Chapter Text
A year ago today, Harry's life changed dramatically.
A year ago today, Louis had taken two pills and a beer and a half and explained that he had a plastic ring with which he was practising proposing to Harry when they weren't even a couple.
A year ago to the day, Harry had rifled through Louis's toiletry bag to discover that the comments made by the man he was deeply in love with were not drunken nonsense, but rather hidden truths.
He had never, ever spoken to Louis about this.
Not that he never had the chance, or didn't dare. But this little thing was something he kept to bring out at the right moment.
A good time that he'd been planning for months now.
Because his best friend, his companion, his partner- Had always said that a marriage proposal had to be carefully thought out to be sufficiently epic.
Harry wants to please.
Above all, he would like the answer to his knee-jerk reaction to be positive. And Louis is nothing if not stubborn. And terribly childish at times. He's perfectly capable of saying no on the grounds that Harry hasn't made enough of an effort to make it memorable, and then throwing the ball back in Harry's court the next day, leaving him no choice but to accept, otherwise they'd get into a never-ending battle of ridiculous marriage proposals.
Harry was hopeful, however, because he had pulled out all the stops, and he knew that Louis was not at all expecting it.
For one thing, the ring was unique. The jeweller Harry had met had worked wonders, with a silver ring around which had been inserted a fusion of sapphire and emerald, in the same colours as Louis's ‘training ring’. The ring was engraved with this date, a year ago, and their initials.
He had made a reservation at a Tanzanian speciality restaurant, ensuring that the chef prepared the dish they had tasted on their trip to Zanzibar. Jambo Zamsareh was a unique place in London and the ambience looked perfect on the pictures online. He had even told the restaurant of his intention and everyone seemed absolutely delighted.
So to say he was nervous at the moment, as he made his way to 126 W Green Road, was perhaps the understatement of the century.
He was half an hour early when he walked through the door of the Jambo, heading straight for one of the hostesses.
"Hello, I have a reservation for two on behalf of Styles," he began to explain, his forehead already slightly damp with stress.
"Oh, is this the proposal?" She exclaimed before closing her mouth tightly, her eyes wide and terrified which made Harry chuckle.
"I'm early, he's not here yet, and knowing him, he'll be late..."
"Being late for his proposal isn't a very good start." The waitress blurted out.
"He has no idea it's going to happen, though." Harry commented.
"You’re not doing it on an important day? Like a dating anniversary or..."
"Actually, he doesn't know it's an important day. As far as he's concerned, our anniversary isn't until next week. He just thinks he's trying a restaurant with African specialities."
"Oh! But then…?"
"I chose today because it was on this date a year ago that I knew that- That he- That we had the same feelings…”
The hostess nodded, although she probably didn't understand the ins and outs of the story, but Harry didn't try to elaborate.
"I came earlier to ask you- I'm very nervous... And- Uh, I couldn't wait until the end of the meal. I’ll probably do it during the aperitif, or the starter." He began to explain.
"Uh, Sir. It's a buffet. You... You help yourself. I'm only here for the drinks…”
Harry's face contorted into something close to absolute horror.
"What!" He exclaimed, his voice too high pitched not to worry the woman in front of him.
"It says so right on the online booking site, sir." She explained, speaking softly, as if afraid of frightening him more than he already was.
"But couldn't you, like, like... make an exception?" Harry squeaked, desperation in his eyes.
The hostess raised an eyebrow.
"Sir, forgive me, but, this is a surprise, you explained..." She asked for confirmation and Harry nodded briskly. "So, it would be a bit suspicious if you were the only customers to be served directly to the table."
Harry closed his eyes tightly, aware that she was right.
"Certainly. He'd notice."
"Mmmh." She hummed. "Just like, I wanted to talk to you about it, but you mentioned wanting candles at your table."
Harry kept his eyes closed and nodded, his hands shoved into his pockets.
"There are, here, no tables with candles."
"Okay..." he breathed, "No candles either."
"We don't serve champagne." She continued.
"Wine?" He asked, his voice full of hope.
"Yes. Wine there is. African wine.”
And he was finally able to release the breath he had been holding.
“Good. Wine is good…” He exhaled shakily.
"Well... It doesn't matter- I’ll just have to... Go over my whole plan. Everything will be fine." he murmured to himself.
"See here an advantage, Sir, if I may say so, it's that your partner will really have no idea that you want to ask him to marry you. Not in our establishment at least..." She nodded encouragingly.
"That's true... That's true. But what about me?" He wondered.
"Well, you still could, we've prepared a little something for as soon as he says yes..."
"Does he have to say yes, though…”
"Do you love him?" She asked and he nodded.
"He loves you?" She continued and a slight smile won Harry's mouth.
"Yeah... Yeah he does." He sighed, still not believing it, that he could say something like that, even after a year of relationship and more heartfelt declarations of love than any other.
"Do you have a ring? And a speech?" She didn't stop.
"I have all that, yeah." he confirmed.
"Then he'll say yes." She concluded and Harry smiled.
"Louis is... fussy. When it comes to his wedding. He wants it to be unique." He explained, a lingering hint of anxiety in his heart.
"And what could be more unique than surprising him in an African restaurant that serves a buffet?”
"Not much, indeed." He agreed.
"It makes a nice story to tell your grandchildren too…”
Harry was about to say something back to the waitress when the door suddenly opened.
"Sorry!" A voice shouted, out of breath. Louis' voice. "Sorry! I'm late! Oh! Harry? Why are you so early?" he asked, his eyes opening like saucers, fear reflecting in them.
"Er, hello." the hostess called after him. "Can I help you Sir?" She asked.
"Yes! No! I have... There's a reservation. Tomlinson-Styles." he stammered, and Harry's eyes opened wide in turn.
What was Louis doing there so early, why did he look so nervous? And above all-
Tomlinson-Styles?
Harry's eyes closed into a near slit.
"What are you doing here early? You told me an hour ago that there was a chance you'd be late and therefore I shouldn't rush..." Harry reproached.
The waitress was now looking at them, at each other, as if she was watching a tennis match until one of her colleagues whispered something in her ear, a realisation passed into her eyes and she fled to the back of the establishment.
"I wanted to make sure the menu was good!" Louis defended himself, his cheeks red and his gaze shifty. "What are you doing here so early anyway?" He retorted, looking suspicious.
"I always arrive early." Harry raised his eyebrows before noticing that Louis was particularly well dressed.
In fact, Louis was wearing Harry's favourite outfit. And Harry was certain that Louis wasn't wearing those jeans or that T-shirt this morning. He would have noticed.
A bit like Harry who had changed into exactly the clothes Louis liked best on him.
Oh. God. No.
The realisation hit him like a speeding train.
Louis was going to propose. Louis planned to propose tonight.
Louis didn't want to practise in front of a mirror at all anymore.
Fucking hell.
Harry couldn't let him do that.
Louis wouldn't win.
"Oh no... No, no, no. You wouldn't!" Harry exclaimed, moving quickly towards his lover. "I wouldn't let you do it!" He announced, frowning.
"Do what?" Louis replied, his eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension.
Harry fell to his knee in front of him, one hand rummaging in the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out the beautiful black velvet box, opening it and presenting it to Louis, whose jaw was hanging loosely.
"Louis... One year ago today, you swallowed two pills of a painkiller in Tanzania, Niall made you drink a beer and it all turned my life upside down in the best possible way.”
“A year and a day ago, I didn't think it was possible that you shared even a fraction of the feelings I had for you then. It was unthinkable to me. And yet, tomorrow proved to me that dreams can come true.”
“I was never more grateful than when your skeleton ran out of vitamin D. Thank God you've been taking care of yourself since then, and I no longer worry about seeing you sprawled out on the pavement.
But I digress...
“Sweetheart, I have to confess something” He said softly, looking up Louis.
“I may not have told you everything about that evening. I told you the story of your confession of feelings, and the fact that you thought you were talking to my doppelganger from another planet, I wasn't, but if I was, I would still have wanted to marry someone from another planet.”
“I deliberately left out one detail. And I've since asked Niall and Myri to do the same.” He said, inhaling deeply.
“That day, baby, you explained in all seriousness that you were the proud owner of a plastic ring. And that you were practising proposing. I prayed every day that you'd never stop practising, that tonight I'd be able to get down on my knees and be the one to propose.”
“I never, never thought I'd be the one to propose. But here I am. I've thought about it so much, my love, about this eternity for you and me. To this desire to have sunshine in my life every day, you are my most beautiful sun, my radiant light that makes me feel better every day. At all times you are the one who heals wounds I didn't even know existed. Louis, love of my life, will you let me have the chance to be the first to slip you this ring?”
There was a moment's silence, Louis looked at him, his eyes furious, like two burning embers, the fury of a thousand suns shining in them, his jaw clenched tight enough for Harry sees the muscles work when Louis swallowed.
"Cunt. You fucking cunt! You-you-you're such a fucking cunt!" He yelled at Harry, his fists firmly clenched, and still flames filled his eyes. He was furious, he was magnificent. Magnetic.
But Harry didn't flinch, he just kept looking at Louis, his eyes full of hope.
And then Louis burst into tears. Just a second before he collapsed to the floor with Harry, a trembling hand reaching into his jacket pocket before pulling out a box similar to Harry's, and opening it to reveal a beautiful ring. Sobs prevented him from speaking.
Louis's little shoulders hiccupped, and really, Harry understood he was trying to speak, but not a word came out of Louis's mouth then simply.
"Yeah. Yes. Of course baby, it's yes..." He replied to the question Louis hadn't been able to formulate. "I want to marry you.”
Louis nodded maniacally, a twisted smile on his lips.
"I want to marry you too... I want to marry you so, so much! I hate you so much! I love you so much!" He babbled, totally incoherent.
Suddenly, there was a slap of applause, piercing the white noise in Harry's ears, before a brass band began to play the wedding march and the two men looked up to discover that a small crowd of around twenty people had crowded around them, watching them with hearts in their eyes and smiles on their faces. Behind them, a group of African musicians with improbable instruments were doing their best to play music that was clearly not part of their repertoire, and Louis burst into a wet laugh, sniffing nastily.
"Fuck, I'm a mess." he remarked.
"No. You're perfect.
It's absolutely perfect. We can never, ever forget this..." Harry smiled, absolutely delighted.
Nothing had gone according to plan, absolutely nothing.
But it wouldn't have to be any other way.