Chapter Text
Winter bloomed into spring before Harry could blink. One second he was standing beneath a streetlamp with his face buried in Louis’ woollen scarf, kissing snowflakes off Louis’ eyelashes, and the next he was climbing out on the roof for the first time in months.
“You’ve been jittery all day,” Harry said, clutching a book to his chest as he settled down against the wall of the house.
Louis, who was straddling the windowsill, paused. “Have I?”
Harry cast the book aside, knowing he probably wouldn’t even open it. Not when Louis was finally sitting down next to him, a constellation of freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. Months ago, Harry would have stared longingly and tucked his hands under his thighs, blushing with how much he wanted to touch. He reached out now, ran his fingertips down Louis’ nose and bopped the tip of it, smiling when Louis crinkled his nose and caught Harry’s hand before he could pull away.
“Going to have to bite you for that,” Louis informed him, pretend-biting at Harry’s finger and making obscenely loud growling noises that startled a dog across the street.
“You’re mad.”
“I am a vampire,” Louis argued, joined hands falling to Harry’s lap as Louis scooted in close, lips skidding over Harry’s neck. “Want to bite you all the time.”
“You do bite me all the time,” Harry laughed, squirming at the feel of Louis licking over the curve of his throat, teeth grazing his pulse. He should never have told Louis how much he loved the sting of his teeth. Loved that little edge of pain.
“You’re a tasty treat.” Louis closed his mouth over Harry’s neck, hot and wet, and sucked, teeth pressing in, teetering on that good side of pain that made Harry’s breath turn laboured.
“Fuck, Lou.”
Louis kept sucking, fluttering eyelashes tickling Harry’s jaw and a hand squeezing his as if afraid to let go.
“Harry,” Louis finally said when he detached, a puff of his breath hitting Harry’s damp, sensitive skin, voice threadbare.
“Yeah?” He bumped his head into Louis’ and tried to calm his breath, hadn’t even realised he’d closed his eyes until Louis’ fingertips smoothed over his lids.
“I got a letter from Guildhall.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open, heart kicking up as if it wanted to break through his ribs. “What did it say?”
“I got shortlisted,” Louis said, eyes searching Harry’s face as if looking for a reaction that would tell Louis how to feel, and that was… Harry didn’t want that. In that moment, even if his bones felt heavy, he was so bloody proud. More than anything else in the world.
“Louis, Lou, I’m so proud.” He untangled their hands so he could cup Louis’ face and pull him into a kiss, soft, gentle, lips meeting and slotting together with careful pressure. “I’m so, so proud. Do you realise how amazing that is?”
“I might still not get in—”
“You will. You’ll get in,” Harry said with confidence because he’d always known the world would catch on eventually and realise that Louis was born to be on stage. And Harry remembered the day he’d helped Louis rehearse for his audition, remembered how his hands had shaken at the start, eyes flitting around the room, but then he’d pulled it together and just… Harry had been blown away with how good Louis was once he stopped pretending it was all a joke.
“Harry, I don’t… I’m scared. I don’t want to fail. I can’t afford to fail.”
“You won’t,” Harry whispered, pressing the words into Louis’ mouth, willing him to believe it, “But even if you don’t get in or you do and realise it’s not what you wanted, it won’t be a failure. I’ll still love you the same, no matter what. Even if you end up selling hot dogs at the Wembley stadium.”
Louis chuckled wetly and hid his face in Harry’s neck, hand curled into Harry’s hoodie. “Do you… have you thought about it? Do you think you might want to come to London too?”
“I’m, uh… I have. And I want to. I think I might apply to the Imperial College next year,” he paused, bit at a hangnail on his thumb. “And maybe… maybe Oxford, too.”
“You should,” Louis said quietly, hand slipping under fabric to touch warm skin, fingertips pressing in. “You know you don’t have to apply to London at all if it’s not what you—”
“I’m not. That’s not why I want to,” Harry promised, serious.
“Because we can do this, you know. I’ll wait five years for you, I don’t care. You’re it for me.”
And Harry wanted to say anything can happen in five years, but instead buried his face in Louis’ hair and said, “Even if we don’t… like, if something happens, I’d still want to apply there. They’ve got an amazing science and engineering courses, and I think… I think I would love that.”
“You’d be great at it. Fucking brilliant.”
“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” Harry asked, tried not to sound as if he was pleading with Louis to give him a promise neither of them knew he could keep, but failed.
Louis kissed him, palm resting over Harry’s belly, right over where butterflies took flight whenever Louis touched him. “We have to be.”
*******
It hadn’t rained all week and the air was the unusual stuffy kind of hot, made Harry’s sweatshirt stick to his back and his brain muddy. Made him feel like this couldn’t possibly be the end of summer, because it had gone too fast and he wasn’t ready.
He buried his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, felt Louis’ fingers digging into his back as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. He’d have to, eventually. The September sun beat down on their backs and the engine of Jay’s car was slowly humming in the background. Louis’ bags were all loaded up and Harry did not feel like he was losing a part of himself. He didn’t.
“It’s not forever, you know,” he whispered, for his own benefit as much as for Louis’. “Three and a half months and you’re back for the break. I won’t even notice.”
“I miss you already,” Louis said and hugged him tighter, so tight he could hardly draw a breath.
Harry had to laugh, because he didn’t want this to be sad. He didn’t want Louis to be sad, even though he wished it was storming so it wasn’t so obvious he was trying not to cry. “I’m right here. I’ll be here when you come back. And we’ll talk a lot. I’ll come visit you. It’s not like you’re going off to a war.”
“But I won’t be able to kiss you every day.”
Harry swallowed hard and breathed Louis in. He smelled like home. “Please tell me you’re excited. I just need,” he slipped his hand under Louis’ T-shirt to feel his skin, “I need to know you’ll be okay. That you want this.”
“I do, I really do. I just wish you were coming with me.” Louis pulled away just far enough to kiss him. His eyes were red. Harry pretended not to notice. Just wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist tight enough to lift him up on his toes as Louis’ warm, open mouth slotted to his, moving slowly and gently as though Louis was trying to memorise every contour of Harry’s mouth.
“Louis, your mum.” He drew back and just rested his lips on Louis’, their noses rubbing lazily in an Eskimo kiss. Harry spanned his hands over the curve of Louis’ narrow waist and still couldn’t quite believe that he had Louis at all.
“She’s seen much worse.”
Well, it was true enough, at least. “You’ll have so much fun, you know. Doing what you love, and meeting all these new people and making friends everywhere because you’re the loveliest person I have ever met and everyone will know the second they meet you too,” Harry said, tried not think about himself an hour from now, with a Louis-shaped void in his life. This wasn’t about him. And he just wanted Louis to enjoy himself. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you so much, but… we’ll be okay. You’ll be okay and once you settle in, you’ll have the time of your life, yeah? And if not, you can always come back and no one will judge you for it, I promise.”
“Thank you, I… you always know the right thing to say to make me feel better. I love you.” Louis let out a shaky exhale and pressed his lips into the corner of Harry’s mouth. “We’ll be all right. Yeah, ‘s just one year. What’s that compared to the rest of our lives?”
He could vaguely register Liam speaking to Jay, but it sort of felt like a different world altogether. The only thing that felt real was Louis.
“I love you,” Harry said, biting down on the inside of his bottom lip hard enough to keep himself in check. This wasn’t a goodbye, and even after Louis kissed him one last time before getting into Jay’s car with Liam next to him and left Harry standing there in front of his house full of Tomlinson girls, Harry knew. Months from now, a year from now. It didn’t matter. Because Louis was right. Because even when the wait and the separation would have gotten difficult, Louis was the love of his life and Harry knew he was Louis’. What they had was fate. It was worth waiting for.
He knew they’d be all right.
THE END
(THE ALTERNATIVE, ANGSTIER ENDING THAT ENDS HAPPILY ANYWAY IS LINKED IN THE END NOTES BELOW)