notice Nick tugging him in the other man’s direction, but when he does, the excitement of a new marking is gone, replaced with a panic filling his chest at what’s happening. This can’t be right, this has to be a mistake, there’s no way this person is supposed to be there with them.

It’s Nick and Louis—it’s been Nick and Louis for nearly a year now, and they don’t need anything else.

Conversation at the crowded high table the man is sat at trails off when Louis and Nick stop in front of it. Up close, Louis can see the man’s eyes are a pale green and they’re still staring at him, before doing the same to Nick. His hair is a deep brown and curly, half of it pulled into a knot at the crown of his head. His nose and his mouth are wide, sitting on a strong chin and jawline.

Louis’d be a fool if he couldn’t see how beautiful he was.

The man’s hand, resting on the table, stretches out of a fist and Louis’ eyes zero in on the triangle in the webbing between his thumb and index finger.

“Hi,” the voice that comes out of the grinning mouth is deep and drags out the iii. Louis’ is not endeared. “‘m Harry.”

“‘Lo, Harry. I’m Nick. Or Grimmy. Either or. Grimshaw is okay, too. It depends on what you’re comfortable with. I prefer the first two, though, but like I said it’s –”

Louis kicks his ankle and says,“Stop rambling.” Harry snickers.

“Right, erm,” Nick’s cheeks are pink, “I suppose you know why we’re here?”

Harry smiles and wiggles his fingers at them, “Indeed!” He doesn’t say anything after that, just keeps looking at them. His apparent crowd of friends is still silent.

“Do you want come with us somewhere?” It takes Louis a moment to realize he was the one who asked.

Harry’s grin stretches wider, “I don’t make a habit of leaving with strange men who haven’t even told me their name.”

His eyes are literally sparkling and Louis flushes, getting even redder when the lavender-haired woman beside Harry giggles. “Sorry. My name’s Louis.”

“Well, Louis, Nick, let’s be off,” Harry pushes himself off of the stool and wraps a massive woven scarf around his neck before turning and dropping a kiss on the cheek of the woman beside him. The full table is still mostly silent, just a few of them whispering to others behind their hands. Harry turns back to the couple and looks at them expectantly. Nick and Louis just stand there and stare at him. There’s a piece of hair that’s come out of Harry’s bun and Louis wants to touch it. “Well,” he says, “lead the way.”

Louis jolts himself out of staring at that curl and begins pulling Nick to the door, glancing behind him to see Harry wave back at his table before turning back and catching Louis’ eye. He winks and Louis trips over his feet. They make a quick pit stop where Aimee, Ian, and Niall are still at the bar, having blatantly watched the entire exchange. They give a quick recap, introducing Harry and saying that more details will come after they’ve spoken for longer than five minutes. Aimee squeals and hugs all three of them before shoving them towards the door, telling them to ‘do it quickly’ because she’s horribly impatient. At the coat rack, Louis and Nick pull on their gloves and coats in a rhythm they’ve developed over time, Harry watching on curiously.

The cold air feels good on Louis’ skin, which has felt exceptionally warm from the moment he made eye contact with Harry. The trio huddles together under a streetlamp, the steam of their breath surrounding them. It’s not late by any means, not even 11pm. The streets of the Northern Quarter are still filled with sounds, people just starting off their weekends.

Being out of the dimness of the bar allows Louis to get better look at the man who’s fated for them. His feet are clad in pointed leather boots with black jeans painted onto his legs, riding low on his narrow hips. There’s a gaping hole in one knee and Louis has to force himself to overlook the obvious bulge at the zipper. His overcoat is long and dark and would look regal if it wasn’t for the obvious wear and tear on the forest green fabric. He looks effortlessly cool, similar to how Nick is: something Louis’ never been able to accomplish.

When his wandering gaze reaches his face, Harry’s staring back at him.

“Like what you see?” His tone isn’t embarrassed at all.

“Not really,” Louis sniffs. He mentally fist pumps at finally getting over his initial bashfulness.

Harry barks out a laugh so loud that he startles a group of uni students walking past. His big hand, littered in rings, covers his mouth as he cackles. It was the same laugh that made the couple realize Harry was there.

Nick presses his mouth against the top of Louis’ head in a fond gesture, his warm breath saturating through Louis’ hair. He quickly straightens though and clears his throat. “So where are we headed to get to know our young Harold here?”

Harry just shrugs his shoulders and says, “Wherever you want.”

“How about Dean’s?” Louis suggests. “It’s just a couple blocks from here.”

“Deano’s, it is!” Nick exclaims, throwing his arms around the two shorter boys, leading them in the direction of the old diner. Nick tends to over exaggerate his casualness when he’s stressed and Louis can’t help but laugh at it now, with Harry’s wide-eyed face all but pressed into Nick’s armpit.

The ten minute walk is mostly silent, just minimal comments made until the glaring red of the ‘Dean’s Diner’ sign is illuminated before them. An old school American diner, Louis had been coming here for years before he met Nick and it is still one of his favorite places. Cheap food, cheap tea and coffee, and open 24 hours, it is a staple in the life of any uni student living in Manchester. Because it’s not even midnight yet, they’ve beaten the big crowd and lead themselves to a booth in the back, blinking away the sudden harshness of the indoor yellow lighting.

Most of the servers recognize the couple, calling out greetings to them and eyeing the stranger who’s joined them. Once their server, a woman in her late 60's with bright green hair, fusses over them and puts in their orders, the air around them settles a bit.

Harry, sitting across from Nick and Louis, begins the conversation.

“So,” he says, linking his hands on the table in front of him, “the three of us are soulmates. I’m guessing this is something you two were completely prepared for?” His amused sarcasm is obvious.

Louis snorts and Nick flicks his arm before replying to Harry, “Oh, yeah, completely, not blind-sided at all.” He laughs a bit before sighing. “Like, we know it happens, but we didn’t really expect it to happen to us.”

Harry nods at the comment but doesn’t say anything else. The silence isn’t awkward, but it isn’t comfortable. Louis wants to break it.

“Alright then, Harold, I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely desperate to see your marks. Ours is lovely, I think. What about yours and Nicholas’ here?” The latter steps on Louis’ foot under the table at that last comment, but Louis’ face reveals nothing but a smile as Harry laughs at him.

“Well, first I think I should say that my name’s not Harold. It’s just Harry.” He gives them both a pointed look and they nod, but Louis knows neither of them have the intention of stopping. The growing smirk on Harry’s face says that he knows the same.

“Anyway, you’ve seen this one, I’m sure,” Harry presents his left hand to the couple, where the triangle sits. “We all have this?”

“Yep,” Nick says, rolling the sleeve of his jumper up and showing it to Harry, “Louis’ is on his ankle.”

Harry looks down at the booth beside him where Louis’ propped his foot, allowing the triangle to be seen. Even though his face is tilted down, Louis can see Harry smile at it.

“It was a V, though,” Nick tells him, “up until a few hours ago. It connected after you got into the bar. We had thought we just had two markings each.” Harry quirks his brow in question. “Show him the other one, Louis.”

Awkwardly twisting his body in the booth, Louis pulls up the right side of his shirt, revealing a pair of falling leaves a few inches underneath the tuft of hair in his armpit. “Nick’s is on his thigh.”

“We’d thought we just had two, but now… I don’t know, I guess we’ve got some for each of us? Like, we’ve got ours, the triangle, then some for each other? Like me and Nick have our leaves, we,” he gestures to Harry, “have the birds, and you guys have the anchor.”

“Bit of something to represent each part of us, yeah?” Nick states.

“Yeah… I didn’t even realize what the others were,” Harry tells them, his voice a bit regretful. He brings his hand up and squeezes his right bicep where Louis assumes one of them must rest. He’s proven correct when Harry tells them so and that the other is on his lower hip. Despite not knowing what they look like, Harry doesn’t move to see them.

“So, you felt it happen?” Louis asks.

Harry nods his head and chuckles, “Bit hard to ignore that.”

In confusion, Louis’ face scrunches up, “And you didn’t look? How did you manage to ignore them? We were nearly hysterical, locked ourselves in the toilet stall to see them.” He pinches Nick’s cheek. “Nicholas here was in a tizzy.”

“Please,” Nick replies, exasperated. He slaps Louis’ hand away and retaliates. “This one couldn’t even wait till the door was locked to drop trou to look at one.”

Louis gasps, feigning offense. He opens his mouth to reply but is cut off by Nick curling his arm around his neck and covering his mouth with his giant spider hand. Louis struggles to get out while Nick beams and Harry giggles at them. Once free, Louis glares at Nick and pinches his thigh, feeling all kinds of smug when he yelps. Shaking his head, Louis looks back at Harry, whose entire face is stretched into a large smile from watching the pair across from him.

“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Louis throws another grumpy look at Nick, “if you felt them come in, even if you didn’t look at them, why didn’t you start seeking us out? Bit lazy don’t you think, expecting us to do all the work.”

The grin on Harry’s face dims at Louis’ teasing. Something uncomfortable plants itself on Louis’ chest.

“Um, yeah. I feel like I should tell you this now, before anything else. I probably should’ve said something an hour ago but…” Nick and Louis share a look at the change in Harry’s tone. “I was actually planning to skip out before you found me.”

Louis sits back like he’s been hit.

“I don’t really buy into the whole soulmates thing.”

That admittance brings a heavy silence to the table.

He scratches his head, a few more strands of hair springing out of his bun, and begins to ramble, “I’ve just, never wanted a marking, like I always hoped I just wouldn’t get one. I’ve never— it’s not something that makes sense to me. Like, there are so many great people out there and there’s only one who’s supposed to be meant for me? Or two, I suppose. And even then it’s like, I don’t even get to pick them, some ‘otherly being’ does and it just feels like it takes away a part of me, of my choice, you know? I know it’s something that’s obviously important to you guys but –”

Nick holds his hand up, silencing Harry’s word vomit. On the surface, he looks very cool and calculated, but the squeezing grip of his other hand on Louis’ thigh, just out of sight under the table, relays the opposite. Louis can’t bring himself to move, he’s just staring at Harry.

“Okay,” Nick clears his throat and licks his lips and doesn’t look like he knows what to say. A rare occurrence is Louis’ initial thought, but right now, he doesn’t feel like making a joke.

Harry looks horribly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat but trying to hide it, twisting his hands and his mouth.

“Okay,” Nick says again, his fingers loosening on Louis’ leg, “okay, so you don’t like the soulmate thing. That’s… okay.”

Louis still doesn’t say a word. He feels off, itchy under his skin. He thinks he should feel relief, was worried from the moment it happened that a third person wouldn’t work with them. And if he actually doesn’t want this, it’s his out, his way to be the only one to have his Nick. Instead, he feels awful, nauseated and gross, like he’s drank a bad batch of tea.

“I really am sorry,” Harry tells them and his face shows genuine remorse. “But I don’t want to lie to you about this, about something that obviously means a lot to you. It wouldn’t fair. Or kind.”

“Well, it’s very much appreciated,” Nick replies, now more in control of his voice.

Harry bites his lip and slowly slides towards the edge of the booth, “I can– I’m gonna go now… I don’t want to… yeah.” One of his long legs pokes out from under the table and he begins to stand.

“No. Stay.”

Harry and Nick both snap their heads to look at Louis when they hear his voice, the first time he’s spoken since the conversation began. Their expressions relay surprise and Louis feels the way they look.

Nick nods his head, “Yes, please. That might not be something you’re interested in but I think we could still have a good time together, yeah? Just being guys? Guys being dudes? Lads, lads, lads!”

A smile starts small on Harry’s face before stretching into a large, beaming one and he snorts. His face is so squishy, like he was made out of Play-Doh; Louis wants to poke his dimple. Harry slowly shifts himself until he’s directly back in front of Nick and Louis. He’s still smiling, but his eyes reveal his apprehension.

“Well. Now that that’s out of the way, tell us more about yourself, Harold?” Louis reaches around and puts his arm on the booth behind Nick. He goes for an unaffected casual and he thinks he pulls it off decently, the smile staying on Harry’s face. He ignores the small look Nick gives him.

“Uhmmm, well, I’m 23, grew up in Cheshire, in a small village there.”

“Sounds right posh,” Louis tells him and the snip in his tone is only a bit apparent.

“Was a bit, I guess,” Harry shrugs, unbothered by the tone, if he’d even noticed it. “My mum, dad, and stepdad all come from some wealthy lines and have decent careers; my sister and I were well taken care of.”

“Did you go to school?” Nick asks him, leaning forward in his seat.

Harry nods rapidly and his tiny bun bounces, “Yeah, got a uni degree in music a couple years back in London. Haven’t really used it beyond busking. Right after I finished, I started traveling. Met some people in the city who were leaving, told my mum I was joining them, and just went on. And I haven’t really stopped since.”

“So you don’t even live here in Manchester?” Louis asks. Why does everything keep getting worse?

“Nope,” Harry pops his P loudly, “made a stop here a few days ago to meet a friend’s daughter. The woman I was next to, with the purple hair? Her name’s Lou and she’d traveled with me and another guy for a while before she got pregnant. Decided to move back near her parents to help raise Lux.” He pulls out his phone and fiddles with it before flipping it back around, showing the couple a picture of a beaming Harry with an adorable little girl, wearing a three-toothed grin and a tiny blonde ponytail poking out of the top of her head. Louis can’t help the smile that pulls at his face.

Sighing, Harry puts his phone away, a sad look on his face, “I hate that I won’t get to see her that often.”

The implication he’s making is clear.

Nick barrels over the coming awkwardness, asking,“Where are you planning on heading next?”

Harry’s face lights up at the question. He tells them how much he’s enjoyed going through Europe and bits of Asia over the past few years, but he can’t wait to go farther—Asia, America, even hopefully down to Africa. Harry speaks very slowly; he’s a bit ramble-y, but it’s not dull and it doesn’t drag on, it’s just a slow drawl. It kind of makes Louis feel warm and want to sleep. He forces himself to feel annoyed by it.

Harry tells them about his sister and that the worst part of traveling so much is how much he misses her and Gertrude, the grumpy old Persian cat he’d had in uni but gave to Gemma when he left.

“The place I grew up was just… stifling. There was nothing to do and I always knew there was so much more to see. London was great when I first got there, but it turned into the same thing Holmes Chapel was,” Harry tells them. “It wasn’t enough and I needed to get out.”

Louis has known that feeling, as well. He’d spent his entire teenage years dicking around, bored of the uneventful life he’d been given, before realizing he could do something to change it.

But running all over the world was something he would never consider.

Their food had arrived while Harry had been talking and they’d been heartily digging in while listening to the boy speak. Throughout, Nick and Louis also share bits of themselves with Harry, about their families and their dogs, Bruce and Pig, their lives together. Nick and Harry get on like a house fire, sharing a love of old books, bands Louis has barely heard of, and shops that smell like moth balls.

When Harry mentions following the Premier League no matter where he is, Louis finds his own common ground, explaining with a wince that while he loved his job as an account manager, it only came about after his dream of playing football professionally ended with a terrible knee injury in uni. Nick speaks briefly about being a prominent young architect, but mostly boasts about having over 50k Instagram followers despite doing nothing of actual relevancy.

“My proudest achievement to date,” he tells Harry, his chest puffed out.

“Oh my god, Nicholas, honestly,” Louis rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out of his head.

Nick leans forward and stage whispers across the table, “He’s just jealous because he only has two thousand.”

Fast as lightening, Louis pinches Nick’s nipples between his fingers and twists.

Nick howls but manages to grab Louis’ wrists, telling Harry loudly, “And!! They’re all only there because I tag him in so many things.”

Louis yells and breaks free, before he punches Nick in the arm and crosses his own, pouting, “I’m breaking up with you. I hate you.”

“Nooooo, what will I ever do?” Nick closes his eyes and sweeps his hand over his forehead, like an overdramatic heroine in an antebellum novel. “Let me join you, Harold, on your next excursion? We can run off and sleep in tube stations and I’ll drink away my woes.”

Louis knows Nick was joking, he knows, but Nick so easily brushing off their break up to run off with Harry and then hearing the two of them laugh about it makes something ugly twist inside him. He forces out a laugh when he see Harry looking at him.

“I’ve got to be honest,” Harry tells them, “I can’t see that happening with you two. You’re good together.”

“Yeahhh,” Nick replies, “he’s a little shit but… I like him. He’s a good egg.” Even though he’s speaking to Harry, his eyes don’t leave Louis’ face.

Louis can’t help but blush a bit.

Harry smiles into his milkshake, his eyes shining. “Awww. You guys are adorable.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harold,” Nick replies, stretching his legs and propping them up next to Harry on the booth, his cheeks dusted with a bit of pink at the compliment. Harry flicks the toe of Nick’s boot then tosses a wink Louis’ way. Louis smiles a bit, but his stomach churns.

Nick’s going to get too attached.

Louis decides right then he doesn’t like him.

-

“I don’t like him,” Louis announces the moment their flat door is shut. He tosses his jacket into Nick’s face.

Nick gives him a flat look as he hangs up their coats, maneuvering around the barking dogs at his feet. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe him. “Because you’re always such a treasure.”

“I am, thank you, dear,” Louis replies, snootily, “Unlike you–you’re the twattiest twat I know.” He kicks his shoes at the wall and flops face down on their couch. He sighs dramatically. Bruce licks at his hand.

“You really are so delightfully charming, love,” Nick coos at him, walking to the couch and rearranging Louis’ body until he’s sitting on Nick’s lap. “C’mon, tell daddy Nick what’s got your knickers in a knot.”

Louis crinkles his nose and shoves him. “That’s so creepy; I’m never having sex with you again. Don’t touch me.”

Nick laughs at him, “Okay, okay! Seriously, though. What’s the problem? He was funny and hot and said we made a cute couple. I know that puffs your ego. You seemed to like him. I did.”

“Well, of course, you do.”

“What does that mean?” Nick screeches, his voice going up nearly an octave.

“You know! You two with all your,” he flaps his hand in vague gesture, “twatty shirts and hair and books.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me a twat in five minutes, babe. That’s a new record even for you.” Nick traces figure eights on Louis’ thigh and he squirms.

Louis’ expression turns dirty. “Can I fuck you as my award?”

Nick shoves his hand over his face and cackles, “No! Stop trying to change the subject! Honestly, you liked him the whole time we were with him. And don’t say you didn’t,” he cuts Louis off just as he opens his mouth, “because I know you. So, although I don’t believe you, please explain to me this sudden change of heart?”

Louis sighs as Nick’s hand runs down his back. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re right; he’s hot and funny, we got on well, he was great. He just…” Louis fiddles with Nick’s earlobe as he talks. “He’s so different than us, you know? He doesn’t trust the marks, doesn’t actually live here, he travels a lot. It worries me. I just don’t want either of us to get attached and have him bail on us. I don’t want us to get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt. Doesn’t that scare you?”

And he’s not lying. As wary as he is about his own feelings, Nick’s are more important. Nick has an endless supply of friends, but only a select few whom he shares everything. And with the marking, he’s sure Harry would become one of those people. If Harry didn’t invest as much as Nick… Louis would murder him.

“Louis,” Nick starts, but Louis talks over him.

“We don’t need him, do we?” Nick quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m completely content with just you. I’ve never felt any lack of anything with just us, yeah?”

“Of course not,” Nick says, quickly. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I haven’t been one hundred percent happy with you?” His voice is incredulous and Louis says nothing, but his shoulders curve in slightly. Nick drops his head back onto the couch and groans. Sitting back up, he grabs Louis’ chin, forcing him to look into Nick’s eyes. “I love you,” he says. “I love you so much. Never, ever doubt that. I could spend the rest of my life in a hole in some dirt with you and I’d be perfectly happy.”

Louis’ whole face crinkles happily at Nick’s words, just like it does every time Nick tells him he loves him. They don’t say the words often and he still gets warm down to his toes whenever he hears them.

“But we’ve always said the marks were important to us, how they got us here. They’re there for a reason and he’s got all of them, the triangle, the bird, the anchor…thing.” Louis snorts. “Shut up. Let’s just…see where it goes. Everything you’ve said is completely valid and it does scare me. But you’ve got me no matter what, yeah? And I’ve got you.” He pushes his lips against Louis’, moving them together softly until Louis’ body relaxes. He drops his lips to where Louis’ collarbone is peeking through the neck of his shirt and just rests them there for a moment.

“We’ve got his number,” Nick says into Louis’ skin, “and he’s got ours. We can at least become his friend, yeah? Platonic soulmates.” Nick looks up and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Well,” Louis says faux pensively, “at least my marking with Harry doesn’t look like a squashed worm, so I win there.”

Nick stands suddenly and flings Louis over his shoulder, slapping his ass when Louis howls.

“C’mon, bird boy,” Nick laughs, “let’s go to the nest and I can blow you.”

-

Louis wakes before Nick the next morning,his nearly naked body smothered by his ginormous boyfriend’s stupid octopus limbs. He huffs and struggles, but finally removes himself from the bed. Nick just chokes on a snore and rolls over. He is so gross, Louis thinks, but the smile he feels on his face tells a different story.

He goes through his basic morning routine: showering, brushing his teeth, and letting the dogs out for their business, then back in again. It’s still early, so he leaves Nick to continue to crank chainsaws in bed for a while longer. Usually Louis sleeps as late as he can after drinking, but there’s too much going on in his head so he’s jumpy. He fiddles around the house, even though there’s nothing to do; their coats and shoes are straight in the entryway, the sink and dishwasher are empty after them being out all night, Nick had watered the plants yesterday. He contemplates actually rearranging under the sink before mentally slapping himself. He straightens and makes himself another cup of tea before falling onto the sofa, Bruce and Pig at his feet, staring up at him forlornly from the floor.

“Fine, come on up then,” Louis laughs, patting the spots beside him. They both bark and scramble, Bruce finally landing belly up on Louis’ right, Pig’s head resting on Louis left thigh. Nick doesn’t usually allow them on the furniture, complains about his ‘allergies’ (Louis mentally rolls his eyes every time), but what Nick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Hoping to distract his brain, he flips channels and slurps his tea, but after half an hour and completely missing what had happened on… whatever show he’d stopped on, he sighs and clicks the television off. The sudden silence is loud.

Louis had genuinely enjoyed the night before, despite his initial hesitance and later comments to Nick. Harry had been wonderful. He was funny and charming and incredibly witty and was someone Louis could absolutely see himself being friends with. Looking beyond that is a lot scarier.

Louis is one of the most possessive people in England, probably. Nick is his and from the moment they met, it’s been that way. Louis doesn’t know how to remove himself from that. Something rumbles up in his stomach at the thought of Nick and Harry together and he can’t even imagine Harry and himself. His dick perks up a bit at the images of all three of them in bed together, but he tries to ignore that.

God, he shouldn’t be worrying about that at all, as Harry’s opinion on markings is clear.

Still, it isn’t making anything easier. Louis thinks he should feel relief at knowing that Harry isn’t interested in any type of romantic relationship with them. And he does— a bit. But then bitterness envelops him, judging and wondering what’s wrong with them that didn’t make Harry immediately change his view. It’s an irrational mentality, but he doesn’t care.

He purposefully pretends like the lingering sadness isn’t there.

Everything about this is giving him a migraine.

He slides himself a bit down on the sofa, scratching both dogs absentmindedly. Just as he’s about to abandon them and climb back into bed and bother Nick, his phone vibrates under Bruce. He wiggles his hand underneath the sleeping dog and when he pulls the phone out, he shouldn’t feel as surprised as he is to see who it’s from.

Where do u live? -H

“Wow, creep,” Louis says to himself before replying.

Are you going to murder us if I tell you? –L

:) –H

What an ass. Rolling his eyes, Louis sends their address before stretching and going into the kitchen to turn the coffee pot on for Nick before heading back to their room. Nick is sprawled out on his back, mouth wide open, a bit of drool clinging to his lip. Louis is so fond, it hurts.

He gives himself a running start and jumps on Nick, who jolts awake so hard that he hits himself in the eye. Louis laughs right in his face while Nick curses.

He’s straddling Nick, still smiling down on him when he tells him, “Harry’s coming over.”

Nick jolts again, “Now?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, texted me about ten minutes ago. Should be here soon.”

Nick bucks his hips, forcing Louis to fall onto his side of the bed. He scrambles up, standing stark naked by the bed, eyes wide and hair standing up at all ends.

“Why are you never this excited when I come home?” Louis whines. He’s mostly joking.

Nick ignores him in favor of pulling on a pair of trackies and a t-shirt. “Have you let the dogs out? Did you turn the coffee on? Does Harry like coffee? Should we make him breakfast?” Nick begins throwing their (Louis’) dirty laundry from the floor into the nearby hamper. He disappears into bathroom for a bit, the running water and banging of the cabinet heard alongside Nick’s muttering.

When he comes back out, his hair is now flat and soft and his face is noticeably brighter, eyes less sleepy than when he entered. He grabs Louis’ ankle and tugs a bit, “C’mon, love.” He grins at him.

Louis squints up, eyeing him suspiciously. Being this bouncy and awake at 9am on his day off isn’t normal; Louis doesn’t trust it. Nick sighs before bending over and kissing him straight on the mouth.

“Love you,” Louis tells him when he sits back. Nick’s lips turn up softly at the corners and he runs his fingers across Louis’ cheekbone.

A pair of barks echoes throughout the house, pulling Nick out of the room with a wink. Louis remains on the bed, taking a moment to himself. Falling back onto the pillows, he drags a hand down his face until his skin is stretched out into something ridiculous.

But a calm sense of comfort envelops him as he listens to Nick’s puppy voice from the kitchen, the clanking of spoons and glassware echoing as he prepares his coffee and probably some sort of breakfast for the three of them. Louis has built such a beautiful life with Nick, one he couldn’t give up now. And he knows Nick feels the same way, he knows he does, but there’s still something prickly sitting beneath the surface.

The idea that Nick And Louis aren’t the endgame is terrifying.

Which is ridiculous because, even with Harry, they’d still be together but Louis can’t break the idea of anything besides the two of them. And now that they’ve met him, things between the couple are going to change. Louis would be an idiot to not know that. Even once they accept Harry leaving and moving away from them eventually, what if the two of them can never get back to this point they’re at now? How can two-thirds still equal a whole?

Louis is still flat on his back when a knock breaks the air.

Pig and Bruce go mad, their barks loud and sharp as their nails clack heavily against the hardwood floor, Nick yelling and probably awkwardly sticking his leg out to keep them back as he opens the door.

Louis rolls himself off the bed, unflattening the back of his hair before walking out into the main area of their home. Louis sees Harry debundling himself in the doorway, cheeks still pink from the winter cold, with Nick aggressively holding back the dogs who seem very excited to make a new friend. His hair is down this morning, long with the curls tickling his shoulders. He beams at Louis before dropping to his knees and spreading his arms towards the animals, an open invitation that breaks them free from Nick.

They collide into Harry, who easily falls back on his ass, laughing as the dogs lick at his face and sniff his neck.

“How are you, you okay?” Harry asks, his voice nothing but a giggle. Louis thinks he’s speaking to him and Nick at first, before noticing that Harry’s completely focused on the furballs in his lap. He glances at Nick, both of their grins from watching the scene growing when they make eye contact. Louis’ heart swoops.

“Alright, alright, you beasts; get off the man, yeah?” Nick manages to wrangle the dogs away long enough for Harry to stumble back to his feet, dimples popping as he wipes off his bum.

“Got some food in the kitchen,” Nick tells the pair, struggling to get the words out around the pants the dogs are drawing from him. “Just gonna get these two outta the way for a bit.” He pulls the dogs towards the enclosed patio, purposefully ignoring the knowing whines they let out.

Louis shakes his head and smiles at Harry, beckoning him to follow.

By food, it seems Nick means he’d pulled out all the elements of breakfast without actually doing any work. Louis stares hard at the completely clean frying pan, as if it’s personally offended him. The slab of uncooked bacon beside it is obviously mocking him.

“Well,” Louis tells Harry, turning around with a frown, “I don’t know what to tell you, Harold. I don’t know why we expected so much of him.” Louis shakes head and makes a face.

“I can cook, if you’d like?”

“Excuse me? You can cook?” The other man rubs at the back of his neck shyly and nods. “Well?”

Harry scrunches his face, “Yeah. Something my mum instilled in me when I was younger. Said it was a necessity.”

Louis hums, “Well, I’m not going to say no to that. Have at it.” He spreads his arms wide, presenting the kitchen like a game show prize.

As Harry starts digging around their cabinets, Louis plops himself at the island, crossing his legs beneath his body on the bar stool, happy to sit and share the gift of his company. The muscles in Harry’s back move beneath his t-shirt, his spine visible when he bends and reaches into the drawer beneath the oven. Louis is absolutely not mesmerized.

“Do you happen to have an apron?” Harry asks, turning around from the stove. Louis blinks.

“What?”

“An apron, do you have one?” He looks completely serious.

“I don’t believe so? Neither of us are big cooks so,” Louis lifts one shoulder, repentant as Harry frowns a bit.

Nick steps back into the kitchen at that moment, face still a bit red from putting the dogs away. His arm drapes across Louis’ shoulders, who sags into his side. “We don’t have an apron, do we, Nicholas? Our mums knew better than to waste money on that, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Nick agrees, “but we do have one. Remember, Aimee got it as a gag gift. The one with bikini girl on it?” He steps away and goes towards their cupboard, opening the door and pulling something off the hook on the inside. “Shows you how much Louis goes in here.”

Louis sticks his tongue out at him and vows to kick him in the shin when he least expects it.

Nick hands Harry the apron, whose face absolutely lights up seeing the design on it. He quickly throws it over his head, the cartoon breasts covered by the yellow polka dot bikini pushed out with pride when he fists his hands on his hips and puffs his chest.

Back at Louis’ side, Nick snorts at the sight while Louis rests his head on his hand, biting his lip to hide his smirk at the boy in front of him.

“Now,” Harry says with a spark in his eye, clapping his hands once and looking back at the smiling couple, “let’s do this.”

-

That evening, a bit after Harry had headed back to Lou’s, the couple curls up on the couch, Nick’s head resting on Louis’ lap, the latter boy munching on a small bowl of brownie chips. The lights are low in the flat, television nothing but a murmur of quiet voices. Louis can tell Nick is fading in and out of sleep, his breathing easy but his head jumping slightly every few minutes. His feet are resting on Bruce’s body lying on the floor beneath him, rubbing lightly through his fur.

Twisting Nick’s hair in his fingers, Louis quietly breaks the silence. “We gonna go to Harry’s little thing on Monday?”

Nick mumbles, rubbing his face on his makeshift pillow, “Yeah, think so. S’long as we’re both good at work.”

The trio was together the entire day doing nothing of consequence. Most of their time was spent in the kitchen, Harry showing off his baking skills, a preening peacock whenever Nick or Louis moaned over something they put in their mouth. Louis had forced them into joining him on the X-Box, Nick and Harry constantly whining over being completely terrible at it.

Their dogs loved Harry, as well, and vice versa. When he’d mentioned the night before how much he missed his cat, Nick told him about their ‘children’ and he’d sighed dreamily, obviously wistful over something he’d left behind in favor of wandering. After the dogs’ initial tackling, Harry’d rolled all over the floor with them, pushing the coffee table out of the center in order to do so, making all kinds of happy noises while Nick and Louis had watched on.

While eating an ordered-in dinner (Harry had offered to cook again, but the other two had all but shoved him out of the kitchen after hour six), Harry’d mentioned that he was guest performing with a friend on Monday night. They’d sang a few times together during uni and kept in touch since going their separate ways.

“It’ll be fun,” Louis says. “Meet more of his people, we can invite along Ian and Aimee? Or Eleanor and Sophia?”

Nick grumbles his agreement into Louis’ thigh, unperturbed at what Louis thought was a frightening idea. Even after spending hours with him, they still don’t really know Harry. He was pretty up front with his agenda, but Louis is still wary. Meeting each other’s close friends in a planned event seems like a big step, one Louis doesn’t know if he’s ready to make. Nick’s affinity at befriending any and every one he meets makes it so much easier for him to step into these situations, but Louis’ always been more careful, worried that it will bite him in ass at some point.

He really doesn’t want this time to be one of them.

-

“Loueehhhh, I’m home!” Nick’s exaggerated Ricky Ricardo accent calls into the house Monday evening, slamming the door behind him. Pig descends upon him, jumping off the couch beside Louis and tearing into the hall to meet him. Louis hears him greet her happily, smiling slightly as he rubs Bruce’s head, still lazily lying beside him.

Louis’d had a horrible day.

He’d nearly slept through his alarm, Pig had pissed on the floor while he’d been shoving soggy cereal into his mouth, and he’d missed his train, causing him to be 20 minutes late. At work, one of his accounts fell through, he’d botched up a meeting with his boss’ boss, and had filed another entire team report wrong.

Despite being late, his boss had sent him home an hour early after finding him sitting on the floor in the break room in a ball. She said it was because the wear on him was visible, but Louis thinks it was because he’d wreaked enough havoc for the day and she was tired of it.

Nick pokes his head into the living room, his tall hair slightly wilted from the day, and beams at Louis before blowing him a kiss.

When he comes back from putting away his things in the den, he drops heavily next to Louis, pulling the smaller boy to his chest and pressing their mouths together.

“Feeling better now?” he murmurs into Louis’ mouth.

Louis shakes his head and sighs, pulling back and frowning. He had been texting Nick about all of his mishaps throughout the day, looking for some much-needed sympathy.

Nick smiles at him, a bit sad but still warm, “Sorry your day was bad, duck. Tonight will be good, though. Cheer you right up.”

Louis hums, cuddling closer under Nick’s arm. He closes his eyes and breathes in Nick’s smell, a bit stale from the day, but unmistakably him. Louis’ body relaxes as Nick runs his fingers through his hair and he imagines the rest of the night like this, couch cuddles and making out for hours. He feels cozy and safe and he doesn’t want to move for the next week. He doesn’t want to move ever.

The couple remains that way for a few minutes, until Nick opens his mouth.

“D’you want to eat here tonight or wait till we’re at the pub?”

Louis leans back and looks at Nick questioningly. “What?”

Nick raises his eyebrow and smirks, his tone a bit like he’s talking to a toddler, “Dinner tonight? Should we eat before we go to the pub or while we’re there? Harold said to be there around 6:30, so either works.”

Louis blinks. He’d completely forgotten they’d told Harry they’d be at his show.

“Oh, er…” Louis coughed, “I’d forgotten all about that, to be honest.” He squints apologetically. “Was dreaming of a night on the couch with you.”

“Oh. Well,” Nick starts awkwardly, “I know you had a rough day and I’m sure Harry’d understand…”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Louis hurries to say. Nick had been excited to see Harry in his element and the hint of disappointment in Nick’s tone was easily picked up on. He didn’t want to do that to him just because he’d had a shitty day. It probably would do him some good to blow off a bit of steam, anyway.

Nick still looks unconvinced and Louis rolls his eyes. Putting his hand on Nick’s cheek, he looks him right in the eye, “I promise, Nicholas, let’s go. I was a bit caught up in me own head but you’re right, I could use this.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss on Nick’s mouth. “Now, come help me pick out an outfit that will make everyone jealous of you.”

-

The clattering of glasses when they enter the pub is reminiscent of just nights earlier, when they’d met Harry. They’ve only known him three days, but it seems like so much longer.

They’d arrived a bit later than Harry’d suggested, stopping to get a quick dinner together, and the room is already a bit crowded for early evening. Nonetheless, Harry is still easy to find, standing at a crowded table near the small stage. The couple weaves their way through the people and it’s obvious when Harry spots them.

“Louis! Nick!” He beams at them. “You made it!” He immediately hugs them together, making Louis go a bit stiff with shock. There’s a glassiness in Harry’s eyes that lets Louis know he’s already gotten a bit of liquid courage before his show. He looks right at Louis and says, “I was hoping you’d still be up for it after the day you had.”

“My day? What do you mean?” Louis demands, confused.

“Nick was telling me about some of the things that happened to you at work today. Didn’t know if you’d wanna come out after all that.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Louis turns and stares at Nick incredulously. He knows better than to go on about that sort of thing. Whenever Louis has a problem, he wants as few people as possible to know about it.

Nick doesn’t even look at him, just tosses an arm around him and pulls him in. “Eh, he always manages to get back on his feet. Knew a night out was just what he needed.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else as he’s pulled closer to the collection of Harry’s mates, annoyed but wanting to move on. The group they meet is a rag tag gang; a tiny woman with sky high heels and a manic grin named Caroline and her mate, a tall bleach blonde woman with glasses and a tattooed leopard print sleeve. There’s a couple who barely greets them, a girl with deep brown skin and dreadlocks called Tahliah, and a quiet blonde named Natalie, the soulmate of Ed, the scruffy ginger Harry would be playing with that night.

“Lux was feeling a bit poorly so Lou’s at home with her,”Harry tells them.

“Yeah, Ian’s the same, so Aimee’ll be here without him,” Nick states, scratching his chin. He looks over Louis towards the bar. “It’s died down a bit, I’m gonna get a drink? The usual?” he directs the question at Louis.

Louis nods his agreement and his thanks and watches Nick’s frame lumber off to the bar. When he turns back, Harry is staring at him, smiling.

“What?” Louis barks, self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Harry insists, “Just glad you came.” He touches Louis hand so quickly, it feels imagined. But before Louis can even attempt to comment, Harry just winks and tells the table that he and Ed must be off to prepare.

Once they’re gone, various conversations break out and Harry and Ed’s friends happily ask about the new couple added to the mix.Aimee and Eleanor arrive together about 15 minutes later, the former loudly collapsing onto the chair beside Louis and drinking half of Nick’s cocktail without asking, and the latter, squeezing Louis’ shoulder in greeting. Louis, who’d been immersed in a conversation with Caroline and Tahliah, jumps when he feels her behind him. He grins widely when he sees who it is, hugging Eleanor first, and then Aimee, before introducing them to the other ladies.

They immediately get on, Aimee yelling about Caroline’s shoes and the others yelling about Aimee’s new diamond encrusted nails and Eleanor’s jacket.

Realizing he’s been abandoned, Louis turns away and back to Nick, who’s finally given up on getting anything out of Ed’s soft-spoken mate.

“Was like pulling teeth,” he mutters into Louis’ ear. He snickers and rests his head on Nick’s shoulder for a moment, before swallowing the rest of his drink and offering to get more.

Just as he gets back from the bar, the whole room dims and a single light hits the stage.

-

Harry and Ed make quite the team.

Their voices are polar opposites, Ed’s light and airy while Harry’s is deep and gravely, but the contrast compliments so well. They play a few of Ed’s own songs along with a lot of covers. The show is fun and lively, the crowd dancing and cheering along, calling out an endless number of requests.

And Harry is absolutely beautiful.

Louis tries to tell himself it’s the alcohol, but because he’s only been sipping on his drink, he knows it isn’t.

So, he drinks more to give himself that excuse.

And the more he drinks, the more stunning Harry gets.

 Nick’s beside him, staring at the stage, watching Harry’s mouth move around the words. His arm is over Louis’ shoulder, fingers curled into Louis’, who had reached up to grip them. Seeming to feel his stare, Nick turns to him and smiles. Louis’ whole body burns with how much he loves him. He mouths, “love you,” at Nick, who grins and leans down to kiss him hard on the mouth. He cuddles back into Nick’s side, comfortable and happy, and loses himself in Ed’s guitar and Harry’s voice.

When the performance ends and the duo returns to their table, the group descends on them in a roar, hugging them and slapping their backs with praise. The pair looks delighted at the attention, accepting the compliments happily while still looking humble and pleased.

“Shots all around! On me!” Shana, Caroline’s mate, appears with a tray. More joyous shouts come as hands reach to grab their own.

Louis knows he shouldn’t, has already drank way too much for a work night, but he can’t bear to let the delight on Harry’s face, who had just slipped up to them, vanish because of him.

“So,” he hedges, “what’d you think?”

“You were absolutely fantastic!” Nick exclaims, “I mean, it was brilliant. Both of you are incredible.”

Harry’s cheeks, despite already being pink from exertion, get just a bit redder as he turns to Louis and quirks a brow.

A smile stretches across Louis’ face, “Yeah, you were so good,” he says simply, but puts as much sincerity into it as he can.

Harry’s shoulders relax a bit, like he’d been waiting to hear that.

Ed appears suddenly, shoving a shot into Harry’s big hand and beckoning Nick and Louis to join as well.

A toast is called out and collectively, everyone downs their shot.

That one shot leads to another hour at the bar which leads to more shots and more hours.

The alcohol in his system has Louis bouncing between his new friends with abandon, smiling and laughing behind his fingers. He spends time with Harry, playing with his hair and groaning over his terrible, awful jokes. But with his inhibitions lowered, Louis can barely stay in one place for long.

Multiple times, he catches Harry and Nick speaking quietly to each other, Harry’s eyes still glassy and shiny and excited, while Nick’s holds a fondness he recognizes. Something sparks in his brain when he notices, but he’s always distracted moments later by someone calling for his attention.

Eventually, Nick, who’d kept a steadying hand on Louis’ waist all night, leans in and says into his ear, “Love, we’ve gotta get back. It’s late.”

Louis looks up at him, blurry vision eventually focusing on Nick’s fond smile. He pokes his cheek.

“Can Harold come?”

Nick blinks. “Uhm, sure?”

Louis doesn’t understand why Nick looks so confused. He likes Harry. Pretty Harry with his pretty face and pretty hair and pretty hands.

He’s drunk. Really drunk.

Craning his neck from his position in Nick’s lap, Louis looks at Pretty Harry, who’s talking animatedly with Eleanor. “Harry? Harry? Hazza?” He twists and places his hand high up on Harry’s thigh. The rational part of his brain is yelling to pull back, but he’s too interested in the feeling of his nails catching on the inner seam of Harry’s trousers.

Harry quickly turns to him, eyes wide and drunk and so green. Their faces are too close together and Harry is so pretty.

“D’you wanna come back to ours?” Louis asks. “Bit of a night cap or something?”

Harry giggles down into Louis’ shoulder, “Don’t you have to work in the morning? That’s in like… in like… two hours.”

Louis sighs loudly and dramatically, “I am an adult making adult decisions. And we have wine at our house. Wine is an adult drink.” He looks at Harry, widening his eyes to convince him. “Besides, you said—you said Lux…she’s ill, Hazza. Don’t wanna wake her. Don’t wake the ill baby.” He grasps Harry’s shoulder and shakes him a bit; it’s firm and strong and broad. Louis wants to pin it to the wall behind them.

Harry’s mouth forms a small circle and he blinks, before nodding his head rapidly, his hair flapping wildly. “Yeah, yeah. No babies.”

-

It’s still dark when Louis opens his eyes. God, he feels like shit. Rubbing his face, he sits up on his elbows, feeling his muscles and joints fight against the movement. There’s light coming out from underneath the closed bathroom door and the sink is running; Nick is getting ready for work, then.

Louis collapses back onto the bed with a groan. He’s greasy and his mouth tastes like ass and there is no way he can go to work. Why is he so stupid?

He doesn’t remember much after leaving the bar, just Nick piggy-backing him and Harry crashing onto their couch with an aggressive snore.

The bathroom door opens then, light pouring into the room and Louis squeaks, yanking the covers back over his head.

The bed creaks a few moments later, and Nick’s spider fingers pull the blanket off Louis’ face. It’s dark again and Nick’s big dumb face is looking down on him with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t say anything, I hate you,” Louis rasps, pushing on Nick’s face.

Nick laughs and kisses his forehead.“Go back to sleep, love. You’re set for the day; called your boss and said you were still having a bit of a breakdown from yesterday. Said she’d send you a couple things you can work on from home.”

Louis groans in pleasure, “Oh, you’re the best, thank you, I love you.”

Nick laughs and rubs his hand across the stubble on Louis’ cheek, “I know. Now, I have to get to work because I am a respectable, mature adult—” Louis pinches his nipple, but Nick reacts with barely a wince, “—who knows his limits and doesn’t drink himself blind on a Monday night. Harry’s still passed out in the living room, though. So, you can keep each other company.”

Louis nods, trying not to let anything show on his face.

“So… I guess this means you like him now?” Nick sends a smug grin down at his sleepy face and the warm flush Louis feels down his neck has nothing to do with the blanket he’s under.

“I fucking hate you,” Louis grunts and yanks Nick’s hair before kissing him goodbye.

-

When Louis wakes four hours later, it’s to the smell of bacon and the sound of Beyoncé playing in the flat.

If Harry is out there cooking and entertaining Louis’ bratty children, he will absolutely force him to never leave.

Rolling onto his side, he checks his phone, relieved to see it’s not even 11 yet. Despite his lie-in, he finds the rest of the world kept living. He finds a happy text from an unknown about meeting him last night (Caroline), three emails from his boss (“ignore that”), and a selfie from Nick drinking out of the awful mug Louis had gag-gifted to him (“what an idiot”).

Once he’s replied to the messages and left the emails for later, he drags his body out of the comfort of his bed and all but dumps himself in the shower. He stands there for a few minutes, eyes closed and letting the nearly too hot water run over him.

Once it becomes too much, he rubs shampoo through his hair roughly, scratching at his scalp with his nails, as if trying to physically stop his brain from thinking about last night, from thinking about how beautiful Harry had looked, how soft his hair had felt between Louis’ fingers.

How Louis had wanted to pin him to a wall and see his glassy eyes staring up at him.

Louis huffs and stares down at his dick, betrayed by its interest. He twists the faucet until the water is freezing and vows to put it at the back of his mind.

Once he’s dressed in a soft pair of joggers and one of Nick’s t-shirts, he creeps his way into the main area of the flat. The music gets louder as he goes and based on their happy yelps, it’s evident that Pig and Bruce are having a good time with their new playmate. He shouldn’t feel like he’s sneaking up on them, it’s his house after all, but he’s horribly worried things with Harry will end up awkward because his penis can’t control itself.

Poking his head into the kitchen, he spies Harry, prodding carefully at something in a pan and wiggling his narrow hips to ‘Countdown,’ all while dropping bits of bacon for the dogs from the plate beside the stove. Louis didn’t even know they had any more bacon.

He hovers in the doorway, watching the three of them and holding in his snickers.

When Harry twirls during his dramatic performance and spots Louis, he squawks and nearly drops the plate on his feet.

“Jesus, Louis,” he gasps, putting an oven mitted hand over his chest.

Louis just grins at the boy in front of him, once again wearing the bikini girl apron. “Soz, babe. Couldn’t resist the show.”

Harry smirks and shrugs casually, like he completely understands.

“So, you made breakfast?” Louis observes the kitchen island, a full spread of sweet rolls and eggs, tea kettle right in the middle. “Didn’t even know we had any of this to be able to make a decent meal.”

“Er…,” Harry stammers, placing the bacon plate in an open space. “You didn’t really. Popped to the shops a couple hours ago. Wanted to wait till you were up, didn’t really know what you liked…”

Louis just stares at him. “Harry, you didn’t have to do that.”

Baby hairs break out of Harry’s bun when he shakes his head, “I didn’t mind, honestly. I don’t get to do this often, so it’s nice.”

“At least let us pay you back for spending–”

“Absolutely not,” Harry cuts him off quickly. “Please.”

Louis observes him for a moment before giving in. “Alright, alright. Load me up then, Harold. Did you make enough bacon for me or is this all for the furry children?”

Just as Louis’d expected, the food is absolutely delicious and makes him feel alive. He drinks three cups of tea while Harry sips on a coffee (“Honestly, you and Nick are the worst Englishmen I’ve ever known.”)and Louis definitely eats more bread and bacon than his doctor would recommend.

They chat a bit about the evening before, Harry saying that he kind of wants to raid Eleanor’s wardrobe and when Louis relays the text he got from Caroline, Harry goes on to list every wonderful quality about her and Shana. It makes Louis smile, the idea of their friends all mushing into one.

Louis offers to do the dishes, as to not feel totally useless, but Harry insists on helping, considering he’s the one who made the mess. While the pair works, Harry tells Louis about a text from Lou, saying that little Lux’s bug has turned into a full-fledged virus and that their home is basically becoming quarantined.

When Harry explains that because he’s always coming in and out, he’s trying to find somewhere else to stay as to not disrupt her, an offer falls out of Louis’ mouth without question, “Why don’t you just… stay with us?”

Harry stops drying a pan and turns to him, obviously surprised and Louis rushes to continue. “I just mean, like… you’re already here, plus you said they were only a 10 minute walk so you can still visit her if you want. Our den has that futon… I mean, I don’t mind and I know Nick wouldn’t. He likes you, he’d love it.”

Louis doesn’t look at him the entire time he speaks, just focusing on the repetitive scratching sound of the sponge against the bowl he’s washing. When he finishes, he sneaks a peek at Harry next to him and while the boy looks pleased by the request, there’s something tight twitching at the corners of his mouth.

But it can’t be too big of a deal because he easily says, “Yeah, I’d like that,” and both men’s smiles stretch into something bigger as they turn back to their tasks.

-

Just as Louis expected, Nick was delighted to have Harry stay with him. Nick had spruced up their guest space, getting new pillows and sheets and blankets for their futon, he’d bought more things for their kitchen, all to make Harry feel more comfortable in a new space.

Aimee had said that it was like they were nesting, preparing for a new child as opposed to an extra mate. Louis didn’t have it in him to tell her the feelings he was having low in his gut were a guarantee that what was going on was a mate issue.

Despite the fussing and worrying, Harry falls into their home with absolute ease.

It’s scary, to be honest, how easy it is. Always running late in the mornings, Nick and Louis go to work at the same time, leaving to catch the 7:20 trains, but instead of to-go cups and snack baggies, Harry, the earliest riser of them all, has their things set up, mugs and plates and napkins, allowing the two time to actually sit and eat and wake up.

Harry spends the days with the dogs, floating with them through the city and exploring it, sitting with Harry’s guitar on street corners, Pig and Bruce barking happily in time to the music he plays. He tries to cook for them every night, the three of them sitting around the living room, full and relaxed, watching the news and DVR’d television shows from nights before.

It works like a well-oiled machine and the new routine is completely natural.

Nonetheless, after living with only one other person for so many months, getting used to a third body is still an adjustment that needs to be made.

Nick nearly brains Harry with a golf club at 4am once when he hears him in the bathroom. Louis loses two unopened boxes of tea because Harry had moved them to another cabinet to make room for his spices. And the couple learns just how thin their walls really are when Harry pokes a hickey on Nick’s neck and wiggles his eyebrows.

Still, Louis can’t complain too much. The house smells like fancy candles, still like home, but warmer–sweeter and lighter–and Louis eats better than he did even when he lived with his mum.

Harry’s a good person and a good friend and, on the whole, the couple is happy they’re able to get even that.

Because in the beginning, Harry still talks about traveling. He talks about missing seeing Lux grow up and missing cold dog noses waking him in the mornings. Each flippant comment hurts, little bites picking at Nick and Louis, but both know better than to comment. They don’t mention the mate marks, act like the triangles aren’t stark images on their skin; they act like the couple they always were, snarky and snippy, but never shy with affection. Harry never seems put off by it.

Then it changes.

Harry stops talking about traveling; he doesn’t flinch away at talk of being in Manchester in the future. Now, there are glances between them all that hold longer than just friends, there’s Harry nuzzling Louis’ knee while he braids his hair, there are thigh squeezes and Harry’s fingers trailing on the back of Nick’s neck.

The change feels good, but jealousy still lingers in Louis sometimes. A lot. There was an immediate connection between Nick and Harry, something that had sparked from the moment they met. And it’s still evident now.

It wasn’t like that with Louis.

He can only blame himself for that, really. He’d immediately thrown up the wall, one that’s often still present, wary of Harry and his intentions and, coupling that with how different the two of them are, it’s understandable.

But the effortlessness between Nick and Harry is so unlike the first explosive week of Nick and Louis’ relationship. It’s similar to the way Lottie had described meeting Landon, similar to how Louis’d always imagined meeting his man: fun and light and happy. It’s easy.

And that feels a bit like the end of the world.

Louis works later than Nick most days, often coming home after the sun’s begun setting, and that gives Nick and Harry extra time together that Louis doesn’t have. He’ll see them in the kitchen, Nick acting as Harry’s assistant chef, laughing loudly and staring over his wine glass at the younger man with the same look he’d given Louis when they finally gave in to each other.

Most of the time, it’s fine. But sometimes, it’s too weird and strange and Louis likes seeing them together but he hates it and he just wants Nick back and for Harry to leave but his heart freezes at the idea of the boy not being in their home and it’s messy and stupid and Louis reacts in the only way he knows how: he lashes out.

He’ll randomly get snippy, with both of them, his attitude changing suddenly and barreling over them with downright bitchiness. He knows he’s in the wrong, that these feelings are useless and irrational, but his defensiveness is strong and if anything, trying to tell himself so only makes it worse.

Nick is used to Louis, knows his ticks and how he works. He sees the jealousy for what it is and while he’s always admitted to finding it a bit flattering, he still calls Louis out. He remembers his confessed insecurity though and does everything he can to reiterate his love.

And for the most part, it works. It confirms what Louis knows and he always apologizes to Harry quickly and with sincerity, but still never telling him why.

With that, it goes back to how it was; there’s a lightness in the air, a comfortable warmth in the flat, and Louis relaxes into it.

Until it happens again and the cycle continues.

-

A dribble of drool lands on Louis’ hand, splayed out across Lux’s belly as she sucks on her soft rabbit toy and stares at their television.

Harry had wholeheartedly accepted Lou’s request for him to babysit while she went on a date that evening, her first after getting her mate mark removed. Harry was sorrowful and angry when he’d told Louis her story, in which the man the Fates gave her decided that her having a child with someone else wasn’t something he could live with. Even if Louis didn’t love babies or feel gutted for Lou, he’d have still offered to join Harry while Nick was off at a business dinner, if only to never see that look on Harry’s face again.

The three of them ate dino chicken nuggets for dinner, even though Lux was capable of nothing more than gumming on them, and mac and cheese and now they’re lounging on the floor, all engrossed (including the dogs) in a Netflixed episode of Peppa Pig. Harry barks out a laugh when Peppa flat hangs up the phone on her friend and Lux squeals, delighted by the weird sound that escaped Harry’s mouth.

Louis lets her crawl out of his lap, diaper clad body wiggling as she flumps to floor where Harry sits by Louis’ feet. He grabs her, tossing her lightly in the air before catching her little body in his big hands and tickling her belly, her giggles ringing throughout the house.

Babies have always been a bright spot in the world to Louis. As the oldest of eight, he’s always been around them and loved it, even contemplating going to university for neonatal nursing at one point. Nick complains about being awkward with children, but Louis saw the shine in his eyes when he’d bowed at Lux and she’d blown him a kiss in return.

Lux sinks in Harry’s lap, her chubby fingers pushing his hand away before she rolls off, toddling to pick up another toy. Harry drops his head back on the couch, his hair fanning out around it, and closes his eyes, a sigh leaving his bitten lips. Louis reaches out slowly, lightly swiping his index finger across the furrow in Harry’s brow.

The younger boy jumps, turning his head with curiosity in his eyes.

“Y’alright?” Louis asks softly.

Harry smiles, one corner of his mouth going higher than the other. “Yeah. Getting too old for this one, though.” He tosses his thumb in Lux’s direction, who’s ignoring them and gripping on Louis’ ankle, staring with hard interest.

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes, flicking Harry’s forehead before the pair are distracted by Lux yanking on Harry’s thumb.

It takes Louis a moment to realize what she’s looking at, her little fingers tracing the small triangle on Harry’s hand.

He freezes, afraid of attention being drawn to something they’ve all ignored for two weeks. She continues to grip Harry’s thumb as she reaches over next to her, patting Louis’ ankle, right where his own triangle sits.

Harry’s eyes are wide, darting back and forth from Louis’ similar expression and Lux’s happy toddler smile.

“Two!” She yells, proud of her little discovery.

“Um, that’s right, Luxie,” Harry hedges, “Louis and I match.” He leans forward, his whole hand covering Louis’ ankle, the C of his thumb and index finger circling just around his triangle, nearly pressing them together.

Louis’ whole body burns.

“Match!” Lux says, clapping her hands together.

Louis manages to tear his eyes away from where their skin is touching and looks at Harry. There’s a soft smile on the man’s face, small and not nearly the biggest Louis’ ever seen but just as lovely, and he hums and brushes his fingers through Lux’s sparse blonde hair.

His other hand is still on Louis’ ankle.

Seeming to feel his eyes, Harry turns. There’s a thrumming going through Louis’ body, a buzz beneath his skin when they finally make eye contact. Harry’s smile somehow gets even softer and there’s a pleasant shine in his eyes that makes the corners of Louis’ mouth turn up, as well.

Harry winks and, squeezing Louis’ ankle one last time, turns back to Lux and demands a game of Patty Cake.

Later, after Lux has passed out on the carpet, Louis can’t help but slyly watch Harry. There’s a distant look on his face, the tiny furrow in his brow again as he stares absently at the television, one hand resting on Lux’s back and rising every few seconds with her breath. The other rests tucked underneath the right sleeve of his t-shirt, sporadically rubbing at the skin where Louis knows Harry’s matching mark with Nick rests.

Louis just wants to know what he’s thinking.

-

Louis jolts awake when he hears the front door slam. It’s dark in the room now, a light in the corner on its lowest setting and he’s alone, save for Pig curled up on his feet. Lux and Harry are both missing, but her baby bag is still sat by the door. His body moves slowly, creaky from his poor position on the couch and groggy from such a light sleep as he groans and sits up on the couch.

Standing in the hall outside the room, Nick and Harry turn at his noise, the latter holding little Lux’s sleeping body passed out on his shoulder. The pair are standing close, shoulders curling in towards each other and they had obviously been talking quietly, considerate of the two sleeping.

Nick smiles when he meets Louis’ eyes, “Hiya, love. Nice nap?”

Louis scowls sleepily and sticks out his tongue. It turns into a yawn in the middle and Nick’s smile gets bigger. Louis stands up and stretches, making his way to the men in the doorway. He falls into Nick’s side, yawning again before asking about the dinner.

“It was horribly boring, to be honest,” Nick relays, a dramatic, disgruntled expression on his face. “I’d have much rather been here eating chicken nuggets with you three.”

Within their small circle, an image flashes brightly through Louis’ head. It’s so sudden he nearly loses his balance and it’s gone in the same amount of time, but Louis knows the idea of the three of them, curled in bed with a dark-haired child between them will remain.

When he blinks back, Nick is kissing the side of his head and heading off to their bedroom and Harry’s still there, a confused smile on his face at Louis’ wide eyes.

“I’m gonna– gonna get her to bed finally,” Harry scratches at the bun on his head and waves towards his room.

Louis nods. “Yep, that’ll be good. It’s late.”

Harry smiles at him again, dimple poking out of his cheek. They stand there for another moment in the dark hallway before Louis, in a moment of bravery, reaches out and brushes his fingers against the triangle. Harry’s hand twitches.

“Goodnight,” Louis whispers. Harry’s lips round out and his brow crinkles, but before he gets the chance to say anything, Louis turns on his heels and hurries down the hall and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“So, how was the night with Harold?” Nick asks him later, his long arm across Louis’ belly, hand curling underneath his side.

Louis still feels awkward and stupid about that last interaction, cursing himself for putting himself out there like that. The tension radiates off of him and it’s obvious Nick can tell something has happened, but knows Louis has to mention it himself.

“Nothing really,” Louis shrugs, “he’s just…” He scrunches his face, not wanting to use the word that had immediately come to mind.

Fuck it.

“He’s different, yeah? Than when he first got here?”

Nick’s lips twist. “A bit, yeah. More relaxed, bit more handsy.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Louis snickers and thumps Nick’s nose. “Well, yes. But also—” he pauses “—the way he talks. He hasn’t mentioned America in while. Or Greece. Or Thailand. Hasn’t mentioned leaving like he did.” He tries to keep his voice impassive.

The thrill in Nick’s voice is apparent when he answers, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I didn’t wanna say anything but I realized that, too.” He leans up until he’s hovering over Louis’ body. “Like maybe he’s changing his mind?”

Nick’s face is bright, Louis can tell even in the dark, like he hasn’t let himself be hopeful of what could happen.

Louis reaches up and tucks his hand around Nick’s jaw. His beautiful boy. “Maybe.”

Nick stills slightly, just enough for Louis to notice. “Is that… something you’d be interested in?”

“I,” Louis breathes, “I think so, yeah. Maybe.”

Nick bends and mouths at the sharp edge of Louis’ jaw for a moment, murmuring a quiet “good”into his skin.

“Love you,” Louis tells him, turning and allowing Nick to spoon in behind him.

About a half hour later, just as he’s nearly dropped off, Louis thinks hears a creak in the hallway, but it’s not important when he feels Nick’s sleepy murmur against the back of his neck.

-

Harry’s different the next day.

He still ruffles Louis’ hair and squeezes Nick’s arm, but after Lux has gone home, it’s like a film has been placed over his eyes. He’s distant and quiet and Nick has to call his name three times before he realizes he’s being beckoned.

Louis doesn’t think much of it. He has weird days himself; everyone’s entitled to one. And if what Louis thinks is going on in Harry’s head actually is, he figures he’d be the same way, too.

Harry goes out with a few friends that night, Ed and Caroline and Shana, and stumbles back into the flat late, shoes hanging off his fingers and completely pissed.

His door is still tightly closed when Nick and Louis get ready to leave the next morning; they’d planned brunch and a bit of shopping with Ian and Aimee, who’re still trying to fill their first house, and they invite Harry along, but he flaps his hand in Nick’s face, his own face smushed into a pillow, and sends them off.

It’s weird.

Harry has boasted about his ability to drink like a fish but never get hungover, so oversleeping after a night of it is a bit out of character. Nick doesn’t think much of it, just shrugs when he comes out of the room, tugging Louis out the door.

It sits uncomfortably on Louis’ chest all day, so much that he begs off shopping halfway through, claiming a migraine’s coming on (and it’s not technically a lie). He goes home alone, telling a fussing Nick that he just wanted to nap and all but forcing him to stay with their friends.

The house is quiet when he steps in. Bruce trots happily up to him, nails clacking, but that’s still the only sound. It would be easy to assume Harry’s still asleep, but it’s half two and the squirmy feeling he’s had all day makes him think that’d be too easy of a conclusion.

Harry’s door is open and Louis crosses the threshold; it looks nothing like the room they’d left this morning.

The futon is upright, sat like a couch again, with the blanket and pillows Harry’d been using placed delicately in the corner and Pig curled up on them. Harry’s shoes aren’t by the door, nor are his knick-knacks on the desk in the corner. A dresser drawer is open, empty of any content.

Louis stands frozen in the middle of the room.

The hallway toilet opens and Harry heads back to the room, his footsteps getting louder before coming to a halt right outside the door.

“Louis.”

He turns to the voice, his gaze hard when he meets Harry’s expression.

There’s shock and a hint of panic, but it’s quickly schooled into something impassive.

Louis’ hands won’t stop shaking.

“So that’s it then?” Louis says coolly as Harry slowly moves around him, shoving what seems to be a few final things in his large duffel. Harry pauses again for a second at the voice, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge it. Crossing his arms over his chest, Louis works to keep his back straight and strong in light of the vagabond’s blatant dismissal. He tries again. “You’re just leaving? After we let you stay in our house, our home? Invited you into us?”

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He still doesn’t turn around. “It’s not like that, Louis, and you know it.” He zips his bag. It sounds final.

“Well, please tell me what it’s like then?” Louis snaps, tossing his hands into the air. “Because to me, it seems like you were just going to fuck off while we were gone. Were you even going to say anything? Give us a phone call? Leave a sticky note? Send a fucking postcard from Florida?”

Once again, Harry says nothing, but he does turn to Louis.

“We made a place for you here in our life and you just fucked with us, for what? Some fun and a couch to sleep on? How do you think that feels to us?”

A dark look crosses Harry’s face and he opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself and takes a deep breath. “I never fucked with either of you, Louis. I told you from the beginning this was what was going to happen.”

Louis gets the feeling that’s not what he originally was going to say.

Harry sighs. “You guys are a beautiful couple,” his eyes reflect his sincerity. “And I’m honored you’d welcome me into it, but this just isn’t for me.”

It’s silent for five long seconds.

“Fine.” Louis’s tone shifts, becoming flippant. He shrugs his shoulders casually when he says it and ignores the growing ache in his gut. He knew they had reason to be wary, told Nick that no matter what he did, this would happen. Harry’s pretty eyes and pretty mouth were nothing but a sham and a game to get what he wanted. “Have a good trip, then.”

Harry stares at Louis for another moment, his little brow pucker making an appearance. Louis’ fingers tense, a phantom ache to press against the furrow. He nearly slaps himself.

Harry’s face blanks out with blink and he nods, bending to pick up his two bags and guitar. His arm goes to pat Pig’s sleeping head, but before Louis can hiss his disapproval, Harry’s hand snaps back and he straightens. Then he strides past Louis without so much as a glance.

The front door opens, then closes and Louis feels nothing.

He looks around the now empty room and he feels nothing. The smell of Harry’s vanilla cinnamon candle lingers in the air and Louis still feels nothing.

Pig stretches then, kicking out her legs and whining for a belly rub. Instead, Louis gathers her into his arms, walks out of the room, and closes the door with a hollow click.

-

He leaves a mess in his wake.

Louis’ pissed; he’s absolutely infuriated, fueled by a deep bitterness he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. Right after Harry’d left, there’d been minutes of nothing, of Louis just staring out the window, unable to move. It came back to him steadily, like waves crashing over him until he was unable to breathe, gasping for air and on the line of a panic attack.

He hated himself for a moment when he brought himself back by using tricks Harry had taught him.

Telling Nick had been so hard. He’d come home, happy and pleased after an easy day out, only to be pummeled by what was left at the flat. Nick was crushed, completely shutting down after getting his hopes up so high the last couple days. He fell into a hidden part of himself that Louis could barely penetrate, cold and quiet, so unlike him.

Contact had been attempted, on Nick’s part, at least. The first week, he’d sent a number of texts and left endless voicemails, but as each one went unreturned, Nick’s efforts slowed down to nothing.

Now they’re just…trying to move on; if Harry doesn’t want them, they don’t want him either. At least, that’s what they’re trying to convince themselves.

Weeks later and Louis still doesn’t talk about it.

He flicks through the racks at the boutique he’s in, aimlessly roaming while Eleanor digs through the jewelry. Her and Sophia’s second anniversary is coming up and Louis’ never seen her so happy. He tries not to be too bitter.

Eleanor clears her throat, and Louis snaps his head up, releases the delicate chain bracelet he’d been unconsciously clenching.

“You know, it’s okay to miss him,” Eleanor tells him carefully.

“Miss who?” Louis asks, blinking innocently in her direction.

She levels him with a disappointed look, before turning away and continuing like he’d said nothing, “He is your mate, and your body recognizes that he’s gone. It’s understandable.” Louis doesn’t say anything. “It’s also possible to be angry with him at the same time, because you have every right to be. Because that was very awful of him, what he did.” Eleanor is still checking out racks and sales, knowing that Louis will give her even less than he already is if she focuses on him too much.

Louis presses his fingers against his forehead, so hard his joints begin to protest. It’s been nearly two months since he left, weeks of no contact whatsoever, and the asshole is still giving him headaches. “I know that,” he tells her quietly, “but I don’t miss him. I can’t. Not when—”

Not when Nick is still so down, still feels small and rejected.

Louis has wrecked himself trying to make things better: he’s teaching himself to cook, cleans up after himself better, and actually tells Nick he loves him daily.

He’s improved, definitely. It still fills Louis up inside, when he pulls a big smile out of Nick or they spend an evening giggly and joking, alone or with their friends. It’s easier than the first few weeks, but he still has his moments, ones where he breaks off quietly or gets distant, falling into his own head for a while.

Nick misses Harry.

And Louis could kill him for making this happen.

Eleanor drops the issue to continue shopping, buying a few pieces for her and Sophia’s upcoming month long trip to Aruba.

But she picks it back up again when they sit down for lunch.

“It’s not good for you,” she says, unwrapping her panini. “I understand you want to be there for Nick, and you should be, but you also have to take care of yourself.”

“I am taking care of myself,” Louis says around the mouth of his beer bottle. “Nick’s good, he’s happier now. And I’m helping. And that helps me.”

“You know that’s not at all what I mean.”

“El, I don’t know what else you want me to do,” he bites out, barely letting her finish her sentence, “do you want me to wallow? Or should I just move the fuck on because I have no other choice?”

She presses her lips together, obviously wanting to comment, but she decides not to, giving Louis a small nod before launching into a discussion about her mum’s upcoming retirement party.

Louis bites into his sandwich, grateful for the transition.

Because he does miss Harry; he misses him and he’s furious at himself over it.

-

It’s a weird feeling, still wanting someone but simultaneously forcing yourself not too.

He’s constantly conflicted. It’ll hit at random times; only setting out one mug by the coffee pot instead of two. Or finding another random spice jar that he can barely pronounce. Each time, an ache erupts in his chest and it’s like he just left all over again.

Not to mention, everyone who knew about Harry seems to be tiptoeing around the couple now, asking about them with a sad smile and a condescending pat on the arm.

It all makes Louis want to peel his skin off.

He’s just so angry, so fueled with a borderline hatred. He’s mad at everyone for talking about it, mad at Nick for convincing him to let Harry in, mad at himself for allowing it. But most of all, at Harry.

Harry, who they welcomed into their life, who’d seemed to find a happiness with them, but ultimately decided they weren’t worth it.

But there’s an even uglier voice festering in back of Louis’ head at times, prodding and pricking at his already opened wound, saying that it was him that ruined everything that he was the one who wasn’t worth it. It hisses that Harry’d been happy with what was between him and Nick and that Louis was only in the way. When it flicks through the images of Nick and Harry’s immediate friendship, the immediate closeness they shared, Louis doesn’t always disagree.

Still, he’s able to ignore that one. Mostly.

Louis dozes with his head on Nick’s lap that night. Nick’s been tapping away on his iPad for the last hour and Louis doesn’t notice at first when he stops, eventually just feels Nick’s gaze.

“What?”

“Are you okay today?” Nick asks. He’s got one hand combing through Louis’ hair and the other pressing against his sternum, rubbing lightly.

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out, blinking up at him. “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno.” Nick shrugs. “You just… haven’t talked much. And you seem off.”

Jesus, why is he being bombarded with this shit today?

“What is there to talk about, Nicholas? Everything’s good, yeah? Me and you?” He reaches and curls his hand around Nick’s neck, smiling up at him. The smile is big and nearly mocking, a warning sign Nick knows to mean ‘Back off!’ His nails dig a bit into Nick’s skin.

Nick looks concerned, but Louis waves it off. He’s tired of talking about Harry, tired of even thinking about him. He’s bored of the topic.

Still looking up at Nick, Louis notices his eyes getting darker, a product of the still-stinging nails in his neck. Louis’ smile shrinks into a smirk. Not exactly what he was originally going for but eh, works for him.

They stumble into their room, mouths and bodies pressed tightly together, Nick’s tall frame curling down towards Louis’ height. The door slams behind them and they ignore the scratching whines of the dogs left outside. They’re barely kissing as Nick pushes them backwards, just lips parted and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. Once their hands toss each other’s night shirts to the floor, they collapse in a heap, the bed bouncing beneath them.

Nick’s thighs immediately spread around Louis’ hips, the couple angling their lower halves in practiced rhythm to press together. Louis’ hands are tight in Nick’s hair, yanking lightly as Nick moves from Louis’ mouth to suck on the jut of his jaw.

“Please,” Louis squeezes out. Nick’s hand is on his waist, sliding down from the curve of it to the top of his pants.

He can’t tell what it is, but Nick’s mouthing something into the skin of his neck, his lips moving as his long fingers tuck and run beneath Louis’ waistband.

Nick returns back to Louis’ mouth, kissing him hard, and Louis feels his body relax when he finally hears it: “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Now, hop to it.” He emphasizes with another hair yank.

Nick rolls his eyes, but drops back down, mouthing down Louis’ chin, his chest, placing special attention as always to Louis’ small but sensitive nipples. He groans around the pucker and one of Louis’ feet kicks out with a jolt.

“Jesus fuck, go,” he whines.

Nick snorts a bit before sitting back on his haunches and pulling Louis out of his pants. A deep, shaky breath expels from Louis’ lungs when the cold air hits his cock.  

He and Nick have slept together exactly four times since Harry’s left.

The first two times were wild, angry, drunk, and uninhibited. Nick had fucked Louis hard, getting his sadness and frustration out by nearly bruising his hips, biting m arks into his neck that didn’t go away for over a week. Louis had happily taken it, wanting his Nick to be the one to come back from it.

It’d been slow and easy the  other times; they took their time to remember each other’s spots—whispers of praise into each other’s skin, teeth and nails biting, but still soft. Each of them had been close to tears, long orgasms that felt like they were pulled up from their toes, wanting to release the remaining sadness that lingered.

This time, it feels like it’s only ‘Nick and Louis’ again.

Louis is hard, curved back up against his stomach. His pants are still on, Nick knowing he likes the elastic waistband stinging on the skin behind his balls.

Nick leans down and blows along the underside of his dick, following the line of the vein there. Louis’ dick and fingers both twitch at the feeling. His lips glide softly against the skin of it and he moves his arm to cover Louis’ hip, pressing enough to keep him pinned before swallowing him down.

His whole body clenches, tense beneath Nick’s weight. He knows Louis’ body, knows what he likes and when to push and when to pull back and there’s nothing Louis loves more than that, the comfort that comes from sex with someone who always gets it right. He runs his fingers across Nick’s brow before resting his hand on the side of his head and watching. Warmth bleeds into his veins when they make eye contact and Louis sees the twitch of a smile even as Nick’s lips are pulled wide.

Nick’s back is arched as he works, ass up behind him. Louis wants to reach over and skim up the bumps of his spine, slide his fingers between his cheeks and push at his hole. But then he slides the tip of his tongue under Louis’ foreskin and presses against the slit, and Louis keens, his back arching, and pinches his own nipple.

Nick pushes his thumb against Louis’ taint and he comes without warning, Nick pulling his mouth off with a jolt, strings of come landing across his surprised face.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Louis squeaks out when he finishes, chest rising and falling heavily.

Nick’s face twitches in attempt to keep it from dripping as he stares up at Louis with a dead expression.“I literally hate you.”

Louis shouts a laugh, a loud bark that makes Nick grin at him fondly.

“Come here,” he whines, offering weak grabby hands and tissues. Nick instead wipes his face off on Louis’ thigh, who groans and wiggles, trying to get it off. Nick finally shimmies his pants off and crawls up the bed, stopping when his face is hovering above Louis’. He smiles down at him before kissing him, tangling their tongues together easily.

Louis breaks the kiss and presses their foreheads together, still out of breath from his orgasm. Down the line of their bodies, Nick’s dick hangs heavy between his legs, the tip brushing Louis’ stomach as it sways.

“Stay still,” Louis tells him, reaching out to grab him. Nick huffs through his nose. “I mean it,” Louis’ voice gets firmer.

When his fingers wrap around Nick’s shaft, Nick lets out a noise at the touch. He’s a bit wet, but Louis is still forced to lick his hand a few times before getting going.

They don’t say anything as Louis jerks him slowly, wrist twisting every time he gets to the head. Their foreheads stay pressed together, noses bumping as Nick’s breath gets higher and quicker.

His arms shake when he comes, straining under his own weight. It splashes between them, across their stomachs, and Nick falls to the side, limp and gasping.

“You’re useless,” Louis mutters, getting up and wetting a rag in their bathroom. He cleans both their stomachs and contemplates leaving Nick’s face be, just to be an ass, but when he grins up at him dopily and makes an exaggerated kissy face, Louis just drops the rag on his face and falls back into bed.

Nick cackles and eventually rolls over, lying flat across Louis.

“Get off me, you oaf,” Louis shouts, pushing against his chest.

Nick ignores him and buries his face in Louis’ neck.

-

Another two weeks go by without mention of Harry.

They’ve officially gotten back into their old routine and its good, the way things are. People have stopped asking of him and the whispers around his office have gotten quieter. Louis can tell Nick still has his moments, but overall, the two of them have settled into the life they’d originally expected.

They have more time together in the evenings now, after Louis decided to start cutting back on his overtime hours. Now, they get home within 20 minutes of each other, dancing around in each in the kitchen while cooking, curled in each other’s laps for the rest of the night.

Louis comes in from work one evening expecting just that, but there’s a weird silence in the house that’s only been present one other time.

He finds Nick at the kitchen stable, staring down at a stack of mail.

“Babe?”

Nick doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking down. Louis comes up behind him quietly, resting his hands on Nick’s shoulder and peers over to see what’s got his attention.

There are bills, a few pieces of junk they don’t need, Louis’ footie mag, everything you’d expect in a young couple’s pile of mail. But one thing stands out on the pile of black and white ink: the image of a vivid blue building stands stark against the table. It’s large and square with bright orange accents and archways, surrounded by palms trees and cacti. The image is stunning and curling across the top corner of the postcard are gold scripted words, reading, “Jardin Majorelle - Marrakech, Morocco.”

Louis reaches out slowly, as if the card was going to pounce and bite him. His fingers are shaking when he touches the paper; part of him knows what he’s going to see when he flips it, the other is steadfast in ignoring the possibility.

Nick still hasn’t moved.

Louis flips the card quickly, snapping his hand back as soon as it’s on its opposite side.

The back is both less and more intimidating; there are no colors, nothing vibrant and overwhelming, just the normal backside of a postcard.

But their names and address are written in a familiar script, one they had gotten used to seeing on the grocery list on their fridge, one they haven’t seen in so long. Louis slides his eyes over to the open section beside it, hoping and dreading to see more written.

There’s nothing but a small note, x, H, before meeting more empty space.

Louis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Three months,” Nick says, softly. Louis nearly jumps at his voice. “Three months of nothing and now,” Nick cuts himself off with a choke, shaking his head before pushing away from the table and stalking out of the room.

For a few moments, Louis watches the doorway where Nick has disappeared, then turns back to the table. The postcard, Harry’s curvy little H stares back up at him. He runs a hand across his face, suddenly bone-deep tired. He can hear Nick’s voice out in the living room, soft while he pets their sleeping dogs, and he feels all that original anger curl up inside him once more.

There’s a voice screaming in his mind to not do what he’s just decided, but Louis ignores it, pushing it away violently. Even though it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, Louis picks up the postcard and loses himself in the beautiful image for a moment before dropping it straight into the rubbish.

-

It happens three more times, once a month: a postcard of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, one of the massive trees in La Push, Washington, and finally, the Tokyo skyline.

Each time, there’s no note beyond Harry’s messy initial and each time, Nick walks away and Louis drops it in the bin.

Each time, Louis is absolutely furious, spitting nastily whenever he sees one.

The aftereffects are just as Louis expected; Nick has started to withdraw again and has tried to get in contact with Harry, using his old number despite knowing he’s been all over the world. It’s sad but Louis knows Nick needs to do something, feels like Harry is reaching out and he needs to reach back. He never gets anything in return, but somehow, his enthusiasm for what could happen never wavers. He talks about the beauty of the images, how they’re places he’d love to see, and emphasizes how happy he is that at least Harry still thinks of them.

Louis is the opposite. He bounces between anger and apathy; he fully believes Harry is doing too little, too late and that if Harry actually cared about them, he wouldn’t have left to begin with. He never thinks to wonder why Nick remembers the images so vividly.

The change is subtle, so little that even though Louis notices, he finds it not worth mentioning at all.

It’s two days after Louis had dumped the images of La Push Beach into the kitchen trash and Nick is twitchy, bouncing his leg and thumping his fingers while buried in his phone.

Louis’ working on a struggling account, seated on the floor at the coffee table in front him. Nick’s jumpiness is getting to him, annoying to the point that he has to keep re-sharpening his pencil.

“What is your deal?” he snaps, glaring at Nick above him.

Nick looks down at him, almost as if he’s surprised to see him there. Rude. “Uhh, nothing? Just. Waiting on a text?” He phrases it like a question.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Stop moving your leg like that, it’s driving me mad.”

The text ping rings through the air about five minutes later and a breathy, hysterical laugh escapes Nick’s mouth.

Nick’s on his phone all evening and while they snuggle in bed that night, Louis asks who it was.

“Oh, uh. No one really. Just an old friend I hadn’t spoken with in a while. Was nice to hear from him.”

“Hmm, okay,” Louis hums and shoves his face into Nick’s armpit.

Nick’s happier after that. Like, genuinely happier. In the months since Harry left, Louis has known that Nick has held onto a bit of sadness but now it’s like it’s suddenly flown away. He greets Louis with more excitement, kissing him hard nearly every time they see each other. He sings in the shower and teases Louis until the flush reaches his chest. Even though they’re things he had been doing before, the heaviness that had sat upon him is no longer there.

Nick remains that way as summer bleeds into fall. Elliott, Nick’s old uni friend, has been good for him, Louis thinks; he’s been the big pick-me-up that Nick needed. He’s been working out of the country for the past few years, but says he’s planning on heading back to Britain for a while, and Louis’s told Nick how excited he is to meet him.

Of course, he doesn’t notice Nick’s minor grimace whenever it’s mentioned.

They celebrate their first anniversary, initially with a loud bash filled with friends and family from nearly every corner of the UK. Then they spend a weekend alone, isolated in a castle in Scotland, eating, drinking, and fucking until they’re unable to move.

Nick turns 30 and gets a promotion, moving up to lead in the design and production of a new development outside the city. Louis begins working out and cuts down all his overtime hours, wanting to be home when Nick’s home.

They’ve moved on, Louis knows. And it’s good.

Until it’s not.

-

The café is bustling with the lunchtime rush when Louis steps inside, shaking the wind out of his hair. He scans the menu before deciding what he wants and after ordering, he patiently waits while the obviously overwhelmed staff tries to keep the bitter business folks happy. Louis remembers his shitty coffee shop job in uni; he’d never wish that on anyone.

A tingle runs up his leg as he waits. He scratches at his thigh and wiggles inconspicuously, trying to pushes the tickle away. When his number’s called, he gives the cashier a smile and a big tip, making the tired smile on her face seem more sincere.

There’s a man sitting in his favorite back corner and he huffs, annoyed for a moment at having to find another place. Then the man looks up and Louis freezes, his sandwich making a dull thud when it hits the floor, barely audible over the roaring in Louis’ ears.

Harry stares at him from across the room, apprehension visible in his features. His shoulders are curved in, weighted under the heavy cardigan over them. His hair is shorter.

Louis might be having a panic attack.

He jolts when the same worker from earlier touches his elbow, offering another sandwich to replace the one he dropped. He brushes her off, eyes wide and mumbling about how there’s a reason it’s wrapped in plastic.

Louis stands there for a moment, closing his eyes. This cannot be happening, not now. Not when everything was finally going right.

He counts to ten in his head before walking towards Harry.

Harry opens his mouth, but Louis cuts him off. “What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses.

“Uhm… I came to— Nick told me to come see you here,” Harry stutters.

“I don’t mean here-here, I mean in Manch-” he stops. “Wait, Nick? Nick knows you’re here?”

Harry’s face pales a bit. “Yeah.”

Louis blinks and his brain just shuts down, “I don’t have time for this.” He turns and walks out of the café.

Before he can cross the street, a hand grips his elbow. “Lou, wait.”

“Don’t touch me,” Louis spits, whirling around to glare at Harry. “I have to go back to work. I’m not dealing with this right now.”

And he leaves Harry standing on the pavement.

-

The rest of the day goes by too quickly. Louis’ mind is blank. He does everything on autopilot until his coworker knocks her fist on his desk, waving off for the night.

The train ride home is a blur, as well. He stares straight ahead, ignoring the people around him, and pretends he’s not actually living through this day.

Loud laughter greets Louis when he lets himself into the flat. It punches deep in his gut, an ache flaring out through his body. Neither dog greets him, although he hears them in the living room barking happily, too excited about the guest to get distracted.

Punch number two.

Louis moves towards the doorway, slowly stepping into entry to the other room. Harry spots him first, sat beside Nick on the couch, laughter cutting off with a jerk and a panicked expression. Nick turns quickly, stumbling to his feet, looking anxious and pale.

“Louis,” he starts, but Louis just puts his hand up to stop him. He opens his mouth, but is distracted by flashes of color on the table.

“Where the hell did those come from?” He gestures to the four postcards Harry had sent them. “I threw those out.”

A hurt look flashes across Harry’s face and Louis has to stop himself from wanting to draw comment back into his mouth.

“Right, well,” Nick glances down at Harry, “I got them out.” he says.

Louis takes a deep breath, “I have no fucking clue what is going on right now.” His voice is flat. “I don’t know why he’s here and I don’t know what you’re doing with him. And I need answers. Now.”

Nick rings his hands together and Louis can all but see the nervous sweat gathering on his brow, “Well, uhm, couple months ago, after the third postcard, I was able to get ahold of him. And we’ve uh, been talking ever since.”

Louis’ scowl flicks to Harry, “What, you finally give him a call from one of your fancy foreign numbers? After months of ignoring him?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but Nick does, “Uh, no. I got the number he was using from… from Caroline. And he just replied.”

“Caroline? How did you even get her number to contact her?” Caroline was the only thing related to Harry that Louis had kept nearby. She was a wonderfully kind woman who didn’t treat Louis like a china doll after it happened and they’d met up a few times since they swapped numbers, just drinks and dinners, but Nick had never come, never seemed interested, even when asked.

“Did you go through my phone to get it?”

Nick nods once.

Louis grips the back of the chair in front of him so he doesn’t fall over.

“Oh my god,” a heavy sinking feeling erupts in Louis’ stomach. “So… this is Elliott. Harry is Elliott?” Nick’s lack of response is the only answer he needs.

Louis sits down, suddenly dizzy, heart racing in his chest. “Oh my god,” he repeats.

This whole time, Nick was lying. Everything he’d said within the past few months was a lie.

Louis is definitely going to have a panic attack.

“I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me like this,” Louis says towards the carpet, head between his knees to catch his breath. “Everything has been a lie.”

He looks up and both men are wrecked, faces pale and stiff and guilty. Good, they deserve to be.

“Louis,” Harry starts, but is immediately cut off.

“I don’t want you to fucking speak right now,” Louis barks.

Harry shrinks back at the bite and when Nick steps in front of him, as if protecting him from Louis, something in him just wilts.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to Eleanor’s.”

-

He stays at Eleanor’s that night, crashing on her and Sophia’s couch and calls out of work the next day. He mopes and they let him, because he has every right to. Eleanor is pissed, verging on barging into his home and beating the shit out of both of them.

Louis almost lets her.

He goes back later that evening, after Nick would be home from work. Louis find him pacing their living room, hair a mess, obviously running his hand through it often.

Harry’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hi,” Nick waves awkwardly.

Louis doesn’t say anything, just goes and sits on the couch, directing Nick to sit across, in the chair. It looks like nothing’s been touched, postcards still sitting on the coffee table. Louis wants to take a knife to them.

“I’m sorry,” Nick tells him.

“Just… why?” Louis begs. He feels like an idiot, thinking things were going so well, that he was helping Nick and that they were moving forward, when in reality, he’s never been more wrong.

“You were so angry with him,” Nick says. “You immediately decided you wanted nothing to do with him and. You know me, Louis, I’m not like that. I couldn’t just ignore him.”

“I had every right to be angry, Nicholas.” Louis reminds him, firmly. “He waltzed out of our home like we were nothing. I am allowed to be angry about that.” He barrels on, “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to lie to me. For months. And not even just leaving bits and pieces out. You actively did what you could to keep me out of this. You made up an entire person to deliberately fool me.”

“Elliott’s not made up, he really was a friend from uni,” Nick interrupts.

Louis gives him an incredulous look. “That doesn’t fucking matter. He’s not the person you were talking to, not the person you told me it was every time I asked.”

Nick sighs, “I know, I don’t know why I said that.” He leans forward to rest his hand on Louis’ knee. Louis twitches, but he doesn’t push it off. “I am genuinely sorry. This was wrong and cowardly of me to do. I should have told you immediately.”

Louis looks at him; he knows Nick’s remorseful, can see it in his eyes. He’s still filled with confusion and anger, but Louis can’t hold onto that.

“I’m still pissed,” he says quietly, nodding a bit. “I’m furious and you’ve got a lot of making up to do. But okay, I believe you.”

Nick’s leaves are peeking out from under the hem of his running shorts, small and inconspicuous, and Louis stretches to touch it. He presses against it with his thumb and feels the phantom of it against his side.

He glances back up and sends Nick a small, tense smile.

-

Louis still doesn’t see Harry.

Nick visits him at Lou’s, grabs dinner with him and Ed, babysits Lux with him. And Louis stays away.

He sticks with Eleanor and Sophia as much as he can, but those two are in baby mode, in the middle of the adoption process, and Louis just can’t be around that right now.

It’s hard, when Nick comes home, warm and tipsy, but animatedly talking about Harry.

Louis feels like he should be glad that at least Nick’s falling into his bed, but it’s a bit unsettling having him cuddled on Louis’ chest babbling about another man (even if that other man is technically his, too).

There’s a part of Louis that so desperately wants to forgive Harry. His body knows that he’s back in the city and has been for some time (they’ve already passed the two week mark which was longer than Harry had lasted the first time), the triangle and bird on his thigh having a near constant sting.

He’s forgiven Nick, so why can’t he forgive Harry?

That scared little thought inside him still has a grip on him, that letting Harry back in would be the first step in knocking himself out. It’s irrational; he knows that Harry’s asked about him, has asked him to join on those nights out with Nick, but he just doesn’t feel ready.

Louis tosses back his second whiskey shot of the night, before taking a swallow of the pint in front of him. He’s wallowing and he knows it.

Nick’s been out with Aimee and Harry at a concert, some band Harry had seen in America and thought they would love. It’s probably over by now, it’s late, but Louis had been restless, just sitting at home with the dogs. He sits across from Zayn now, in a dark corner at The Fire Pit, helping him roll silverware for the next day.

“You could just… tell him you feel that way,” Zayn tells him, fingers nimble around the cutlery.

“It’s more complicated than that, Zayn,” Louis sighs. “I did, I have!” (Only once, ages ago, but Louis doesn’t say that.) “He just tells me I’m being ridiculous, then kisses me or pats my hand. So, it accomplishes nothing. Besides, you know I hate confrontation.”

Zayn gives him the most unbelieving look Louis thinks he’s ever seen.

“Well, confrontation that actually matters, Zaynie, keep up.”

The man snorts and drops his roll onto his pile on the bar, beside Louis’. Louis takes another drink from his beer and frowns down at the pile. He’s not drunk, just a little blurry, but there’s a sharp contrast between Zayn’s clean, smooth rolls and Louis’ lumpy ones. Something about that makes him very sad.

“Uhhh, mate?” There’s uncertainty in Zayn’s voice.

Louis looks up at him, curiosity written on his face. Zayn’s lips are pressed together and he flicks his head in the direction just over Louis’ shoulder. He turns on his stool and nearly falls off.

Harry’s standing right behind him, swaying lightly on his feet. His pointed boots are turned in, hands clasped behind his back, and he’s looking at Louis with absolute unease.

He’s still so, so pretty.

Louis ignores him. “I guess this is my cue to go, babe. Let’s clear up my tab, yeah?” He turns and directs the question to Zayn.

“Sure thing, Lou,” Zayn nods, moving around behind the bar.

It’s a few minutes before Zayn returns and Louis just pretends Harry isn’t there. His thigh tingles and he can hear Harry shuffling behind him, but he remains focused on his fiddling with his phone.

He signs his receipt when it’s time and brushes off Zayn’s offer to call him a cab, walking out the door with his head held as high as his body will let him, never once acknowledging Harry.

He hears him behind him, of course, hears him calling his name.

Louis quickens his unsteady steps, fogging the early October air with his heavy breathing. His composure is quickly abandoning him, the closeness of Harry coupled with the haze in his head from the whiskey making his feet stumble and hands shake. He could kick himself when a tear forms in the corner of his eye.

A hand grabs his wrist and he’s tugged into a dim alley a block from the bar.

“Stop touching me,” he hisses, pulling his wrist away and pressing himself against the wall. He feels sluggish, like he’s moving underwater.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry stutters, “Please just don’t run away.” His voice cracks on the last word.

He’s obviously drunker than Louis, eyes cloudy and red and very, very sad.

“Run away?” Louis glares at him. “You mean like you did?”

Harry’s face crumples, looking even more wretched at the accusation. “I know. I didn’t, I couldn’t…”

His face is so close to Louis’ that he can smell the tinge of alcohol on his breath. There’s a light behind his head, shadowing out his face, but the desperation in his shiny eyes and red cheeks is still evident. The furrow sinks deep into his forehead. “Please,” Harry whispers.

God, he’s so pretty.

Neither of them are sober enough to have this conversation.

“Harry, I can’t, we can’t, not now,” he tries to get out, but at his words, Harry collapses on him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he slurs into Louis’ neck, “I didn’t – I didn’t want to hurt you.” One of his thighs slip between Louis’ and his hands sit low on his waist. Louis curls his arm naturally over Harry’s shoulder.

He feels the wetness of Harry’s breath on the skin of his throat and registers the heat that shoots straight to his core, but studiously ignores it, focusing on Harry’s words.

“No, you’re not sorry, you’re not,” he says, gripping Harry’s hair and yanking him upwards; Harry’s eyes are wild, pupils wide and dark, with his red lips open and panting. Louis would hate him if he could.

“If you were sorry you wouldn’t be here. You’d leave us alone. You wouldn’t have come back.”

Harry’s head drops back onto Louis’ shoulder and he sobs, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” again and again, rocking back and forth.

Louis grips Harry to him, breathing heavily and trying not to cry.

He’s still so angry, still so sad and distrustful of Harry and his motives, but he’s so tired. Louis has been clinging so hard to the anger and distance from Harry to keep himself from falling back into it. But with him right here, desperately asking for something from Louis, it’s hard to keep a hold of it.

Louis knows it wouldn’t be wrong to continue to feel that way, but maybe he doesn’t want to.

Harry continues to press his shaking body against Louis as he calms down and Louis continues to drag his fingers through the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, shushing him softly.

“How’d you find me?” Louis asks softly, tugging gently at a curl.

“Was an accident. Was walking by on my way back to Lou’s and just… felt like I needed to- needed to go in.”

They’re quiet for a moment after that, nestled together in the damp shadows.

“S’go back to ours, yeah?” Louis offers quietly, right into Harry’s ear.

The boy nods, hair tickling Louis’ chin. Harry straightens, his body coming back into its height as he wipes his face. He’s obviously still drunk, still blotchy and red, and Louis reaches out to press on his cheekbone, but Harry flinches, and Louis’ hands are immediately back at his side.

“C’mon, then. Nick’ll be worried.”

The air surrounding them as they walk is tinged with sadness and Louis really hopes everything’s going to be okay.

-

The whole flat is dark when they creep inside, clicking the door shut as softly as softly as possible. Neither dog comes to them, sleeping peacefully in their living room beds. The pair pauses together outside their office, and Louis tells Harry to wait while he checks on Nick.

He’s passed out on his stomach, sleeping soundly on top of the covers, one leg hanging off the bed. Louis rolls his eyes and carefully adjusts him, putting him under the blankets and as Nick snuffles in his sleep, Louis leans down and kisses his forehead.

Once back in the hall, Louis brings Harry into the office, makes him stand in the doorway while he sets the futon up for him.

Harry’s breathing gets steadily heavier while Louis works and Louis tries to hurry, figuring the other man is about to have another drunk breakdown.

But when Louis turns, Harry’s long body is stiff, obviously uncomfortable and trying so hard to stay still that he’s wound up shaking, chest rising and falling quickly. His fists are clenched as his side, knuckles white against the black denim of his jeans.

And his face—

His face is set, staring straight at Louis, brows crinkled heavily. His green eyes are dark, nearly all pupil and his lips are parted, red and wet from licking them.

“Harry?” Louis moves toward him slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal. He jumps when Harry takes a few quick steps in his direction.

Once again, Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, inhaling deeply as he wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. He’s crying, wetness bleeding through Louis’ collar and he responds by hugging Harry’s shoulder.

They’re in the same position they were in alley. Only now, all of Louis’ alcohol has worn off, Harry’s lips are moving against Louis’ collarbone, and he’s pressing his crotch into the thickness of Louis’ thigh.

He doesn’t realize what’s happening at first, is just tugging lightly at Harry’s hair for a bit before noticing the quiet noises coming from Harry’s mouth that coincide with the slight rhythm to his movements. Louis’ body nearly bursts into flames.

Harry’s not hard, but is still rutting against Louis’ thigh sloppily and Louis can’t move.

When Harry releases a short, low moan, Louis unfreezes and pushes him away.“Harry, stop it.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry wheezes, looking horrified, eyes still a bit unfocused. His face is wild, cheeks flushed and damp, and Louis forces himself to not look below Harry’s waist. He can almost still feel Harry pressed against him, hot and thick, scratching the denim of his jeans. A rush of desire fills Louis’ chest and he’s suddenly infuriated, every bit of anger he’d let go of an hour again boiling back into him.

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the street for that,” he threatens, teeth clenched together. “Don’t touch me like that again. I don’t want that.” His tone is mean.

He doesn’t let Harry say anything else, just stomps past him and closes the door behind him.

When he finally falls into his own bed, he keeps himself as close to the edge, away from Nick’s body as possible.

-

Louis is alone in bed when he wakes the next morning, head twinging a bit from the rough sleep. He’d tossed and turned all night, woken up at the slightest noise whenever he actually managed to go under, which wasn’t often. The sheets beside him are still warm, like Nick had been there recently. Pig is curled up by his feet.

The night before sits on his chest like a weight. 

He lies flat and sprawled out, wondering how to confront this. He feels guilty, even though he didn’t actually do anything but stop Harry. Maybe it’s how harsh he was with Harry; Louis thinks he knows how to deal with sad drunks and Harry had obviously been struggling, so Louis should’ve handled it more delicately.

He can hear the telly on, hear Nick puttering about the house. He assumes Harry’s out there, as well, probably doing something in the kitchen. It’ll be awkward but they have to tell him, if only to simply acknowledge it and not necessarily delve into something deeper.

God, this just makes everything ten times more complicated.

Louis drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth, doing what he can to stall. Eventually, it gets to the point where they have to know he’s up, and them realizing he’s purposefully not coming out would make things even weirder.

Pig follows him out as he makes his way down the hall. As Louis had thought, the office where Harry had slept is open, and when he steps into the kitchen, he expects to see both Nick and Harry together. Instead, he sees only Nick eating a bowl of cereal and reading the paper.

“Hiya, love,” Nick mumbles around his spoon. When Louis gets closer, Nick drops the spoon in his bowl and pulls Louis close to him, kissing his cheek and grinning at him.

A bit of Louis breathes a sigh of relief. Whatever weirdness he’d been worried about obviously hasn’t come from Harry’s presence and Louis relaxes and grins back at Nick, knowing that this little setback won’t cause problems.

Harry still hasn’t popped back in from wherever he’s been, so as Louis flips on the kettle for his cup of tea, he asks, “Where’s Harry?”

“Harry?” Nick sounds surprised. As he should, Louis supposes, considering Louis wouldn’t even utter his name the past couple months. “Uhm, I’m sure he’s at Lou’s?”

Louis turns to Nick, brain a bit muddled.“He already left?”

“Left?”

“Yes, Nicholas, are you deaf? When did he leave?” Panic begins to balloon in Louis’ chest.

“Louis, what are you talking about?”

“No, he was here last… he was here,” Louis hurries off back down the hall, nearly skidding into the open office door.

The room was clean, set up just like it was before Louis had gone off by himself the night before. He steps in slowly, looking for any sign that Harry had been there. Louis hears Nick come to stand in the doorway behind him when he spots the white paper on the black of the futon’s cushion. He approaches it carefully, as if he’s about to be attacked by it.

His hand is shaking when he picks it up. It crumples a bit between his fingers as he lifts it closer to his face to read. Even though he should have known it was coming, the words written in the familiar scratch make his stomach drop.

I’m sorry.
x H

With that, he turns around to Nick, who’s still standing unmoving in the doorway. Louis drops himself onto the futon, letting out a watery huff. “That stupid son of a bitch.”

-

You’d think that being left a second time, you’d be more prepared, know what it feels likes and what to expect.

Nick is absolutely baffled, has no idea what happened, no idea that Harry was even in their house that night, until Louis breaks down in a furious fit, filled with cursing and tears, and tells Nick he was the reason Harry had left.

Louis stays buried in Nick’s chest, unable to look him in eye from guilt.

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis whispers into Nick’s t-shirt before sitting back at looking up at him sadly.

It’s silent, Nick not responding for a moment. There’s a split second when he meets Nick’s eye, Louis thinks Nick looks almost angry at him, but it’s gone quickly and he pulls Louis back to him, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as he airs his own sadness and confusion. He emphasizes to Louis that it wasn’t his fault, that Harry made that decision on his own and most of Louis believes him.

The rest of the day is a blur.

The note feels like a final goodbye, but they still try to find him. Only Lou’s seen him and it was for just a short time, about 10 minutes she says, of him bustling about their house in a flurry earlier that morning, only to leave very quickly after, with a promise to call when he was settled.

The pity in her tone is audible.

Nick and Louis fall just as off kilter. Even though Harry hadn’t been so weaved into their lives this time around, not an extension of their home, the hole where he was is gaping. Nick closes himself off again, keeps quiet and distant. Louis burns everything in his path.

Still, they try to move on.

-

Another roll of thunder cracks the air as Louis stands under his umbrella on the street. A tiny face peers out of the black SUV he’s beside, banging on the window to get Sophia’s attention. She’s ignoring it and still speaking with Louis, but he pokes his tongue out at the little boy and Liam’s high peel of laughter can be heard over the storm outside.

“Honestly, Louis,” Sophia laughs, the glow of new motherhood shining in her tone.

Sometime in the middle of Eleanor and Sophia’s adoption search, they’d stumbled upon 2 year old Liam, a chubby, dark eyed, baby blond, and fell head over heels in love with him. They’d moved him in a little over a month ago, just in time for Christmas, and while they’re technically only fostering him for 8 months, as a prominent lawyer in the city, Louis knows Sophia’s going to do everything in her power to make it permanent.

“You know he’s gonna be on Uncle Tommo’s team, yeah?” Louis quips, mischief evident in his grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sophia rolls her eyes, tossing her bag into the open passenger side door.  Her face gets serious though, and she leans towards Louis, speaking quietly, “So, are you going to let me know what’s been bothering you all day?”

Louis knew the girls would pick up on something, but he still tries to keep his face impassive, hoping she’ll pay no attention to the uncomfortable twitch in his jaw. “Not yet. I’m sure you’ll find out soon, though.”

She presses her lips together with a nod before hugging Louis tightly and hopping into the car, Eleanor driving the little family into the Manchester streets.

His teeth are chattering, the wind and rain biting cold on his skin, and his hands shake when he jumps out of his own cab half an hour later, running up the stoop to get inside as quickly as possible.

He kicks off his soaked boots and coat and shakes out the moisture in his hair. Pig bounces at his feet and he pats her head, following the sound of the music from the living room.

His phone and the message it contains sits heavy in his pocket.

Nick’s legs are crossed like a pretzel beneath him as he sits on the couch, laptop open with a couple designs laid on his lap. He’s been ill the last couple days, missing work on Friday and using today to make up for it. His hair is down and soft, falling into his eyes, and he flicks it off his face when he looks up and grins at Louis.

“Hi, babe,” he says, then sniffs aggressively and sighs loudly.

Louis smiles at Nick, soft and endeared, and rubs a hand through his hair before heading to their room to change.

The office door is closed shut.

After getting out of his wet clothes, Louis comes back and moves the rest of Nick’s stuff onto the coffee table, curling up beside him in the now empty space.

“Louis, I’m sorry, love, but I’ve got to—”

“We’ve got to talk,” Louis cuts him off.

“Oh.” Nick’s eyebrows raise and he frowns, “Okay.”

Wordlessly, Louis slides his unlocked phone into Nick’s hand, message from the unknown number already open.

Nick’s face changes as reads it, seemingly over and over again.

Louis remembers it easily:

I’d like to come back.

When their eyes meet over the phone, it’s obvious that Nick has come to same obvious conclusion Louis did.

“So,” Nick scratches his jaw, “wonder who that’s from?” He winces as soon as he finishes, like he knows the joke is going to fall flat.

He’s right.

Louis takes a deep breath. “What should we do?” he entreats, gripping his fingers together.

“I don’t know,” Nick answers. He’d spoken to Harry a few times since he’d left, just little messages to check in. His fingers tap against his knee. “I mean, I really don’t know. I know what I’d like to do but… what if…” the rest of the question goes unsaid, but Louis knows what he means.

What if he leaves again?

There’s a loose seam in the hem of Louis’ trackies and he twists it until the end of his finger turns purple. “Well, what would you like to do?” Louis feels like he already knows the answer.

“Uhm,” Nick hedges, “I think we should. Just for… peace of mind.”

Louis pushes a small huff out of his nose, “Peace of mind?”

“Yeah like, what if this is for good? What if we deny him when he’s done with the running and got it out of his system or whatever and wants to be here?” He puts his hand on Louis’ thigh, “I don’t think we should risk that.”

“But what are we risking by saying yes?” Louis replies.

Nick crinkles his nose lightly, “Nothing we haven’t already.”

Louis starts playing with Nick’s fingers and doesn’t meet his eyes. He makes a good point and Louis can’t deny the skip his heart felt when he realized who the message was from, but he’s torn. It’s terrifying, the idea of giving Harry a chance when he’s already shattered the other two they’ve given him.

His feelings for Harry have nearly given him whiplash since they met, have probably done to the same to both Nick and Harry, as well. His mood changes at the drop of a hat; he can go from being funny and snarky and openly fond to a right bitch in nearly no time. And while he wants to think he’s been decently fair in sharing them all, the bitter, wary side of Louis is loud. It drowns out the good feelings Harry stirred in him, projecting a bizarre coldness towards the other man that Louis has always wished he could hold back.

He may not always act like it, but he misses Harry. And maybe this will give him the chance to show him that.

He looks up at Nick, raising one corner of his mouth into a small smile. “Okay.”

-

It’s really, really awkward.

Louis understands why; he and Harry don’t really talk much, feeling guilty and twitchy, sticking to their own corners and Nick’s in near hysterics, the middle man running around desperately trying to make everything not awkward, which in turn makes everything more awkward.

It’s a mess and Louis just wants to get away from it.

Harry gets in from Australia on a rainy Tuesday evening. Nick had offered to pick him up from the airport, but Harry insisted on cabbing it to theirs.

Their greetings are short and polite, hellos with only a hug between Nick and Harry. He smiles at Louis, a small awkward one but it seems genuine and it only feels natural for Louis to return it.

Once they leave Harry’s things back in the office space, they shuffle him into the kitchen to eat a bit of the chicken and rice they had left over from dinner. He’s horribly tired, practically eating while sleeping, eye bags prominent as he speaks even more slowly than normal when they ask about the trip and taking ages to take a bite.

Then he crashes for 15 hours straight, not waking until nearly 10 the next morning.

Already, Harry’s presence fills their home, his shoes in the doorway, the smell of the cinnamon and vanilla candle that helps him sleep at night.

It’s strange and familiar all at once.

-

“I’m sorry.”

“Shit,” Louis jerks so hard, he flings the sugar he was scooping into his teacup across the counter. He turns quickly to glare a bit at Harry, who’s standing in a ring of moonlight a few feet behind him. “Warn a guy, yeah?”

Harry looks sheepish. “I’m sorry. Again.”

It’s late, past 2am and Louis hasn’t slept a wink. He’s tired, feels it in his bones, but even that and knowing he has to be up for work in four hours doesn’t cease his restlessness. He turns back the counter, wiping up the sugar he’d split. “D’you want tea?” he asks Harry, getting another mug out. He’s already made nearly a whole pot, knowing he’d probably be up for a while.

“Uh, please.”

“Two sugars and milky, right?” He looks up from pouring and turns slightly towards Harry, who nods once. “K. I’ll bring it to you in the main room.”

There’s a moment where nothing happens, but then Louis hears Harry move. As his footsteps disappear, Louis releases a breath, leaning against the counter. He hopes the dismissal didn’t come across as abrupt to Harry as it had felt to him; he just needs a moment.

They haven’t been purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room the past two days; they just keep finding reasons to skip around it. Although, based on Harry’s words a few minutes earlier, it seems like it’s time to confront it.

He heads to the main room, a mug in both hands, and finds Harry sitting in the dark, silhouetted by the flashing television, watching paid programming for a very skinny vacuum.

He sits down next to Harry, handing him his mug before directing a look at the telly, “Really?”

“What? This is quality television, with top-notch acting.”

Louis snorts and leans back against the couch, sipping his tea and curling his legs beneath him.

“I really am sorry,” Harry says suddenly, barely audible over the telly. “I’ve been a prick.”

Louis tightens his grip on his mug and breathes in the scent of the tea. His chest clenches and he’s really not ready to have this discussion. “Yeah, you have.” Harry huffs and Louis reaches out to pat his leg. “But, okay. You’re here now.” His words leave no room for another comment. His hand rests on the other man’s thigh for a moment before squeezing quickly and pulling away.

Neither of them says anything for a few minutes.

“I’ve not told anyone this,” Louis’ tone is a bit pensive, “but I can actually quote nearly the entirety of the Magic Bullet commercial.”

Harry chokes on his drink. “What?” he wheezes.

Louis nods, mock seriously, “I can. A bit embarrassing, but still a proud achievement of mine, if I’m being honest.”

“Isn’t that nearly a half hour long?”

“You should know better than to underestimate the mind of a procrastinating uni student, dear Harold,” Louis chastises.

Harry crinkles his nose and giggles, “I don’t believe you.”

“Hmm,” Louis sniffs at him, “would you like me to give a go? Tell you all about the Magic Bullet: the personal, versatile, countertop magician!? It works like magic!” Louis spreads his arms dramatically with a huge, cheesy grin.

Harry cackles, burying his face in his hands to muffle the sound. Louis’ face hurts from how hard he’s trying to hide his own smile, cheeks aching as he bites the inside of them. But when Harry peeks at him, seeming to have calmed down, they both snort, sending each other into another fit of laughter.

Even though Louis doesn’t fall asleep until four and nearly misses his train from being so behind that morning, he sleeps better in those two hours than he has in days.

-

It takes only 3 days for old tensions to come out.

They fall back into their original pattern; Harry’s bright eyed face greeting them at half six every morning, doing his own thing during the day, Louis assumes, and the three of them cooking dinner together in the evenings.

It’s better now, if not still a bit awkward. While they seemed to have reached a truce, a strain between Harry and Louis is still evident. Overall, the issues are ignored, like they aren’t there and sitting among them like an uninvited guest.

But Louis can feel it simmering, deep in his gut, that this won’t last long. Every time Harry remembers a moment of his time in Australia with a big grin or when he presents them with the couple of quirky souvenirs he got them, it picks at the wound in Louis’ chest, picks over the scab like fingernails.

And when it finally breaks Louis, everything shatters.

-

He’s been in a shit mood since he woke.

It’s stormy, nasty weather, biting cold with rain, snow, and ice pelting the city. He’d slept awfully the night before, nose stuffed from a head cold, and getting trapped on the bus and missing his train to work because of the weather did nothing to alleviate it. Neither did missing the email from his boss, saying it was okay to work from home that day, until after he was already trudging the messy streets to get to his office.

The flat is warm when he gets home, soaked to the bone. He’d forgotten Harry would be there, momentarily comforted by having someone in the house, but it quickly shifts to aggravation by his previous mood. The weird music Harry and Nick like is playing softly through the speakers and Louis finds Harry on the couch, scrolling through his Mac, tongue poking out of his mouth as he stares intensely at the screen.

It’s adorable and Louis feels his irritation grow.

So, he ignores Harry, doesn’t say hello and stomps his way back to his room, changing his clothes and muttering nonsense under his breath. He then heads to kitchen to make a cup of tea, stomping the same way to that room. He’s purposefully being annoying, almost itching for some sort of altercation. And after slamming his fifth cabinet, he gets what he wants.

He’s grumpily glaring down at his steeping tea when Harry pokes his head in, saying, “Hi, Lou.”

Louis glances at him briefly but doesn’t reply.

“Um, are you okay?” Harry asks delicately. The floor creaks beneath his feet in the doorway.

Louis huffs. “Yes, Harry, I’m fine,” he snips. “Working from home today, so I’ll need the office.”

“O….kay?”

Harry’s response isn’t acknowledged as Louis dumps his tea bags on the counter with a splat, grinning internally because he knows how that’ll irritate Harry, and breezes past the other man before shutting himself up in the office.

He’s irritated and twitchy and doesn’t get nearly the amount of work done that he should; he’s unfocused, mind wandering and constantly tapping his pen and drumming his fingers.

It’s almost a relief when Harry knocks about an hour later, asking to grab a couple things to take out. Louis lets him in, saying nothing and returning to the desk, pretending to work. He rummages for nearly two minutes, the grip on Louis’ pen tightening with annoyance at every shuffle and huff happening behind him.

Eventually, he finds what he’s looking for and Louis listens to his footsteps as he makes his way out of the room. There’s no sound of a door closing, though, and Louis huff angrily before spinning in the chair to go slam it shut to prove a point.

Instead, he finds Harry still standing in the doorway, a couple of books and a jumper in hand, peering at Louis warily. He asks, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Louis releases an exasperated breath and turns his back to Harry, snapping, “No, Harry, honestly. Now, go do whatever it is you do and let those of us who actually work do so.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asks with a tiny bite in his tone. A tingle runs down Louis’ spine, a sick enjoyment at the thought of Harry actually taking the bait.

“I,” Louis emphasizes, “have work to do in here and you’re doing nothing but dicking around on my couch. And if you plan on me still providing you the opportunity to continue to do so, I have to do my job.” He turns his head slightly, letting Harry see his eye roll.

“I’ve told you multiple times that I’d be more than willing to help out with expenses around here.”

Louis whirls in the chair again, facing Harry. “And how, may I ask, are you going to do that, my dear Harold?” He shoots him a condescending smile. “I know you’re used to couch surfing for 20 bits a night, but this is different. This is an actual commitment.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, a flicker of anger on his face.“I know that, Louis. And you might realize that if you didn’t always bounce around me like I was a ticking time bomb.”

Louis lets out a hysterical, mean sound, pushing himself out of his seat, “Oh gee, and I wonder why that is? Nearly all your bags are still packed and you’ve practically been one foot out the door since you got here! You’ve done nothing to prove your commitment,” the word is laced with venom, “So why the hell would I think you’d be willing to take that?”

“No. Absolutely not,” Harry’s eyes flash as he steps toward Louis, “You don’t get to put all this shit on me."

"What shit?" Louis snarls, "The shit where you left us out of the fucking blue twice? The shit where you've said nothing about not doing it again. That shit?"

Something in Harry's eyes snaps and his lip curls. "Fuck that, Louis. Don't act all high and mighty.You were never going to accept me into this. You never  really wanted me and that’s been made perfectly fucking clear. At least I was honest. I told you from the beginning how I was. You, though.” Harry lets out a cruel huff of a laugh. “You faked it. Said you wanted me here, wanted me with you and Nick. But you never meant it. You would draw me in, only to slam the door in my face before I even got the chance to accept the invitation. You stood there, acting like the big, protective boyfriend, like you were looking out for Nick when really you’ve just been cowering in your corner, pretending to want it for his sake, all the while terrified he’d like me more than you.”

Ice goes through Louis’ veins.

“What? Did you think I didn’t know that?” A manic grin stretches across Harry’s face at Louis’ expression, his dimples poking out. Louis has never hated anything more. “I’m not an idiot, Louis. It was obvious. But don’t worry. I'll leave him to you."

Louis’s muscles aren’t working; he stands unmoving as Harry shoves his feet into a pair of boots, grabbing one of his bags and his guitar, throwing the former over his shoulder. He walks out without another word.

The click of Harry’s heels echo throughout the flat until cutting off at the sound of the slamming front door, enveloping the house in a pounding silence. Louis curls his fingers into fists, tucking his fingers into the cuff of his sleeve, and falls back into his chair.

-

Nick finds him an hour later, when he comes home for lunch.

“What happened?” Louis watches his eyes dart around the room, eyeing the spot where the pile of Harry’s bags has shrunk. “Where’s Harry?”

“He left.” Louis’ voice is blank, a hollow sound he doesn’t recognize.

Nick pulls him up from the chair, murmuring to him and leading him out of the spare room and into the kitchen. Louis’ used teabag and the liquid they leaked has been cleaned up, the counter spotless.

Three glasses, three bowls, and three small plates sit on the island counter, all clean and waiting to be used. The room smells like soup. Louis sees a pot on the stove, wooden spoon beside it, covered in a thick, murky liquid, like it’d been placed there only to be picked up again soon. The scene is domestic and it mocks Louis cruelly. He wants to set it all on fire.

“We got into an argument.” Louis’ voice is still blank. “About me working and him not, about him staying here. It just exploded from there. And then he left.”

Louis feels Bruce twisting around his legs, panting against them. A part of his brain recognizes that it’s probably time for him and Pig to eat. He ignores it.

A hard silence sits around the pair, Nick fingering the edge of the counter and Louis standing motionless in the open. A muscle in Nick’s back jumps under his t-shirt.

He bursts out a short laugh, “I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters under his breath. Louis doesn’t know why Nick keeps giving Harry the benefit of the doubt. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him; Louis’ expected it from the get-go.

What does surprise him though, is when Nick turns and glares at Louis, a fire burning angrily in his eyes.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Nick shouts at him.

Louis fish-mouths, taking a step back from him. “Why are you angry with me? What have I done?”

“God, Louis, you’re so,” Nick fists his hair and grinds his teeth. “You’re so goddamn frustrating! You’ve gone back and forth, back and forth since we met Harry. You want this to work, and then you don’t. You say you miss him when he’s off in fucking God knows where, but when we finally get him here, you run him off hours after he’s out of bed. Honestly, it’s no wonder he leaves. I can’t figure out what you want.”

Louis stares at him. “I just want us, Nick!” he tells him, throwing his arms out between them. “He’s ruined us; we’re not the same anymore because of him.”

“You can’t put all of it on Harry. You’ve been running just as hot and cold about this.”

Without thinking, Louis swipes his arm across the counter, sending the cups and plates careening to the floor, many of them shattering on impact. The dogs start going mad, but Louis doesn’t feel satisfied. “I have every fucking right to be running hot and cold. He ran out on us twice, Nicholas! Twice. That is two separate times he’s decided we weren’t worth it and he left. I do not want us to have to go through that again and again and again.”

“Us?” Nick spits the word out, like it’s something he never wants in his mouth again. “There is no ‘us’ in this, Louis. This was all about you. You were only protecting yourself.”

Rage simmers in Louis’ gut. It curls deep inside him, like an ugly gray smoke that clouds his vision. If he were a different person, he’d probably have already punched Nick in the jaw.

‘Of course I was protecting myself.” Louis voice is tight, controlled. The inside of his hand stings from the pinch of his fingernails. “How do you think this was for me, huh? Dropping everything whenever he would come prancing back like nothing ever happened? Staying awake late while you’re out with him, waiting for you to come to bed, only to have you fall next to me and go on and on about how fucking amazing Harry Styles is? From the moment we met him, it was that way. Tell me, how would you have felt if this had been reversed?”

Nick’s expression is still angry, but now confusion is mixed in, like this was something he hadn’t even considered. Louis’ stomach hurts even more at that thought.

His voice is softer when he speaks again, “How could you have not realized?”

Nick drops onto a bar stool, propping his head up in his hands. Pig barks at his feet, demanding to know what’s happening but he pays no attention. His words are slightly muffled when he responds to Louis. “I told you how much I loved you the moment I knew you were concerned.” It still sounds angry, but not nearly like it was before.

“Nick, it’s one thing to hear something and understand it, but it’s something else to witness the complete opposite of what you’re told.” Louis wants to step behind Nick and push his hand in between his shoulder blades, release the tension in his back in the only way Nick will allow. But he stays put. “Even when I was sat right beside you, it was like he was all you could see. Even when he wasn’t there. If I was supposed to feel included, Nick, I didn’t.”

Louis knows he’s fucked up. He knows that he should have said something, that he shouldn’t have expected Nick to see completely through the front he’d put up. He should’ve been kinder to Harry, less flip-floppy. He knows but he’s not taking all the blame on this. He may have handled it wrong, but his feelings have been completely justified.

Everything is a fucking mess and he just wants out. He wants to run from it, he wants to fix it, he wants to end it.

He’s so tired.

A tear rolls down his cheek just as Nick looks up at him. Louis swipes a hand across his face just as quickly, hoping Nick missed it. When a pained look crosses his face as he stares at Louis, he knows he didn’t but Nick doesn’t say anything. Louis doesn’t either, he can’t; his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. The kitchen is completely silent for a solid minute, the only sound being Pig’s nails clacking out of the room when she realizes no one’s going to pay attention to her.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Nick says. “I never ever wanted you to feel that way. You’re the most important person to me. I should’ve realized… I thought you wanted this as much as I did.”

“I did,” Louis’ voice goes high, “I do. Harry’s wonderful, I mean that. He’s funny and beautiful and I care about him. He fits with us, I could never deny that, but…” he trails off, looking down at Nick’s hands on the counter, already feeling more vulnerable than he likes.

He just wants Nick to touch him.

“What about us, Nick? I don’t want us to get lost in this. And it got to the point where I just… I just felt like we weren’t good enough without him.” He still can’t look at Nick’s face.

“So what if it’s different? What’s wrong with that?” Nick’s voice is soft, but Louis jolts like he’s been slapped. It feels like the air is being sucked from the room, sucked from his lungs.

It takes him a moment to realize Nick’s suddenly in front of him, hands pressed against his cheeks, his voice a bit muffled by the ringing in Louis’ ears. He’s saying something but Louis can’t understand anything.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Louis, please look at me, please.” Nick’s panicked voice breaks through the wall. Louis’ eyes soon focus back in on Nick and when they do, Nick starts pressing his mouth softly over his face and Louis’ heart beat slows down.

“Love,” more tension leaves at the pet name. “That’s not what I meant. We have always been so great, always. And we always will be. I just meant… maybe we are different now. But why does that have to be a bad thing? We have changed but it’s okay, I think. We could be even better.”

“But we were perfect already,” Louis whispers. He closes his eyes and curls his hands around Nick’s wrist. He counts the pulse beats he feels to calm himself.

“I know. And we’ll still be perfect. Just… with Harry.”

It’s never really been hard for Louis to see it, the three of them together: sharing a bed every night, taking the dogs for walks, taking each other on dates, meeting the families together. Even just him and Harry, watching films together that Nick doesn’t have the patience for or cooking dinner in the kitchen. It was a weird thought in the beginning, but once Harry began sharing bits of himself with them, Louis could envision it. And as much as he had denied it in the beginning, he’d wanted it.

“Every time I would see you two smiling together, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before.” Louis opens his eyes when Nick starts speaking again. There’s a fond look on his face, staring off past Louis’ shoulder like he’s remembering. He snorts. “Remember when I came home from work the first official night Harry stayed with us?”

Louis doesn’t. That was coming up on nearly a year ago. He shakes his head and Nick’s smile grows wider.

“You’d taken the day off because you were hungover. You and Harry were sword fighting with a carrot and an empty wine bottle. You called me a ‘bloody wench,’ threw a chunk of carrot at my head, and yelled for me to walk the plank. Harry almost puked he was laughing so hard.”

What a ridiculous thing to remember. Louis still doesn’t, but it sounds like something he’d do.

“That was the moment I knew this could work. I knew you were worried, Louis, I knew that and I understood that. I know you were probably still worried in that moment but…” Nick’s voice trails off but his eyes get clearer as they look into Louis’. “It felt so… easy. Like I could see it every day.”

Louis steps forward and pushes his face into Nick’s chest, hugging him around the waist. “I know,” he muffles into Nick’s shirt, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Nick squeezes him back, pushing his face into Louis’ hair. “I know.”

They’re still for a moment.

“You should know he’s always been crazy about you, Louis,” he whispers. “We talked about you a lot. And I’ve got to admit, he gave you the benefit of the doubt more than I did. I’d be offended if I didn’t feel the same.”

Louis sighs, feeling sick and guilty. He’s not an idiot, he had seen Harry toss him a few starry eyed stares in the past year and Louis can’t say he didn’t revel in it, didn’t use it to draw Harry in.

He’s a shitty person.

“I’m a shitty person,” he announces, muffled by the fabric of Nick's shirt.

“Stop that, you’re not. You’re the best person I know, you just got a little misguided.” He squeezes Louis a little tighter. “Can't say I hadn't either."

The air from his sigh tickles Louis' scalp. "This is a scary thing," Nick says. "You’re allowed to be concerned. You’re allowed to be afraid of something like this. I just want you to tell me if you are.”

Louis pulls back and looks up at him, “I did, Nick,” he insists. “Maybe not as often as I should have, but that was just because when I did, you didn’t seem to take it seriously. You’d brush it off and that just, made everything worse. You were so focused on him, it was like you were forgetting me.”

Nick frowns, eyebrows furrowed together. “Shit.” His long fingers tighten against Louis' back. “I’m sorry. Shit, I can't believe I - you should never feel that way and I shouldn't have made that happen. Fuck, I'm sorry."

“Thank you,” Louis tells him. A few seconds later, he laughs lightly, a sad self-deprecating one, “God, we’re all just a big ball of fucking ‘wrong’ in this, aren’t we?”

Nick snorts and there’s a beat before Louis speaks again.

“Do you– do you think it can still happen?” he asks, softly.

“Do you want it to?” Nick asks back instead of answering.

“Yeah, I do.”

“One hundred percent?”

“Yes. It might,” Louis pauses, “It might take some getting used to. Might need to go slow but… I do.”

“Then yeah,” Nick replies, “definitely.”

-

“The party you are trying reach is unavailable at this time. Please leave a message at the tone.”

Louis sighs at hearing the same recording for the fifth time. He’d been trying to reach Harry for over an hour but to no avail. Nick had offered, saying maybe Harry’d be more inclined to answer him, but Louis knew he had to be the one to reach out. Every other message he’d left had been toeing the lines of desperation,

“Hi, it’s uh, it’s me, again. I’m sorry for another message but I had to try once more. I’m sorry,” Louis fumbles over his words. “Please call me back, I just… I need to see you. I’m sorry. ”

Louis isn’t surprised Harry hadn’t answered, but he’d hoped.

He walks back into the living room where Nick is on the floor, absently playing with the dogs. When the floor creaks, he looks up at Louis, the question in his eyes. Louis just shakes his head sadly and falls onto the couch. Nick crawls to him, resting his head on his thigh and Louis curls his hand into Nick’s hair. His breath puffs against him.

“He’ll call back,” Nick tells him. “He couldn’t say no to you. Maybe he just needs time.”

Louis hopes he’s right.

When his phone buzzes four hours later, it jolts him out of an impromptu nap with Nick drooling on his thigh.

meet me at dean’s. i’ll be there in an hour.

A second buzzes through immediately after.

just you

He shows the messages to a sleepy Nick, who just reaches up and pats his face and says, “Go get our boy.”

-

It’s the dinner rush at Dean’s when Louis gets there, dishware clanging and servers running around. Harry’s sitting in a booth near the bar, hair tied up in a bun, playing with the silverware on the table. His broad shoulders are curved down, an attempt to make himself smaller.

Louis steps up to the table and stands beside it. “Hi.”

Harry looks up quickly, like he didn’t hear Louis arrive. His face is mostly impassive; the brow crinkle is his only sign of emotion. He waves a hand to direct Louis to move into the seat across from him.

It’s uncomfortable when he sits, neither of them making eye contact until Louis blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, seemingly shocked.“Y’know, I thought I’d have to drag it out of you.”

Louis scratches the back of his head clumsily.“Uh, yeah. Me too, to be honest.” He sighs, dropping his hand into his lap. “But I am. I fucked up a lot.”

“So did I, even more so,” Harry admits. “I can’t really blame you for not trusting me. Didn’t really give you a reason to.”

Louis’ shaking his head and speaking up before Harry can finish. “No, that’s not a good excuse for how shitty I was to you.”

“I was shitty to you guys, too,” Harry pushes.“I was careless and selfish. I should’ve given you at least like, a warning or something.”

Louis drops his head onto his chin.“You know, we could just keep going in circles or we could both admit we fucked up and move on to other things?”

Harry mimics his stance and answers, “I vote option two.”

They share a quick smile before Louis’ fades, mouth opening and closing a few times before he questions, “Can I just… ask why?”

“I was terrified of you,” Harry says simply. “I felt things I wasn’t ready for around you. And honestly, I really didn’t want to hurt either of you. It might be hard to believe, but I did want you two to be as happy as possible. But I knew myself at the time,felt like my being around would hinder that. So running away seemed like the only option.”

Louis releases a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his tired face, “Okay. Thank you.”

Harry nods jerkily and they share another small smile before Louis’ drops back into nothing.

“I just… you need to know it was never me not wanting you. You’re… fantastic. It was all about you guys not wanting me. I was petrified of that possibility.” Louis has to force the words out. As much as he needs Harry to hear them, it’s still not easy to say.

Harry sits back, twirling a strand of hair that had fallen out of his bun and tugging a little, “I know that, I do.” His mouth twists and when he looks back up at Louis, his big eyes are sad. “But how could you think I didn’t want you?”

“What? Besides you bailing on us more than once?” The words tumble out of Louis’ mouth before he can stop them. When Harry’s face falls even more, he wishes he could shove them back in so far he’d forget he’d ever even thought it.

“Louis, I told you–”

“No, no, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s out of the way,done with for now.” He sighs, getting a little misty, “I mean, I can’t lie and say that didn’t play into it, but you know that so. But most of it was just… it was all me being paranoid. You were right, what you said. About me being scared of Nick picking you over me.”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Harry blurts.

“No, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Louis shrugs lightly. “I’m not like, overly insecure about myself and all that shit, I just… I don’t really know what it was, really, just everything. All of a sudden we had a new mate. He didn’t want a mate at all, let alone two. And then you guys clicked immediately, which is something I didn’t get with either you or Nick. And I felt left out. I put some of it on meself, I know, with how I acted but.” He shrugs again.

Harry frowns down at the glass of water the server had left at their table. The air around them crackles as he taps it with his finger, rings shining in the stale light, and bites his lip. Louis feels the corner of his mouth twitch once again at the crinkle between Harry’s eyebrows.

“You know, out of the two of you, you were the first one I noticed,” Harry tells him, eyes jumping up to Louis briefly before moving back to his glass. And that’s not what Louis was expecting to hear. “There was something about you. I like, wanted your approval, wanted you to like me as much as I did you.”

“Yeah, Nick said that,” Louis tells him.

Harry scoffs, “Sold me out.” Louis snorts before Harry carries on, “I should probably be embarrassed by it but,” he lifts a shoulder casually, obviously not embarrassed at all, “I thought you were amazing. Still do. And I did want you, the whole time.”

Louis looks down at his own glass when feels his cheeks heat, rubbing the too-long cuff of his jumper across his mouth in an attempt to hide it.

“Do you know why I came back?” Harry asks intensely, almost too loud.

Louis looks up at him and shakes his head. He hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t considered any option.

“It was something you’d said, ages ago.”He scrunches his face, “I think we were drunk, but I could still tell it was genuine.” He gives a wry grin and Louis giggles.

“You told me once, that you would pick Nick, no matter what. In a world with no markings, you’d still want him. And God knows I’ve heard that before but… somehow, coming from you, it stuck with me.”

He leans forward, linking his hands in front of him, “I’ve got a lot of friends who are already mated and because of that, I thought I knew what it was. I thought, you know, that mate markings gave you this perfect other half, a part of you that was missing; that it would give you this life of paradise because with your mate, you’re finally who you’re meant to be. And that never set well with me. But I saw you and Nick. You were so different and you fought like mad and I honestly questioned a few times whether or not you were actually soulmates.”

Louis laughs at that, “You wouldn’t be the first to say that, trust me.”

Harry grins and speaks again.“Well, I told Caroline that on Skype a couple months ago. She called me an idiot and said if I was with her, she’d have hit me. She said mates weren’t about that. She said that yeah, mates are there for you in life, to make it better, but they don’t complete you; they’re more like an extension of you. It’s like, you’re already who you’re supposed to be, you’re already whole on your own and mates just… enhance you. And only you can choose who’s going to do that.

“Like, yeah they’re your mate, but you always have a choice. You can choose to stay or choose not to. It’s all actually up to you. And I didn’t know that.”

“You always have a choice with us, Harry,” Louis tells him seriously, reaching across the table to place the tips of his fingers on Harry’s. The skin is warm beneath them. “Neither of us wants to force you into anything.”

“You haven’t,”Harry states firmly. “I’ve never felt pressured or anything by either of you. I told you I just wanted to be friends and that was enough. Nick’s told me that at certain points, you wanted more, but I was still welcome when my decision remained the same. You accepted it.”

Harry loosens the grip on his own hands, letting Louis’ fingers just slip in between them. Vulnerability is evident in Harry’s face for a split second before he looks back down.

“I missed you both while I was gone. And like you’d said, it had nothing to do with the markings; it was all you. I just wanted to be around you again.” He doesn’t look back at Louis when he speaks that last sentence, just stares at their hands, rubbing the pad of his thumb against one of Louis’ nails.

Warmth travels up Louis’ arm and straight to his chest at the action. He sniffs and his fingers tighten around Harry’s. He feels lighter after listening to the other man’s spiel, like a massive weight has been lifted off him.

“I missed you, too,” he says easily. “I’m sure you’ve already heard that from Nick, but you should hear it from me, as well.” He exhales, “I should have done so many things differently.”

“We,” Harry interjects.

“We should have done so many things differently,” Louis corrects with a laugh, “and I know this right here isn’t going to fix everything that’s happened, but I don’t want to miss you anymore. I want you to be here. With us.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees, looking right into Louis’ eyes. Louis sees nothing but resolve.

“You’ve got to want it, Harry. You have to be happy, too. Make sure you’re not just doing this for us.”

“I’m not. It’s for me. I want this; I want you. I choose you.”

-

A low moan rumbles out of Harry’s mouth when his body relaxes under Louis’ hands, “Oh god, that feels good.”

Louis snorts from his seat above him on the couch. “That’s was you get for holding a 3 year old on your shoulder for nearly four hours.” He pushes his thumb hard into the skin of his shoulder and Harry releases another noise of pleasure and melts backwards. “Your back is bad enough.”

He and Harry had taken Liam to the first Man U training match of the spring earlier that morning, giving the mothers a day off. Louis had offered to hold the toddler on his shoulders once he could practically see the twinge on Harry’s face, but apparently the younger man is taking the competition of being the favorite uncle very seriously.

Louis’ going to have to watch him.

Eventually, it gets to be too much and Harry wiggles away from Louis’ massage, rolling to his knees before collapsing lengthwise on the couch beside Louis, feet tossed over his lap. Louis pats his calf lightly. 

“Do you want me to get you a pill or anything? For the pain?” Louis offers.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Just need to stretch it a bit.”

It’s bizarre how perfectly the opportunity has presented itself to ask.

In order to take things as slowly and carefully as possible, the three of them decided that Harry would continue to stay in the flat, but remain in the office for an unforeseeable future. They’ve had a few hiccups along the way, but overall, it was working out very well; they’d spent the last two months taking the first official steps into a relationship, the three of them going out on dates together, and also sometimes just Nick and Harry and just Louis and Harry.

More importantly, they've hashed out everything that had happened. They went over every detail and emotion felt over the past year, apologizing and correcting, setting boundaries and limitations, in order to healthily move forward.

They want to do this right and the arrangement has allowed them the time, distance, and space needed to adjust accordingly.

Still, it wasn’t really a surprise when ‘move-in’ talk came, but Louis could tell it surprised Nick that he was the one to initiate it.

And now as Harry lies on the couch, achy back that Louis knows has to be worse from sleeping on that awful futon, all Louis has to do is open is mouth and ask.

Just as his lips part, Nick comes barreling into the house from the back, an irate, fluffy cat in his arms, with Pig and Bruce hot on his heels.

“What did you do to Gertrude!?” Harry wails, scrambling off his back to snatch the shaking cat from Nick and cuddle her to his shirtless chest.

“I don’t think,” Nick wheezes out, “she likes her new siblings.”

Harry frowns down at the dogs at his feet, before turning his attention back to Gertrude, cooing at her softly and scratching her head in comfort. Harry had gotten a bit weepy when Gemma had handed ownership back to him when they’d all met the week before, burying his face in her coat and coming up to breathe with tufts of pale gray fur stuck to the tear tracks.

Louis narrows his eyes at Nick, who’s stumbling and still wheezing his way into the kitchen, before stomping after him, feeling seconds away from throwing an actual tantrum.

“I was about to ask him, you tit,” he hisses, punching Nick swiftly on the shoulder, making him dribble the water he’d been drinking.

Nick grunts and wraps his hand around his bicep, glaring at Louis. “OW. What the hell was — oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’”

“Umm… oops?”

Louis just huffs a breath out through his nose. “It was literally the perfect time,” he whines, crossing his arms.

Rolling his eyes, Nick steps forward and touches his lips to Louis’ forehead, laughing a little, “You know, he’d have been in there yesterday if you weren’t such a sentimental sap.”

“Shut up, asshole, I just want it to be special,” Louis pinches his side, voice quieting as they head back to living room.

By that night though, Louis has officially foregone his desire to wait for ‘the right moment.’

Nick has already gone to the back when Harry and Louis begin shutting the flat down, showering the day off. The dogs are passed out on their backs, Gertrude curled up on the top of the couch, none of them moving when the lights are clicked out.

The floorboards creak beneath the pair’s feet as they walk hand in hand towards the bedrooms and when they reach Harry’s doorway, Louis whirls him, pushing Harry’s body against the wall and pulling his face down to plant a hard kiss on his red lips. It isn’t the dirtiest kiss they’ve shared, but there’s an unexpected level of heat within it.

Harry swallows back a groan as he rucks up the side of Louis’ t-shirt, dipping his fingers into the curve of Louis’ back. The bare skin of Harry’s chest pebbles under Louis’ palm.

They hold the kiss for another long moment before Louis pulls back suddenly, grinning at the dazed look on Harry’s face. “Sorry.”

“N-” Harry clears his throat, “No, it’s fine. Completely okay.”

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other in silence, until Louis asks, “Do you want to come into our room?” His voice is meeker than he was expecting.

The furrow appears between Harry’s brows and he nods rapidly, “We could, we could do that tonight.” Harry had spent a few nights in there with them before but.

“No,” Louis shakes his head a bit. His fingers dot along Harry’s hip, tracing the outline of the small bird whose twin rests on Louis’ thigh, “Do you want to come into our room… and make it yours, as well?”

Harry’s eyes go wide as saucers and his lips form a round O before moving like he’s trying to speak. “I… really?”

Louis nods. “Mhmm. If you’d like to. We’d like it.”

As soon as Louis finishes speaking, Harry’s expression goes from stunned to absolutely beaming. His mouth is stretched wide, all his perfect teeth showing, and his eyes hold the tiny bags beneath them that only show up whenever he’s truly smiling.

Louis feels the edges of his eyes begin to crinkle in response. “So?” he asks.

“Absolutely,” Harry grins.

They stand there just smiling at each other for nearly a solid minute before Louis takes Harry’s hand again and tugs him down the hall.

Nick is already in bed, wearing his glasses with the bedside light on while he types on his phone. He looks up when he sees them standing in the doorway and purses his lips, eyes darting between the two of them. At the twin looks of happiness on their faces, Nick bites his lip, a large smile beginning to peek out behind it. Suddenly, he barks a loud laugh and flips back the covers on the bed then patting the sheets with an eyebrow wiggle.

Harry and Louis share a look before pouncing, landing in a heap of noise and laughter and limbs on top of both Nick and the empty side of the bed. There’s a lot of scrambling, Louis trying to get in the middle, but Harry pushes him away, demanding that because he’s been so alone at night for the past two months, he deserves extra cuddles.

Eventually, they settle, with Nick and Louis both curled around Harry’s frame, legs tangled together, each one of them touching in some way.

Louis closes his eyes and snuffles himself into Harry’s side, running his hand across the happy trail low on his stomach.

A light flashes on the other side of Louis’ eyelids and when he pops them open, he sees Nick pulling his phone away, obviously having taken a picture.

“Don’t put that online,” he mutters into Harry’s armpit, closing his eyes again.

“Okay, dear.” Nick’s definitely lying and Harry snickers at the obviously patronizing tone.

“I hate you both.”

-

Louis wakes when Gertrude plants her fluffy ass right on his face.

He coughs and sneezes, pushing her off, withering a bit under the glare she seems to send him, as if he’s the one who’s done wrong. He rolls over to watch her knead a bit on Nick’s pillow before telling her, “I love a bit of face sitting in the morning, Gertie, but I’m afraid I’m just not into pet play.”

She turns her back to him and Louis laughs out loud.

He rolls out of bed once he hears Nick and Harry begin banging around in other parts of the flat. There’s a lot of extra noise for, he checks the time on his phone, just after 9, and not one to be left out of anything, Louis hurries his way through his morning routine before soon making his way down the hall.

When he peeks in at the two of them in the kitchen, seeing Harry feeding Pig and Bruce while Nick is staring down at his phone, flapping his hand about and squawking, he doesn’t get that old feeling of sadness or jealousy. Instead, his heart fills.

He knows this is still just the beginning for them and that there are going to be so many more bumps along the way, but he’s okay with that. He knows Harry will still feel like he’s invading sometimes, that Nick’s going to get annoyed at Harry and Louis’ tendency to ignore problems and that he’s still going to have irrational moments of insecurity. But as long as he still gets to see this every morning, he’s sure they’ll get through it.

Nick spots him a second later, waving his coffee mug and yelling for Louis to come look at something on his phone. He shoves the phone in Louis’ face, forcing him to go cross-eyed for a second. Once he focuses on the image in front of him, Louis groans and laughs all at once.

“Nicholas!”

It’s Nick’s Instagram, the picture he’d taken of the three of them the night before, uploaded and filtered just enough to make them look soft and dreamy. Louis’ eyes are closed, faced pressed into Harry’s side, but the small smile on his lips is still evident. Nick’s closest to the camera, a goofy, open-mouthed grin on his face, and his eyes are happy behind the lenses of his reading glasses. Harry’s smile is soft and his eyes look sleepy, but he looks breathtaking between them.

The happiness and intimacy between them shines out of the image.

“Lewis! It has more likes than any other picture I’ve posted!”

He drops his eyes to the tiny numbers under the picture, grinning at the high number, “I’m so proud of you, babe,” he wipes away a fake tear as he climbs onto a bar stool. “You’ve made it.”

“Shut up.” Nick flicks a bit of egg at him.

“Hey, no throwing food,” Harry tells them, setting down a plate of waffles and sliding a cup of tea to Louis before sitting down himself.

Louis sticks his tongue out at Nick and raises his chin haughtily, then mock whispers at Harry, “he’ll be fine. He’s just mad he could never get that many likes with only his face.”

When Harry laughs so hard he snorts and Nick lets out an offended, “Hey!” Louis smirks down into his tea and thinks, yeah, this is technically still the beginning, but they’re more than ready to start.

And if he happens to like the picture later when he’s scrolling through his own feed, then it was definitely just an accident.