Chapter Text
“Nice one, Hazza, totally subtle.” Harry flushes as his annoying best mate cackles hysterically next to him in the hallway of their high school.
“Shut up, Niall!” He whisper-shouts, frantically walking forwards in the desperate hope that maybe if he gets away fast enough Niall will stop drawing attention to him.
It seems all of Harry’s efforts are in vain, though, as Niall snorts, catching up to him quickly. “I have no idea how Louis doesn’t know you’re completely obsessed with him yet. It’s so bloody obvious I’m pretty sure even the teachers know.”
Harry throws a panicked glance over his shoulder, but luckily Louis is no longer looking at him, instead to talking to one of his friends (Liam, Harry thinks his name is) and looking bored.
Harry has been in love with Louis-pronounced-Lewis Tomlinson since he was 12 years old, and he’s pretty sure Louis has no idea who he is. Well, that’s not completely true. He’s friends with Harry’s older sister Gemma, and he comes over to the house on occasion, but outside of the occasional nod of acknowledgment they don’t exactly interact. Sure, Harry has had many the embarrassing day dream about Louis suddenly noticing him and sweeping him off his feet so they can ride off into the sunset together in Louis’ shitty second hand volkswagen, but he’s realistic enough to realize the feeling isn’t mutual.
Harry had been caught blatantly checking out Louis’ rather fantastic arse again, and Niall’s loud cackle of a laugh had drawn Louis’ attention before he’d been able to properly avert his eyes. Louis had actually caught Harry’s panicked gaze for a whole 0.5 seconds, which Harry counted as a win, but he’d also dismissed him just as quickly, turning promptly back to his conversation with Liam.
So Harry had done what any sane person would do - he’d fled. Only Niall is ruining his getaway by chattering loudly about how embarrassing he is, so anyone with a pair of functioning ears can hear him.
“Niall, I swear to god I will tell everyone that you wet the bed at our first sleep over if you don’t shut up!” Harry threatens, and Niall’s mouth shuts comically quickly.
“Point taken,” He assents, but he’s still struggling to hide the smile that keeps threatening to creep onto his face, and Harry has had quite enough.
“Seriously, don’t you think I’m embarrassed enough as it is? He caught me staring at his arse, okay? And I’m pretty sure I was drooling too.” Niall gives him a sympathetic look. “Look, I know i’m taking the piss out of you but it definitely didn’t look as bad as you thought, okay? Other than your mouth hanging open, you could totally have passed for casual.”
“What does that even mean?” Harry leans his forehead against the locker to his right. “Besides, it hardly matters. It’s not like this is going to change anything anyway.”
Niall squeezes his shoulder. “You never know, Haz, just cause he’s never dated a bloke before doesn’t mean he wouldn’t.”
Harry stares at him in disbelief. “He’s like, painfully straight, Ni. He’s been with the same girl for two years, he’s on the football team, Gems has never said anything about him maybe swinging my way. It’s hopeless.”
It’s tough being in unrequited love, even more so when Harry is a 14 year old nerd who’s doomed to be arse over tits for his older sister’s straight friend for the rest of eternity.
Before Niall can tell him off for being pathetic, the bell rings, signaling the start of their next class.
Niall hip checks him. “It’s okay, at least Lewis seems to have forgotten about you already.”
And that, Harry thinks, is the whole problem.
***
By the time the final bell rings, Harry is more than ready to go home. He waves goodbye to Niall and starts the slow trudge home, lugging his heavy knapsack on his back and trying not to topple forward. He’d thought he’d been adjusting well to secondary school - at least until he got into the second month of term and very quickly realized he was in way over his head.
The school work itself he could handle, it was everything else that came with it. He feels like he’s living in a constant state of anxiety, and his only reprieve is coming home, shedding his metaphorical armor, and collapsing on his bed face first.
Today, though, it seems he’s not alone. After he’s been lying there for a few minutes, he hears the front door bang open as Gemma gets home … only she’s not alone. A second pair of feet follow her over the entryway and into the front fall. Harry strains his ears, disregarding how creepy it is to eavesdrop on his sister and her friend because he legitimately has nothing better to do, when he hears a laugh that makes his skin heat up.
Louis Tomlinson is in his house.
Harry wants to die.
He ignores the part of his brain telling him that he’s acting like a stalker (though the voice does sound suspiciously like Niall) and creeps over to the door, opening it up just enough so he can hear what they’re saying without being seen himself.
“...yeah I figured long as one of us was paying attention it wouldn’t be too awful.” Louis says before Gemma cuts him off with a snort.
“So it’s just a coincidence, then, that I’m always the one taking notes and you’re always the one who has to borrow them before an exam?” Gemma’s voice is scolding, but in that teasing way she’d picked up from their mum, and Harry can just picture Louis’ cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He’s a good sport about it though.
“No, you’re right, I’m shit.” They both laugh before Louis adopts a more serious tone. “Seriously though, thanks Gems. It means a lot that you still want to help me no matter how many times I fuck up.”
There’s the sound of clothing rustling as Gemma pulls Louis into a hug. “It’s okay, Tommo, I know how difficult it is for you at home right now. I really don’t mind.” Gemma’s voice is so warm and caring and Harry wants to melt. There are very few people capable of bringing out that side of her, and Harry knows Louis should consider himself lucky.
“Alright then, I’d best be off.” He hears footsteps reatreating towards the front door, pausing just a bit too early. “Gems, you might want to see if your brother’s okay.”
Harry’s head nearly pops off his neck, his entire body freezing in place. Did Louis just … had Louis Tomlinson just brought him up in a conversation entirely unprompted? And in what sounded eerily like concern?
This is it, Harry is actually going to die. He hopes Niall will take good care of his video games.
“Wha - Harry?” Gemma asks, her bafflement the perfect mirror to the chaos swirling inside his own head. Louis coughs nervously, as if regretting bringing him up to begin with.
“Yeah, I saw him in the hallway earlier with his friend, that blonde lad, and he seemed … I dunno, a bit weird I guess?” There’s a moment of silence in which Harry knows Gemma’s giving Louis a look. “Alright, a bit weirder than usual, then. He just seemed a bit off. This is none of my business, I don’t even know why I brought it up.” Harry can hear Louis’ embarrassment in his voice and he is so completely endeared. Louis cares. Louis cares. Holy shit, Louis cares.
Before Harry can drive himself into a full-fledged panic attack, Gemma laughs. “I think it’s sweet you’re worried about him.”
Louis huffs. “I’m not worried, I just remember what it’s like to be one of the first years, you know? It sucks when you don’t really have a lot of friends yet or feel like you fit in. I’m just paying it forward or whatever it is Kevin Spacey wants me to do.”
Gemma giggles and calls out, “Whatever you say, Lou!” before firmly closing and locking the door behind him.
Harry uses the excuse of Gemma’s rather conveniently loud exclamation of his name to emerge from his room.
“You say something Gems?” She turns around, a startled look on her face. “Oh, you’re home!” Harry gives her a look. “Just like I always am. Didn’t you call me?” If he didn’t know her so well and if he wasn’t related to her, he doubts he would have noticed the subtle blush creeping up her cheeks.
“No, I was just talking to a friend.”
“About me?” Harry does his best to phish without being too obvious about it, and for once he thinks it’s working.
“No, I mean, yeah, technically I guess, but not really.”
Harry stares at her. “What does that even mean?”
Gemma shrugs. “My friend was just asking how you were getting on in school, it being your first year in secondary and all.”
Harry widens his eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Which friend? Samantha?”
Gemma frowns. “No, I don’t think you’ve actually spoken to him yet. Louis Tomlinson? He plays football on the school team, friends with Liam Payne, dating that clique-y girl Hannah Walker for like, ages?”
Harry pretends to mull it over before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen him around. He asked about me?”
Gemma makes a face and shrugs. “I don’t know how he even knew you were my brother, but yeah.” She shudders in mock horror. “Maybe mum’s right - maybe we do look freakishly alike after all.” Harry grins, his dimples out in full force. Gemma sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I’d have to go get my whole face reconstructed otherwise.”
Harry pouts. “Just be glad neither of us look like Aunt Mildred.”
Gemma’s expression truly does become one of horror at that. “Oh God, you’re right. Forget everything I said. I take it all back!”
“And you say I’m the weird one,” Harry teases, momentarily forgetting he isn’t supposed to have overheard that bit of the conversation.
Gemma gives him a weird look but leaves it alone, grabbing her school bag and trudging off to the den. “Up to watching some mindless telly until dinner?”
Harry grabs a blanket and trails after her, his mind still playing Louis’ words on repeat.
***
By the time their mum gets home from work, Gemma and Harry have progressed to blaring old 90s music as Harry paints Gemma’s nails for her.
Anne steps into the den with a box of pizza tucked under her arm and a resigned smile.
“I see you two have had a productive afternoon,” She teases, placing the box on the coffee table and opening it up to reveal a half pepperoni/half-vegetarian pizza.
Harry hastily finishes Gemma’s pinkie before capping the bottle and dashing up to grab napkins and three slices. Gemma stares at her hands, then at the pizza, and then back at her hands with a pout. “Should’ve waited until after dinner.” Anne takes pity on her and picks up one of the pepperoni slices, holding out so Gemma can take a bite as Harry laughs at them both.
“We haven’t had pizza in ages, mum! Not that i’m complaining.” Anne gives Gemma another bite before grabbing her own slice and leaning back against the couch. “I got some news today at work and didn’t feel like cooking.”
Harry and Gemma exchange a concerned glance. “What kind of news?” Gemma asks, and Harry can hear the worry in her voice.
“Not bad news, just ... “ Anne pauses, as though uncertain of how to go on. “I got a promotion.”
Harry and Gemma grin at each other, Harry trying not choke on his pizza as he bounces up and down.
“In Cheshire,” Anne continues, and Harry abruptly stops celebrating.
“What?”
Anne bites her lip. “They offered me another position with much better benefits and a significantly increased salary, but we’d have to move to Cheshire.”
“That’s two hours away!” Gemma exclaims, the pizza all but forgotten now.
“I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you both about it before making a decision. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
That’s the understatement of the year, in Harry’s opinion. He’s lived here all his life, still has the same neighbours as he’s always had. Every important milestone has happened in this house. Same for Gemma.
But by the same token, the thought of getting to restart somewhere new holds a lot of appeal to him. As it is now, he doesn’t particularly enjoy his new school, doesn’t really have any friends other than Niall, and tends to just blend into the background. He isn’t involved in any clubs or activities and is pretty sure most people at school have no idea who he is. There’s nothing tying him here except for a rowdy blonde irishman and his crush on a straight boy.
So, yes, he actually isn’t that opposed to moving. The more he thinks about it, the more it excites him, actually; a new house, new school, more money so he can maybe (hopefully) get a car when he turns 16. And Cheshire is right next to Manchester - he can actually go into the city more than once or twice a year.
He turns to see Gemma biting her lip and frowning and feels his own enthusiasm deflate a bit. Gemma is genuinely happy here, has loads of friends, does well in school and only has one more year before she graduates. This is the worst possible time for her to move. Harry decides then and there to go with whatever Gemma wants. It doesn’t really make all that much of a difference to him.
“I agree with whatever Gemma decides,” Harry says firmly, feeling his cheeks warm up at the grateful look his sister sends him. Anne nods like she’d been expecting him to say that.
“I don’t know, there are so many things to consider. Can I have some time to think about it?” Gemma pleads.
“My boss gave me until Monday morning to decide, that’s three full days. We need to come to a mutually agreed upon decision by Sunday.” Despite the serious tone of her voice, Anne gives her children a soft smile and pulls them into a tangled group hug on the carpet.
“What do you want, mum?” Harry asks, and Anne frowns. “The new job sounds amazing, to be honest. It’s exactly what I dreamed of doing when I was still in school. I just hate the thought of uprooting you both so suddenly in the middle of the school year.”
Gemma looks guilty and Harry can tell she’s reconsidering whatever mental decision she’d been leaning towards. He doesn’t envy being in her position.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Harry assures them both, giggling when Gemma and Anne both tag team him in a cuddle.
***
Harry has trouble falling asleep that night, and it shows in his mood the next morning. He’s tired and quieter than usual during first period, earning him a concerned look from Niall who keeps yammering away about something or other until he realizes he’s not going to get a response.
When Harry goes to sit at their usual corner table in the cafeteria for lunch, Niall grabs him by the elbow and drags him towards the door.
“Where are we going?” Harry asks in confusion. Niall snorts. “That’s the most you’ve said all day so far, mate. We’re eating lunch outside today. Figure a change of scenery will breathe some life back into ya.”
Knowing he’s probably right, Harry doesn’t fight it, lethargically climbing up the bleachers next to the football field and closing his eyes as the late October sun warms the skin not covered by his jumper.
He’s abruptly knocked out of his temporary moment of peace when a football comes flying at his chest. He falls sideways, just managing to grab onto the wood so he doesn’t topple over backwards as he hears Niall gasp next to him and someone apologizing profusely a few feet away.
He looks up and wants the ground to swallow him whole. None other than Louis Tomlinson is standing on the field, glaring at his friend (who Harry recognizes to be Liam, also on the footie team) before turning his attention back to Harry.
“Mate, I am so sorry. Liam here is a terrible shot. There’s a reason we keep him on defense.” Harry can only imagine what an unflattering shade of red his cheeks must be at that moment and manages an awkward half-nod.
“It’s okay.”
Louis gives him a tiny smile. “It’s really not, but I appreciate you being so cool about it.” Before Harry has the time to blush even further about Louis using his name and the word ‘cool’ in the same sentence, Louis turns to Liam and elbows him sharply in the side. “Apologize. Now.”
Liam glowers at him but dutifully turns to address Harry. “I’m sorry I hit you, but you seem to be fine so we’re good, yeah?” Liam barely waits for Harry to give him a shaky nod before turning and walking back towards a group of people gathered under a tree eating lunch on the opposite side of the field.
Louis gives Harry an apologetic smile. “He’s not normally that rude. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, not the first time I’ve been hit with a football. Least he didn’t get me in the face.” Louis laughs brightly, and Harry wants to cry. Everything about this boy - every single thing - is perfect. He has it so, so bad.
“I can always respect a man who sees the bright side to getting hit in the chest with a footie.” Louis quips, and now it’s Harry’s turn to laugh.
Louis raises a hand and gives him a quick parting wave before joining Liam and the rest of their friends under the tree. Niall starts humming suggestively under his breath but Harry ignores him in favour of watching Louis as he plops down next to a blonde girl he assumes is his girlfriend Hannah, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and wrapping his arm around her.
Harry tries to keep the frown off of his face, but of course Niall sees it. “Doesn’t mean he’s straight, Haz.”
Harry sighs. “Doesn’t mean he’s not, either. Also it doesn’t really matter what he is, he’s still in a relationship with someone who’s not me.” He knows he sounds petty, but for once he doesn’t care to try and hide it. He’s sad. He wants to wallow.
Niall seems to get that because he doesn’t say anything else, just pulls Harry towards him and lets him rest his head on his shoulder. “Least you picked a nice one to fall hopelessly in love with. Imagine if it’d been Liam.”
***
Harry wakes up to the sound of a soft tapping on his door. He glances at the clock, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and cringes when he realizes it’s 4 in the morning. He grumbles, contemplating pretending to still be asleep, but ultimately decides that it must be important.
He swings his legs over the bed and makes his way zombie-like to the door, opening it to reveal Gemma. She gives him a meek smile as he gestures for her to come in, closing the door behind her.
“You do know what time it is right?”
Gemma purses her lips. “Yeah. But I needed to talk to you, and I was gonna wait until morning but then I couldn’t sleep.” She sits up. “I can leave if you’d like, I’m sorry for waking you.”
Harry rolls his eyes, collapsing backwards on his bed. “No point, I’m awake now.” He yawns as Gemma lies back next to him, staring at the ceiling.
“So what did you want to talk about?”
Gemma rolls on her side and looks at him seriously. “Moving. I think I’ve come to a decision, but I just wanted to … I don’t know, talk it out a bit first before I tell mum and it becomes final.”
“You want to stay, don’t you?”
Gemma sighs. “Yeah. But only because it’s best for me in the short term. I don’t think it’s fair to base a decision that will probably affect the rest of our lives on something as stupid as getting to graduate from sixth form with my friends.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“It kind of is, though. Like, if we move, I’ll miss my friends and the life I’ve built for myself here, but it also means that mum passes up on a job she loves.” She picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Also, I realized that if we move mum will make enough so I can afford to go to school in London and live there rather than going somewhere local and living at home.”
She looks at Harry with eyes like saucers. “I’ve wanted to go to Uni in London since I was a kid, Haz, but I never thought it’d be a possibility. At best I thought maybe I could afford Manchester.” She laughs. “Though now that I think about it, if we live in Cheshire I could commute into Manchester every day. So even my back up plan still works dependent on us moving.”
Harry lets her keep talking because he realizes she’s basically already made her decision, she just needs someone else to help her accept it.
“What do you want, H? This decision concerns you too but it’s only my opinion that seems to be influencing mum.”
Harry shrugs. “If we move, I’d miss Niall and like … other people,” he pointedly does not think about Louis’ blue blue eyes or his soft hair or his kind smile, “But there’s nothing really tying me here. To be honest, the thought of a fresh start in a place close to Manchester and a money situation that’s less tight is really appealing.”
Gemma’s expression softens a bit at Harry’s words, and the tension drains from her posture. “Okay then. Decision made.”
Harry looks at her in alarm. “Please tell me you didn’t agree to it just because it’s what I want!”
Gemma pokes him in the cheek. “Of course not, silly. I just weighed the pros and cons for all of us, mum included, and realized it makes the most sense for the three of us individually. Cheshire’s not that far away, and with the money mum will be making we can probably afford a shitty second car so I can come visit often. And a lot of my friends are hoping to go to uni in London too, so it’s not like I’ll never see them again. It’s like a gap year. Only not.”
Harry grins. “Eloquent as always.”
Gemma smacks his arm. “Shut up. I’m brilliant.” Harry rolls his eyes and promptly goes back to bed, assuming she’ll let herself out. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
***
It’s two weeks until they’re set to move, and Harry’s barely started packing. He’s pretty organized as it is, so he assumes it won’t take him very long to get everything boxed up. He realizes just how misguided he was when it takes four hours to clear just one corner of his room.
His phone buzzing across the room snaps him out of the stare down he’s in the middle of having with his bookshelf. He didn’t even realize how many books he had until he was forced to try and pack them.
Harry shakes his head and decides to give himself a fifteen minute break before getting back to it. He sees that he has a new text from Niall, and he unlocks his phone curiously. Niall had taken the news that Harry is moving rather well, especially when Harry had invited him over to the Cheshire house as often as he wants. Niall had always had more friends that Harry, something about the whole being Irish and outgoing thing, so Harry isn’t too concerned about abandoning him.
The text simply says. “Check facebook now.” Harry barely uses facebook, so he has no idea what could possibly be important enough for Niall to text him about it, but his curiosity gets the better of him. His facebook feed is full of random updates from people he doesn’t actually remember ever meeting, and he scrolls a bit, trying to see what would have caught Niall’s attention.
He sees a bunch of sad and crying faced emoticons in response to one post and squints at it, gasping when he sees what it says.
Louis Tomlinson is single.
Harry knows it’s in poor taste to celebrate someone else’s break up, but fuck it, he’s moving in two weeks and the boy he’s had a crush on since he was 12 is single for the first time in as long as he’s known him.
Harry’s creeped Louis’ facebook profile before, of course he has, but it’s always been when he was sad or yearning or some other melancholic wuthering heights-esque emotion. Now, for the first time, he’s clicking through Louis’ pictures knowing that 1) he’s single and 2) he knows who Harry he is. Sure Harry may never see him again after two weeks, but he’s sure as hell going to revel in the potential of it all while he still can.
He’s about 10 pictures deep in Louis’ album when he gets to the shirtless pictures. Louis and his friends seem to have gone on vacation somewhere in France before the school year started, and Harry can feel his lust coiling like a snake in the pit of his stomach. A horny snake.
Louis is tanned and toned and golden and gorgeous and Harry wants to lick him. He’s never wanted to lick another person before, but he figures there’s a first time for everything as he scans his eyes up and down Louis’ body like the 14 year old creep he is. The shame he’d normally feel is gone, vanquished by the happiness still thrumming in his veins. Other than a few couple-y pictures with Hannah, Harry’s attention is utterly rapt as Louis gets progressively drunker and drunker, his inhibitions lowered to the point where one of the pictures is literally just his legs and bare ass peeking over the top of his boxers.
Harry thinks that Louis’ arse is like the Helen of Troy of bottoms; any respectable man or woman would go to war over it. It’s like it was handcrafted by Aphrodite herself.
Harry feels his hand creep lower and lower until it’s snuck its way into his boxers. He stares at the picture, knowing that this is the final line. Everything he’d done and thought up until now has been mildly creepy but acceptable by teenage boy with a crush standards. But wanking off to a picture of Louis’ bum … there is a deep level of desperation involved in that that Harry isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to come back from.
Harry shoots a quick glance out the window to be sure his mum’s car is still gone. Gemma’s still at school, he knows that for a fact, and the front door is locked. His hand starts moving on his dick before he even has a chance to question it. He decides to do the moral thing and switch back to a slightly more neutral picture of Louis, tanned and golden on the deck of a yacht.
There, at least he’s not completely objectifying him anymore.
That’s the last coherent thought Harry has as he quickens his pace, groaning as his hand slides up and down frantically. He can hear himself saying something under his breath but he’s too far gone to know what it is. He rarely lets himself go like this (it’s hard when he’s living with two women) but for once he lets himself feel everything. He’s about to hurtle over the edge of his orgasm, letting out a particular loud cry of ‘Louis!’ when his door slams open to reveal none other than the boy himself standing on the threshold with a look of confusion and then very quickly something akin to stunned horror on his face.
The shock of Louis appearing in his room as though summoned by Harry’s thoughts alone sends him into his orgasm, shooting streaks of white over his chest and dribbling down his right hand.
He finally comes down from his high and realizes that Louis is still standing in his doorway and just saw him come. Louis just saw him come.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Louis seems to snap out of it a second after Harry does, bolting from his spot by the door and hurtling down the stairs. Harry slams his laptop shut, praying Louis didn’t see the pictures of himself on screen (not that it matters, a voice in the back of his head reminds him, he heard Harry crying his name as he came after all) and wiping himself down in a panic before zipping his jeans back up and finding a clean shirt to wear.
He tiptoes to the edge of the stairs, not daring to actually face Louis. He just wants to know what he’s saying to Gemma and whether or not he can ever show his face in public ever again.
Gemma’s in the middle of asking him a question when Harry finally tunes into their conversation. “What do you mean 'I forgot I had to babysit'? Lou, we literally get to hang out once every few weeks. We’ve been planning this movie night for weeks!”
Louis’ voice is remarkably composed considering he just saw his friend’s little brother jerking himself off to the thought of him. Though maybe Louis’ just better at hiding things than Harry is; Harry’s always been a terrible actor.
“My mum called when I was upstairs to ask where I was. I thought it was tomorrow night, Gems, I really did. I’m so sorry.”
Gemma sighs in exasperation. “I’m moving away in two weeks, Louis. Two weeks! I have no idea when I’ll get to see you again, let alone have a movie night.”
Louis breathes out heavily, and he really does sound torn about it. But Harry assumes there’s no guilt trip Gemma can pull that will cancel out seeing his erect penis.
“Why don’t you come over to mine?” he suggests, a lightness in his tone that suggests he’s only just thought of it. “Yeah, you can help me babysit the girls and we can still do movie night.”
Gemma thinks it over silently for a moment before agreeing. “Yeah I can do that. Just let me call mum,” She runs to grab the phone, and only Harry hears Louis mutter, “Yeah better call mine too and explain why she suddenly doesn’t need a babysitter after all.”
Harry listens to Louis hastily make excuses on the phone with him mum, hanging up a second before Gemma comes back in the room.
“All good?” Harry hears him ask. Gemma must nod in the affirmative, because he hears Louis clap his hands together. “I’ll wait for you in the car, yeah?”
“Yeah, just gotta let Harry know I’ll be gone.” Harry can practically feel Louis’ heart rate increasing from here. He hears Gemma’s footsteps bounding up the stairs towards him and he quickly throws himself back in his room and onto his bed, hastily shoving a pair of headphones on so he looks busy.
Gemma knocks on his door frame a moment later, a smile on her face. Harry pulls the earphones back down, doing his best to look busy.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to Lou’s for movie night. Mum left money for take out if you want, or there’s pasta and stuff in the cupboard.”
Harry nods calmly as though his heart isn’t beating out of his chest.
“Yeah, I might invite Niall over actually.” he decides, because fuck does he ever need to tell someone what happened.
“Okay, just clean up after yourselves. You know what Niall’s like when left alone in the kitchen.” Gemma rolls her eyes and Harry laughs as convincingly as he can with his mind still racing. For maybe the first time since he’s found out he was moving, Harry is genuinely thrilled. He’d never be able to face Louis again. He’s royally fucked everything up.
Gemma gives him a tiny wave before bouncing back down the stairs and slamming the front door shut behind her. Harry drops whatever flimsy form of pretense he was holding onto before, sinking face first into his comforter and groaning.
It’s official. Harry’s penis has ruined his life.
***
Niall laughs at him, predictably, but he also helps him to give him a much needed reality check. They’re lying on the floor in Harry’s room, and while he hadn’t given away too many of the specifics, he knows that Niall has the general gist of what happened.
“So he walked in on you wanking, is what you’re saying.”
Harry picks up a pillow up off the edge of the bed and tries to smother himself with it.
“Harry, it’s not that bad. Blokes wank, you know? He’s a hypocrite if he judges you for it. Besides, why did he think it’d be okay to just stroll into your room like that?”
“Becauseheheardmeshouthisname,” Harry mumbles into the pillow.
“What?” Niall pulls the pillow off of Harry’s face, eyes serious for once.
Harry sighs. “Because he heard me shouting his name.”
It takes a grand total of three seconds for Niall’s eyes to widen in horror before he’s absolutely cackling. Harry wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“You … were wanking … to the thought … of Louis bloody Tomlinson,” Niall pauses here to breathe, laughter barely restrained, “ and he heard you. Fuck!”
Harry slams his face against the floor, glad that his room is still carpeted. He kind of loathes himself right now, but not enough to risk breaking his nose on hardwood flooring.
Niall takes a deep calming breath and puts a hand on Harry’s back. “Well, look at the bright side. Least he knows how you feel now.”
Harry contemplates suffocating Niall with the pillow and wonders if Maura and Bobby will actually miss him. “Niall, this is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to anyone I know. You should have seen the look on his face! I think I broke him.”
Harry pouts and buries his face in his arms. Niall runs his hand consolingly through his curls.
“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re moving away in two weeks. At least you’ll get a relatively clean break. Just, I don’t know, avoid him until then. You said he didn’t tell Gemma, right? He’s probably embarrassed too. Chances are this will stay a dirty little secret between you two.”
Harry groans. He knows Niall’s right, it just sucks. He’s got emotional whiplash after all the Louis-related feelings he’s cycled through in the past 24 hours.
“I just like him so much! Why did this have to happen to me, Niall? Now I can never look at him at him again, let alone speak to him.”
Niall shrugs. “Think of it this way - it’ll make a great story in five years.”
Harry rolls his eyes at him. “Not helping. I need a cuddle, do you think you can do that?”
Niall shakes his head fondly but pulls his best mate into his arms regardless. “Yeah come here you great doofus. It’ll all be okay, this is just a temporary speedbump on the highway to happiness.”
“Did you swallow a book of cliches before coming over?” Harry mumbles, feeling a little bit better despite himself.
“Nah, I just feel like things like this always have a way of working themselves out eventually.”
And maybe Niall’s right. Maybe someday Harry will be sitting around with his friends laughing at what an idiot he used to be. But that doesn’t matter right now. Harry feels embarrassed, sure, and anxious about what the hell he’s going to do about seeing Louis at school, but mostly he just feels … sad.
***
It turns out Harry hadn’t needed to worry much; it seems Louis is just as intent on ignoring him as Harry is. They manage to make it through the first week without a single awkward moment, and Harry’s proud because he only had to hide in one empty classroom as Louis was about to walk by to keep it that way.
Louis never drops by the house anymore, either, and Harry can tell Gemma is confused but not particularly concerned. When she asks him for his opinion on Louis’ behaviour, Harry makes up some excuse about Louis not wanting to get in the way of them packing that Gemma seems to accept.
Things come to a head two days before Harry leaves for Cheshire. It’s his last day at school, and Harry has decided to skip third period because 1) they’re dissecting frogs in class, and he isn’t sure he has the stomach for it and 2) he’s always wanted to skip class and this seems like the lowest risk way considering he’s moving and all.
It turns out the universe seems to enjoy making Harry suffer through humiliating moments over and over again, because Harry’s just finished weeing and is about to wash his hands when the door pushes open and Louis walks in.
They both look up and freeze at the same time, matching expressions of ‘oh fuck’ on their faces. Harry quickly rubs the soap into his hands and rinses it off, not caring how shitty a job he’s doing. He’s rather glad he’s already done the peeing bit, though; having his dick out for a second time during an awkward encounter with Louis would probably be enough to kill him on the spot.
Harry grabs some paper towels and barrels towards the door with them, intending to throw them out from the safety of another bathroom. Louis still hasn’t moved when he gets to the door, and Harry’s basically on the verge of awkward humiliated tears.
Louis steps to the side, finally startled into motion. Harry pushes past Louis, wanting nothing more than to flee as quickly as he can when he feels a small hand on his elbow.
He stumbles, turning back around in a panic. Louis’ mouth is just opening and closing awkwardly and Harry can’t stand to be there even a second longer. He takes off down the hall, hearing Louis snapping out of his daze and calling after him, but Harry’s pride won’t let him.
It’s not until he buckles his seatbelt in the moving van the next day that he realizes he’ll probably never see Louis Tomlinson again.
And no matter how much the memory of what happened still stings, there’s still a part of him that hopes he’s wrong.