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Chapter Text

LOUIS

The Babylon was the beating heart of London’s Gay Street, a vibrant haven where lights and music fused into a unique experience. The exposed brick walls added a chic industrial touch, while softly colored lights created an electrifying, sensual atmosphere. The high ceiling, adorned with dark wooden beams, gave the place a rustic yet sophisticated air.

Along one side of the room stretched a dark wood bar with a black marble countertop that reflected the sparkling lights. Behind it, shelves filled with bottles of various shapes and colors caught the neon lights, creating a kaleidoscope of reflections. The high stools, covered in black leather now worn from countless nights of conversations and laughter, added to the charm.

On either side of the dance floor, white leather sofas welcomed groups of friends and couples, providing a relaxing corner. The flashing lights sometimes cast shadows on the faces of the patrons, making the atmosphere even more alluring. At the center of the venue, the dance floor was always crowded, with bodies moving to the rhythm of the music. In the back, a small stage hosted evening performances, from singers to drag shows, and tonight was no exception.

Zayn refilled Louis's glass with a sigh as Louis, between sips, noticed how especially packed the Babylon was that night. The place, with its flickering neon lights and the pungent scent of alcohol and sweat, radiated a decadent allure. Matthew had truly put in the effort: new lights, colorful flyers scattered across the street, and an up-and-coming singer on stage. Louis felt lucky not to be working that night.

Clutching the cold glass in his hands, Louis watched the singer on stage. “They’re not here for his voice…” he murmured under his breath. The lights dancing on the singer’s long legs, wrapped in black skinny jeans, caught the attention of many, himself included. The American bandana in his hair and the rings shining under the colored lights added an eccentric touch to his look. Louis couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about that guy, something that seemed to go beyond the glittering stage presence.

The Babylon was in full swing, with music filling the air, charged with laughter and conversation. Matthew, with his charismatic presence, moved through the crowd, making everyone he met smile. Soon, Matthew’s eyes landed on a young man sitting at the bar, sipping a colorful cocktail. With his usual confident smile, he approached without hesitation.

“I can’t let you drink alone tonight…” he said in a light, playful tone, leaning next to the guy.

The young man looked up, surprised by Matthew’s approach but intrigued. “Oh, uh… hi?” he replied, trying to hide his shyness with a timid smile.

“I’m Matthew.” he introduced himself, extending his hand confidently but warmly.

“Alex!” the other replied, shaking Matthew’s hand. “First time here?”

Matthew shook his head slightly, keeping his affable smile. “No, I’m the owner. But sometimes I like to blend in with the crowd and see who I meet.” His mischievous tone hinted at a touch of irony.

Alex laughed, starting to relax. “Well, you’re definitely good at running this place. The atmosphere is amazing.”

Matthew nodded, visibly proud. “Thanks, it’s nice to hear that. And you? What brings you here tonight?”

The conversation continued smoothly, with Matthew managing to hold Alex's attention with his natural charm, making him increasingly comfortable. His easy-going demeanor and infectious smile created an atmosphere of complicity.

Before he could fully immerse himself in eavesdropping that conversation, Zayn’s voice brought him back to reality. “Do you like him? Matthew swears he couldn’t have done better!” he yelled over the music, his tone teasing, maybe spurred by a hint of jealousy, the eyes on the singer behind him. Zayn, Louis’s roommate and childhood friend, never held back from throwing jabs at the Babylon’s owner, Louis longtime friend.

Louis had known Matthew since they were kids, family friends despite the age difference. When the Daddarios moved out, Louis was only nine.Years later, in London, they met again, and in the meantime Zayn had become his best friend. Louis watched Zayn with a mix of fondness and curiosity. Despite being friends for life, he sometimes found himself studying him as if seeing him for the first time. Zayn’s skin was smooth and dark, with an olive tone that seemed to reflect the light. His hair was always immaculate, black as night, with rebellious strands that looked casually styled but were actually meticulously groomed.

His eyes, large and deep, were his most hypnotic feature: a dark brown that, in certain lights, seemed almost black, yet a golden glint could make them shine as if holding inaccessible secrets. His long, thick lashes framed that piercing, almost magnetic gaze. Zayn could convey with one look what others would take a thousand words to express.

His lips, well-defined and usually set in a serious or thoughtful expression, hid a smile that, when he allowed it to appear, lit up his face. Louis lingered on Zayn’s arms, exposed by his work uniform—black jeans and a sleeveless shirt—covered in tattoos, all black and white except for that ZAP! on his left arm, colored in yellow.It was impossible not to recognize the aura he exuded: a combination of mystery and vulnerability that inevitably drew the attention of anyone who met him.

Across the bar, Louis noticed Zayn’s gaze fixed on Matthew, his eyes reflecting a restlessness Louis knew all too well. He was aware of Zayn’s secret crush, a feeling his friend had never confessed. Every time Matthew got close to someone else, Louis saw Zayn tense up, clenching his jaw while trying to hide his frustration.

“Yeah, he’s not bad…” Louis replied, teasing Zayn with a playful smirk. A chuckle escaped him when Zayn rolled his eyes, annoyed, before walking off to serve another customer. Louis followed him with his gaze before turning back to the crowd dancing in front of him, as the colored lights illuminated the sweaty bodies. The music pulsed in the air, vibrating in his eardrums and echoing in his chest.

The air was thick with scents: the aroma of fruity cocktails, the smell of spilled beer, and the worn leather of the couches. The music, an eclectic mix of classic rock and contemporary hits, filled the space, overpowering the chatter and laughter in the background.

When the singer on stage announced his last song, Louis rose slowly, making his way through the crowd. He felt the humid warmth of bodies around him, sticky skin against his as he maneuvered through people. Around him, expressions of euphoria and total abandon mixed with the strobe lights illuminating ecstatic faces.

He approached the stage, where Matthew, immersed in conversation with Alex, smiled with that natural charm that always distinguished him. Louis watched the scene with a mix of admiration and envy. Matthew had always been like that: charismatic, confident, able to capture attention with a joke or a smile. It was a quality Louis felt he lacked.

As his thoughts wandered, his gaze was drawn to something more intense. He raised his eyes and met the singer's piercing green ones. The eye contact was sudden and overwhelming, as if a magnetic force had pulled him in that direction. Louis stood still, mesmerized by the depth of that gaze, as the artist prepared to hit the highest note of the refrain. The moment seemed suspended in time, until the singer closed his eyes and released his voice.

Only then did Louis manage to shake himself out of the spell, slightly shaking his head to regain control.He could still feel the reverberations of that brief but intense exchange, confused by the emotions that had overwhelmed him.

“Matt!” Louis called out to get his boss’ attention. Matthew turned, visibly tipsy, and with a wide grin, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The warmth of his breath, mixed with the smell of alcohol, made Louis smile with a mix of affection and concern. “There’s only an hour left till closing. You’re not planning on staying till dawn, are you?” he warned Matthew with a laugh.

Matthew shrugged casually. “Don’t worry, Lou, I’ve got it! You go have fun instead!”

Louis nodded, and as he walked away, his gaze slid back to the stage, where the singer was finishing his performance. He could still feel that strange tension in the air.

Back at the bar, Louis sat down next to Zayn, who was drying glasses with a sullen expression. 
“When are you going to tell him?” Louis asked, referring to Zayn’s feelings for Matthew. The question seemed to snap him out of a dream, and he tossed a cloth at Louis with a forced smile.

“Never? I’m not Harry.” Zayn’s voice was loaded with frustration and insecurity, and Louis frowned, confused. He didn’t know that name yet, but he followed Zayn’s gaze to the stage, where the singer, Harry apparently, was talking to Matthew.

“You’re definitely better than him, Zayn,” Louis said, trying to reassure him. But Zayn shook his head, walking off without another word. Louis didn’t understand how such different people could be drawn to each other. Zayn and Matthew were opposites: one sensitive and caring, the other shallow and indifferent.

As the venue emptied, Louis remained at the bar, watching the place slowly clear out. His glass had just been filled when he realized he hadn’t ordered anything.

“But I didn't order anything...” 

The barman motioned him toward someone, and Louis looked up, following the boy's finger.
Across the room, the singer's green eyes, Harry, stared at him intently, as if they had never stopped looking for him.

HARRY

He raised his glass toward the small guy he had noticed during the cover of “Teenage Dirtbag,” a barely noticeable smile curling on his lips. The other, clearly embarrassed, met his gaze for a moment before lowering his eyes, almost as if trying to avoid that connection. Curious… Harry thought, refocusing on Matthew. His boss had no qualms about flirting shamelessly, throwing glances that would make anyone waver. Matthew was quite a sight, no doubt, with his dark hair, slightly sweaty on his forehead, and that scruffy beard giving him a disheveled, damn-attractive look. Not bad at all… Harry thought, admiring the well-defined chest visible beneath the crumpled shirt. Still, despite Matthew being undeniably sexy, those blue eyes—etched in his mind—would not leave him alone.

“Who are you looking at, instead of focusing on me?” Matthew chuckled, evidently noticing how Harry’s mind was elsewhere. His boss easily followed the direction of his gaze, letting a small smile curve his lips. “Oh, Tomlinson…” he said, his tone implying something more complicated. Harry furrowed his brows, confused by the sudden shift.

“Forget it, Louis is… difficult.” Matthew added, taking a sip from his glass and returning his gaze with a fleeting look.

Louis… Now the name had a clear face.

“I can handle it, don’t you think?” Harry asked, his voice light with amusement, flashing the confidence he never lacked. He knew he was attractive, and had no problem admitting it. A single glance, a teasing smile, a move on the dancefloor, and he’d always managed to win over anyone he wanted. He slowly licked his lips, while Matthew observed him once more, shaking his head slightly.

“You might, but I’m not giving you false hope.” Matthew clarified, shrugging indifferently.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, amused, watching him raise his hands in mock surrender and move away with a mischievous grin.

“I don’t want to spend the night with someone who has eyes only for someone else…” Matthew laughed, gesturing toward Louis. “See you tomorrow!” he added with a wink, disappearing into the crowd.

Harry found himself staring at Louis again, the small guy in the blue shirt clinging to his chest, his brown hair tousled on his forehead, his skin looking slightly more tanned than Harry’s.His body was a work of art, covered with intricate tattoos that Harry would have liked to know one by one, to decipher the stories they told. Louis' expression was a mix of seriousness and impatience, as if everything going on around him bothered him.

Why is this different? Harry wondered, feeling a slight hesitation, unusual for him. But quickly, he shrugged off that thought. Harry Styles doesn’t hesitate. Never. He took a deep breath and moved closer, determined.

I’ve done this a thousand times. What’s one more? Damn Matthew and his skepticism. He knows nothing about what I can do.

“Hey, I’m the drink guy, Harry, nice to meet you…” he smiled, leaning an elbow on the bar, locking eyes with the guy he had noticed on stage, now clearly a blue as the summer sky at noon. But the confused look they returned made Harry’s confidence waver for a moment.

“It wasn’t necessary, but thanks.” the brown-haired guy said, turning his back, going back to talking to the bartender, who seemed to hold back a smile. Harry squinted, sensing a strange connection between the two. What’s going on here?

“Don’t thank me, but you could at least tell me your name?” Harry tried again, trying to catch his attention. When the guy chuckled and fully turned to face him, Harry thought he had succeeded. Their knees brushed, the distance between them reduced.

“I’m not sleeping with you, Harry. Find someone else.” came the bored voice, as the brown-haired guy looked at him with a mix of pity and detachment, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. Harry stood there for a moment, blinking. He’s rejecting me?

“Are you playing hard to get?” Harry joked, but inside, he felt agitated. Does he really not like me? That mocking laugh sent him deeper into discomfort. Louis’ arrogance was throwing him off.

“No, Harry, is it so incredible that I don’t want to sleep with you? Learn to take no for an answer.” He tilted his head, as if feeling sorry for him, while the bartender chuckled in the background. Harry sighed and sat on the free stool next to him.

“So… what’s the deal? Are you taken?” he asked, a bit snarky, convinced there had to be something more behind this. It’s impossible that he doesn’t like me, there has to be a reason. He glanced over at the bartender, who he only now noticed carefully. Oriental features, large dark eyes, long lashes, and a tank top that showed off even more tattoos than Louis had. He’s attractive too, but that’s not the point.

“Or, Harry…” Louis’ voice dropped, and his eyes locked with Harry’s again, with disarming confidence. “I don’t like you.” The sarcastic smile that followed was like a knife.

When Louis’ words hit him, the world seemed to stop for a moment. He doesn’t like me? Harry’s usual confidence wavered, replaced by a wave of disappointment that tightened his chest. This can’t be happening. It was impossible that he had imagined that eye contact.

The confident smile he had worn until then faded for an instant, leaving behind a vulnerable expression. Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Am I really blushing? He bit his lower lip slightly, trying to keep calm. But inside, his mind was a mess. This has never happened… no one rejects me like this.

He felt the blood boiling in his veins, but he forced himself to keep smiling, even though his lips trembled slightly at the corners. A knot formed in his throat, but he made sure not to show his vulnerability. I can’t lose like this.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain his usual composure. Confidence was second nature to Harry, and he decided to use it as a shield. After all, how many times had he won someone over easily? This time, it would be a challenge.

He stood up from the stool, trying to find his balance, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Alright, Louis,” he said in a lower voice, each word heavy with feigned calm. “I’ll pretend to believe you, for today.” The final remark, accompanied by a dismissive grin, was his move to turn the situation around. You’ll see, this isn’t over.

As he walked away, Harry felt a new wave of confidence rise within him. He made his way toward his group of friends, his movements slow, almost mechanical.

I’ll have more chances. And in the end, you’ll see how wrong you are, Louis.

LOUIS

Zayn, with an amused smile and a touch of complicity in his gaze, served one of the last customers of the evening, then turned to Louis with a quiet laugh.

“I swear, I love it when they try to hit on you!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Their bond, strong and familiar, was evident in that light moment of understanding.

Louis responded with a tired but affectionate smile, the adrenaline of his confrontation with Harry still vivid in his eyes. “I’ll wait for you at home, Zed. I’m off.” he said. His voice was low but full of that affection only someone who has known you for a lifetime can express in just a few words.

Zayn nodded, and without hesitation, placed a hand on Louis’ arm before leaning in to kiss him briefly on the lips. The kiss, though quick, was full of meaning: a natural, almost casual gesture, yet one that conveyed deep familiarity and a friendship rooted in time. Louis stood up from the stool, absently adjusting his denim jacket, the contact with Zayn still fresh on his lips, a warmth that accompanied him as he walked away.

As he made his way toward the exit, the background noise of the bar seemed to fade, but a conversation caught his attention. Harry and Matthew’s voices reached him clearly above the general chatter. “So, is he taken?” Harry asked, curiosity clear in his tone, as if trying to understand something that had been eluding him.

“No way, they’re just friends… and I told you to drop it.” Matthew responded, his words followed by a slurred, drunken laugh. It felt like the final blow—so simple, yet so unexpected. Louis shook his head, amused. A tight smile played on his lips as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the biting cold of the London night.

The cold immediately hit his face, a sharp cut against the warmth of the club, like a rude awakening from the chaotic evening. He wrapped himself better in his jacket, trying to hold back the warmth of Zayn's kiss that already seemed to fade, carried away by the icy wind.

The silence of the deserted street contrasted with the cozy, noisy bar. Louis allowed himself one last glance at the venue, as if wanting to seal everything that had happened in that moment. Then, he made his way home, leaving behind the evening and its load of tensions and uncertainties, knowing that the next day everything would start all over again.

HARRY

Entering the Babylon for the second time, Harry was immediately struck by the lively and welcoming atmosphere of the venue. The soft, delicate lights created an intimate setting, while the spotlights were focused on the stage, still off, waiting to light up the evening. The wooden floor creaked under his feet, and a faint smell of beer mixed with the aroma of aged wood immediately surrounded him.

It was just 8 o’clock, and although the venue officially opened at 9, Harry had arrived early to set up his equipment. As he climbed onto the stage, he was greeted by Matthew’s mischievous smile, who pointed out where he could change. Matthew, with his usual confidence, explained that he didn’t stay at the bar during the week: he left the keys with the bartenders for closing. “You can leave right after your performance, you don’t have to stay until the end like the other night.” he added with a light tone before throwing the keys to the bartender. To Harry’s surprise, he noticed someone familiar behind the bar.

Louis? Was that him? The guy who had rejected him earlier was working here? Harry felt a rush of warmth flood his body at the thought. How could it be possible that the same guy was his coworker? He shook his head, trying to push away any distracting thoughts. He was here to work, not for personal matters. After his performance, he would leave without looking back.

As he adjusted the microphone stand, the spotlights turned on, bathing the stage in a warm light. He didn’t look up until he noticed Louis adjusting his apron around his waist. They both wore the bar’s uniform: a black tank top and jeans. Next to him was the dark-haired, tattooed guy Harry had seen the night before. Harry watched them from a distance while finishing setting up his equipment. He was about to get off the stage and change when a voice called out to him.

“Hey, Harry!” He turned quickly, surprised that someone had spoken to him. Maybe they needed help? It was the dark-haired guy who, smiling at him, was setting the tables. That smile seemed fake to Harry’s eyes, but he decided to go along with it.

“Hey… mmm…” Harry squinted, trying to remember the guy’s name.

“Zayn.” the other guy helped, and Harry nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for him to continue.

“Did you sleep with Matthew yesterday?” asked Zayn without the slightest embarrassment. Harry almost choked, in disbelief. He looked at Zayn, who was staring at him with extreme seriousness. Embarrassment exploded in him, making him blush. With a furtive glance, Harry shifted his gaze to Louis, who was still adjusting the counter.

“Zayn!” Louis scolded, quickly reaching them. “Is it really necessary to ask those things to someone you don’t even know?” Louis’ eyes then turned to Harry, with a note of frustration and embarrassment over his friend’s behavior. Harry observed the scene, confused by this interaction. What was going on?

“No, I saw him leaving the pub with him last night!” Zayn justified himself with a tone that Harry found vaguely jealous. Sure, he had gone out with Matthew the night before, but nothing significant had happened: they just smoked a cigarette and shared a cab. But now, Harry decided to have a little fun.

“He’s right.” he responded in a playful tone. Louis’ reaction was immediate: he spun around with a look of disbelief. The sarcastic laugh that escaped his lips seemed to reveal more than he wanted to admit. “So? Did you sleep with him?” Zayn kept insisting, ignoring Louis’ scolding.

“So what if I did?” Harry replied, breaking their bickering and drawing their attention. Their expressions were so amusing that Harry almost wanted to keep playing. Zayn paled slightly, while Louis shook his head. “You didn’t.” he said confidently, adjusting a chair. That guy didn’t know him at all, Harry thought. Yet, Louis seemed convinced he was right.

“Are you so sure?” Harry retorted, raising an eyebrow in a challenging tone. Zayn seemed to lose all interest in the conversation, while Louis looked at him with disapproval. But Harry didn’t care. In fact, in some way, he was enjoying it.

Behind the bar, Louis and Zayn kept moving with agility, serving drinks and chatting with customers. Louis seemed incredibly at ease, the apron adding a touch of professionalism to his laid-back appearance. Zayn, with his enigmatic gaze, added an aura of mystery to the place. The liquor bottles on the shelves reflected the lights, creating a play of colors that caught the eye, making the environment even more captivating.

The Babylon quickly filled up, and Harry, from the stage, observed everything with a certain fascination. The laughter, the toasts, the sound of glasses clinking—all contributed to creating a warm and vibrant atmosphere. From his perspective, Harry could see how every person at the bar seemed to be part of one big family, each with their own story to tell.

At that moment, Harry felt part of something bigger. The Babylon wasn’t just a pub; it was a refuge, a place where people could be themselves. As he prepared to perform, he felt a deep connection to that place and to the people who inhabited it.

LOUIS

After that little argument, Zayn became quieter than usual. Louis moved frantically behind the bar, serving drinks and tidying up glasses, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his friend. Every now and then, he’d glance quickly in his direction, trying to read something from his movements, but Zayn remained still, as if fighting an invisible battle.

Finally, finding a moment of respite, Louis approached. “Zay, you know that’s not true.” he murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. The tension in Zayn’s muscles was palpable, as if he were ready to snap, but he made no movement. Louis shook him slightly, hoping to catch his attention.

Zayn slowly turned to face him, his gaze empty, filled with a pain Louis wasn’t sure he wanted to fully understand. “And how do you know, Lou?” Zayn responded, his voice harsh, bitter. “I’m invisible to him…” As he lowered his head, resting his hands on the counter, Louis noticed how his fingers clenched, as if he were struggling not to completely fall apart. “I’m going to smoke.” Zayn added, walking away without waiting for a reply.

Louis watched him leave, the growing sense of guilt inside him gnawing at him. When Zayn came back, Harry had just finished his performance. Louis understood him immediately: Zayn looked even more dejected than before. “Better?” he asked cautiously. Zayn nodded, but his attitude didn’t change. The silence between them was unbearable.

The tension didn’t escape Harry, who approached with his usual casual attitude. “Hey!” he began, his broad smile trying to catch Louis’s attention. Louis, however, wasn’t in the mood for banter. “Admit it, you didn’t sleep with him.” he said sharply, trying to keep his voice low so Zayn wouldn’t hear.

Harry gave him a playful grin. “Why, are you jealous?” he retorted, joking, but Louis didn’t laugh. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Everything—the worry for Zayn, Harry’s attitude, that underlying unease—was mixing inside him like a storm he couldn’t tame.

Serving the last customer of the night, Louis felt exhausted, not physically, but mentally. Seeing Zayn in that state and being unable to do anything to help him made him feel powerless. Harry, with his usual arrogance, kept poking at him, and it was becoming harder and harder for Louis to hold back.

He could feel the heat building inside, the frustration accumulating, ready to explode. He started to leave, but before he could take a step, he felt Harry’s hand grab his arm. Louis stiffened immediately, as if that touch were burning him.

“Louis, wait.” Harry’s voice was different, almost desperate.

Louis looked down at Harry’s hand, watching his fingers clutching his arm. His heart pounded in his throat, but he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or from that unexpected contact. Harry, realizing his discomfort, let go immediately, shaking his head as if to apologize. “Sorry.” he murmured, avoiding Louis’s gaze.

“No, I didn’t… I was just joking earlier.” Harry’s voice was low, almost guilty. Louis nodded without saying anything more and walked away to join Zayn.

“Tell him.” Louis ordered, his voice stern, leaving no room for argument.

HARRY

Louis caught Zayn’s attention, who was now watching him, his large eyes fixed on him.

“I didn’t sleep with him, sorry… I didn’t think it was that important.” Harry looked around, realizing they were the only ones left in the venue. Zayn’s presence made him uncomfortable, but his attraction to Louis was stronger.

“Zayn?” Louis asked, while the boy shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay, what do you want now?” Zayn’s dark eyebrows lifted in an expression that mixed curiosity and challenge, while Louis chuckled, aware he was right.

“Smoke?” The curly-haired boy asked, trying to diffuse the situation, pulling out some weed from his pants pocket and a rolling paper. “Back.” Zayn gestured as Louis locked the front door. Harry hadn’t finished setting up the stage, but decided to follow them.

He sat on the emergency stairs of the building, a few steps ahead of them. The cool air was a relief. He started preparing the joint while Zayn and Louis argued animatedly about a soccer game, a topic Harry didn’t understand at all. Once ready, Zayn lit the joint, took the first two puffs, and passed it to Louis. Harry stood up from the stairs and leaned against the wall, watching them.

Zayn, very thin and slightlytaller than Louis, had amber skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. His tattoos and mysterious air made him undeniably attractive. In stark contrast, Louis had delicate features and very fair skin, his slight beard accentuating his cheekbones—Harry could watch him for hours.

Lost in his thoughts, he was interrupted by Louis’s small hand passing him the joint for another puff. “So Zayn, why were you so interested in Matthew?” He asked, Louis scrutinizing Zayn with curiosity. Harry observed their expressions and felt compelled to comment. “Oh… if you like someone like Matthew, you’re really in trouble, huh?” he said, smiling, trying to ease the tension. Louis’s laugh struck him, sweet like a song, while Zayn shot him a glare.

“He’s not wrong.” Louis admitted, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. Zayn sighed, telling Louis to go to hell, which made both of them laugh.

After a few puffs, Zayn stood up. “I’m tired, can you finish, Lou? I swear I’ll close tomorrow.” He yawned, and Louis quickly nodded. “Do you have the keys?” Zayn asked, surprising Harry. They live together? he thought, a small pang of jealousy rising in his mind. Louis confirmed, and Zayn waved goodbye while Harry tossed the used filter to the ground.

“Go home too, I just have to tidy up.” Louis dismissed him, as he prepared to go back inside. Harry followed him before he could close the door.

“No, I want to help.” Harry offered, trying to sound convincing. Louis nodded, almost resigned, and asked him to grab the dirty glasses from the tables to put them in the dishwasher.

“Sorry for earlier, for…” Harry was about to apologize again for grabbing his arm, realizing how clumsy his action had been. But Louis interrupted him, “It’s fine.”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the need to clarify. “I didn't want you to think wrong. I didn't go with Matthew because I don't want any problems between colleagues. Maybe, actually, I would like to make friends here.” He looked up at Louis, seeking confirmation in his eyes.

Louis looked at him for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face, a warm light that reassured Harry. “Sure, Harry.”

Harry exhaled, relieved. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything. Perhaps, there was still a chance to build something positive with Zayn, with Louis, and who knows, maybe even get closer to him.

LOUIS

Louis didn’t even have time to reflect on what Harry had just said when three men, whom he had never seen before, entered the bar. The adrenaline exploded in his body, and he rushed out from behind the counter.

“Sorry, the place is closed.” he said, furrowing his brow as the three exchanged furtive glances.

“We’re looking for Matthew Daddario!” one of them asked, his tone intimidating. Louis tilted his head, trying to gauge their true intentions.

“Matthew isn’t here, but I can deliver him whatever you need?” he replied, forcing himself to stay calm. He could feel Harry behind him, tense and alert.

One of the men burst into a sardonic laugh while another knocked over a chair with a sharp movement. “Deliver him this.” the man said before a punch landed squarely on Louis’s face. The hit was so violent that it left him breathless; the sharp pain invaded his lips and nose, and he covered his face with his hands, stumbling backward.

The brutality of the blow disoriented him, as if his world had been turned upside down. The taste of blood filled his mouth immediately, and a wave of panic swept over him. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening and how he could defend himself.

“What the fuck!” Harry shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos surrounding Louis. The pain was blinding, but what terrified him more was the uncertainty and vulnerability of the situation. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, helpless and trapped.

His heart pounded furiously, echoing in his ears as his body instinctively reacted to the trauma. Every fiber of his being begged for relief that seemed impossible to reach. He tried to breathe deeply, but each inhale brought a sharp pain to his nose and face.

When he reopened his eyes, he saw Matthew’s worried face, while Harry passed him a rag for his neck, telling him to press it under his nose. Harry’s voice was an anchor in the chaos, a familiar sound to cling to as reality tried to refocus. Louis obeyed and sat on the ground, feeling vulnerable and fragile as he tried to stop the blood flowing. The sensation of warm blood on his skin and the metallic taste in his mouth made him shudder; the cold of the floor against his legs was strangely comforting.

He vaguely heard talk of the police and filing a report, but the words seemed distant, muffled by the buzzing in his ears and the throbbing pain. Every so often, a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him, but he tried to stay calm. It wasn’t just the physical pain that crushed him, but also the fear and humiliation of being attacked so brutally and seemingly without reason.

Chapter Text

HARRY

As Louis began speaking with the three men who had just entered, Harry’s instinct urged him to text Matthew, and that’s exactly what he did.

SOS, come now and call the police.

He typed quickly, but before he could even look up, a punch landed on Louis’s face.

“What the hell!” he almost shouted, grabbing Louis by the shoulders as he staggered. He let him down to the floor when the three started insulting him.

“What’s wrong? Do you want some too?”

Harry frowned and didn’t hesitate to defend himself, delivering a punch to one of their jaws. It wasn’t his first time in a fight. His mother had struggled to keep him in check as a teenager. He took a punch to his cheekbone, but it left just a small scratch before the sound of sirens made them scatter. After a few minutes, Matthew came running toward them.

Louis.

The thought flashed through his mind. He immediately turned toward him and ran to get a wet cloth, trying to clean the blood running down his neck.

“For god’s sake, Louis, are you okay?” Matthew asked, holding his face. Louis nodded when asked if he wanted to go to the hospital.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry about me.” Harry said, tilting his head from side to side. He’d seen broken noses before, and this wasn’t one. He handed him the cloth, instructing him to press it under his nose.

The police called Matthew over to file a report and see if he recognized the three men. “I’ll take you home; stay here.” Harry nodded at the owner’s words and helped Louis sit down. He pointed to his bruised cheekbone, knowing he was hurt—it stung—but nothing compared to the pain Louis must be feeling.

“It’s fine.” he responded calmly, smiling at his concern and trying to brush his hair back to clean him up as much as possible.

After answering a few questions from the police, they were finally able to leave. Harry took Louis by the arm, helping him into the car.

“So, who the hell were they? Do you know them?” Harry blurted out at the driver. How could Matthew let people like that near the club? The world wasn’t safe for people like them yet, even in Gay Street, and tonight had proven that.

“From tomorrow on, there’ll be a security guard at the door. It’s all reported. I need to go to the police station tomorrow, don’t worry; it won’t happen again.” Matthew deflected, which irritated Harry, but he chose not to continue the discussion; he was exhausted after the scare. He sighed and closed his eyes, sinking completely into the car seat, opening and closing the fist he had used. He hadn’t realized he’d put so much strength into it; his knuckles were throbbing.

“You need to treat that.” Matthew commented, glancing at Harry’s hand as he parked.

They headed inside, with Harry watching Louis closely, noting the way he moved, labored and unsteady, as though he might collapse. “I don’t need help.” Louis grumbled, trying to push the door open with his shoulder. Harry realized that climbing two flights of stairs wasn’t going to be easy for him.

Without hesitation, Harry turned, crouching slightly. “Get on!” he ordered firmly, knowing Louis would roll his eyes. Sure enough, he heard a mutter, but Louis obeyed, clinging to him as he lifted him by his thighs. The weight of Louis on his back felt solid and comforting, like he could shield him from anything else that might come.

“Ever heard of an elevator?” Matthew quipped with a smirk. Harry just shook his head, focusing on Louis, who muttered in an annoyed tone, “Sorry I didn’t plan on not being able to climb stairs at twenty.” Harry caught the edge of frustration in Louis’s voice as he kept the cloth pressed to his face. Though the pain seemed to be easing, it wasn’t enough to keep Harry’s worry at bay.

When they finally reached the door, Harry asked Louis for the keys, trying to keep his tone calm, though Louis’s hands were still shaking. As Louis fumbled with the keys, Harry could tell he wasn’t fully present yet. Tonight had been terrifying, but now Harry needed to make sure Louis was safe.

Once inside, Harry helped him sit down. Just as he was about to head to the bathroom for more supplies, he heard footsteps, and then a familiar voice called out.

“Harry?” Zayn’s voice was groggy as he emerged from his room, dressed in only sweatpants and a tank top. Zayn took in the scene—Harry with a cut on his cheekbone and Louis, blood-stained and slumped on the floor, pressing a cloth to his face. Zayn’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and worry crossing his face.

“What the hell happened?” Zayn’s gaze moved between Harry and Matthew, the latter closing the door behind them, looking far from his usual polished self.

But Harry’s attention stayed on Louis. He took the damp cloth Zayn passed him, giving him a quick nod of gratitude. “Hey, Zayn.” he muttered, almost distractedly, as he knelt by Louis.

Zayn, still bewildered, pointed toward the bathroom when Harry asked for directions, mumbling something about getting some ice, but staying close by.

Harry sat Louis on the edge of the tub as if reassuring a child who’d just fallen. He listened to his huffing and complaints while grabbing a towel to dab at his face. “Hold still and don’t be a baby…” he said, lifting Louis’s chin to gently clean the dried blood from his skin. Louis tried to dodge his hand with a look of disgust, but he ultimately relented, his attitude a mix of irritation and vulnerability.

When Louis’s face was finally clean, Harry reached for the hydrogen peroxide. “It’ll sting a bit now.” he warned. Louis sarcastically mimicked him, and Harry couldn’t help but smile, pushing away the temptation to make it sting more on purpose.

“You’ve split your lip.” he whispered as he gently dabbed the wound with a cotton pad. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, and Harry smiled, amused at the boy’s exaggerated reaction.

“You need to stay still now.” he said seriously as he started cleaning his nose. Louis responded with a kick, which Harry managed to dodge. “Are you kidding?” he looked at him in disbelief, realizing it would be a challenge to treat him.

“It hurts!” Louis complained, but Harry couldn’t hold back a laugh at his annoyed expression.

He knelt in front of him, gently holding his legs still. “If you stay still, I promise I’ll finish quickly.” He used a tone reminiscent of a mother, with a slight smile. Louis huffed but finally agreed, closing his eyes and squeezing them as Harry finished cleaning his battered nose.

“All done, still alive?” he joked as he stood, freeing Louis from his grip. “Screw you!” Louis muttered, with a pout that made Harry laugh even more.

Harry handed Louis an ice pack that Zayn had fetched for them. “Hold that on your face. I’ll grab some bandages.” As he rinsed his own scraped knuckles under cold water, Zayn appeared at the door again, looking a bit more awake this time.

“Matt just left,” Zayn mentioned, rubbing at his tired eyes. “He said you two have a couple of days off, okay?” Harry and Louis both nodded.

“Are you crashing here?” Zayn asked Harry, who shook his head. He wanted to go home, to process the night alone.

“No, I’m good. I’ll head home,” Harry assured him, noticing Zayn’s glance lingering on Louis with a genuine worry in his eyes.

“What?” Louis huffed at Zayn’s smirk, clearly annoyed at being the center of their concern.

“Nothing. How are you?” Zayn asked softly, his concern plain, and Harry felt a pang of gratitude for the care Zayn showed Louis.

Louis muttered about his sore nose, and Harry just shook his head at his complaints, torn between amusement and worry.

“Well, call me if you need anything. Good night.” Zayn gave them a small wave before heading back to his room. Harry wrapped his own hand carefully, feeling Louis’s eyes on him. As he glanced up, he saw Louis watching him in the mirror, his face a blend of curiosity and appreciation.

For a moment, they locked eyes in the reflection, and Harry managed a tired but reassuring smile.

“Why are you so good at treating wounds?” Louis asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Harry looked at him for a moment, surprised by the question. “For a time in my life, I got them often. I had to learn to take care of them myself.” As he looked in the mirror, he carefully placed a bandage over the cut on his cheekbone.

“You? Getting into fights?” Louis teased, a playful smile on his face. Harry sighed, amused by the lightheartedness of the moment; you would never guess he had such a complicated history.

They fell silent, both lost in thought. As Harry applied the bandage on Louis’s nose, his eyes involuntarily dropped to Louis’s lips. Without thinking, Harry leaned in slowly, almost as if to attempt a kiss. But before he could make that impulsive move, he realized his recklessness and quickly pulled back.

Louis, caught off guard by his reaction, burst into laughter. “What are you doing, Styles?” he said playfully, far from the irritation Harry had feared he’d cause.

Harry blushed, smiling at Louis’s reaction. “Nothing, just making sure the bandage was well placed.” He tried to hide his embarrassment, but Louis nodded, appearing genuinely naive.

Harry stood up, feeling a sigh of relief pass through him; he hadn’t thought Louis would give him another chance if he’d gone further. He headed toward the door, adrenaline still pulsing through him. “Alright, see you in the next few days,” he said with a smile, while Louis watched him at the doorway, holding an ice pack.

Louis nodded. “Thanks, Harry…” a sincere smile brightened his face. Harry responded with a wink and walked down the stairs as he called for a cab. He needed to calm himself, he thought. He couldn’t react like this every time Louis got too close; he barely knew him, and yet it felt like since they’d met the day before, Louis had become the only thought in his mind.

THE NEXT DAY

Harry found himself at the back of Babylon, his heart heavy and mind racing. He couldn’t stop reliving that moment when Louis had been struck. Every second replayed in an endless loop, haunting him. The protection he’d felt in this place had been shattered. The club, once vibrant with laughter and music, now felt oppressive, wrapped in a tense silence. The familiar warmth of the space had vanished, replaced by something darker.

Harry moved toward the back, where he knew Matthew was preparing a meeting. We need to face this situation, he thought, but his worry for Louis held him back. His heart ached with each glance toward Louis, still marked by the attack, his usual confidence dimmed by the pain.

The meeting began, and Harry watched Matthew closely. He had seen the man before but had never truly paid attention to his attitude. Tonight, he was forced to. Matthew’s voice was firm, but Harry could hear the underlying tension, the strain that came from someone trying to keep it together in the face of something terrifying.

"I appreciate everyone being here." Matthew started speaking to the personnel. Even though he was calm, his demeanour showed concern as he looked around the room. "I want you all to know that your safety is my top priority, even though I know last night was awful."

A low murmur spread through the room, and Harry’s gaze shifted again to Louis. The bruises on his face, still vivid, made Harry’s chest tighten.He detested seeing Louis in this state—hurt and defenceless. As Matthew spoke, one thought kept coming to Harry's mind: What if they come back? What if they hurt us again?

As his gaze shifted to Louis, who was still in anguish, and he couldn't help but want to touch him. to assure him that nobody would hurt him as long as he was present. He experienced an intense, unfiltered, and instinctive sense of furious protectiveness. He had only felt that a few times previously, when he had had to defend his mother or sister.

Matthew cleared his throat and continued, his voice growing more resolute. “They were here because of me,” he confessed. “Those who attacked Louis…they’re part of an extremist group. They have a history of targeting our community.” Harry’s stomach churned at the thought of anyone wanting to hurt them, to tear apart the place that for some people had felt like home.

There was a heavy quiet in the room. Louis squirmed uneasily in his chair and looked at Harry anxiously. Harper folded her arms, her eyes piercing and apprehensive, and Zayn's face hardened, rage glimmering in his eyes.

"How did they enter here, though?" Missy's voice trembled a little as she asked. "This location is meant to be secure."

Matthew nodded, his face grim. “It is, and that’s exactly what makes this so serious. They want us to feel afraid, to doubt our sense of safety. But I won’t let them take that from us.”

Harry felt his jaw clench. The idea that people would so easily try to harm them in a place that felt like a haven was infuriating.He stepped forward and spoke in a steady but concerned tone. "What if they return? Will there be danger for us?“

Matthew’s gaze hardened, his eyes gleaming with determination. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “From tomorrow on, we’ll have constant surveillance at the entrance. I’ve already arranged for private security. Fear won’t stop us from living our lives here.” A glimmer of relief passed through Harry, but it was soon replaced with incredulity. Is it sufficient? He pondered, gripping his phone with a shaking palm.

Harry could tell Matthew cared about each of them by the way he carried himself and the intensity with which he spoke. He hadn’t realized how invested Matthew was in protecting them, how personal this was to him.

Matthew continued, his voice calm yet resolute. “We’ll stay strong as a community, and spread the word. If we stand together, not only will other clubs be able to protect themselves, but no one will feel like they’re facing this alone.”

Harry saw that something more powerful than fear was starting to take hold as a wave of agreement swept through the assembly. a revitalised sense of strength and unity. For the first time, Harry experienced something beyond the gravity of the circumstance, but he was unable to articulate it. The group seemed to be coming together in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"We cannot allow them to shatter us." Matthew said in a steady tone. "It is our responsibility to protect this place, which has always been a safe place."

A hesitant cheer went up. Though his chest felt heavy, Harry clapped along, feeling a little lighter. The air seemed to have lightened just enough for them to breathe, and for a little minute the chamber seemed to have returned to something more familiar.

“What can we do to help?” Harper asked, her voice filled with resolve.

“Stay vigilant,” Matthew replied, his eyes sweeping over the group. “Support each other, and report anything suspicious. Above all, don’t let fear win.”

Harry nodded, feeling a spark of pride. It wasn’t just about fighting back—it was about protecting what they had built here. The people who had become a family. And even though he didn’t know Matthew well, Harry saw him in a new light. A leader, not just by title, but by heart. A protector.

"Now, we'll open again tomorrow," Matthew said, his voice becoming softer but still firm. ”with Harper and Missy, let’s make sure nobody forgets who we are.”

As the meeting ended and people began to file out, Harry stayed behind for a moment, his gaze once more drawn to Louis. He still wasn’t sure how to fix everything, but the promise was clear in his heart—he would protect him. He refused to allow Louis to be harmed ever again.

ZAYN

Zayn stepped into Babylon, the weight of the night before still pressing heavily on him. The image of Louis’s bruised face kept flashing in his mind, fueling a storm of anger and worry he could barely contain. Louis had been his best friend since they were kids, the one constant in his life through every twist and turn. They’d grown up together, understood each other in ways no one else could, and seeing him hurt—seeing him vulnerable—felt like a wound in Zayn’s own chest.

He glanced over at Louis now, watching how his friend’s usually vibrant presence seemed dimmed, his shoulders slightly hunched, his gaze skirting the ground. Louis had always been resilient, able to laugh things off or rise to a challenge. But this time, he looked shaken, and that sight stirred a fierce protectiveness in Zayn. The idea that someone could hurt him here, in a place that was supposed to be safe, was infuriating.

As they settled into the back room for the meeting, Zayn found himself tense, his fists clenching involuntarily. He wanted to assure everyone that no one would ever lay a finger on any of them again, but he also knew that making such a promise was reckless if he couldn’t guarantee it. Still, he wished he could take that fear out of Louis’s eyes, to bring back the person he knew. This was a fight Zayn didn’t want Louis to have to face alone.

Amidst all this, his attention kept straying to Matthew, their boss. Matthew was calm, determined, and he carried himself with a quiet strength that Zayn admired more than he wanted to admit. When Matthew spoke, his words were measured, reassuring, and Zayn felt a glimmer of relief—even hope—at the way he was handling things. There was something magnetic about him, something Zayn couldn’t ignore, and he wanted to draw closer, to understand him beyond the stern exterior.

But every time his gaze drifted to Matthew, guilt crept in. Zayn’s priority should be Louis, his best friend, and he shouldn’t let his mind wander when Louis needed him most. And yet, whenever Matthew looked his way, Zayn felt his pulse quicken, an undeniable tug that was hard to explain, especially in a moment like this. It was maddening to feel this pull toward Matthew while his heart ached with worry for Louis.

After the meeting, the club started to clear out, but Zayn’s resolve held him back. He couldn’t leave things unsaid. He moved toward Matthew, hoping to voice the frustration and worry churning inside him. Standing close to him, Zayn felt his stomach knot with a mix of anger, confusion, and… something else he was still struggling to name.

As Matthew discussed the situation, Zayn wrestled between his instinct to protect and a creeping sense of helplessness. The truth was, fear had found a foothold in his mind, settling into the corners of his thoughts.

“You’re more than just an employee to me.” Matthew’s words echoed in Zayn’s mind as he approached him after the meeting, carrying a weight that felt more personal than professional. The club had emptied, leaving just a few lingering staff members cleaning up, but Zayn barely noticed. His thoughts were still on Louis, his need to protect him—and on Matthew, whose presence felt like both a steady anchor and a quiet storm stirring something unfamiliar within him.

As Zayn stepped closer, Matthew looked up, his eyes softening in a way Zayn hadn’t expected. “Of course, Zayn. What’s on your mind?”

Zayn felt a tightness in his chest, his pulse quickening with nerves. “I can’t stop thinking about Louis… about what happened. I’m scared it could happen again.” His voice dropped, betraying the vulnerability he usually kept hidden.

Matthew’s gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “I know. I have my concerns too.” There was an understanding in his voice, a gentle tone that Zayn rarely heard from him.

Zayn hesitated, then took a step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like we need to do more. Not just for the club, but for all of us. We can’t let fear control us.”

Matthew listened intently, his expression thoughtful. “Staying calm and taking action—that’s our priority.” he replied, his voice steady but warm, as if he wanted to reassure Zayn as much as himself. But to Zayn, it still didn’t feel like enough. He needed more than calm words; he needed to know he wasn’t alone in feeling this weight, this urge to do something.

After a beat, he swallowed his hesitation and took a leap. “Matthew… would you maybe want to go out sometime? Just for a coffee, to talk things over? More calmly, somewhere quiet.” His words were careful, tentative, and his heart pounded as he waited for Matthew’s reaction.

Matthew blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, and for a moment, Zayn thought he might agree. But then a shadow of reluctance appeared in his eyes, and he lowered his gaze slightly. “Zayn… I—” He paused, clearly torn, his voice softer now. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… complicated.”

Zayn’s chest tightened, disappointment mingling with a small ache. “I understand. I just thought… I mean, we’re friends, right?”

Matthew’s expression grew even more conflicted, his eyes holding an unspoken apology. “Of course we are. I just—” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s not easy, trying to keep things balanced here.”

Zayn nodded, forcing a small smile, though he couldn’t shake the vulnerability that clung to him. “I get it, really. Sorry if I overstepped.” He looked away, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He’d thought, maybe, that things were different with Matthew, that there was a connection there that went beyond their roles.

Matthew seemed to sense the shift, and after a brief silence, he ran a hand through his hair, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Zayn. Just… let me figure things out, okay?”

That small flicker of possibility in Matthew’s eyes was enough to soothe the sting, even if just a little. Zayn gave a slight nod, the weight in his chest feeling a fraction lighter. “I’ll see you at the pub, then.”

Matthew held his gaze for a second longer, then offered a small, reassuring smile before turning back to his notes, leaving Zayn with a lingering sense that perhaps things weren’t quite as closed off as they seemed.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since the attack, Matthew had enhanced security, and everyone felt safer. It was the weekend, and as usual, the pub was packed. Today, Harry wasn’t singing, but there was a DJ set instead; the music was louder than usual, and the air was humid and warm from all the people on the dance floor. Louis was behind the bar with Missy, wearing his usual uniform with a rainbow pin on his black tank top, which showed off his muscular, tattooed arms. His hair was styled back, revealing a face with delicate features, and his blue eyes sparkled when the neon lights turned white.

His expression was serious and focused, with his eyes slightly squinted, as if the loud music was bothering him. He still had some purple on the sides of his nose, but he was feeling better; even the anxiety about his safety had decreased. He had only seen Harry at the pub, they still needed to recover from what had happened. Harry, on the other side of the bar, was having a heated discussion with Zayn—they didn’t like each other much.

Harry, with his slightly curly hair styled back, held in place by a light headband around his head, wore a red and black checkered shirt, open over a simple white T-shirt. Harry always wore various accessories that emphasized his personal style: a necklace with a cross pendant, several rings on his fingers, and a watch on his left wrist. These details added a little something to his style that always caught everyone’s attention.

Zayn was standing, wearing his usual white T-shirt and black cargo pants, his dark hair slightly messy, framing his face with a touch of casualness. His face had sharp features, and the slight beard gave him a mature look. A silver earring hung delicately from his left earlobe, adding a touch of style and personality to his appearance, along with tattoos decorating his tanned skin.

ZAYN

“Stop it.” He looked seriously at Harry, who had told him what had happened with Matthew. Harry wouldn’t stop encouraging him to do something; to him, it wasn’t a “no,” but a “maybe.” Zayn wasn’t sure and didn’t want to risk it.

He felt his arm grabbed by the curly-haired one. “Come on, let’s dance.” Zayn widened his eyes, absolutely against it, not feeling comfortable around strangers, like Harry, who also got on his nerves. “No…” He pulled his arm back. “Come on, listen to the expert, trust me.” Harry placed a hand on his chest, looking him directly in the eyes. Zayn sighed and looked helplessly at Louis, who was cleaning a glass, but unfortunately, Louis nodded for him to go. Zayn let out a desperate moan before following him through the crowd, very close to where Matthew was sitting, drinking.

The music pulsed loudly, surrounding the place in an electric atmosphere. Neon lights flickered in a play of colors, dancing on the walls, creating a vibrant environment.

“Let’s make Matthew jealous.” Harry suggested with a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Zayn nodded reluctantly, his heart rate increasing. He knew Matthew was watching, even if he couldn’t see him through the crowd.

Harry got closer to Zayn, their bodies almost touching. He started dancing, moving sensually, and Zayn couldn’t help but follow, though more awkwardly. Every step seemed calculated to get Matthew’s attention, and the intensity grew.

Zayn felt the heat rise, not just from the suffocating atmosphere, but also from Harry’s presence next to him. Every move was charged with contagious energy, and the thought of making Matthew jealous added an extra thrill.

Harry got even closer, their breaths mixing in a rhythmic pace.

“Look, he’s over there.” Harry whispered, tilting his head towards Matthew, who was sitting nearby, visibly interested in the scene.

Zayn took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but the thought of Matthew watching their every move made him feel alive. The two began to dance in sync, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, each gesture designed to attract attention.

With a bold move, Harry grabbed Zayn’s hand, pulling him into an even more intense dance. Zayn felt alive, every movement seemed like an invitation to reveal the desire he felt for Matthew.

As he moved, Zayn's body swayed to the beat of the music he could feel vibrating in his chest, but his thoughts were not entirely there. He continued to steal looks at Matthew, who was standing far and observing him closely. Even though he made an effort to concentrate on Harry, the draw of Matthew's eyes was too strong, and the air around him felt heated.

He tried to ignore it, to keep it from affecting him, but it was impossible. Despite the distance between them, he felt as though something inside of him constricted every time he glanced in Matthew's direction, drawing him in like a magnet.

Zayn noticed that Matthew's keen gaze never wavered when he eventually moved.The tension in his jaw was hardly concealed as he watched Matthew manoeuvre through the crowd, and then Matthew found himself directly in front of him.

"May I take your dancing partner?" Matthew had a light voice, but what about his eyes? They weren't casual at all. Zayn's heart skipped a beat because of the heat that was inside them.

Harry smiled and took a step back without even thinking. His smile widened as he answered, "Sure, go ahead." before giving Zayn a wink and backing away to the bar. Zayn was too preoccupied with Matthew's hold on his hand as he dragged him towards the middle of the dance floor to even acknowledge Harry.

Here, the beat of the music was louder and overpowered everything else. They seemed to be confined to their own tiny universe by the noise, which nearly formed a barrier. As they drew nearer, Zayn saw the tension building between them, a pull neither of them could resist.

As they arrived at the middle of the dance floor, Zayn couldn't get rid of the sensation that something significant was happening because Matthew's hand felt warm against his and his hold was firm. Something that couldn’t be ignored.

“We need to talk.” Matthew said, leaning in to make himself heard over the loud bass. Zayn nodded while attempting to manage the range of feelings he was experiencing. Zayn could feel the weight in Matthew's words despite his steady, low voice. "I hope the last time didn't offend you. Perhaps I overreacted to your request.“

The mention gave Zayn a weird cold. Zayn couldn't get rid of the unspoken, unsolved issue that had existed between them the previous time they had spoken. Matthew handed him a glass, and he accepted it, the cold of the beverage cooling his hot skin. Zayn's breath caught in his throat as his fingertips touched Matthew's.

His eyes darted up to meet Matthew's, and he was momentarily at a loss for words. It seemed as though everything he wanted to say and all the words he had been suppressing hung in the air between them. It was nearly oppressive.

Trying to stay focused, he took a sip of the drink, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat. His mind was jumbled, his heart pounding. Even though Matthew was directly in front of him, he wasn't sure if he was prepared for the discussion that would next.

Something about the way Matthew was staring at him caused Zayn's breath to catch and his heart to race.

Zayn couldn't help but wonder for a moment whether they were both merely playing games. Or if there was more to this.

Zayn looked at him, surprised but not too much. “Really? And what do you mean?” He scanned him from head to toe before yelling in his ear. The shirt was tight around his chest highlighting his pecs, his hair messy, but somehow always looking neat. His lips were red and full, framed by the light beard that he never shaved off completely.

Matthew hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up. “I was thinking we could explore a… friendship with benefits. I don’t want complications, you know I’m not looking for a relationship, but something more between us attracts me.”

Zayn felt a wave of warmth flood through him. “Are you serious?” He raised his eyebrows, Matthew always made it clear, but thinking about it, the idea appealed to him. To him, Matthew was pure attraction, but he wasn’t sure if their personalities were truly compatible.

Matthew nodded, his gaze intense. He took the straw from the glass Zayn was holding and brought it to his lips, emptying the glass without taking his eyes off Zayn.

With his heart racing, Zayn couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t deny I like the idea. It’s an interesting proposal.”

The music seemed to envelop them, creating a moment of intimacy between them. Zayn felt light, and Matthew’s proposal excited him.

Then, suddenly, without thinking too much, Matthew moved closer. Their faces were so close that Zayn could feel the warm breath of his head. The tension in the air was palpable, and the world around them seemed to fade away.

“Can I?” Matthew asked, searching for consent in Zayn’s eyes.

Zayn nodded, his heart pounding. In an instant, Matthew’s lips were on his. It was a delicate kiss, but full of emotion, as if all the weight of the night was contained in that contact. Zayn felt overwhelmed by his sensations, excitement, and vulnerability.

When they parted, Zayn felt intoxicated. His head was light, his breath heavy, almost as if he had just downed three shots in a row. He slid his hand into Matthew’s long hair before pulling him into a much more intense kiss. It was as if they had broken through an invisible barrier, and now they felt closer than ever. The intermittent purple lights flickered against their skin.

LOUIS

Harry, observing from a distance, smiled knowingly. “He owes me a favor!” he declared aloud, while Louis stared at the scene in disbelief, catching glimpses of the two kissing like eighteen-year-olds overwhelmed by hormones. Luckily, he wasn’t directly facing them. “Yes, definitely…” Louis replied with a bit of disgust, but ultimately happy for his friend. Or his friends.

“Will you give me a dance?” Harry leaned towards him, almost lying on the counter. Louis smiled, moving closer to his face, his green eyes demanding attention. He stopped just a few inches from the curly-haired boy’s face, wetting his lips to add a bit of suspense before replying with a frustrated expression, “No.” and quickly walking away. He was enjoying teasing Harry a little too much. He saw Harry’s annoyed expression and sat back properly on the bar stool.

“You’re really boring, Lou.” Harry pouted. “Lou?” Louis asked without thinking. Since when did they call each other by nicknames? A corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile as his hand wiped the wet rag across the wood in front of him. The place was finally emptying out.

“Louis, I’m going home. Do you have the keys?” Zayn interrupted, lazily leaning next to Harry, almost pushing him. Matthew was a few steps behind him, waiting and looking around.

“Yeah, I have them.” Louis looked at his best friend, nodding, then glanced from him to the man behind him, a bit concerned. “See you tomorrow then, good night.” Zayn leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and winked at him, throwing a quick glance at Harry, who responded with a little smile, then left with Matthew, who waved goodbye with a hand gesture.

“And now? Where will you stay tonight?” Harry asked ironically, as if getting back at him for what had happened earlier, his face in his hands while he looked at Louis through squinted eyes, an air of superiority.

“Very funny Harry!” Louis replied in a sing-song tone, his expression annoyed as he filled the dishwasher.

“You could stay at mine.” Harry tilted his head to the side, a smile on his face. Louis looked up at him, almost disgusted, before Harry continued.

“On the couch, I wouldn’t give you my comfortable bed.” Louis breathed a sigh of relief in his mind. Harry was looking at him, waiting for an answer. He wasn’t that familiar with Harry, the idea of going to his place put him a bit on edge.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, trying to figure out what he was getting himself into.

“No, I have two roommates. I won’t try get in your pants, Louis, if that’s what’s holding you back.” Harry chuckled. Louis shook his head in exasperation. “Okay, I’ll crash at yours.” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling before going back to putting everything away and finally finishing his shift, thoughts of Harry trying to kiss him impossible to shake off his mind.

“Hop on!” Harry exclaimed, handing him a helmet. He was on a motorcycle, what else could you expect from Harry Styles, if not a bike that attracted women? Louis sighed at the cliché before fastening the helmet and climbing on behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist as they sped through a pleasantly empty London. The streetlights blurred past quickly, one after the other, and the cold February air froze the part of his face left exposed by the helmet.

Arrived at the apartment, Harry opened the door, finding the light on.

“Welcome to my kingdom, or rather, ours…” he made way for him. The house opened into a hallway; to the left, the first door led to a spacious open-plan area, with a well-equipped kitchen and a large wooden table adorned with plants. In front of the green corner sofa was a large checkered rug, where the roommates were sitting playing PlayStation.

“These are Liam and Niall.” Harry introduced them quickly. A blonde guy in shorts and a T-shirt was eating a bag of chips, swearing at what must have been Liam, a brunette guy in a blue sweatshirt and sweatpants, who stood up kindly to shake Louis’s hand.

“Sorry! I’m Liam, nice to meet you.” He confirmed his identity, and Louis smiled, shaking his hand in return. “Louis!”

“This is Niall, but he’s too focused…” Liam turned to give him a glare trying to draw his attention, futilely, he shook his head. “Can I offer you something? Water? Juice? Something to eat?” Louis shook his head. Harry interjected, “Actually, Louis just finished work, he asked me for a place to crash.” He saw Harry raise his eyebrows, implicitly saying to clear the couch.

“I’ll show him around the house in the meantime…” Liam nodded as Harry invited Louis to follow him, showing him where the bathroom was in case he needed it, then opened the door to his room.

Louis paused at the threshold, surveying the room. It was smaller than his, but full of stuff. One corner held a guitar, while a large white wardrobe occupied one wall. The desk was cluttered with papers that looked like sheet music, and a recording microphone completed the setup. On the wall, photographs and posters of artists like David Bowie and other great musicians.

“Come in, I won’t bite,” Harry encouraged, sitting on the all-white bed as he took off his boots. Louis stepped in slowly, scanning the room in every corner; he was convinced you could learn a lot about someone by the place they lived. The room was quite messy: clothes piled on the chair, others scattered in front of the full-length mirror at the foot of the bed, a green rug in the center adding a pop of color to an otherwise all-white space.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, patting the mattress beside him, inviting Louis to sit. Louis moved closer, feeling the softness of the duvet under his hands.

“It suits you.” Louis replied bluntly. Harry chuckled. “Because it’s a mess?” he asked, amused. Louis nodded, still staring at the room, feeling Harry’s eyes burning into him. “Also… it shows your passions.”

He decided to turn to look at Harry, who nodded approvingly before looking away and letting himself fall back onto the mattress.

“And you? What are Louis Tomlinson’s passions?”

Louis followed Harry’s movements slowly. With his head on the mattress, he closed his eyes and sighed. “I love writing, I’d like to write my own stories one day. I love creating characters, new worlds.”

Harry turned his head to look at him, surprised.

“That’s wonderful, have you written anything I can read?” he asked, staring at him with interest. Louis shook his head.

“I’ve never shown my stories to anyone, it’s a very personal thing. Maybe that’s why I haven’t had the courage to contact a publisher yet. And then…” he stopped to take a deep breath and open his eyes, “…I don’t think I’m ready yet, I’m trying to save money to continue university. Maybe after that, I’ll feel ready.”

Louis’s hands started fidgeting nervously. Talking about this was always difficult. It was a dream that many didn’t take seriously, except for Zayn, he had never made him feel this way.

Harry nodded understandingly. “For me, music is like that sometimes. It’s hard to let anyone hear my stuff. We should find the courage to share our passions with the world.”

Louis smiled faintly. “One day… maybe. For now, I’m fine writing for myself.” Harry shook his head, Louis could see it out of the corner of his eye. “You’re braver than you think, Louis. If you ever decide to share one of your stories, I’d love to be one of the first to read it.”

Louis turned to look at Harry, the boy’s eyes seemed to see right through him. “Thanks, Harry.” he replied with a small smile. He hadn’t expected those words from him; on the outside, he seemed like a superficial, cocky guy, but maybe there was more to him.

“So… since you write, you read a lot…” Louis nodded, furrowing his brows, not understanding where he was going with this. “…what character do I remind you of?” Harry asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Louis rolled his eyes, thought for a few seconds, and immediately made a comparison in his head. “Dorian Gray.” he answered flatly.

Harry half-opened his mouth, a mix of surprise and offense.

“Are you saying I only care about physical appearance and I’ll die still looking young?” He raised his voice a little, definitely more offended than surprised. Louis started chuckling, nodding. “You’re an asshole!” he exclaimed, smiling, shaking his head in disapproval, pointing his finger at his chest. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Maybe getting to know you better will change the character, who knows?” Louis shrugged, still chuckling, his eyes locked with Harry’s green ones.

“So, you want to get to know me?” Harry asked, smiling, opening his hand that had been pointing at Louis, placing it gently on his chest, making Louis’s heartbeat skip. “Maybe…” he managed to say, almost choking.

“Do you want to play a game?” Harry asked.

Louis, intrigued, nodded, then corrected himself. “Depends…” he squinted his eyes, not trusting him, but when Harry smiled and shook his head, he smiled back. “Okay.”

“I’ll ask you a question, and you have to answer with another question…” he began to explain, pausing to make sure Louis understood.

“Does it have to be the answer to the question?” Louis asked, not entirely understanding.

“Up to you, but you still have to end with a question.” He ran his tongue over his lips, and for a moment, Louis’s mind went blank, but he quickly nodded. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Okay, are you ready?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded confidently.

Harry chuckled while Louis furrowed his brows, not understanding the reason for the laugh. “You have to end with a question, got it?”

Louis shook his head, feeling silly—maybe it was the sleepiness. “Yes, I got it… and you?” he smiled, hoping he understood how the game worked.

Harry nodded, biting his lower lip. “Okay, do you think I’m attractive?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “And you say you’re not Dorian Gray?” he retorted, exasperated.

Harry laughed, apologizing. “Sorry, sorry… your question?”

“Why do you always wear the bandana?” Louis asked a silly question, but the truth was, Harry wore it every time Louis saw him.

Then Harry untied it and let his curls fall over his forehead. “Because of this, they’re still short, not long enough to let them hang loose.” He smiled. If Louis had lost a beat before, now he couldn’t breathe. He reached out to touch the small curls, starting to play with them. “They’re beautiful…” he whispered, convinced. They framed his face perfectly, though he had to admit Harry was right: they were still too short to leave loose, covering his eyes, which were now staring at him, a small smile on his face highlighting the dimple on his left cheek, which Louis had just noticed.

“You didn’t ask me the question.” he whispered, almost not wanting to interrupt the moment. Harry nodded while the other kept playing with his hair. “Are you gay?” he asked, making Louis laugh. He worked at a gay bar, and it didn’t seem like he was giving off a straight vibe.

“Really can’t accept the fact that I rejected you, huh?” he teased, but continued immediately. “Biromantic, and you?”

Harry nodded, chuckling at the earlier joke, then shook his head at the question. “I’m bisexual, but I’ve been with more men than women…” He paused for a moment, took the wrist of the hand that was caressing him, and rested his cheek on his palm. Louis began to stroke his cheekbone with his thumb, drawing small circles. He saw the other close his eyes to his touch.

“Why not bisexual, but biromantic?” he raised his eyebrows and opened his eyes before narrowing them. Louis smiled at the question; it was exactly what he expected.

“Because I’m demisexual.” he answered, but the other seemed even more confused than before. “Sorry, I don’t know what that means…”

“It’s okay.” the older one replied with a smile, it hardly ever happened that people knew. “A demisexual person doesn’t feel sexual attraction unless they’ve established a strong bond with someone, someone they know deeply and have strong feelings for… it’s almost like being asexual.” He explained, and Harry seemed to be paying close attention, nodding at each word. “And has it ever happened to you?” he asked after processing the information.

“Have you ever had these feelings for someone, I mean…” he clarified, but Louis caught him off guard. “Wasn’t it my turn to ask the question?” he took his hand off his cheek and moved it to his stomach.

Harry made a little groan when Louis moved his hand away, but then nodded with a sigh. “Go on…” he whispered, and Louis thought he wasn’t referring just to his speech, but also to his hand. He continued with both, bringing his fingers back to play with his curls on his forehead.

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone?” he asked bluntly, from the way he spoke, the other seemed to have only experienced one-night stands.

Harry inhaled before he began speaking. “Has it ever happened to you to have such a deep relationship as the one you told me about?” he avoided his question, Louis raised his eyebrows, smiling, surprised by his evasive attitude.

“Touchy subject, Styles?” he teased him. Harry made a face, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t worry…” Louis reassured him, it was the first time they were talking about something personal. “It only happened once, but I tried having relationships with other people too. It’s just… I don’t find it special, and I don’t feel like doing it… do you feel better?” he smiled, wanting to know if Harry had come to terms with being rejected.

Harry nodded with a small grin on his lips, took the hand that was caressing him again, this time pressing kisses on it. “Harry…” Louis whispered, swallowing loudly.

“Don’t you like it? Want me to stop?” Harry looked at him with those eyes that could bring a whole world to its knees. Louis felt breathless; of course, no, he didn’t want him to stop. He shook his head to regain his composure, slowly sitting up with Harry following him.

“Better go to sleep.” He stood up. “Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch? I’ll give you the bed if you want.” Harry said, no embarrassment in his voice, unlike Louis, whose cheeks were on fire.

“No, the couch is fine.” Louis said, putting his hands in his pockets, while Harry opened the wardrobe to grab a blanket and pillow for him.

“Goodnight, Lou.” he wished him softly as Louis grabbed his things and headed for the door. “Goodnight, Harry.” he mumbled before going straight to the living room, taking off his shoes, and trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible, aware that it would be very difficult.

HARRY

Harry woke up to the sound of the alarm clock ringing at exactly 8 a.m. and went straight to the bathroom, surprisingly empty. When he made his way to the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise, he saw Louis still asleep on the couch, covered up to his chin with his blanket, curled up on one side. A small smile formed on his lips before his gaze shifted to the kitchen, where Liam and Niall were watching him with their cups of milk in hand. He joined them, and without saying a word, he started warming up the milk.

“Don’t you have something to tell us?” Liam asked softly. Harry shook his head; what was he supposed to say? “He’s cute.” Liam added, and Harry nodded in approval. “I know, but it can’t happen…” he repeated, following the voice in his head. He turned toward them as he filled the pink cup with hot milk. Both of them raised their eyebrows.

Harry blew on the mug before responding, “We’re not compatible when it comes to… a certain matter.” he added. Liam slowly nodded. “Sex?” he whispered, but Niall looked confused. “Is he straight?” He furrowed his brows and bit into the freshly toasted bread.

Harry and Liam burst into laughter at the question. “Shhhh!” Harry scolded, laughing. It was pretty clear that Niall was the straight one.

“You know, active, passive, good morning Niall!” Liam teased. Niall continued eating, offended by their teasing, while Liam watched Harry. He felt his eyes on him while he checked if Louis was still asleep; he didn’t want to let him hear those silly conversations about him.

“No, Liam, it’s not that. I don’t have any issues with that, you know.” He shook his head. “It’s something else…”

“And is it really that important to you, Harry?” the fake blonde asked after finishing his toast.

Harry sighed and set his empty cup in the sink. He glanced at Louis, peacefully asleep, tilting his head to one side as he thought about what mattered to him and what didn’t. “I don’t know, Niall, I don’t know.” he sighed again in response to his question before heading to his room to change.

When he came back into the living room, Louis was already awake, his hair messy and a shy smile on his face as he listened to Liam and Niall, who had offered him a cup of tea.

“Good morning.” Harry said, sitting next to him on the couch. Louis looked at him from behind the steaming cup, smiling, and greeted him back. After a while, Liam said goodbye to go to class, and Louis stood up, folded the blanket and put on his shoes.

“I hope Matthew’s already gone!” he exclaimed, sighing. Harry chuckled and shook his head. “I hope for your sake. You leaving?” he asked, and Louis nodded in response, pulling down his sweatshirt and running a hand through his hair.

“Do you need a ride?” Harry asked, but Louis refused. Harry walked him to the door.

“See you!” Louis said with a kind smile before heading toward the stairs. Harry instinctively called him back.

“Lou!” Louis stopped on the first step, turning to look at him. Harry moved nervously, gripping the door handle. Why had he called him back? He looked around and then improvised.

“There’s a movie at the cinema I want to see. I was thinking… would you like to come with me? Tonight, since the pub is closed, or… I don’t know.” he asked, trying to be vague. He stared at Louis’s face, terrified of his possible reaction, but let out a breath when Louis agreed.

“Tonight is fine, text me the time!” His lips curled into a smile before disappearing down the stairs. Harry closed the door, leaning against it with his back. “Why is it so hard?” he wondered quietly with his eyes closed, but didn’t notice Niall, standing there, staring at him.

“Because you like him?” the blonde asked.Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. Niall always spoke out of turn.

“Shut up!” Harry snapped before heading to his room. Maybe Niall was right, maybe he did care, but right now he had other things to think about, like finding a movie to watch.

LOUIS

Louis arrived home, quietly opening the door, hoping to find only one person inside, and luckily, his wish came true. Zayn was sitting at the table in front of his computer.

“Good morning.” He raised his eyebrows. Zayn seemed almost unaware that Louis had come home. Finally, he looked at him, smiling, and greeted him back. Malik smiling in the morning? Apparently, Matthew worked miracles too.

Louis walked over to him to hug him from behind. “What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the computer screen. Zayn had a page of drawings open in front of him, he was working. Louis let go of him, messing up his hair before heading toward the bathroom, but Zayn’s voice stopped him.

“Lou, where did you sleep?” he asked. Louis stopped, leaning his hands on the doorframe as he answered his friend.

“At Harry’s?” he prayed that the other wouldn’t ask any more questions, but as he was about to head to the bathroom, that prayer was not answered.

“Do you need to tell me something?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, turning toward him. Louis rolled his eyes.

“I don’t, I slept on the couch. You?” he asked, raising his eyebrows too, but Zayn wasn’t buying it.

“Does it change anything if I tell you I don’t like him?” The dark-haired one rested his head on one hand, looking at him. Louis sighed and finally went toward the bathroom, replying loudly.

“You never like anyone, Zayn!” He closed the door as he heard Zayn retort.

“That’s not true!”

Chapter Text

LOUIS

Louis and Zayn were lying on the couch, bathed in the blue light from the TV that was showing the football game. Cans of Coca-Cola glistened on the coffee table, while the noise of the game filled the air. Zayn, his gaze fixed on the screen, occasionally stole a glance at Louis, who seemed more focused on his phone than on the game.

After a moment of silence, Louis finally decided to speak. “Hey, Zayn, there’s something I want to talk to you about…” he said uncertainly.

Zayn raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s up?” he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral while crossing his legs, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I think I’m interested in Harry…” Louis confessed, his voice trembling slightly. He hadn’t admitted it out loud yet.

Zayn turned toward him, frowning. “Interested? How ‘interested’?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his expression betrayed irritation.

“We spent time together last night and… I think I like him as a person?” Louis said, looking down at his phone as if searching for comfort in the images on the screen.

Zayn rested his head on the back of the couch, intrigued. “But didn’t you make fun of him until yesterday?” he chuckled. Louis sighed; Zayn was right, but maybe last night he had seen Harry for the first time through different eyes.

“I know, but maybe… he’s not as bad as we thought?” Louis insisted, trying to justify himself while Zayn seemed interested, his eyes locked on him.

“Mh, I’ll change my mind when I see him with my own eyes.” Zayn replied, trying to mask his sarcasm. “Why are you telling me this?”

Louis turned toward him, surprised and confused. “Because you’re my friend! And… I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

Zayn ran a hand through his hair, his nervousness palpable. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” he said, trying not to sound alarmed, but his unease was clear.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Louis retorted, frowning.

Zayn sighed, his face impassive, but his eyes revealed a hint of concern. “What if it hurts you?” he said, keeping his tone deliberately indifferent.

Louis nodded, lowering his eyes to the couch fabric. “I can’t keep living like this, Zayn. I know you’re worried because my last relationships didn’t end well, but I always bounce back.”

“But who picks up the pieces?” Zayn murmured, trying to hide his disapproval.

Louis froze, feeling the weight of those words. Zayn. Zayn was the one who picked up the pieces of his life. “Maybe it’s time it’s not you anymore.” he said, his tone fragile.

Zayn nodded slowly, pressing his lips together, revealing a moment of vulnerability. “Just… be careful, you know I care about you.”

Louis nodded, understanding. “I’ll try to.” he replied finally, with a sigh that filled the silence between them.

Soon after, Zayn went to his room, claiming he needed to finish a delivery. Louis stretched out on the couch, fiddling with his phone.

Harry Styles has started following you.

He opened the profile to follow him back and started scrolling through the photos, many of which were from his concerts, others with Liam and Niall or his family. He discovered that Harry had a sister named Gemma. A message suddenly made his phone vibrate.

Hey Lou, 8 PM at the Game!

Hey, see you there :)

It took him at least five minutes to decide whether or not to add a smiley face, he was feeling silly. The conversation with Zayn had disturbed him a bit; he realized he had leaned on him a lot in recent years, and maybe he had overdone it. He felt guilty for not considering his friend’s feelings and promised not to bother him too much.

He looked at himself in the mirror one more time before leaving to go to the cinema. He fixed his hoodie and hair, then grabbed his denim jacket.

“Where are you going?” Zayn asked, who was at the table eating dinner.

“Cinema… with Harry.” Louis hesitated, his hands moving quickly from the anxiety. Zayn stood up, nodding, and walked over to adjust his denim jacket. “You look good, relax!” he chuckled, Louis felt ridiculous but than sighed with relief, reassured by Zayn’s words.

When he arrived at the cinema, Harry wasn’t there yet; he should have arrived ten minutes ago. Louis looked around, a little confused by his tardiness, until he saw him getting out of a Jeep with his green hoodie and recognizable blue bandana, walking quickly toward him.

“Sorry, Niall needed a ride and I got held up!” he sighed, putting a hand on his chest, as if he had walked there, Louis laughed and shaking his head.

“It’s fine, I just got here. Shall we go in?” Harry agreed, they went together to buy tickets and a large box of popcorn to share. When they entered the theater, the air was thick with the smell of popcorn and caramel. The red seats, comfortable and slightly reclining, welcomed them as they settled into an ideal position. The soft lighting from the projectors illuminated the big screen, already set to show the film, while the murmur of the audience created an atmosphere of anticipation and excitement. They sat close together, near the back rows; the theater was half full, so they could get comfortable.

“Harry…” Louis whispered halfway through the movie, while Harry put a popcorn in his mouth. He leaned in to listen, waiting for him to speak. Louis felt his cheeks flush from the closeness.

“Sorry, but… this movie sucks…” Probably the popcorn went down the wrong way, because he started coughing, patting his chest, then he started laugh softly covering his mouth. Louis smiled in response.

“I didn’t want to say it because I thought you liked it, but…” he added, and Harry nodded quickly, trying not to laugh then added “…I agree, shall we leave?”

When they get out of the cinema and returned to the cold London air, it only took a couple of seconds of looking at each other to start laughing.

“Sorry, I swear, the reviews made it sound good!” Harry apologized, and Louis shook his head.

“It’s fine, I know I have to choose next time!” Louis chuckled again, teasing him, while Harry sighed in exasperation.

“Do you want to grab something to eat? I didn’t have dinner.” Harry asked. Louis agreed gladly.

“Me neither, Mc?” he asked with a smile. Harry simply replied with an “okay” before putting his hands in his pockets and walking with him. The McDonald’s was just around the corner.

HARRY

“I forgot to ask you something!” he suddenly exclaimed. Harry looked at him for a few seconds, as if giving him permission to ask the question, his face seemingly stinging from the cold. “How old are you?” he smiled at the trivial question.

“Just turned twenty-two, and you?” he asked, curious, knowing Harry was older.

“Twenty-five, when’s your birthday?” he asked again as they were now at the entrance of the fast food.

“First of February.” Harry opened the door with one arm, letting Louis in first.

“Thanks, I’ll be twenty-six in December, on the 24th!” Harry stepped inside right after Louis, finally feeling his veins warm again, the other was smiling at him.

“Double party, double gift,” Harry winked, but Louis shook his head.

“Actually, it always ends up being just one!” Louis made a sad face, sticking out his lower lip. Harry looked at him, softened by the sight, his blue eyes fixed on him. He refrained from doing anything and ruffled his hair without thinking.

“You’ll get two from me next time, I promise.” They stopped in line to order. “Don’t be so sure we’ll still be friends…” Louis said with a slightly annoyed expression, trying to fix his hair. A small laugh escaped Harry’s lips when he made it worse than before. “I’m not counting on staying friends.” Harry answered frankly while carefully fixing Louis’s fringe.

“Don’t flirt with me, Styles,” Louis retorted, trying to seem serious, but a smile betrayed his true intent. He tilted his head, playing innocent, and pursed his lips before replying. “I meant we’ll definitely fight before Christmas, what did you think, Louis?” He shifted his gaze to the cashier, hiding a small grin as he placed his order. He was pretty sure he heard a “Yeah, sure” slip from Louis’s lips just before his phone rang. “Sorry, mom.” he gestured to his phone, Harry motioned for him to go ahead and answer.

The McDonald’s was a lively and colorful place, with walls decorated in bright tones and posters of the most iconic burgers. The air was filled with the irresistible scent of fries and hamburgers. The shiny plastic tables reflected the neon lights, while the sound of people chatting and trays clinking created an animated backdrop.

Harry and Louis sat at a table, Harry’s heart beating fast with excitement. Eating the fries, he felt relaxed and happy. They were talking about work when Harry finished his burger. He reached for a one of Louis’ fries, but he slapped his hand away. “You’ve got your own right there!” Louis scolded, and Harry started laughing. “Joey doesn’t share food!” Louis said deepening his voice and raising his eyebrows, Harry instantly catching the “Friends” reference.
“It’s my favorite show!” he said excitedly, even more so when Louis admitted it was his too. They high-fived, but then Louis moved the fries away, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

He was driving Louis home; after insisting on giving him a ride, Louis finally caved. “But I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow!” Louis bargained with a serious, almost threatening expression, and Harry happily agreed. The drive was pretty quiet; Louis let him choose the music and Harry glanced at him now and then to make sure he was okay.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, curious about what he was thinking; Louis seemed lost watching the streets of London. Louis yawned shortly after. “I’m just tired, I work tomorrow.” Harry furrowed his brows; he didn’t know what Louis’s second job was. “Where do you work?” he asked, and Louis explained that he worked as a cashier in a supermarket to save some money. “Ah, for the university you mentioned yesterday, right?” Harry asked as he turned off the car; they had arrived.

Louis turned towards him. “You remember,” he smiled sheepishly. Louis looked down at his hands; maybe he was making him uncomfortable? “I listen when you talk.” Harry answered softly, resting his temple against the headrest. Louis slowly nodded. “Do you work at the pub tomorrow?” he asked. “No, tomorrow there’s the Drag show.” Harry clarified, adjusting himself better in his seat.

“Right, are you coming anyway?” Louis asked with nonchalance, he seemed always so uninterested, but asked questions that made Harry think the opposite.

“If you ask me…” Harry answered with a smirk. Louis threw his head back, sighing but with an amused smile.

“Come on!” Harry laughed at his reaction, but nodded immediately after.

“I’ll come… just because you’re there,” he said sincerely; he wouldn’t have had another reason to go to the pub on his day off.

“Stop it…” Louis chuckled, turning his head toward Harry, who was also leaning back in his seat.

“I’m telling the truth, why else would I go?” he smiled, his breath caught in his throat as they stared at each other. He didn’t want to be the one to get closer, didn’t want the opposite effect. He had figured out that with Louis, he didn’t have to rush; his eyes were drawn to the other’s lips even though he tried to focus on his eyes. Louis rolled his eyes, sighing, then stayed silent, just looking at him. The soft music from the radio played in the background: “Out My League,” Harry recognized.

Forty days and forty nights,

I waited for a girl like you to come and change my life.

Slowly, he extended his arm, his hand brushing the fringe that had fallen on Louis’s forehead. Harry wondered if Louis had ever noticed how his heart sped up every time he looked at him. “You’re beautiful.” he whispered, realizing he had said it out loud, his mind short-circuiting as he suddenly felt warm. He didn’t even remember Louis’s reaction; he was too caught up in his thoughts.

“I have to go, Harry.” Louis said quietly, before opening the door. “Good night.” he smiled and quickly got out. “See you at the Babylon…” Harry winked back. “Good night!” Harry said, waiting until he disappeared behind the door of his building before starting the car again. You’re such an idiot, Harry muttered to himself before heading home.

When he opened the flat door, he found Liam in front of the TV, not really paying attention, messaging someone. He went straight to change into something more comfortable, tossing his bandana and clothes on the chair before grabbing a bottle of water.

“Curly, where do you think you’re going?” Liam asked without looking up from his phone. “To bed?” Harry answered plainly, but Liam immediately shook his head and tapped the rug beside him. “You gotta tell us everything!” exclaimed the blonde who had just come out of the bathroom, flopping down on the couch next to Liam.

“Since when do you care what happens to me?” Harry asked, not understanding all the curiosity, but he joined them anyway, sitting cross-legged next to Liam. “Since always!” Niall exclaimed. “Or since you like someone so much you go out with them before having sex…” he added, shrugging; Harry huffed in irritation as they laughed. “You guys are really annoying.” Harry declared before getting up, but Liam grabbed him by the arm. “Come on, joke’s over, seriously, how did it go? We saw the story.” He had posted a story on Instagram about the movie; Harry stared at the bottle, pouting and sighing.

“Well, we watched the movie… which sucked!” Harry clarified, raising his eyebrows, then looked up at them as they listened. “Then we went to McD’s and talked for a while… and nothing, then I drove him home.” He stopped his story and Niall furrowed his brows. “No kiss?” he asked. Harry shook his head, sighing. “I told you, we’re just friends.”

They both nodded, but their faces clearly showed they didn’t believe him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep, good night.” Harry kissed both of their heads, which annoyed them, but he always do it because it amused him.

When he lay under the covers, he didn’t even have time to unlock his phone when a message from Lou popped up in the notifications.

Don’t make me remember that movie.

He smiled; Louis had responded to his story. He took a deep breath and spent a few minutes before replying.

Don’t worry, he’ll visit you in your nightmares tonight.

He responded casually, waiting with a smile for his reply as “Typing…” appeared in the chat.

Mh, I don’t think I’ll dream about that. Next time, I’m picking the movie though ;)

He read the message at least three times; was he wrong or was Louis flirting? And next time? A spontaneous smile formed on his lips; his chest exploded with happiness. He locked his phone when he didn’t see Louis online anymore; that night, falling asleep became much easier.

Harry leaned back on the barstool, fingers tracing the rim of his drink as he watched Louis chat with a group behind the counter. It had been a few nights since their date at the cinema, and each evening he found himself there, gravitating toward Louis’s warmth, like he couldn’t help it.

Once the his performance ended, Louis would slip outside for a smoke, and Harry would follow, slipping into their familiar rhythm. Louis listened as Harry talked about his day, his roommates, or the small moments that seemed mundane but always drew Louis’s full attention. And Louis shared snippets of his world, but more often than not, he’d steer the conversation back to Harry, always wanting to know more, always listening with an open, easy smile.

“I still haven’t bought you a drink since last time!” Louis noted one night, a hint of self-reproach in his tone as he flicked ashes from his cigarette.

Harry just shook his head. “You know there’s absolutely no need.” he replied, voice soft, but Louis wasn’t having it. There was a light in his eyes—a determination, something stubborn that made Harry smile.

Louis tilted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Alright then. Tomorrow… you, Niall, and Liam are invited for lunch at mine and Zayn’s.” His raised brows made it clear this wasn’t up for negotiation, and Harry, knowing better than to argue, nodded in surrender.

“This way I can repay the favor for letting me stay last time.” Louis clarified, pointing at him for emphasis, like he wouldn’t let this slide.

Harry watched him, the way Louis’s shoulders relaxed, the casual way he leaned against the wall, as though everything was simple and easy between them. But something lingered beneath Harry’s thoughts—a question that had been nagging at him since Louis started bringing it up, a curiosity about Zayn. He finally asked, trying to sound casual, “By the way, Zayn and Matthew?”

Louis’s brow furrowed as he looked back at him, caught off guard by the question. “You know I don’t know anything?” He shrugged. “I’ll let you know.” he added, pushing the door open to head back inside, throwing Harry a quick, unreadable smile over his shoulder.

Harry stayed outside a moment longer, watching the door swing shut, a mix of warmth and uncertainty pooling in his chest. Something about the way Louis held his attention felt too easy, too natural—but it also left him with a hundred little questions he didn’t quite know how to ask.

Harry felt nervous as they climbed the stairs. “I swear if you make me look bad, you’d better start looking for a new roommate!” he scolded. Niall had a bottle of wine in his hand and was mocking everything Harry said, while Liam looked at him annoyed by the constant reminders, reminding him they weren’t kids anymore.

The door was opened by Zayn, wearing jeans and a blue sweatshirt. The smell of food filled Harry’s nostrils, making his curiosity and hunger grow. “Come in… nice to meet you, I’m Zayn!” The dark-haired man smiled at the two guys he didn’t know. As soon as they stepped inside, they were welcomed into a small, bright white room, with the kitchen on the left and a marble island separating it from the living room. In the center of the room was a wooden table, just set, and on the opposite side of the kitchen, a yellow sofa with a gray rug. “Nice house!” Liam exclaimed, and it was really nice, although smaller than theirs.

Niall handed the wine to Zayn, and from the hallway, right in front of the door, Louis appeared in a gray sweater with a smile on his face. Harry felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Hey guys!” he greeted them happily. “You didn’t need to bring wine!” he thanked as soon as he noticed the dark bottle in Zayn’s hands. Harry immediately felt at ease, but at the same time vulnerable. Louis’s presence made him feel light, but also acutely aware of his emotions.

“I smell lasagna…” Niall immediately commented, sitting at the table. Louis winked at him before pulling a baking dish out of the oven, wearing oven mitts. Proudly, Niall looked at Liam, raising his eyebrows. “Wow Niall, I didn’t expect that from a cook!” Liam sarcastically commented, and everyone laughed. As they sat down, Harry asked Louis if he needed help. Despite Louis trying to send him to sit down, Harry helped him bring the dishes to the table.

“Shall we open the wine?” Zayn asked when they were all seated, grabbing the corkscrew to open the bottle. “Zayn, what do you do for a living?” Liam asked, and Harry swore he’d never seen him so interested in someone. After taking a bite, he complimented Louis and Zayn, it was really good.

“I’m a bartender with Louis, and in the rest of my time, I draw tattoos or commission artwork.” Zayn replied to his friend, who was looking at him fascinated. “I didn’t know you could draw!” Harry said, surprised, as Zayn poured red wine for everyone. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Styles.” Zayn responded, and Harry shook his head, smiling at the joke. Louis chuckled. Zayn asked his two roommates what they did for a living, and Harry distractedly watched Louis, not used to seeing him with his friends.

LOUIS

“Did you like it?” Louis asked when everyone had finished eating. Niall nodded.

“If I say it’s good, it’s good.” he said, laughing. Louis raised his hands, respecting the cook’s opinion.

“We also made a chocolate cake, do you want some? Or are you full?” When everyone approved, he sent Zayn to get it. He distributed the small plates and spoons, while Zayn cut the slices and served them. “Good?” he asked Harry when he finished the last piece. Louis put his finger to his own lips, indicating he had crumbs and noticed Harry blush then decided to turn away to avoid embarrassing him any further. Zayn was looking at him with raised eyebrows, as if to ask, What was that? Louis gave him a quick middle finger before Zayn rolled his eyes and turned to Liam to ask about his studies.

“So, Niall, what’s it like living with a singer at home?” Louis asked after finishing eating. Niall sighed, shaking his head. “Bad, he’s always making noise…” the blonde looked at him with a tired expression, making Zayn laugh and Louis smile. Harry mumbled something. “But actually… let me explain, that’s not the worst part…” Louis nodded, trying to understand. “Confess, Niall, what’s the worst part?” he smiled, unable to contain himself. “Being the only straight one, I don’t have anyone to talk about girls with anymore…” he said resignedly. After a moment of surprise, everyone burst into laughter, including him.

“But that’s not true, not all of us are gay!” Liam protested loudly, and Zayn nodded in agreement. “I’m bisexual, if you need to talk?” he commented, and Louis didn’t know why, but Liam kept looking at him as if he were a deity, or maybe he thought he knew exactly why.

“Me too.” Harry raised his eyebrows. “You can talk to me about it…” he continued, frowned but with a smile.

“I feel less alone.” Niall smiled, looking at Zayn. “You don’t count, you haven’t dated a girl in ages…” he shook his head toward Harry, who sighed resignedly. Then Niall looked at Louis and squinted his eyes, staring at him intensely. Louis looked at him confused and scared.

“What are you doing?” asked quickly looking at Harry and Liam, seeking help. Liam replied, laughing, “He’s trying to figure out what you are… he hasn’t realized he doesn’t have a gaydar.” Zayn laughed at those words, while Niall’s face both scared and amused him at the same time. “Shhh, Liam, you’re distracting me!” Niall exclaimed, and Louis shook his head.

“Niall, trust me, you won’t get it.” Louis smiled, already struggling with the members of his community, let alone with him. In the end, Niall gave up and asked if he wanted to say it. “Are you sure?” he raised his eyebrows, convinced he wouldn’t understand a word. Niall nodded, feeling capable, so Louis moistened his lips before answering. “I’m a demisexual and biromantic.” he squinted his eyes, waiting for a reaction, and everyone fell silent, staring at the blonde one. Niall nodded slowly, but then  “What’s that?” they all burst out laughing. Then, though, Niall was really interested and asked what it meant, Louis explained calmly. “Okay, so if I understand correctly…” he said while Zayn was clearing up. “You like everyone, but you don’t have sex with anyone.” Louis quickly nodded, pointing at him. “You’ve found the perfect definition, next time they ask, I’ll answer like that!” he chuckled.

Liam moved behind Louis, slightly bending down to whisper something private in his ear. “Is Zayn single?” he asked with some curiosity. Louis turned his gaze toward Zayn from the other side of the room, he was talking to Niall while writing a message, looking relaxed at that moment. “Unfortunately, he likes someone…” he replied quietly, as a look of regret appeared on his face, Liam seemed like a good guy.

“But if there’s news, I’ll let you know.” he added with a wink, before standing up. With an affectionate gesture, he ran his hand through Harry’s curls, who, at that moment, seemed strangely silent, lost in his own thoughts.

HARRY

Louis’ hand, warm and light, made Harry’s heart beat just a little faster, a blend of nerves and joy mixing in his chest. He watched Louis walk off to help Zayn clear the table, feeling a wave of admiration. The light in the room highlighted the soft gray sweater he was wearing, and the smile on his face radiated a contagious happiness. Harry wondered if Louis was always like this—a walking beam of light.

When Louis freed up the seat, Liam took it next to Harry, looking at him with his head tilted to the side. “Is this what you meant the other day?” he asked in a low voice, while the other three were talking among themselves. Harry nodded, lowering his eyes to keep things discreet.

“It’s obvious he likes you, but if you think you can’t do it, you don’t have to force anything. He’s the one who suggested staying friends anyway, and he probably thinks the same as you…” Liam placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry nodded, hoping Louis did think the same. But what did he himself think?

Not long after, their attention was drawn to Niall, who announced he wanted to go to Zayn’s room to play PlayStation. Liam was interested too, so they all moved into his room. As they entered, the scent of tobacco filled the air. The walls were painted in a dark blue and covered in posters of superheroes and comics. Harry hadn’t expected such a colorful, organized room. A white desk cluttered with pencils and colors stood against one wall, with a few sketches pinned up just above it. A television with an attached PlayStation hung on the wall opposite the bed, which was covered with a red comforter, and a blue rug covered most of the floor. A half-finished canvas sat on an easel to the side.

After a game between Niall and Louis, the older boy sat on the bed next to Harry, who was watching the screen intently while Zayn and Niall played on the floor. Harry wasn’t a big fan of soccer, let alone video games; they had never interested him much.

After a few matches, Louis fell asleep on Zayn’s lap. “Lou?” Zayn tried to nudge him when it was his turn to play. “Unbelievable!” he chuckled, looking down at him, who was completely out. Harry helped lift Louis and prop him up; he finally reopened his eyes and yawned. “Should I take him to his room?” Harry asked with a smile, amused by how sleepy Louis was, gently rubbing his eyes, and Zayn nodded, grabbing the controller. “Please… otherwise, he’ll never move from my bed.” he complained, so Harry helped Louis to his feet. “Fuck you, Zed!” Louis mumbled, flipping him off before leaving the room with Harry. He headed straight to his room, leaving the door open—a silent invitation for Harry to enter. Bright sunlight filled the space, which was the complete opposite of Zayn’s.

The only colors were white and wood tones, aside from the hundreds of books on a wall covered entirely—literally—by a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. The scent that greeted him was entirely different, sweet, like cinnamon candles and old books, as if he’d stepped into an old library. Another wall was hidden by a white wardrobe, and there was a desk next to the bed, covered in scattered papers, an open laptop, and an empty tea mug. A small wheeled chair sat in front of it, draped with clothes from the night before, and a slightly worn sofa and armchair were arranged in front of the bookshelf, along with a stool, presumably to reach the higher shelves. A double bed with a white comforter was positioned beneath the window, flooding the room with natural light.

“You can stay if you want.” Louis said a little shyly, as Harry took in the space. Maybe he’d noticed Harry had gotten bored watching video games. “Are you sure?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded, curling up on a pillow and closing his eyes. Harry smiled, noting the relaxed expression on his face as he drifted off, then took a random book from the shelf and settled onto the small sofa.

Louis didn't open his eyes for another hour; Harry was so absorbed in the book that he nearly forgot he was there. He jumped as he heard a raspy voice ask, "What are you reading?" As he sat up on the couch and gazed into Louis's blue eyes, who was still curled up in the white covers, his heart seemed to stop.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he began to apologize, a bit shaken as he looked at the book he had taken without permission, but Louis smiled and sat up. “I’m not scolding you…” Harry closed his eyes, sighing, wondering why he was apologising when he had clearly invited him to stay? When he reopened his eyes, he saw Louis crawling toward the windowsill, where he noticed two other books, likely the ones Louis read before bed, along with another empty cup and a pair of glasses. He picked them up and placed them on his nose. They were thin, golden, and looked amazing on him, making his eyes appear larger. Louis patted the mattress, inviting him over, and Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He got up and walked slowly toward the bed, where Louis lay back under the covers and lifted the duvet to let him get comfortable, which he gladly did.

“So?” Louis asked, taking the book from his hands. Harry didn’t know why, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak as he watched Louis’s profile so close to him, checking the book’s title and flipping through a few pages, carefully holding the place where Harry had left off. “Dostoevsky? I didn’t peg you as a Russian literature type!” he smiled, raising an eyebrow. Harry had picked the book at random, drawn by the cover and title, and it seemed short enough to finish while Louis slept.

“I just chose at random…” he admitted, and Louis smiled, nodding before handing it back to him. “You picked well. It’s one of my favorites.” he said brightly, turning his face toward Harry, who smiled spontaneously, unsure of what to say, considering that out of the hundreds of books in the room, he’d picked that one. “You’re almost done; go ahead and finish it!” Louis suggested, lowering his voice into a softer tone. It was true; Harry only had the last five pages to go. He nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Louis’ and focusing on the book again, adjusting his head on the pillow while Louis shifted his attention to the book in his hands.

“Wow,” he murmured after reading the last sentence, closing the book between his hands. “Right?” whispered Louis, as if he understood exactly how he felt at that moment. Harry turned to him, sensing that Louis was waiting for him to say something. “But it’s not fair…” he protested, and Louis chuckled, shaking his head. “It seems that way, but it’s exactly right,” Louis corrected him, and Harry frowned, not understanding. “But she practically led him on!” he exclaimed, which only fuelled Louis’s chuckling as he nodded in agreement.

“But he’s grateful to her, because even if it was only for a few nights, she freed him from his torment, helped him to love, and brought him out of his dreams and loneliness.” Harry listened closely to Louis’s words; his eyes looked different from usual, brighter and more focused, maybe because he was talking about something he was truly passionate about. Harry nodded, realizing that Louis was right. “She’s still awful, though!” he declared with a pout, setting the book on his chest, which made Louis burst out laughing before resting his cheek on the pillow, watching him intently.

“But would you rather have a life of solitude filled only with fantasies, or a life spent reliving and revisiting a few real moments, even if they’re bitter?” he asked softly, then made a small smile. Harry pressed his own cheek against one of the pillows beneath his head, finding himself suddenly close to Louis’s face. “You’re right… better to live a life fully, though it’d be better not to be deceived…” he murmured, convinced, and gave a small smile, his eyes locked on Louis’s blue ones, which shone under the evening light streaming through the window.

“You don’t know you’re living in an illusion until it ends.” Louis whispered back, as his gaze quickly dropped to Harry’s lips before returning to meet his eyes with determination. Instinctively, Harry slowly leaned closer to Louis; he didn’t pull back as he expected, and the tips of their noses brushed, letting him feel Louis’s breath on his lips and his skin shiver.

“Are we interrupting?” Niall’s bright voice, knocking just outside the room, snapped them back to reality; Harry’s head whipped quickly toward the door as it opened, and the three boys entered noisily. Louis bolted upright on the mattress, his back against the wall behind him. “What are you two doing? Reading?” Zayn teased as the others looked around, curious to know more about Louis.

LOUIS

“Sorry if I like gain knowledge instead of playing on the PlayStation all day!” he raised his eyebrows, defending himself from Zayn’s jab, running a hand through his hair and, for now, avoiding Harry’s gaze, which made his face feel warmer than usual.

Zayn shook his head. “I was kidding…” he replied more seriously, and Louis nodded, knowing that Zayn would never really make fun of him for that.

“Harry, we’re heading out. Are you staying?” Liam and Niall asked. It was already 4 p.m. Harry turned toward him as if seeking approval, and he gave him a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll stay a little longer. You guys don’t mind taking public transport?” asked the curly-haired one, who had driven them there. They didn’t mind, as the distance wasn’t too far. The guys were talking about getting pizza together on Saturday before going to the club, and he listened as they slowly left his room. Harry followed them out to close the door behind them.

Then he returned and sat on the bed next to him. “So… where were we?” he asked playfully, and Louis shook his head, embarrassed. “Seems to me we weren’t talking at all…” He tilted his head, biting his lower lip so hard it hurt, his heart pounding so fast he could feel it in his head. “You think?” Harry laughed softly, then put a hand on Louis’s cheek and pressed his lips to his.

Fireworks went off in his stomach; he never thought Harry would kiss him at a moment like this—when he was in pajamas, freshly woken up, and wearing glasses. Harry pulled back to look at him for a second, probably to make sure everything was okay, and Louis gave him a wide smile before finding himself lying on his back on the mattress, Harry’s lips on his and his hands tangled in Harry’s curls, feeling like he was in heaven.

“Harry, Harry… hands above the waist,” he said, catching his breath as he interrupted him. Harry’s hands had drifted to the backs of his thighs. Not that he didn’t like it, but it was better to take things slow.

“Sorry, sorry…” he got up from Louis and moved to his knees. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, a little breathless, watching him sit up again. Louis chuckled at his concerned expression. “It’s all good, Harry.” He brought a hand to Harry’s cheek, stroking it before kissing him again.

By dinner time, Harry decided to go home. They had spent the afternoon kissing and talking. Harry got up to put on his boots while he stayed barefoot, gazing at the bookshelf. He slowly approached it, reading the titles as he ran his fingers along the slightly dusty spines, then pulled out a book with a pink cover. He went to the living room barefoot just as Harry was about to leave, saying goodbye to Zayn. He stepped out, catching Harry by the arm before he went down the stairs.

“Hey…” he smiled as Harry turned around, curious, he handed him the book he’d just grabbed—The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. “Give this a try…” Harry took it gladly, glancing at the cover.

“You’re such a teaser…” Harry chuckled in response, making Louis’s cheeks burn. “Let me know what you think?” he murmured, barely audible, shoving his hands into his joggers’ pockets as Harry nodded with a grin. “I will. See you tomorrow.” Harry smiled, giving him a small nod as he started down the stairs, and Louis went back inside, feeling lightheaded.

Chapter Text

HARRY: Am I too pathetic if I tell you I already miss you?

No, you're just overly sweet :)

HARRY: I'll take that title, then.

HARRY: Off to dinner. See you tomorrow—I'm starting the book tonight! x

Enjoy dinner! Can't wait to hear what you think! See you tomorrow :)

He sent the last message to Harry before putting his phone down and joining Zayn at the table. Dinner had just arrived—Chinese food—and he was starving.

ZAYN

He waited for Louis to come back in before crossing his arms and tilting his head, prompting him to say something. His friend’s eyes were shining and his face showed up a coroner smile.
 

"What's up?" Tommo asked innocently as Zayn leaned on the counter. Louis was unwrapping the food that had arrived, he always ordered the same things. Louis was such a picky eater. If it hadn’t been for Zayn, he would have lived eating burgers, nuggets, and green tea. Louis took his spring rolls and his Kung Pao chicken, then left the rest to Zayn.  

"With Harry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, already knowing Louis too well. It was obvious something had happened. Louis shrugged without looking at him, biting into one of his spring rolls. "Louis?" Zayn positioned himself in front of him at the table, giving him a light tap on the forehead to get his attention. Finally, Louis looked up, sulking and annoyed, then lowered his eyes as he finished chewing.

"We kissed." he confessed, and Zayn's eyes widened, a moment of silence before he grinned.

"Didn't think it'd happen so soon. Did you like it?" he asked, curious. Louis slowly nodded, avoiding eye contact. Zayn clapped his hands, happy to hear that, slightly confused by his silence. "We've officially lost him, ladies and gentlemen!" he sighed with a smile, teasing him. He turned on the TV for the game, Manchester versus Chelsea.

Though he didn't entirely trust Harry, he just wanted his friend to be happy. From what he'd seen, Harry's friends seemed like decent people—he hoped Harry was, too.

Zayn pondered why the kiss between Harry and Louis made him slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't jealous, maybe it was just the thought of Louis finding someone who could make him happy while he was stuck in his situation with Matthew.

"And you?" Louis asked, breaking Zayn's train of thought. Zayn frowned as he turned on the TV and glanced over at Louis, who was sitting across from him, his fork reaching Zayn’s dumplings to taste them, obviously he didn’t like it, his face contorting. "With Matthew..." Louis clarified, and Zayn tensed at the name. Louis must have noticed because he stopped eating and just looked at him. Zayn stretched his neck suddenly stiffly, he ate an entire dumpling before talking. "Nothing much. We hooked up, that's all." he said casually, and Louis seemed to furrow his brows, pulling his head back in mild surprise, the eyes of Zayn never left the screen.  

"That's it?" Louis asked, and Zayn nodded without meeting his gaze. Louis moved to stand in front of the TV, and Zayn groaned in annoyance, he really didn’t want to talk about that now. "What do you mean? Was it a one-time thing?" Louis asked, confused, and Zayn shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. "You know how Matt is. Now, move!" he warned, gesturing to the side. But Louis didn't budge.

"Yeah, but I know how you are, too?" Louis said, biting the last piece of his spring rolls. Zayn rolled his eyes, sometimes hating that Louis knew him so well that it was pointless to try to hide things from him. "Didn't you tell him you like him?" Louis squinted, his tone pushing. Zayn let out a nervous chuckle.

"Actually, I don't know if I like him. Sex? Yes; anything more? I'm not sure... and he just suggested a 'friends with benefits' thing." He kept his eyes glued to the screen. Louis was quiet for so long that Zayn finally looked at him; Louis was staring at him, not saying anything.  

"Great talk. Now will you move?" Zayn asked, irritated and hating when Louis acted like that. It made him feel almost judged. Louis stood up slowly, and Zayn watched, confused by his reaction. "Are you serious?" Louis asked sharply, and Zayn nodded. Louis said nothing. "Why not? It works for me.”Zayn replied, feeling a slight trepidation—he knew how Louis was about this kind of thing.

"Fine." Louis said, returning to sit down, surprising Zayn with his response. He expected a lecture on how sex alone wasn't enough for happiness and all that shit he talked about when Zayn said that he didn’t want a relationship.

"Fine?" Zayn echoed, almost speechless.

"Yeah, just don't ask me to pick up the pieces." Louis replied, turning his back on him. Zayn took a deep breath, closing his eyes—he had it coming. His irritation with Harry had led him to say those things, and now they were backfiring. If this was a way to ease the tight, indissoluble bond between them, it was okay with him. He couldn't live his entire life so attached to Louis. He started to think about why he felt the need to distance himself from Louis, and maybe, as everything around him changed, he was trying to maintain some control over what he could. As if pulling away from Louis was a way to manage his confusion and keep a bit of stability amid the chaos of his mind.

Zayn woke up with a knot in his stomach and a slight pressure in his head. The sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden stripes on the floor. London's March weather was still damn cold. Matthew's room was simple but cozy: white walls with a few abstract paintings, a double bed, and a couple of rock band posters on the walls. Beside him, Matthew was still asleep, breathing evenly and peacefully. His slightly parted lips brought Zayn to kiss them like he was a magnet. He was wrapped up in a dark blue comforter, while Zayn slowly got up, trying not to make any noise as the cold floor chilled his feet.  

He looked for his clothes scattered across the floor to pick up his white T-shirt before heading to the kitchen. The cabinets were light wood, and the kitchen counter was tidy, with only a few cups and plates lying around. The curtains were partially drawn, allowing warm, soft sunlight to fill the space. Zayn made himself a coffee, trying to clear his head as the aroma filled the air.

Matthew wandered into the kitchen, still half asleep. He wore only grey pajama pants, his hair messy and eyes barely open, but his smile was genuine. "Hey!" Zayn said, trying to keep his tone light as he stirred his coffee.  

"Morning." Matthew replied, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You look lost in thought. Everything okay?" His voice was thick with sleep, but his gaze was caring and affectionate.  

Zayn shook his head, a forced smile on his lips as he sipped his coffee. "Just tired, I think." he admitted, though his expression betrayed his inner conflict. "Thanks for last night. I needed it." Matthew moved closer, a quick kiss on his cheek. "Whenever you need me, I'll be your favorite distraction." Zayn chuckled, then shook his head, cup near his mouth. “So can you be it now?” Zayn raised his eyebrows, he had to admit that the only sight of Matthew shirtless switched up a light in his mind.

“Maybe let me eat my breakfast first?” Matthew raised his eyebrows, his eyes suddenly wide open while he opened up his yogurt, the mischievous look on his face.

“Why? Am I not enough to eat?” Zayn wet his lips and then grinned at the look Matthew gave him. He suddenly turned on. The man shook his head, then licked the yogurt lid, causing Zayn to twitch.

“Dirty talking at 9 o’clock, pretty eyes?” Matt teased him, but then Zayn rolled his eyes at the nickname, making him laugh softly.

“Seriously though, if you need to talk, I'm here." Matthew said, trying to read between the lines. His tone was gentle, but Zayn couldn't find the right words to explain what really troubled him.

“Hmm, I think I’ll pass, ‘pretty eyes’ wants to fuck…” He made Matthew chuckle while he continued eating. Zayn came close to him, his hip against the counter and his eyes on the man’s mouth and how it was clutching the spoon. “… especially if you continue to use that fucking spoon?” His gaze lingered on the hazel eyes that were looking at him, he knew what he was doing—that damn teaser. Zayn robbed his last spoon, leaving Matthew surprised, moving it slowly, undecided of what to do with it, until an idea came to his mind.

Matthew was confused, his puppy eyes staring at him, until he lowered his hand gradually and scattered the yogurt on his right thigh, still naked under his T-shirt and boxers.

“Finish your breakfast…” Zayn whispered, his voice sounded tempting, like that of a siren. He cleaned the spoon with his mouth before putting it in the little pot Matthew had still in his hands. The tall, muscled man in front of him didn’t need to be told twice, he kneeled in front of him, eyes locked with Zayn's. Matthew lifted his leg on his shoulder, and Zayn suddenly forgot how to breathe till his tongue touched his tattooed skin, licking off all the yogurt and then leaving a bite, triggering a moan.

“Bedroom?” Matthew asked, a confident grin on his face while Zayn stroked the wavy hair on the man’s forehead.

“It’s about time!” Zayn answered while Matt stood up and lifted him with no effort at all, he loved to be desired so much.

LOUIS

In the afternoon of that gray March day, Louis had planned his second date with Harry. The café they headed to was a cozy little spot, hidden away among the streets of London, and the air was filled with the scent of hot chocolate and fresh pastries. The walls were decorated with vintage photographs and green plants, creating an intimate, peaceful atmosphere.  

Louis and Harry sat at a table by the window. The dim afternoon light filtered through the glass. Louis had chosen this place because he knew it well—he had spent countless hours writing at those dark tables, drawn to the warm and inviting atmosphere.  

Louis settled comfortably in his chair, sipping his hot chocolate while watching Harry, who sniffed his cappuccino with an amused smile. "You know, I really needed a break from the chaos of the last few days." Louis said, stretching a bit to push his hair away from his eyes. The past few days had been nonstop—four shifts at the bar and mornings at the grocery store—but finally, he had a few days off, luckily on the weekend.

"True, you tend to overwork yourself!" Harry replied, tilting his head as he played with the foam in his coffee. "But this place is perfect; I feel so relaxed."

Louis shrugged lightly, a faint smile on his lips. "I'm glad you like it. I come here a lot in winter."

Their conversation flowed easily. They discussed everything, from the music they loved to the books Louis was currently reading. "By the way, did you finish the book?" Louis asked, curious to hear his opinion. "Not yet, I'm close, but remember, I already know how it ends." Harry pointed out. It was true; he already knew the ending because he'd seen the movie with the hot actor Ben Barnes, but according to Louis, it was nothing like reading the book.

“Can I ask you, how do you know Zayn? You two seem very... close?” Harry asked, his green, beautiful, big eyes staring at him while his mouth morphed into a soft smile. How can it be possible that this handsome and gentle guy in front of him is interested in Louis without it being sexual?

He was literally Prince Charming.

“Yes, we’ve been best friends since we were like seven. We moved here together and have lived in the same place since then, so… yes, we’re pretty close.” Louis shrugged while Harry nodded. “And you and Liam and Niall?” Louis changed the topic, tapping at his mug between his hands.

“Oh, I knew Liam because of a friend, but we were not close, and Niall simply because we were looking for a roommate. We instantly became friends, so that’s it.” Harry explained, his head resting on his hands full of gold rings.  

“And how is it living with them?” he asked, curious to know them better before the pizza night later.  

“Liam is like a nightmare when it comes to cleaning and tidying up, he’s extremely organized, but he’s also caring and really responsible.” the younger said with a little smile, he seemed to truly love his friends.  

“Niall… is Niall.” Both laughed. “He’s always loud, funny, and very kind. Both of them have a love-hate relationship, Niall is really not tidy.” Louis nodded fast.

“But you balanced each other, I see… And you? What are your flaws, Styles?” Louis teased him, Harry smiled, his cheeks pink like his sweater, so cozy that Louis wants to sink into it.

“We always talk about my flaws, what about yours, Tomlinson?” The curly one began to flirt, causing Louis to chuckle and take a last sip of his mug.

“I’m a really terrible cook... Zayn forbade me to come near the kitchen, I’m only allowed to make my tea.” Harry chuckled, his dimples on full display as he leaned in slightly. “Zayn, huh? So he’s the designated chef in your life?” 

Louis smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the chair. “You could say that. He claims it’s for his own safety, but I think he secretly enjoys bossing me around in the kitchen.” 

“Maybe he’s just trying to save the rest of the world from your cooking disasters…” Harry teased, earning a mock glare from Louis. 

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Harry tilted his head, studying Louis. “So, if you’re banned from the kitchen, what do you bring to the table? I mean, aside from the tea.” 

Louis raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “I bring the charm, obviously. Someone’s gotta keep the banter alive, and Zayn’s a moody one at best.”

“I can see that…” Harry said, his tone softer now, almost thoughtful. “I’d bet you’re good at more than just banter, though.”

Louis’s smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes meeting Harry’s in a way that felt heavier than the light teasing moments before. But then he recovered, breaking the moment with a grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Curly?”

Harry smiled, not breaking his gaze this time. “Maybe I would.”

Louis' phone began to ring, "Mom" appearing on the screen, and he answered quickly. "Hey, Mum..." he smiled at Harry, who was watching him with a tender gaze. His bond with his mother was unbreakable; they talked every day, sharing stories about their days. One could call Louis a mama's boy, but he wore that label proudly.

After finishing their drinks, they decided to take a walk along the Thames. The sky was tinged with orange and pink hues as the cool early evening breeze drifted around them. They walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing, sending a spark down Louis's arm each time, until he finally decided to take Harry's hand, a silly smile spreading across his face.

“We should probably head to mine before Niall eats all the pizza himself.” Harry said as they paused to watch the sunset, leaning against a low stone wall.

Louis nodded quickly, glancing at the horizon but already thinking about how he could help once they got back. He didn’t want to leave all the work to the others.

“But first…” Harry said, his voice soft yet teasing, as he reached out and gently tugged Louis closer by the arms, their chests brushing against each other.

“Hi…” Louis chuckled nervously, finding himself unexpectedly close to Harry, the warmth of his breath mingling with the evening air.

“Hey.” Harry murmured back, his green eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper. Before Louis could think of a reply, Harry leaned in and kissed him, slow and deliberate, as if there was all the time in the world.

Louis froze for half a second, not from hesitation but from the unfamiliarity of the moment. Being kissed like this—outside, where anyone could see them—sent a thrill of anxiety rippling through him. They were still just two boys kissing, after all, and the world around them was, unfortunately, far from a safe haven.  

Harry must have felt it because he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting gently against Louis’s, his hands still lingering on his arms. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the faint sounds of the street.

Louis nodded again, slower this time, the corners of his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Just… not used to this.”

Harry smiled softly, his thumb brushing against Louis’s sleeve. “You’ll get used to me.”

And somehow, despite the tension still coiled in his chest, Louis believed him.

Harry's kitchen was an organized mess of ingredients and aromas. Niall and Liam had already started making pizzas, with Harry lending a hand. The table was dusted with flour, tomatoes, and mozzarella, and the room was filled with laughter and chatter.

"I didn't think you'd use so much mozzarella!" Niall said, lifting one of the pizzas and inspecting it with approval. "If there's one thing I know, it's that pizza without cheese isn't pizza."

Harry walked over with a bottle of wine and an assortment of non-alcoholic drinks. "You guys are true pizza artists. I can't wait to taste the final result!" he joked, though Niall reassured everyone; he worked as a sous-chef at a restaurant, so the pizzas were definitely edible.

Louis joined them at the table, feeling the lively, cheerful energy of the group. He started chatting with Niall and Liam but kept glancing toward the door as if waiting for someone. Finally, the doorbell rang, and Zayn entered the room.

Zayn was in jeans and a white T-shirt, looking relaxed, though a hint of fatigue lingered on his face. "Hey, guys!" he greeted them cheerfully as he walked over to the table. "Sorry I'm late, had an unexpected delay."  

"Don't worry," Harry replied with a smile. "The pizza's still in the works. Want to help?"

"Sure!" Zayn said, masking his unease with enthusiasm. He moved closer to the table, where Liam and Niall were preparing ingredients. "What's the plan for the evening?"  

Niall handed him a piece of dough. "We were just debating whether to add pineapple to the pizza. What do you think?" he teased.

Zayn laughed. "I'd say let's keep it classic tonight. But I'd definitely try a gourmet pizza made by you." Niall nodded, grinning, pleased by the idea of experimenting with a new topping.

As Zayn joined in the preparations, Louis approached him with a curious look. "Hey, Zayn, I haven't seen you today. Where have you been?"

Zayn turned to Louis, trying to keep his tone light. "I stayed over at Matthew's last night. Needed... a bit of a distraction." Louis stared at him for a moment, then looked down at his flour-covered hands. "Oh, I see. Everything okay?" He was slightly tense; lately, they hardly spoke. It was partly his fault—he'd been spending so little time at home, either because of work or to see Harry—but every time he was home, Zayn was closed up in his room drawing.

“Who’s Matthew?” Liam asked, a little smirk on his face while looking at Zayn, and Louis took a big breath while Zayn stretched his neck. He always does that when he’s nervous,  Louis often rubs his nape when they’re on the sofa, and Zayn asked to cuddle him.

ZAYN

“The guy I sleep with.” He answered quickly to Liam, who seemed genuinely interested. “He’s our boss.” Harry added, causing Zayn to snap his head towards him. Why did he have to add this?

“You’re sleeping with your boss?!” Liam was shocked, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened. Zayn began to feel very uncomfortable and uneasy, he felt like everyone was judging him, even Louis.

But then Liam continued to talk. “You have to let me see him, is he hot?” Zayn took a big breath, Liam wasn’t judging. “Yeah, he’s hot.” Harry added again an Zayn lifted an eyebrow before looking for Louis’ reaction: nothing.

Meanwhile, Liam walked beside him, he took his phone to select a picture of Matthew to show him. “Fuckin’ hell, I would sleep with him too. He’s handsome.” Zayn chuckles at his reaction, Liam was scrolling his social profile.

“Well, you can, they’re only friends with benefits, right?” Louis's voice echoed in his ears. Zayn turned to his friend with furrowed eyebrows. Why Louis was giving him the attitude, he wasn’t the one who fucked with Matt. Louis took a bite of mozzarella, before returning to gaze at the table.

The rest of the group seemed oblivious to the tension between them, continuing to joke and chat while they worked on the pizzas. Harry moved to the stove and began arranging the pizzas in the oven.

"Zayn, did you bring dessert?" Harry asked, changing the subject.  

"Yes!" Zayn replied, reaching for the bag he had brought with him. "I picked up a selection of sweets. Hope you'll like them."

"I can't wait to try them!" Niall said, taking them from him and putting them into the fridge.

As the group settled down to eat, Zayn tried to join in on the conversation, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling lingering inside him. Despite joking with Liam and Niall, the tension with Louis was palpable, and Zayn noticed how Louis kept throwing quick glances his way.  

He lately paused beside Harry, taking advantage of the others being distracted.

"Since things are getting serious..." he began, checking to make sure Louis wasn't watching, holding a beer glass in hand. Harry was putting a pizza in the oven and looked up at him.

"You know Louis and I are very close..." Harry nodded as he wiped his hands on his jeans.  

"If he's happy, I'm happy; if he's sad, I'm sad too..." Zayn continued, watching him with a small smile on his face. Harry stood up to listen. "If he cries... I'll beat you up." he finished, with a smirk but eyes that could burn through anyone. Harry chuckled, then looked at him and stopped, realizing Zayn was serious. "As long as we understand each other." Zayn patted him on the shoulder before walking away, still watching him for a moment. Harry nodded once and followed him with his eyes before returning to the pizzas. Zayn didn’t trust him at all.

When the pizzas were finally ready, the group sat around the table. Laughter and chatter resumed, and the evening seemed to return to a lighter atmosphere.  

"Who wants another slice?" Harry asked, trying to lighten the mood; he didn't know if he was aware of the situation or if he had just sensed it. The evening continued with laughs and conversation, but the tension between Zayn and Louis remained the elephant in the room.

After eating, Liam, with a challenging look, suggested playing the classic "Spin the Bottle" to add a little thrill to the evening.

"Guys, what do you think about some fun with 'Truth or Dare'? It'll help us know each other faster!" Liam asked, with a mischievous smile. Zayn shook his head amused, feeling like he was 16 again in his friends' garage. "I need a joint to really play." he joked, and they laughed, but Harry took it seriously.

"If you want," Harry said with a sly smile. "I'll roll one." Everyone agreed.

The group settled into a circle on the large rug in the room, Harry and Louis leaning back against the couch, Zayn sprawled on the floor with his legs bent, and Liam and Niall cross-legged beside him. The tension was palpable, and Zayn, noticing Louis's curious look, prepared to play his part. The game began, and the first to spin the bottle was Niall, a piece of pizza still in his hand.

The bottle stopped on Harry. "Truth or dare?" Niall asked.

Harry, with a defiant smile, chose "Truth."

Niall, with a smile, asked, "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done on a date?"

Harry thought for a moment, passing the joint to Zayn. "I was so worried about making a good impression that, while trying to park, I bumped into the car next to me. I broke the mirror. Guess whose car it was?" Everyone laughed in unison. "Please tell me you didn't do the report..." Liam replied, but Harry nodded slowly, a bit embarrassed but amused. The others laughed again. "Definitely not the best start." he commented as Harry spun the bottle.

It landed on Zayn. "Truth or dare?" he asked with a questioning look.

"Truth." he replied curtly, thinking no one would pick dare that night. "Tell us about your first kiss." It was a rather innocent question; he hadn't expected it from him.

"Nothing special really, it was my middle school girlfriend, and we kissed on the swings at the park. It was sweet." Liam made an "Aw," overwhelmed by the cuteness, while Zayn chuckled. Then Liam took the bottle and spun it. "Truth or dare?" he asked Louis, where it stopped. "Who was your first kiss?" he asked, choosing truth; he must have liked the question, Zayn thought as he closed his eyes, relaxing as the joint took effect. Louis blushed slightly. The joint was starting to go around among them, and he took a slow puff before answering.

"My first kiss was with Zayn."

Silence fell briefly over the group.

Zayn felt all eyes on him at once, visibly taken aback by the revelation, and lifted his head from the floor. "Me?" he replied with a confused expression. "But wasn't it with... what's her name..." He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead to remember the name. "With Emily, yeah." He pointed a finger at him. Louis shook his head, smiling.

"No, it was after... anyway, it wasn't anything serious, I just asked him to show me how it was done." Harry looked at him with a hint of curiosity and surprise.  

"Ah, the big expert here..." Niall teased, and Zayn laughed in response. "I had kissed maybe three girls in total!" He indicated the number with his fingers, laughing as he laid his head back on the rug, feeling Liam's hand brush through his hair, it felt so good cuddling when he was high.

"Oh, come on! I still remember you had quite a reputation in high school..." Louis continued among the others' jokes. "What reputation? I know nothing about that!" Zayn protested, shocked. "Meanwhile, you changed girls every day, so..." Louis shrugged, and Zayn shook his head, resigned.  

"Didn't seem like it..." Harry chuckled, commenting amid the laughter, his head resting on Louis's shoulder. "It's always interesting to hear stories from the past..." he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He took a sweet from the tray Zayn had brought and bit into it, getting chocolate on himself.

"Careful..." Louis wiped the chocolate off Harry's cheek with his fingers, giving him a few kisses on the lips before Liam coughed to stop them. "Sorry!" Harry laughed, and Louis blushed, embarrassed, then glanced over at Zayn, who was already watching him.

“Dare!” Niall stated when the bottle stopped rolling towards him. Louis had to think about it a little, his fingers caressing his temple like he always does when he has to concentrate. The other hand on Harry's thigh. Zayn crawled towards Liam to rest his head on his lap, closing his eyes while Liam stroked his hair.

“Mh, kiss the one of us you think is more attractive.” Louis proceeds to say before grinning at him. “On the mouth?” Niall asked, beginning to crawl towards Harry and Louis. Louis shrugged in response.

“Can I kiss him?” He asked, making the curly snort and nod. Zayn let out a breath and rolled to stare at the roof while Niall planted a kiss on Louis's mouth, making everyone laugh.

Chapter Text

It was another lively night at Matthew’s bar, but this time the atmosphere was more mellow. After a few songs by Harry, the music had softened, blending jazz and some contemporary tunes. After all, it was the start of the week. Louis was working alongside Zayn behind the bar, and their seamless teamwork created a pleasant and relaxed atmosphere. The tension between them had eased over time; they saw each other less, but that was fine. Zayn, over the past month, had spent more nights than usual at Matthew’s place, finding him a welcome outlet and distraction.

Flashback to a few days earlier

Zayn was in his boxers on the bed, leaning against the headboard while smoking a cigarette with the ashtray next to him, careful not to stain Matthew’s sheets. His temples were damp, and his hair clung to his forehead. I need to cut them, I can’t stand them anymore, he thought, trying in vain to push the hair back.

“You’ve been so quiet lately…” Matthew murmured, lying between his legs, his cheek resting against the warm skin of Zayn’s stomach, one hand lazily drawing on his hip.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, sorry.” Zayn replied, exhaling a bit of smoke through his nose.

“Do you want to talk about it? Whatever it is, I won’t judge you…” Matthew tilted his face upward, resting his chin on Zayn’s stomach, gazing at him with his green eyes. Zayn nodded unexpectedly.

“There are two things that are sort of intertwined. First, Louis pulling away so quickly for Harry really threw me… not because I’m jealous…” he clarified. Matthew shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“But I’ve realized I’ve been leaning on this friendship too much without making other friends, clinging to the illusion of being young and carefree, messing around with my best friend for years to come. But in the end… what am I doing with my life?” he sighed. It was hard to unburden himself like this, but finally, he was talking about it instead of just pouring it in his drawings.

“Yeah, I work at the pub to pay rent, but that’s not my dream… sorry if that sounds harsh.” Zayn lowered his gaze to Matthew, who listened attentively. He smiled.

“Zayn, I never thought you and Louis would stay at the pub forever…”

Zayn nodded, relieved. “The only thing I want to do is draw—whether it’s comics, paintings, portraits—I love it all.”

Matthew pushed himself up on his arms to kiss him on the lips. “Then do it. Draw, post your work online, you’re good. I saw those sketches at your place the other night, and I remember that graffiti you did on Gay Street. Just go for it.”

Zayn felt his eyes sting with tears. He couldn’t describe what he felt—a mix of relief and anxiety over the uncertainty of success.

“What if it doesn’t work out? What if no one commissions me?” he whispered, almost like a scared child. His dream was to one day have his own gallery.

“And what if it does work out? What if everything goes great, Zayn?” Matthew countered. “I didn’t know for sure my bar would succeed, but I took a chance and tried anyway, and it worked out.”

Zayn nodded, pressing his lips together. Matthew’s words had somewhat convinced him. Matthew tilted his head to kiss Zayn’s neck.

“Now go take a shower—you stink,” he joked between kisses, easing the heavy moment.

“Me? Have you smelled yourself?” Zayn chuckled, tickled by Matthew’s beard.

“Exactly why I was suggesting we take one together.” Matthew stood up and climbed off the bed.

“Aren’t you tired?” Zayn asked, smiling.

“Never.” Matthew grinned, offering his hand to help him up.

The bar was packed with regulars and new faces, but among the crowd, Harry, Liam, and Niall were easily recognizable, seated at a nearby table.

Every now and then, Zayn and Matthew exchanged quick glances. Louis noticed, and it didn’t take long for Liam to catch on as well. During a break, Liam approached Zayn, who had just stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. The night was cool but not too cold—it was April, and the air carried the scent of tobacco.

“Mind if I join you?” Liam asked, lighting his cigarette.

“Sure,” Zayn replied, exhaling smoke slowly.

“Lou and Harry seem to get along quite well…” Liam ventured, trying to start a conversation. Zayn nodded, unsure what to say, but Liam wasn’t about to give up.

“How long have you been friends? Did you meet at uni, or…?” he suggested, leaving the question open.

Zayn shook his head quickly. “We’ve been best friends since I was about seven. We met at a playground in Donny.” He smiled, lost in the memory of simpler times with Louis—running through empty streets at night, always tipsy on weekends, and tiptoeing up the stairs when they got back to Louis’ house. Zayn had always suspected Johanna knew everything, but she never said a word.

“And you two never…” Liam hesitated, clearing his throat. “…you know, best friends cliché—one falls in love with the other, or something like that?”

Zayn blinked, staring at Liam with confusion. “What? No.” He furrowed his brows. “Nothing like that ever happened. I’ve never thought of Louis that way.”

Liam nodded, his expression understanding. “I get it. No reason, really, just curious. Anyway, if you need a place to crash—since Harry’s probably staying with Louis—you’re welcome to come to mine.”

Zayn’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion creeping in. First, the question about Louis, and now this. Was Liam trying to imply something?

“Liam, don’t take this the wrong way—you’re hot, not gonna lie, but…” Zayn’s teasing stopped abruptly as Liam waved his hands in front of his face, his cheeks turning a deep red.

“No, no, no! I wasn’t implying anything!” Liam stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Sorry if it came off that way. I just meant it in a friendly way!”

Zayn chuckled, Liam’s embarrassment making the moment lighter. “Alright, I get it. Thanks, though. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Liam nodded quickly, still visibly flustered, and stubbed out his cigarette. “By the way,” he added with a small smile, “the new haircut and color look amazing on you.”

Zayn paused, caught off guard. He smiled softly as Liam headed inside first. He ran a hand through his freshly bleached hair, the strands short and platinum under the streetlight. The tiny silver hoop in his nostril still felt unfamiliar, but he liked the way it looked.

For a moment, Zayn lingered outside, smiling to himself before following Liam back inside.

During one of the calmer moments of the evening, Matthew approached the bar, checking to make sure everything was running smoothly. He wore a black shirt, his eyes scanning the room attentively. Zayn, behind the counter, was drying some glasses when he noticed Matthew approaching.

“How’s the night going?” Matthew asked, his voice calm yet authoritative.

“Everything’s under control.” Zayn replied with a confident smile. “The customers seem to like the new cocktail selection.”

Matthew nodded, satisfied. “Good. I’ve noticed you’re managing everything really well tonight. Keep it up!” he added, directing his words to Louis, who had come over to help Zayn. Most customers were seated at tables, with only a few at the bar.

“Thanks, Matt.” Louis replied with a smile, while Zayn nodded in agreement. As his friend moved away, he leaned toward Zayn and whispered, “Can I just say you look amazing with this hairstyle? You seem more… confident. Or is that too unprofessional?” he chuckled.

Zayn tried to hide a smile, glancing around. He wasn’t used to getting  openly compliments like that and had already received two that evening.

Matthew leaned in slightly closer, lowering his voice. “You know, it’s hard to focus on work when someone like you is around.”

Zayn kept a professional smile, though he felt a strong urge to lean into the tension. “I’ll try not to distract you too much then.”

Matthew chuckled, giving him a playful wink before walking away to check on the rest of the venue. Zayn watched him leave, a mixture of admiration and tension brewing inside him. He wanted so much to pull him in the bathroom and kiss him until he lost his mind, but it would be very unprofessional.

HARRY

Still buzzing from the intensity of the night, the group spilt out onto the quiet street after the pub closed. Laughter echoed as they debated where to go next, their breath forming faint clouds in the crisp night air. After all, it was usual to end a night out with fast food, so when someone proposed McDonald's, everyone enthusiastically accepted.

“What do you guys want? I’ll order everything at once to save time.”Zayn offered, standing with his hands in his pockets, ready to play the role of caretaker. His voice was casual, but there was an underlying attentiveness to it.

Zayn nodded, memorising the orders as everyone barked them off. Harry saw that Louis, who was sitting next to him, had remained silent. “Aren’t you getting anything?” he asked, tilting his head toward Louis. He said softly, with a hint of worry.

Louis gave a small smile and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.” he replied, resting his cheek on his folded arm atop the table. Despite his calm demeanour, Harry couldn't help but notice the slight shadows beneath his eyes. Louis often grew quiet when he was tired, retreating into himself in a way that made Harry want to reach out.

"Are you sure?" The others were chatting around them when Harry pressed, his voice lowered.

Louis grinned slightly as he nodded once more. "Yeah, just exhausted, nothing more."

Though a tiny knot of anxiety persisted, Harry's shoulders relaxed a little as he let out a breath. He couldn't help but reach out, casually running his hand down Louis's back. Even though the touch was brief and nearly undetectable, it was sufficient to anchor him. Before returning his focus to the group, Louis leaned a little into the touch.

"Is it okay if I stay tonight?" Harry's voice was reserved for Louis as he asked softly.

Louis's face softened as he looked at him. "Yeah, of course," he answered plainly before his features suddenly glowed with electricity.

"It was very offside! No way!” Louis yelled as he gestured to Niall's phone, which was playing a video of the game that night.

Harry sat back and smiled slightly as he watched the conversation. One thing Harry liked about Louis was his unwavering love of football.

Moments later, Zayn returned with two brown bags of food, setting them down on the table with practiced ease. Without saying a word, he delivered Harry his milkshake, handed Liam and Niall their burgers, and then set a box of spicy-sauced chicken nuggets in front of Louis.

Louis didn’t even blink, then murmured a quiet, “Thanks, Zed.” before opening the little box. The interaction was simple, but it caught Harry’s attention. Zayn had simply known; there had been no conversation, no need for Louis to ask.

Harry's smile wavered as Louis dipped a nugget into the sauce and went back to arguing with Niall. He stared at the nuggets, then at Zayn, who was laughing along with the others earring his fries as if nothing had happened.

Harry felt a slight uneasiness settle in his chest. The action seemed too close and natural, as if Zayn had a deeper understanding of Louis than Harry did. It was more than just the food; it was the unspoken comfort and synchronisation between them  Harry felt like a visitor to their private world, an outsider.

He tried to ignore the emotion by concentrating on the laughter going on around him. It might have been nothing. Perhaps he was exaggerating the situation. However, the knot in his stomach grew each time his eyes wandered to Zayn.

Was there something unspoken between them? Something that lurked just below the surface, out of view? Although Harry made an effort to ignore the idea, the doubt had already begun to grow.

Am I reading too much into this? Forcing himself to participate in the discussion, he wondered. But despite his jokes and laughter, his gaze kept returning to Zayn, and a silent suspicion tormented him.

ZAYN

Liam’s room was neat and simple, reflecting his personality with an understated calm. The walls were adorned with a few framed photos of family and friends, moments captured in time that seemed to give the room a sense of warmth. A few scattered university books were piled on a desk near the window, their spines worn from use. The rest of the space was uncluttered, almost minimalist, with soft, muted colors that made the room feel like a calm refuge after the bustle of Matthew’s bar. The dim light from the bedside lamp created a cozy ambiance, and the soft hum of the city outside provided just enough background noise to make the room feel alive, but not overwhelming.

“Thanks again for the offer, Liam.” Zayn said, sinking into the bed with a sigh of relief. The soft sheets and the comfortable mattress seemed to take all the tension out of his body, and he let himself relax into the peaceful stillness of the room. The evening had been long and draining, but here, in Liam’s space, he felt the weight of the day slowly lifting.

With a beaming smile, Liam answered, "No problem. You’re welcome here anytime, really.” Zayn could see that Liam wasn't merely being nice, he meant it by the warmth and sincerity of his voice. With genuine gratitude for Liam's generosity, Zayn nodded.

"Again, what are you studying?" Zayn picked up a book off Liam's nightstand and asked. It was a design textbook, with pages full of concepts and diagrams Zayn found difficult to understand. He flipped through it idly, glancing up at Liam as he rummaged through his closet, looking for a pair of shorts to change into.

“Media and Communication. Why?” Liam replied, his voice muffled slightly as he pulled out a drawer.

Intrigued, Zayn arched an eyebrow. “No way…” he murmured, a slight smile forming on his lips. He was unaware that Liam was studying something so interesting and in line with his own passions. "You manage social media as well?" Zayn asked, sitting up a little straighter as Liam walked over to the bed, handing him a glass of water.

Liam, who was now seated on his side, replied, "Yeah, I do." He scratched his forehead and paused to reflect. “I’m already managing one, but I should branch out into other areas—restaurants only go so far. It’d look good on my résumé, too.”

A thought came to Zayn, and his eyes glowed. "Can you handle mine? It would be for a profile about art. I could pay you, not much though…” His voice trailed off, unsure of how Liam would react.

Liam shook his head instantly, his face warm and friendly. “Don’t worry about the money.” His eyes glowed with delight as he responded excitedly, "It's interesting, and it'd help me build my experience. I'd be happy to help."

Zayn smiled, thankfulness filling his emotions. "Thank you, Liam. I truly cannot express how grateful I am for this.” The weight that had been pressing down on his chest lightened in that moment, and for the first time in a while, Zayn felt like he was on the right path. Everything seemed to be falling into place—one small step at a time.

Zayn found himself opening up to Liam in a way he hadn't anticipated as the evening went on. He talked about his goals, his passion for art, and his desire to share it with the world. Without ever interjecting or giving Zayn the impression that his aspirations were unrealistic, Liam listened carefully while providing helpful advice and support. Finding someone who was so eager to give their time and effort without expecting anything in return was uncommon, and Zayn was quietly appreciative of the new connection.

“I have to say, your profile has a lot of potential,” Liam remarked after a while, showing Zayn his Instagram on his phone. “With a few tweaks, it could really stand out. You’ve got an eye for this stuff.”

Zayn felt a surge of excitement at the compliment. He had always wondered if he could make his art visible to more people, but to hear someone like Liam say that it was possible—that it was worth something—was a confidence boost he hadn’t realized he needed. They spent the next hour going over ideas, Liam offering tips and suggestions while Zayn jotted them down eagerly, his mind buzzing with possibilities.

Eventually, they both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but content. The room felt peaceful now, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets as they settled into the quiet. The glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over the room, and Zayn could feel the warmth of the space wrapping around him like a blanket, a quiet reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone in his thoughts.

As Zayn drifted off to sleep, a sense of calm settled over him. He felt grateful—not just for Liam’s hospitality, but for the growing sense of belonging he was beginning to feel within his circle of friends, and not relying on only one. And for the first time in a while, Zayn wasn’t afraid of what the next step would bring.

Zayn returned home with his headphones on, the faint rhythm of Do I Wanna Know? pulsing in his ears, the beat syncing with the rush of thoughts swirling in his mind. He hummed along, feeling a strange lightness in his chest as he opened the door to the flat. “Oh… sorry, hi!” he greeted with a sheepish smile, his voice slightly startled. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, but the couple in the living room, Louis and Harry, were in the middle of snuggling, their laughter filling the space as they leaned into each other on the couch. Zayn’s heart fluttered slightly at the sight, but he quickly recovered, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He nodded his head and, with a quick apology, headed straight for his room, grateful for the peace and quiet it offered.

As he closed the door behind him, Zayn’s mind buzzed with a mixture of thoughts, all racing faster than his feet could carry him. He felt unusually light, as though the weight that had been pressing down on him for days had suddenly lifted, leaving a sense of clarity in its wake. With his headphones still in place, he moved to his desk, his hands immediately reaching for the one thing that always helped him clear his head—a small, worn sketchbook. It was his secret sketchbook, the one he never showed anyone. It held a collection of faces, drawn meticulously from his memory. Faces of strangers he’d passed on the street, of friends he’d met along the way, all captured in pencil and ink. Each sketch was a snapshot of a moment, a reflection of someone he’d noticed, even if just for a fleeting second.

The book itself was barely held together by an elastic band, its pages curling at the edges from constant use. Between its pages, crumpled napkins, receipts, and scraps of paper were wedged, each with their own sketch, a piece of his mind preserved in pencil. Zayn opened it to a blank page and began to draw, his hand moving fluidly, his focus narrowing on the shapes and lines forming on the paper in front of him.

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He quickly pulled off one of his headphones and stuffed the sketchbook under the desk. “Come in!” he called, his voice barely rising above the hum of his music.

The door creaked, and Louis stepped in, a casual presence in the doorway. “Hey, aren’t you eating?” he asked, his tone light, but his eyes seemed to linger on Zayn for a moment longer than usual.

Zayn shook his head, a faint rumble from his stomach betraying his words. “Not hungry. I’ll make a sandwich later.” he replied, standing up to gather the scattered paintbrushes and empty cans of spray paint from his desk. He hadn’t felt like eating much lately—too many distractions, too much on his mind. He needed to clear his head first.

Louis raised an eyebrow. “I can leave you some rice if you want…” he offered, his voice soft and tentative.

“Thanks.” Zayn murmured, his voice quieter now, almost grateful. “I’d appreciate it.”

Louis gave a small smile, but there was something in his expression—a flicker of something unspoken—that made Zayn pause. Louis glanced down the hallway, his gaze lingering, but when he didn’t say anything, Zayn frowned slightly, wondering if he was imagining things. Without another word, Louis stepped inside and wrapped his arms around Zayn, pulling him into a hug.

Zayn froze for a second, caught off guard. But before he could pull away, he found himself instinctively wrapping his arms around Louis, resting his chin on his friend’s shoulder. The familiar warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, calmed him in a way nothing else could.

“Everything okay?” Zayn asked softly, his voice low, carrying an edge of concern he hadn’t meant to let slip. Louis was usually the one looking after everyone else, never the one who needed comforting.

“I just wanted a hug…” Louis admitted, his voice muffled as he tightened his grip. “Wanna play football later?”

Zayn didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, sure.” he said, loosening his hold as Louis quickly stepped back, the air between them suddenly feeling cooler. Louis shut the door behind him, leaving Zayn standing there, feeling a strange mix of comfort and unease.

Later, on the field, the sounds of skaters and rollerbladers filled the park air, their laughter and chatter mixing with the distant hum of city life. It was one of those rare sunny days after London’s long, dreary winter. The air was filled with the scent of fresh grass, and the warmth of the sun felt like a gift, almost too good to be true. Zayn and Louis were both in t-shirts and track pants, the fabric rustling with each movement. Zayn jogged across the field, the ball at his feet as he called out to Louis.

“Come on, pass it!” Zayn complained, his voice louder now, a little more impatient. The ball was kicked over to him, and he quickly passed it back, his movements clumsy.

Louis jogged over, tossing the ball from foot to foot as he caught his breath. “How’s it going?” he asked casually, his eyes studying Zayn as he moved. “What’ve you been up to lately?”

Zayn wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his breath a little short from too many cigarettes. “Drawing, hanging out with Liam and Matthew, working… that’s about it.” he replied, his voice flat.

Louis made a face as the ball bounced a little too far from him. “Nothing else to tell me?” he pressed, sounding a little too casual for Zayn’s liking.

Zayn ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the frustration he hadn’t realized had been building. “Liam’s been helping me with socials. I’m going to his place tonight. That’s it, I guess. Why?”

He stopped the ball under his foot, forcing Louis to meet his gaze. Louis looked a little taken aback but shrugged it off, resting his hands on his hips.

“We don’t talk anymore.” Louis admitted suddenly, his voice quieter now, the words hanging between them like a weight.

Zayn blinked, surprised. “I wonder why…” he muttered, his tone laced with a hint of frustration as he kicked the ball back to Louis.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis shot back, his voice rising slightly, but his eyes flickering with something Zayn couldn’t quite place. The ball rolled past them both, the sound echoing across the asphalt.

Zayn’s frustration boiled over, and he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “That your boyfriend monopolizes you…” he started, but Louis cut him off almost immediately.

“That’s not true!” Louis retorted, his voice sharper than before.

Zayn sighed, shaking his head, feeling the exhaustion of the conversation weigh on him. “…Or maybe you’re just being a jerk…” he said, his words harsher now, the bitterness clear in his voice.

Louis stopped mid-step, letting the ball roll past him. His jaw tightened, and his hands fell to his sides, his posture defensive.

“When was the last time we did something, just the two of us? Or had a group hangout without him?” Zayn pressed, his heart racing in frustration. He needed an answer, something to make sense of the distance that had grown between them, something that would explain why it felt like Louis was slipping away from him.

Louis didn’t respond immediately, instead retrieving the ball and avoiding Zayn’s gaze. “You really don’t like him, do you?” he asked, his voice tinged with something unreadable.

“That’s not the point.” Zayn said firmly, his voice growing more strained as the silence between them stretched.

Louis let out a deep sigh, a skeptical smile curling at his lips. “As long as you’re happy, I’m okay with it.” Zayn added, his voice trembling now, revealing more of his hurt than he intended.

“I am.” Louis replied softly, his voice quieter than Zayn had expected. His small smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something in Zayn’s chest tightened painfully.

“Even without me?” Zayn’s voice cracked, the rawness of the question making his heart ache. It felt like the same kind of pain he’d felt when he discovered his father had started a new family—abandoned and replaced, left behind.

Louis didn’t answer, but the look on his face—the mix of pity and sadness—told Zayn everything he needed to know. It felt like a knife in his chest, the final blow to everything they’d shared.

The anger inside Zayn flared up like a wildfire. How could Louis choose someone he’d known for just a few months over him, someone who’d always been there, even when things were tough? He stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists, and shoved the ball hard into Louis’ chest.

“Ask your boyfriend to play, then.” he spat, his words sharp as daggers, and without waiting for a response, Zayn turned and stormed off. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as he walked away from the park, the weight of everything crashing down on him.

LIAM

Liam sat on the couch with his laptop open on his knees, reviewing Zayn’s social media statistics. It was late in the evening, and the apartment was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamps. Zayn, sitting next to him, looked tired but determined. Liam felt comfortable around him; he even admitted to himself that he was a little attracted to him. Those deep, dark eyes and the passion with which Zayn spoke about the things he loved intrigued him. He wanted to get to know him better. Even though, as Louis had mentioned, Zayn already had someone on his mind.

“Alright, so we need to focus on more personal content,” Liam said, typing out a few notes. “People want to see more of you, your daily life.”

Zayn nodded absentmindedly, twirling a marker between his fingers. “Yeah, I get it. It’s just… hard sometimes.” Liam noticed the weight in Zayn’s voice and looked up.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, closing the laptop to give him his full attention.

Zayn sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “I had a bad fight with Louis today. It hurt a little.”

Liam adjusted himself on the couch, ready to listen. “What happened exactly?”

Zayn recounted the encounter at the soccer field, the harsh words exchanged, and how Louis seemed to be putting their friendship on the back burner to spend time with Harry. “I don’t understand why it has to be so hard. We used to be so close, and now it feels like there’s a wall between us.”

Liam listened carefully, trying to find the right words to comfort him. “Sometimes, when people start a new relationship, it’s easy to lose balance. But I’m sure Louis still cares about you a lot. Maybe you just need to talk it out openly, without any accusations.”

Before Zayn could reply, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at the screen and saw Harry’s name.

“That’s weird…” Zayn muttered, answering the call. “Harry?” He looked at Liam, puzzled, and put the phone on speaker.

“Zayn, can you come over?” Harry’s voice sounded alarmed. “Louis isn’t well. I don’t know what to do.”

Zayn stiffened, his heart beating faster. “What? What happened to him?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but he’s really upset, and I can’t calm him down. Please, just come.”

“I’m on my way,” Zayn replied, ending the call and standing up abruptly. “Are you coming?”

“Are you sure?” Liam asked, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Zayn grabbed Liam’s jacket and tossed it to him. “Let’s go.”

Liam stood and followed the dark-haired man, a little worried for both Louis and Harry, but also for Zayn, who seemed deeply shaken.

Chapter Text

HARRY

Louis was comfortably lying on the couch, his head resting on Harry’s lap, as they watched a movie. The dim light from the TV cast a soft glow around the living room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Harry absentmindedly ran his fingers through Louis’s hair, savoring the quiet closeness they shared. Yet, something about Louis’s silence had Harry on edge.

“I spoke to Zayn today…” Louis finally murmured, his voice breaking through the stillness. Harry’s fingers paused briefly before resuming their gentle rhythm. “We argued. He says I’m always with you… I think he feels neglected.”

Harry tensed, irritation flickering to life at the mention of Zayn. He kept his voice even, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it. “It’s not surprising, you know. Zayn has a hard time letting you go. It’s like he’s obsessed with you.”

Louis shrugged, his gaze distant. “It’s not like that. Zayn is just my best friend. It’s hard for me to accept how much things are changing.”

Harry’s jaw tightened. He wanted to push, to make Louis see what he saw—the way Zayn hovered, always trying to pull Louis back. But he forced himself to take a breath, lowering his gaze to meet Louis’s. “I get that it’s hard. But think about us, Louis. Our relationship has to come first. Don’t you think Zayn is always trying to come between us?”

Louis’s face softened, but his words came hesitantly. “I don’t want to have to choose between you two. I want both of you in my life.”

Harry reached out, his hand cupping Louis’s cheek. He tried to let the softness of his touch convey what his words couldn’t. “No one’s asking you to choose, Louis. But you need to be realistic. A friendship shouldn’t cause problems. Maybe Zayn just can’t accept that things have changed.”

Louis closed his eyes, leaning into Harry’s palm. For a moment, Harry allowed himself to believe his words were enough—that Louis would see things his way. But when Louis opened his eyes again, there was still a flicker of doubt. “I just need to find a way to balance things without making either of you feel left out.”

“I just want you to be happy, Louis,” Harry murmured, his voice quiet but firm. Louis’s lips curved into a small smile as he relaxed again, his head returning to Harry’s lap. The tension ebbed, and Harry let himself sink back into the cushions, his fingers once more weaving through Louis’s hair. For a brief moment, it felt like everything might be okay.

Then the phone buzzed.

Louis sat up slightly, reaching for the coffee table. Harry watched as his face lit up briefly with recognition at the name on the screen, but the light quickly dimmed. He answered, his tone casual. “Hey, Lottie. What’s up?”

The silence that followed was chilling. Harry’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from Louis’s face. He sat up fully now, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the floor with a muted thud.

“Lou?” Harry asked cautiously, muting the TV. The shift in the room’s energy was palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on them both. “What’s wrong?”

Louis didn’t answer. His eyes were wide, unseeing, his breathing shallow and uneven. Panic surged through Harry as he leaned closer, placing a steadying hand on Louis’s shoulder. “Hey, talk to me. Are you okay?”

Still, no response. It was as though Louis had been yanked out of the room, lost in some dark, unreachable place. Harry’s chest tightened with helplessness. He hated this—being unable to fix it, to pull Louis back.

“Louis,” he tried again, his voice softening, though the urgency remained. He crouched in front of him, his hands now gripping Louis’s. “Please, talk to me.”

Finally, a whisper escaped Louis’s lips, so faint Harry almost missed it. “Call Zayn.”

Harry froze, the name slicing through him. His stomach twisted, resentment flaring. Of all people, Louis wanted Zayn? But the look on Louis’s face stopped him cold. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about Zayn. Louis was breaking in front of him, and Harry would do anything to help—even if it meant calling the one person he couldn’t stand.

With trembling fingers, Harry picked up Louis’s phone and dialed. His voice was clipped as he explained the situation, each word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When Zayn arrived, Harry’s resentment only deepened. The way Zayn rushed in, his concern etched so openly on his face, felt like a challenge—as though he was daring Harry to prove he cared more.

“What did you do to him?” Zayn demanded, his tone accusatory as he knelt in front of Louis.

Harry’s temper flared. “I didn’t do anything! He got a call and hasn’t said a word since,” he snapped. Then, quieter, more bitterly, “Except to ask for you.”

Ignoring him, Zayn focused on Louis, his voice gentle and coaxing. Harry watched, a knot tightening in his chest, as Louis seemed to respond—not fully, but enough to show Zayn’s presence made a difference. It stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Zayn picked up Louis’s phone and began scrolling, Harry’s frustration boiled over. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, his voice sharp.  Zayn knew even how to unblock his phone, his eyes moved to Liam which was confused as him, this scene seemed surreal. But Zayn didn’t answer. Instead, he answered another call from his sister and began wandering around the living room. Harry sighed heavily, his eyes lingered between Liam, Louis and Zayn.

He widened his eyes when the one person Louis had asked for literally began to sob and knelt in front of Louis, his hands on Harry’s boyfriend face, the phone left on the table.

Zayn said softly, his voice breaking. “Louis’s mum… she’s gone. There was an accident.”

The words hit Harry like a physical blow. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the weight of them. Then he saw the tears streaming down Zayn’s face as he pulled Louis into an embrace, and something in Harry shifted.

Swallowing his pride, Harry stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of them. Whatever tensions existed between him and Zayn didn’t matter. Not now. All that mattered was Louis. And Harry would be there for him, no matter what.

LOUIS

Night had fallen, shrouding the living room in a deceptive calm that did little to ease the chaos within Louis. He sat on the couch, surrounded by his friends, their quiet conversations and muted gestures feeling like echoes in a vast, hollow space. Grief clutched at his chest, a relentless ache that made breathing itself a struggle. His thoughts swirled, disjointed and cruel, dredging up memories of his mum—her laugh, her warmth, the way she always seemed to know exactly what to say. And now, the silence left behind was deafening.

The words sat heavy on his tongue, but they needed to be said. Breaking the oppressive quiet, Louis finally whispered, “Tomorrow, I’m going to Doncaster.” His voice sounded foreign to him, low and strained. “The funeral’s in two days, and I need to be with my family.”

The weight of the statement hung in the air, unbearable. Each word felt like a knife, carving out pieces of him he didn’t think he could lose. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, focusing instead on the mug of tea Liam had placed in his hands moments earlier. The warmth seeped into his palms but did little to chase away the chill settling into his bones.

Zayn shifted beside him, and then Louis felt a hand on his shoulder. Solid. Grounding. “Do you want me to come with you?” Zayn asked, his voice soft but steady.

Louis nodded. The lump in his throat swelled as he whispered, “Yeah. Please.”

Zayn’s presence was the kind of comfort Louis couldn’t explain. It wasn’t loud or overbearing—it was just there , steady in a way Louis needed when everything else felt like it was crumbling. As Zayn stepped away to call Matthew, Louis forced himself to glance at the others. Liam gave him an encouraging nod. “We’ll all be there for the funeral.” he said, his tone resolute, as if daring Louis to argue otherwise.

Gratitude mingled with sadness, leaving Louis feeling raw and exposed. He wanted to thank them, to say something that matched the depth of his appreciation, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he leaned into the silence, letting it wrap around him.

Zayn returned and sat back down. “Matthew’s closing the club for the week,” he said quietly. “He’s coming, too.”

Louis managed a small nod, his chest tightening. The people around him were doing everything they could, but the ache remained, immovable and unrelenting. No amount of support could fill the void left by his mum.

And then there was Harry.

Louis caught him lingering on the edge of the room, his eyes darker than usual, filled with something Louis didn’t want to name. When Harry approached, his movements hesitant, Louis braced himself.

“Lou,” Harry began, his voice unsure. “Do you want me to come with you and Zayn? Or should I just come for the funeral, like the others?”

The question hit Louis harder than he’d expected. He hadn’t even considered it—hadn’t thought about how to explain Harry to his family when they didn’t know him the way they knew Zayn. The pause stretched too long, and when Louis finally opened his mouth, Harry held up a hand.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, though his expression betrayed the sting. “I get it. This isn’t the time for me to meet your family.”

Louis wanted to argue, to explain that it wasn’t about him, not really. But the words tangled with the grief choking him, and Harry’s soft hug only made it harder to breathe.

When Harry pulled back, his eyes were gentle. “I’ll still be here.” Harry said, his tone unshakable. “If you need me, you know you can call me.”

Later that night, as Louis layed staring at the ceiling, Harry sat beside him, brushing gentle fingers through his hair. The touch was soothing in theory, but Louis couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel much of anything except the suffocating weight pressing down on his chest. He was consumed by the regret of not visiting her more often, the heavy guilt of not calling her that evening.

“Try to get some sleep…”  Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Louis shook his head, his voice barely audible. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I hear her. I can’t.”

The room fell silent, and though Harry stayed, Louis felt impossibly alone.

ZAYN

In another room, Zayn couldn’t sleep either. He sat at his desk, the faint glow of a desk lamp illuminating his hands as he sketched feverishly. Silent tears slid down his face as Johannah’s image began to take shape on the paper.

Johannah had been like a second mother to him, always looking out for him, treating him as one of her own. Each pencil stroke was laden with anguish and love, a way for Zayn to process the loss that tore at his heart.

The muffled sound of Zayn’s quiet sobs filled the room, blending with the rhythmic scratch of the pencil. Memories of her warmth, her laughter, and her unwavering support overwhelmed him. Every recollection was a bittersweet ache, a reminder of what he had lost.

The next morning, Louis and Zayn sat side by side on the train to Doncaster, hoodies pulled up in a vain attempt to shield themselves from the world. Exhausted, Louis eventually rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder and fell asleep, finding a brief respite from his torment.

Zayn remained awake, staring out at the passing countryside. The thought of returning to Doncaster filled him with unease. He dreaded crossing paths with his father, and even memories of his mother were fraught with complexity. He resolved to stay at his sister Waliyha’s place for the night.

As the train sped along, Louis’ phone buzzed. Zayn carefully took it, trying not to wake him. Harry’s name lit up the screen. Zayn answered quietly, “Hi, Harry.”

“Is Louis okay?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“He’s sleeping.” Zayn replied, glancing at Louis’ peaceful yet weary face.

“Let me know when you get to Doncaster. Just… make sure he’s okay?” Harry said softly before hanging up.

Arriving at Doncaster, Louis was greeted by Lottie and his stepdad. He rushed into his sister’s embrace as Zayn handled their luggage, sharing quick but warm greetings before heading to his sister’s home.

When Waliyha opened the door, her face lit up in a mixture of relief and sadness. “Habibi…” she murmured, pulling Zayn into a fierce hug. Her voice, warm and affectionate, was a balm for his aching heart.

Inside, Waliyha fussed over him, leading him into her cozy apartment. Despite the weight of grief hanging in the air, Zayn felt a small measure of peace in her presence. Still, his thoughts strayed to Louis, carrying his own unbearable pain, and the quiet but constant sense of responsibility he felt to be there for him.

The Doncaster church was enveloped in an atmosphere of calm. The pews were filled with people in dark attire, sitting in silence, while a delicate fragrance of flowers filled the air. The choir sang sweet and sad melodies that spread throughout the spacious interior, creating a sense of solemnity and remembrance.

Louis, with a tense expression and eyes swollen with tears, sat between his sister Lottie and his stepfather. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched a handkerchief. Harry sat just behind him.

Zayn was seated not far away, next to Matthew, Liam, and Niall. With tears streaming down his face, he found comfort in Matthew’s presence, who silently placed a hand on his back, as if trying to make him feel that he wasn’t alone in this moment of deep sorrow.

When the ceremony began, a priest with a calm and reassuring tone led the prayers, and the coffin, adorned with white and pink flowers, was placed at the center of the altar. Louis and Lottie stood up to listen to the priest’s words, with family and friends around them offering their support in silence.

During the eulogies, Lottie stood up and approached the microphone, her voice trembling but firm. “My mother was an extraordinary woman,” she began, tears staining her face. “She was kind and generous, and she touched all our lives with her unconditional love. She wasn’t just our mother, but a mother to anyone who needed a smile or a comforting word.”

Other eulogies followed. A neighbor and a coworker stood up to share their memories. Each word was a celebration of Johanna’s life and character, and the sadness was palpable, but accompanied by a sense of gratitude for having had the chance to know her. Louis couldn’t say anything.

When the time came for family members to say their final goodbyes, Louis approached the coffin with Lottie and his stepfather. With a deep sigh, he knelt beside the casket and placed a hand on the cold wooden surface. “Goodbye, mom.” he whispered, the pain in his voice almost unbearable. Zayn stifled a sob.

After the funeral service, the group moved to Louis’ house for the reception. The house had been carefully prepared to welcome friends and family. The living room was set up with tables covered in black tablecloths, adorned with white flowers and candles, with a simple buffet and small plates.

Louis, visibly exhausted and in pain, had settled in a corner of the room, not having eaten anything. Harry sat beside him, trying to support him by holding his hand tightly, while various relatives and colleagues came by to speak to him about his mother. Liam, Niall, and Zayn were nearby, the latter being frequently stopped.

“I remember when you were little, you were such a sweet boy.” smiled the lady from the neighborhood bakery, Zayn thanked her. He was one of the few mixed-race children in the neighborhood, and it wasn’t hard to remember him. Even Matthew was stopped on the side, although he had left Doncaster during his teenage years, people still remembered him.

The room was filled with a subdued murmur of conversations and the smells of prepared food. Family and friends exchanged memories of Johanna, trying to offer comfort to Louis and his family. Despite the tense atmosphere, everyone tried to maintain a sense of normality.

Zayn stepped out to the back with Matthew, seeking relief in a cigarette. “I was going crazy in there,” he confessed, his voice breaking with the accumulated tension. The smoke danced in the warm afternoon air as the two sought a moment to breathe away from the pain and formality of the funeral. Matthew chuckled as he flicked the ash off his cigarette. “I’ll distract you for a moment, about the murals, they told me to meet next week, I’ll send you all the details later.” Zayn nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Matthew shrugged, leaning against the brick wall that, though cold, seemed to offer some stability. “How are you doing?” The question caught Zayn off guard, who had spent the last few days focusing on his sister and supporting Louis with the funeral preparations, without pausing to reflect on himself. Zayn’s eyes started to sting as he shook his head.

“You know where I used to go when my dad kicked me out?” Matthew smiled bitterly, a memory of difficult times. “Here, I guess.” Zayn nodded, the light from the cigarette illuminating his expressions.

“When they outed me, when my parents separated, when I found out my dad had another woman…” he began listing, his voice trembling as the words collided with the cold. “I was always here.” He pointed to the house with the cigarette, the smoke dispersing in the air. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be judged, but welcomed. Johanna would’ve fed me, taken me to school, and given me a bed to sleep in. Even though she already had four kids.” Tears began to streak his face as he spoke.

Matthew slowly approached, placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, but before he could hug him, broken sobs interrupted the moment, turning them both toward the sound. Louis had collapsed into painful tears a few steps away, slowly crumbling to the floor. Zayn widened his eyes before rushing toward him with Matthew. “Shhh… breathe, breathe,” Zayn kept repeating, maybe his words had broken something in Louis. Upon reflection, Louis hadn’t really cried until now; it was as if he had been stuck on that phone call, and only in that moment had he truly processed it. He gently placed Louis’ head on his chest, stroking his hair while Matthew, also in tears, caressed his back. All three sat on the floor, feeling the hard floor against their bodies.

The sound of Louis’ sobs filled the air as Zayn and Matthew tried to be an anchor in the storm. All three had known Johanna, and her absence was a wound that united their hearts in this moment of grief.

LOUIS

The house was quiet now, almost surreal in its stillness, as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. Most of the guests had retreated to their rooms for the night. Liam and Niall had claimed the spare rooms, planning to leave together in the morning—with Zayn among them. Louis sat alone in the kitchen, a mug of coffee warming his hands. His eyes were still puffy, the sting of the day’s emotions lingering. Harry was beside him, reading a book but clearly keeping an eye on him.

When Zayn appeared in the doorway, his expression relaxed but with a faint spark of something unreadable, Louis’ attention shifted.

“Louis,” Zayn said, his voice low but steady, “can I ask you to follow me for a moment?”

Harry glanced up sharply, his suspicion evident, but Louis’ curiosity outweighed any unease. He nodded, setting his mug down. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Zayn didn’t answer immediately, just motioned for Louis to follow. He led him outside, past the soft hum of the evening, until they reached the shed. Zayn’s lips quirked in a barely contained smile as he opened the door. Inside were two dusty bicycles, their bright colors faded but unmistakable.

Louis froze, his chest tightening at the sight. These weren’t just any bikes. They were their bikes, from when they were teenagers, when the world felt endless and uncomplicated.

“I found them in the garage,” Zayn explained, brushing off a bit of dust from one handlebar. “Thought we could go for a ride. Like old times.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, Louis could only stare at him. Memories stirred, bittersweet but welcome, and a small smile broke through his initial surprise.

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Zayn asked, his tone light but his eyes searching. “Just you and me. For old times’ sake.”

Louis’ fingers brushed the worn saddle of his bike. It felt like a bridge to another life, one he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back. But in this moment, with Zayn standing there, it seemed possible.

“Alright,” he said finally, the smile on his face growing. “Let’s do it.”

They wheeled the bikes out, laughing quietly as they adjusted the seats and wiped off the worst of the grime. Louis felt the years peel away with each step. Soon, they were riding down the narrow paths that led to the fields. The wind tugged at his hair, and the cool air filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had weighed on him all day. Zayn was just ahead, glancing back every so often with a grin that made Louis laugh despite himself.

The fields opened up before them, golden in the fading light. They’d raced here countless times as boys, weaving through the tall grass and wildflowers. Now, the memories came rushing back, as vivid as the colors around them.

10 YEARS EARLIER

The sun blazed high in the sky, casting its golden light over the endless stretch of flower fields. Louis pedaled hard, his bike kicking up small clouds of dust as he sped forward, laughter bubbling out of him. The warm wind whipped against his face, carrying the sweet scent of crushed petals beneath his tires.

“Last one to the hill is a chicken!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grin wide and challenging.

Zayn’s laughter echoed behind him, a sound that made Louis push himself even harder. He dared a glance back, catching the sight of Zayn’s dark hair ruffled by the wind, his face alight with determination. Louis turned forward, gripping his handlebars tightly as he yelled, “You can’t beat me!”

But Zayn was fast—faster than Louis expected. He surged forward, his bike wheels spinning furiously until he was neck and neck with Louis. The hill loomed ahead, and both boys leaned into their final effort, their laughter mingling with the rush of air around them.

When they reached the top, they both slammed on their brakes, abandoning their bikes in the grass as they collapsed onto the ground, panting and grinning. Louis sprawled out, his chest heaving as he stared up at the brilliant blue sky.

“I beat you!” Zayn declared, his voice triumphant as he sank into the tall grass beside Louis.

Louis turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “In your dreams!” he shot back, though his tone lacked any real bite.

The fields stretched out below them, a sea of colors swaying gently in the breeze. Louis sat up, hugging his knees to his chest as his gaze wandered over the endless horizon. The scene was so perfect it almost hurt, and a strange thought tugged at the edges of his mind.

“You know,” he said softly, “it’s weird to think that one day all of this might end.”

Zayn turned his head toward Louis, his expression thoughtful but steady. “Why would you even think about that? We’re going to be friends forever.”

“It won’t change,” Zayn said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “We won’t let it.”

For a moment, Louis studied him, watching the way Zayn’s eyes tracked the clouds drifting lazily overhead. There was something so steady about Zayn’s presence, a kind of unshakable belief that made Louis want to believe too.

“Promise me.” Louis said after a pause, his voice quieter now.

Zayn turned to face him fully, his gaze unwavering. “I promise.”

Louis lay back down, the tall grass cradling him as the warmth of the sun seeped into his skin. The world felt impossibly big, yet small enough to hold the two of them in this perfect moment. The breeze carried the sound of birdsong, and for a little while longer, Louis let himself believe that nothing would ever change.

They stopped on a familiar hill. Louis slid off his bike, letting it fall into the grass. The view was the same: fields stretching to the horizon, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. He dropped onto the ground without hesitation, staining his good clothes with dirt and leaves. Zayn joined him, lying back with a sigh.

“Do you remember when we thought the world was ours?” Louis asked, his voice quiet but tinged with a wistful smile.

Zayn turned his head, his expression soft. “How could I forget? We thought nothing could separate us. And now here we are.”

Louis nodded, staring up at the sky as the first stars began to appear. For the first time in days, his chest didn’t feel so tight. He let out a laugh, light and unrestrained.

“Thanks, Zayn. I needed this.”

“Me too,” Zayn admitted, his voice lower. Louis glanced over and caught the way Zayn was looking at him—steady and unguarded. It made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The ride back was quieter, their laughter replaced by a comfortable silence. By the time they returned to the house, the sky had darkened completely, the stars now bright and scattered above them. Louis felt lighter, like he’d left some of his sorrow behind on that hill.

Inside, the house was eerily empty. The guests had either gone or retreated to their rooms. Zayn gave him a small smile and headed upstairs, leaving Louis alone in the living room. Or so he thought.

Harry was there, sitting on the couch, his book forgotten on the coffee table. His gaze found Louis immediately, filled with an unease that made Louis’ stomach twist.

“Where were you?” Harry asked, his voice low but pointed.

Louis sighed, already feeling the weight return. “I went out for a bit with Zayn. Harry, I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“A fight?” Harry’s tone sharpened. “I was just worried. It’s been a hard day, Louis, and you disappeared without a word.”

Frustration bubbled up in Louis’ chest, though he tried to push it down. “I needed some time. Can’t you understand that?”

Harry stood, his concern clearly edging into anger. “It’s not just about you. I didn’t know where you were. I thought…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Louis ran a hand through his hair, his exhaustion mounting. “Harry, please. Not now. Not in front of everyone.” He glanced towards the kitchen, where his sisters were quietly preparing a late snack. Lottie’s gaze flicked over to him, her concern evident.

Louis stepped back, his voice softer but firm. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I just need to rest.”

Harry hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. But we’re not done with this.”

Louis didn’t respond. He turned and headed upstairs, his mind already retreating to the memory of the hill, the laughter, and the fleeting feeling of freedom he’d found with Zayn. Tomorrow could wait.

It was ten o’clock, and Harry had just brought food to Louis’s room. The smell alone made his stomach churn; he hadn’t touched anything all day. He had changed out of the suit and shirt from earlier into a loose hoodie and sweatpants, seeking comfort that felt unreachable.

“Louis, you haven’t eaten anything...” Harry’s voice broke through the stillness, tinged with worry.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Harry,” Louis whispered, his voice fraying at the edges. He was cocooned in his blue fleece blanket, sitting on the bed in his childhood room. “You say you care and want me to be happy, but then you make me feel bad.”

Harry’s face softened, and regret settled in his green eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry… I overreacted earlier,” he admitted, sincerity lacing his words. His gaze held Louis captive, as it always did. “Can you eat at least a little, please? Then I won’t bother you anymore.”

Louis sighed, reluctant but unable to resist the earnest plea in Harry’s voice. He reached for a sandwich—a remnant of the funeral buffet—and took a small bite. It was an effort not to gag as he chewed, his stomach rebelling against the idea of food. Still, he forced it down, and the gnawing ache in his stomach eased slightly.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, his voice quieter now. “Will you forgive me for earlier?”

In response, Louis leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to Harry’s lips. It was all he could offer, a silent truce.

“I’m going to see Lottie for a bit,” Louis said as he stood, shrugging off the blanket. “You can rest if you want. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Harry nodded, already preparing for bed as Louis slipped out of the room. Downstairs, the house was quiet, but the soft hum of life persisted. He found Lottie in the living room, two steaming cups of chamomile tea on the table. Her blonde, wavy hair framed a face etched with worry, her soft blue eyes mirroring his own.

Louis dropped onto the couch beside her, still wrapped in the blanket. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, and his gaze remained unfocused, staring into nothing.

Lottie handed him one of the cups, her voice a gentle balm. “Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax a bit.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, the warmth of the cup seeping into his trembling hands. He brought it to his lips, letting the steam curl against his face, an anchor in the storm of his emotions.

Lottie watched him closely, her concern palpable. “Did you eat anything today?”

He shook his head slowly, still staring into the void. “Harry brought me something, but I didn’t feel like eating. I forced down a sandwich, though.”

Her worry deepened, and she shifted closer, her presence steady and unwavering. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about how you’re feeling?”

Louis curled tighter into the blanket, his voice barely above a whisper. “Today was a long and heavy day. I just need some silence.”

Lottie’s eyes softened, and she nodded, understanding without pressing further. “It’s important not to keep everything inside,” she said gently. “Sometimes talking helps, even just a little.”

Louis met her gaze for a fleeting moment. “I don’t know if I have the strength to talk about it right now. It’s all just… too much.”

The silence that followed was heavy but comforting in its own way. Lottie reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He took a small sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him like a fragile thread of solace.

“Harry’s worried about you, you know,” Lottie said after a while, her tone light but sincere. “I think his reaction earlier was just because he cares so much.”

Louis nodded faintly, his voice soft. “I know. It’s just… today was especially hard.”

“I understand,” she said with a small, reassuring smile. “Try to rest now. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed after everything.”

Grateful for her quiet support, Louis leaned back into the couch, his body sinking into the cushions. They sat together in the hushed stillness, the weight of the day easing slightly in the shared silence. The house around them seemed to hold its breath, offering a moment of peace amid the chaos.

Chapter Text

APRIL

Beep, beep, beep. The alarm.

Morning at the supermarket.

Beep, beep, beep.

The products passing through the checkout.

Click. Clack.

Key in the lock.

Headphones in his ears, the pitch-black darkness, warm blankets over his comfortable clothes.
He felt safe. Sucked in by that comfortable and soft mattress, he slept.

One, two, three hours.

One, two, three days.

One, two, three weeks.

That’s depression. It collapses time. Suddenly, days mix, creating an endless loop.

Suffocating.

It takes everything from you.

Even the hope of getting better.

You try, you try to remember a happy memory, but you can’t, your brain slowly erases everything that once brought you joy.

And in the end, you can only think that life has always been this way.

HARRY

Louis’s room was enveloped in darkness, except for the faint light coming from the green armchair, where Harry sat with his laptop on his knees. His long hair tied in a messy bun, a white shirt, and sweatpants. Hours had passed in a whirl of documents, emails, and calls with the agency and record label, but he couldn’t focus properly. His mind was constantly distracted by thoughts of Louis, who lay in bed, wrapped in blankets, consumed by a sadness that seemed endless.

Harry looked up from the screen, dimming the brightness of the computer. The faint sound of Louis’s breath, alternated with muffled sobs, filled the silence of the room. The sight of Louis, curled up and still under the blankets, was heartbreaking. He was no longer the lively, bright Louis Harry knew, but a suffering and silent figure, unable to find peace.

Louis turned in bed, the movement slow and heavy. Harry’s heart broke as he watched, and tears began to fall uncontrollably. There was nothing he could do to change the situation, no words that could ease Louis’s pain, and it made him feel deeply helpless.

Harry quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand, trying to regain control, but the pain of seeing Louis in that state was unbearable. He closed the laptop with a decisive gesture, leaving it on the armchair, and slowly approached the bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to Louis, Harry gently placed a hand on his back. Tears continued to fall from Harry’s face, but he tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring.

Louis slowly turned, his tear-filled eyes meeting Harry’s. There were no words, just the silent comfort of Harry’s presence beside him. Harry’s hand continued to gently stroke Louis’s back, trying to convey a sense of security and love.

Harry didn’t know how to fix the situation, didn’t know if or when the light would return to Louis’s life, but he knew he would do anything to be by his side.

“Let’s try going to a therapist? Please, do it for me.” Harry pleaded, trying to convince Louis to seek the help he needed.

ZAYN

“How’s he doing?”

“In bed.”

“How’s he doing?”

“In bed.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He ate something, now he’s sleeping.”

Every break from work for Zayn had become this: a message to Harry and a melancholic cigarette. He returned to the club with heavy steps, it was almost the last shift before he stopped working for Matthew and could finally live off his art. But art, which once freed him, now seemed like a burdensome task with Louis struggling with depression. Zayn felt trapped between the duty to care for his friend and the need to move forward with his own life. Louis had quit his job right after returning from Doncaster and only kept the job at the supermarket.

“Hey Zayn, how’s it going?” Liam found him at the bar. How was it going? He was exhausted: the work had become hard, he was out all day, and at night he couldn’t sleep, only hearing Louis sobbing in the other room. He forced himself to come back for every meal to cook something for him, even though Louis barely ate half of it.

“Good, yeah…” he smiled, leaning on the bar with his hands.

“You look tired, are you sleeping?” Zayn pursed his lips; he knew he couldn’t lie, especially with Liam and Matthew.

“Not much.” he admitted, filling the glass of beer next to Liam.

“You know, if you need, you can come to mine’s.” Liam offered. He had said it many times, and Zayn had thought about it on those nights when not even the pillow on his head could make him sleep, but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

“Harry’s always with him, it’s not your responsibility anymore, Zayn.” Liam observed him for a few seconds. It was the second time he’d heard this. Responsibility? Louis had never been a “responsibility.” Louis was someone he loved and cared for deeply; not being able to do anything for him was torture for Zayn.

“Let’s change the subject.” Zayn replied, passing the full glass.

MAY

“Who brought you here today, Louis?” asked the elderly lady sitting in front of him in a blue armchair, which seemed very comfortable. The sunlight bothered him, he, who had been lying in the dark just a few minutes ago, now found himself sitting on a cold and uncomfortable couch, the sunlight burning his eyes. He already felt exhausted.

“Harry.” he replied. It was the third time they had met. His hands were clenched into fists hidden in his jacket pockets, trying not to shake.

“Your boyfriend, right?” Louis nodded, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to be there. He kept thinking about when he would be back in bed, warm.

“Tell me about him, is he helping you?” the lady asked kindly.

“Yes.” he answered flatly.

“In what way? Do you feel helped?” He started staring at a point on the table between them, two candles and a plant on it. His fingers nervously tortured a piece of skin on his thumb.

“Shouldn’t we talk about my mother?” he enquired, a little irritation in his voice.

“You’ve already told me about your mother, I want to know more about you, Louis. I want to help you.” Louis slowly shook his head, still staring at that spot. He had been forced into this. He didn’t want help. He was fine, he worked, ate something, and went to sleep, what more did he need to do?

“Talk to me about Harry.” she repeated.

“Harry visits me every day, he tries to convince me to do something, like… read or watch a movie.” he replied resignedly, otherwise, the hour wouldn’t pass. He wondered if Harry was getting tired of him, if one day he would stop coming.

“And does this help you? Have you managed to watch a movie?”

“No. I tell him yes, but then I just sleep anyway.” No emotion inside himself, he felt calm, maybe too calm, almost apathetic. He felt a growing emptiness, like a black hole sucking everything in.

“And how does that make you feel? Does he complain?” Louis raised his head towards the lady’s face. Allison.

“It doesn’t make me feel anything, I don’t care.” he replied. “No need to lie.” reproached the therapist .

“I’m not lying, I don’t care if he complains,” he huffed, looking towards the wall full of psychology books. Piaget. Watson. Skinner. He heard the pen rubbing against the paper, glanced at it from the corner of his eye. What was she writing? He feared every word was a judgment.

“Okay. Let’s change the topic.”

Louis sigher. “Thank God.”

“Remind me, what’s your friend’s name?”

Not Zayn, not Zayn, not Zayn.

“Your roommate…” she began flipping through the papers she held.

Not Zayn, not Zayn.

“Zayn! Tell me, how’s it going with him?” Allison asked, smiling.

“Everything’s fine.” Louis instantly dodged the question. He felt a weight on his chest just thinking about him.

“Louis.” the psychologist tilted her head, she knew when he was lying.

“I don’t see him much, he makes me breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. Even though I hardly eat.” Louis quickly averted his gaze.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He had tortured his hands while talking. He only nodded.

“And why do you think he doesn’t come and talk to you, or keep you company, like Harry does?” The question threw him off guard. Why didn’t he? Maybe he wasn’t interested? Maybe he thought Louis was a burden? Maybe he hadn’t been present as a friend, and now he was angry? Was he angry with Louis?

“Probably doesn’t care.” Louis answered after a few seconds. A bit of blood started trickling from the skin on his finger, where he had tortured it so much. Physical pain was the only thing he could truly feel.

“If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t cook for you, don’t you think?” Louis ran his hands over his face, why was every session getting harder?

“Maybe it’s his way of showing you that he’s there, and if you need to talk, you can. Like Harry, but in a different way,” said the lady with long black hair while writing. The sound of the paper was driving Louis mad. What was she writing? He huddled his shoulders.

“Maybe.” he dismissed the psychologist’s thought. Was he waiting for him to seek him out? But he was sick. He wanted to be sought out.

“Have you started medication, Louis?” He nodded quickly.

“How’s it going? Any side effects?” He shook his head this time.

“Just a little headache, but I don’t think it’s the pills.” Louis said, and the woman nodded, pleased.

“Good job, Louis.” But Louis didn’t feel good. He felt like every step was exhausting and pointless. He just wanted to go back to bed.

JUNE

“You cut your hair, you look good!” Louis gave a small smile. “Thanks!” he replied, his hands on his stomach, fingers intertwined. He felt the need to hide his vulnerability, as if those intertwined hands could hold him together.

“How are you? Tell me how the week went.” Allison asked kindly.

“Eh, so-so. I took a shower without feeling too bad, Niall cut my hair, and I’m managing to eat dinner too.” Louis scrunched his nose, the psychologist was smiling. Every little progress felt like a hard-won battle, but the war was still long.

“I’m so glad to hear that, you’re reaching so many goals. How do you feel about that?” she asked while writing. The sound of the pen on the paper was almost reassuring, a sign that someone cared for him.

“Happy? I wish I could do more. But I can’t.” he complained, his voice quiet. Frustration was a constant weight.

“You should be proud of what you’ve done this week, Louis. The things you’re doing are important,” the psychologist complimented him, her tone calm and encouraging. “Do you ever tell yourself that? That you’ve done well? That you’re proud of yourself?”

Louis lowered his gaze, tears welling up in his eyes at the realization. Maybe he’d always been too hard on himself. He realized he’d never truly acknowledged his own efforts.

“Say it to yourself, Louis. You need to treat yourself well, like you treat others.” she said in a softer voice.

“I’m proud of myself.” Louis replied with difficulty, tears flowing uncontrollably as a small smile appeared on his lips. He felt a sudden relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The psychologist handed him a tissue, and he took it with trembling hands, wiping away the tears that seemed unwilling to stop.

“Every small step is a big achievement. Tell me about your future goals, is there something you wish to do?” Allison asked, her usual empathy in her voice.

“I want to go back to university, finish the last four exams I need, and graduate.” Louis replied, his voice more determined. For the first time, he felt a direction, a small ray of light in the darkness.

“Why this decision?” Allison nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Because Mum would have wanted me to keep going… and because I want it too.” For the first time in months, he felt something other than sadness, a warmth in his chest. It took him a moment to realize what was it, he wasn’t used to feeling those emotions anymore. It was hope.

“That’s a beautiful goal, Louis. And you know you can do it. You’ve proven to yourself that you have the strength to overcome so many difficulties.” Allison encouraged him, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Louis replied, feeling determination grow inside him. Maybe, he thought, there was still a chance to rebuild what seemed lost.

“Tell me, Louis, when you think about your mum, what emotions do you feel now? And how do you think she would feel seeing your progress?” Allison asked gently.

Louis thought for a moment, feeling a lump in his throat. “I think she would be proud of me,” he said quietly. “But I miss her so much. Sometimes I think I’ll never get over losing her.”

“It’s normal to feel that way, Louis. Losing someone you love is one of the hardest things to face. Have you thought about writing a letter to your mum? You love writing, and maybe it would help you express what you feel for her,” Allison suggested.

Louis nodded slowly. “I could try. Maybe it would help me sort through my thoughts.”

“That’s a great idea, Louis. And what about your friends, how do you feel about them now?” she asked, shifting the topic slightly.

“I’m grateful for them. Harry and Niall have always been there, Harry, you know… Niall, though, has texted me almost every day, trying to force me to go play football.” A laugh escaped Louis’ lips. “I feel guilty for not letting them in more during this time,” Louis confessed, feeling the weight of the guilt.

“Don’t feel guilty, Louis. The people who love you understand and are there for you, despite everything. Maybe you could talk to them about how you’re feeling. It could help you vent and strengthen your bond.” Allison advised.

“Yeah, I’ll attempt.” Louis replied, feeling a new wave of determination. He still had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a path ahead of him.

Allison paused, observing Louis carefully. “And Zayn? How’s the living situation with him?” she asked, knowing that Zayn was an important figure in Louis’ life.

Louis sighed, feeling a mix of conflicting emotions. “Zayn is… complicated. He makes me food and gives me space. But it seems like he avoids talking to me, truly connecting.” he confessed, once again torturing his hands.

“How does that make you feel?” Allison asked, keeping her tone neutral and encouraging.

“Confused. Sometimes I think he doesn’t really care. But then I see how he takes care of me, from a distance.” Louis replied, feeling a tightness in his chest. He just didn’t understand, he felt a bit abandoned by his best friend.

“That might be his way of showing he’s there for you, but respects your space. Have you ever tried talking to him about it?” Allison suggested.

Louis shook his head. “No, I’m afraid of what he might say. What if he feels obligated? To take care of me, I mean...” The fear of rejection was palpable in his words.

“I understand your concern, Louis. But often, talking about it is the best thing. Maybe he doesn’t think what you’re worried about… He might surprise you,” Allison said, with a gentle smile.

Louis nodded, reflecting on those words. Maybe it was time to face that fear too, to open up to Zayn. “I think I’ll give it a go.” he finally said, though not entirely convinced.

As he left the session, Louis paused for a moment at the door, looking back at Allison. “Thank you.” he said simply, but with a depth that went beyond words. He knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could make it.

NIALL

“Are you sure? Do you trust me?” He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He hadn’t cut hair in years, though he’d worked as a barber for a while before discovering his passion for cooking. Louis nodded.

“Worst case, you give me a buzz cut.” Harry shook his head, horrified, sitting on the edge of the bathtub behind them, watching them through the mirror.

“Here we go…” Niall said as the sound of the clippers filled the room. He began trimming the overgrown hair at the nape of Louis’ neck.

“How’s it looking?” Niall asked nervously. He’d left Louis’ fringe intact, giving him a bit of a Peaky Blinders vibe with his piercing blue eyes. Seeing Louis smile, Niall relaxed.

“Perfect, Niall. Thank you!” Louis said, running his hand over the shaved sides and adjusting the fringe in the mirror.

“You look amazing, Lou.”Harry chimed in from behind, causing the older man to blush. A grin tugged at Niall’s lips. He was happy to have helped his friend; he knew how hard this was for Louis and how much it meant to him. Louis turned to hug him, thanking him again, and Niall hugged him back.

“Take me out for pizza sometime, and we’re even.” Niall replied when Louis asked how he could repay him. He wasn’t just joking—it was more of a gentle nudge to encourage Louis to step outside more often. Louis nodded before heading to the living room. As Harry vacuumed up the hair on the floor, he followed.

“You like it?” Louis asked, gesturing to his head as Zayn walked in through the door, an earbud in one ear, his pants streaked with paint, and his hands stained blue.

“Yeah, it looks good.” Zayn replied with a smile, leaning in to plant a kiss on Louis’ head.

“Hey, Niall!” Zayn greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, but I need to clean up.” he explained, showing his paint-covered hands before disappearing down the hallway.

Louis sat with him to watch the afternoon match in the living room. Harry seemed more relaxed than usual, sitting at the table, typing emails, and occasionally glancing up with a fond smile whenever Louis cursed at the TV.

During halftime, Louis turned to Niall. “Thanks for the haircut. I really needed it.” He looked genuinely grateful.

“Don’t mention it, Lou. I’m glad you like it. You’re looking a bit better, if I can say so?” Niall remarked, keeping his tone light but unable to hide the concern in his eyes.

Louis dropped his gaze, nervously tugging at a loose thread on his sweater. “It’s not easy, Niall. Sometimes I just feel… lost. But you guys are helping so much. Even Harry…”

Niall placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for you, Louis. You don’t have to face this alone. You know that, right?” He meant it; he hated seeing Louis like this. They were planning a surprise trip for him, waiting for the right moment to tell him. A relaxing getaway would do him good.

Louis nodded, his eyes a little glossy. “I know. And I really appreciate it. But sometimes… I feel like I’m a burden to all of you.”

“Don’t say that.” Niall replied firmly. “You’re not a burden. We’re family, remember? You said so yourself at Easter during that toast. Families support each other.” Niall smiled warmly. He had grown fond of Louis quickly; he was such a genuine and bright person. He hoped this rough patch would pass soon.

Louis smiled faintly. “Thanks.” He rested his head on Niall’s shoulder and turned his attention back to the game as it resumed.

HARRY

In the kitchen, they had just finished dinner. The dishes were piled up in the sink, and Harry was washing them with rhythmic, precise movements. He occasionally glanced at Louis, who was sitting on the couch with a book on his lap, underlining the pages he needed to study. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows on the floor. Harry hummed the song in his earbuds, watching Louis with a mixture of affection and concern. Seeing him so calm was rare, a small miracle that Harry never took for granted.

Once he finished the dishes, Harry took off his earbuds and turned up the volume on his phone, filling the room with the notes of a song that had been echoing in his head for days.

Don’t you give me up, please don’t give up

On me, I belong, with you, and only you, babe

He began singing, walking slowly toward Louis, who looked up, curious and amused. Harry reached out a hand toward him, continuing to sing with a mischievous smile. His heart was racing: seeing Louis smile felt like a personal victory.

“I need to study!” Louis protested, shaking his head with a half-smile, but Harry, with gentle determination, moved the book aside, took his hands, and pulled him up. Louis rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile.

I think of her so much, it drives me crazy

Harry kept singing as he spun Louis around. Their laughter filled the room, creating a carefree atmosphere. Harry felt his heart swell with joy. Every laugh from Louis was a small miracle, a confirmation that, step by step, they were winning his battle.

They continued dancing on the carpet in front of the couch, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony, as if they were one. Occasionally, they exchanged a sweet and fleeting kiss, while their fingers remained tightly intertwined. With every move, every glance, every word sung, Harry tried to remind him that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone who loved him and would do anything to make him happy.

ZAYN

He was eating a quick lunch at the kitchen counter, knowing he had to get back to the murals in an hour and wanted to rest, as he would be standing or kneeling for the next six hours. Louis was reluctantly eating at the table, his favorite pasta—tuna and tomato—prepared by Zayn in a desperate attempt to get him to put something in his stomach.

“Zayn, are you mad at me?” Louis’s trembling voice froze him, what? He placed his fork on the nearly empty plate.

“No, why would I be?” he replied, alarmed, looking up at Louis, who was in tears.

He walked around the kitchen, quickly made his way to his chair, and knelt next to him. “Louis, I’m not angry, are you crazy?” He tried to reassure him while Louis sobbed.

“It’s just… you don’t talk to me, I never see you… I thought you were mad, maybe…” More sobs, the words coming out with difficulty, and Zayn waited for him to continue, his hands resting on Louis’s. “You think I’m a burden or not a good friend…” Zayn opened his mouth, speechless. Did Louis really think that? That Zayn could consider him a burden? He almost felt offended.

“Oi… oi, are you listening?” Louis was crying loudly, but Zayn’s eyes were teary too, and he didn’t want to cry. “Listen to me for a second….” he whispered softly, rubbing his thumb over his wet cheek. Finally, Louis’s red eyes were looking at him.

“I’m not angry.” his voice firm. “You’re not a burden, and you never have been, Tommo.” He continued softer. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like that…” His eyebrows furrowed in a concerned expression as he placed his hands on Louis’s cheeks.

“I love you always, okay?” He pressed his forehead against his, and Louis nodded quickly, another sob escaping his lips.

“Don’t cry for me, please.” he whispered as Louis threw his arms around his neck. He stroked Louis’s back when he noticed Harry’s figure leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched them. Zayn looked straight into his eyes, swearing to never listen to him again.

“I swear, if I could take at least a quarter of the pain you’re feeling, I’d gladly take it.” he whispered into his best friend’s ear before planting a kiss on his temple.

JULY

“I see you’re smiling, did something happen that I don’t know about?” Allison giggled, noticing a slight sparkle in Louis’s eyes. Louis was a little excited.

“My friends are planning a vacation to Greece in August, and they invited me.” The psychologist smiled back, sharing in his joy.

“I’m happy for you, Louis. You deserve some relaxation, the sea in Greece is beautiful!” she said. Louis nodded happily but then paused, a shadow of worry crossing his face.

“What if I feel bad? What if I start sleeping all day again?” he asked, fear in his voice, his eyes darting quickly, searching for a fixed point to focus on.

“You could feel bad even if you stay here.” the psychologist replied calmly. It was true, it wasn’t predictable. Depression comes and goes as it pleases; he could only prevent it, but he couldn’t avoid it.

“I don’t want to be a burden to my friends, to Harry.” He shrugged, the thought of making others worry about him, preventing them from enjoying their vacation, haunted him. He felt like a burden, a weight he didn’t want to place on the people he loved.

“Louis, what does it mean for you to sleep when you’re feeling bad?” the therapist asked. They had talked about it before, but he couldn’t identify a clear answer. Now, though, he understood, since he had started going out again, walking around the city, being among people.

“When I’m in bed, the world becomes… silent.” His voice was low, a little afraid of that thought. The medications had done a lot in that regard; they kept him up even when everything outside seemed too much.

“Do you think this could happen with your friends? Could you seek that silence?” she asked calmly, as she wrote. Louis thought for a while, trying to analyze his feelings.

“I don’t think so, I don’t know, maybe when I’m with them, no… but when I’m alone, or when I’m not part of the conversation, it could happen…” he admitted, feeling a lump in his throat. Loneliness was a constant companion, a presence he couldn’t shake off.

“Why? What happens when you’re alone?” she continued, writing diligently. Louis felt nervous; this conversation was hard. In his head, everything was confusing, but maybe Allison was meant for this, to untangle the mess in his mind.

“I’m scared. Everything gets too loud, I have trouble breathing.” Allison nodded understandingly. Louis, however, felt uneasy; exposing his vulnerabilities was never easy.

“Have you tried what I told you? Diaphragmatic breathing, the one with your belly…” the psychologist explained, as Louis tilted his head from side to side, trying to remember.

“Not much, it’s hard for me.” he shrugged, his tone resigned.

“I understand, Louis, but the more you practice, the easier it’ll be on the days you need it. It helps relax your muscles and clear your mind, or you’ll always be tense. That’s why you’re always tired. I’ll give it to you as homework… try to do it at least once a day, for a few minutes, okay?” Her soft voice made Louis smile, and he agreed. He wasn’t convinced by the arguments, but he would try. He was tired, tired of feeling bad.

“I’ll give it my best effort.” he said, the smile still on his lips, though a little uncertain. Maybe, he thought, one small step at a time could make a difference. And who knows, maybe that vacation in Greece would be a new beginning, an opportunity to feel like a normal twenty-year-old again.

“With Zayn? You told me you wanted to talk to him… did you?” Allison asked curiously. Louis nodded quickly.

“Yeah, you were right, he wasn’t angry!” he smiled, and Allison smiled back.

“What did he say? Are you happy you talked to him?” she tilted her head, moving her long hair to one side. Louis told her everything, about how talking to him made him cry, the things Zayn had reaffirmed.

“I felt like a bit of a child when I burst into tears…” Louis admitted, and Allison immediately shook her head.

“Expressing emotions is healthy, you shouldn’t be ashamed of it, in fact. It makes you brave.”

Louis scrunched his nose with a small smile. He didn’t feel very courageous, but he knew that being vulnerable had always caused him problems. He preferred joking and using sarcasm rather than opening up for real. Maybe it was the fate of the firstborn.

“Can I tell you that I see you as better? I’m sure this vacation will go well…” Allison leaned forward toward him, her encouragement comforting him. “And if you need anything, text me. But I’m sure you won’t need to.” she winked at him. Louis smiled widely, feeling better after the session.

Chapter Text

ZAYN

It was June 29th, and London was filled with rainbows. Joyful music echoed down the main streets, packed with people of all ages, ethnicities, and orientations, united by a common spirit of celebration and the fight for rights. The sky was clear and blue, unusual for a London usually rainy and grey, yet today it was hot and noisy. Rainbow flags waved everywhere, hung from balconies, carried by hand, draped around people’s necks like capes of pride. Celebrities like Elton John and Dua Lipa performed among the crowd, participating in various events around the city: concerts, talk shows, and theatre performances.

Zayn and Louis walked side by side, each with a flag wrapped around their necks, Zayn’s being bisexual and Louis’s rainbow-coloured. Louis’s hair was slightly tousled by the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled under the sunlight. He wore white shorts and a black shirt with the name of the club, like the one Zayn and the other employees wore, although he no longer worked there.

“I can’t believe I made it!” Louis smiled, happy as he looked at the tall and loud floats. Among them, one of the most spectacular was a float from a famous organisation, full of glitter with dancers performing wild dances. Other floats hosted drag queens and impromptu DJ sets.
 

“And yet you’re here, enjoying yourself. Don’t worry about it.” Zayn replied, his gaze wandering among the colourful crowd. He felt a deep connection with the moment and with Louis next to him.

He was a bit nervous about the mural unveiling; he had worked on it for months, and now it was about to be revealed to the public. Their hands brushed casually as they walked, a small touch that felt like an electric shock to his fingers. Zayn had the sudden urge to take Louis’s hand, needing that support, his heart racing at the thought.

Just as he was about to do so, Harry came from behind and wrapped his arms around Louis in a warm embrace, interrupting the suspended moment.

“Hey, guys!” Harry exclaimed with a contagious smile, his hair now long on his shoulders, sunglasses on, and a colourful boa around his neck. Around them, the crowd cheered as another float arrived, joining the parade with a group of activists.

Louis closed his eyes, smiling even more as Harry planted a kiss on his cheek. “London looks so beautiful like this…” Louis commented.

Zayn found himself clenching his fist, suppressing his desire and disappointment. “Yeah, really great.” he murmured, looking away to hide his frustration.

In his mind, thoughts raced. Why did Harry always have to be so close to Louis? Why every time he came near Louis, Harry always seem to intervene? The jealousy he felt wasn’t new, but it was stronger after the breakdown Louis had had in front of him. All emotions towards the other seemed amplified. His friend had clearly expressed how much Zayn meant in his life, yet every time Harry appeared, so confident, it made him feel terribly less important. He avoided looking at Louis, wrapped in Harry’s embrace, while anger boiled inside him.

He hugged Matthew almost with relief when they finally reached their float. He wasn’t alone with his thoughts anymore.

“Ready to dance?” Matthew asked, waving a rainbow fan. Zayn was arranging his backpack on the side of the float and immediately shook his head.

“I don’t dance.” he said firmly, unmoving. Matthew laughed, teasing him and promising that he would definitely convince him. And indeed, an hour later, Zayn found himself singing and hopping between Matthew and another guy to a Rihanna song.

As they approached the unveiling location, Zayn’s heart pounded in his chest. It was a mix of excitement, nervousness, and pride. He had spent countless days working on those murals, pouring a part of himself into every wall. Each painting represented a piece of his soul, a personal story, an emotion. When they reached the street, they got off the float. Zayn’s hands were shaking with emotion, and he found himself greeting the other two artists he had collaborated with.  

Around him, a growing crowd gathered, including friends, fellow artists, community members, and curious passersby. Among the crowd, he recognised familiar faces: Louis, Harry, Liam, Niall, and Matthew, all there to support him. Louis gave him a nod of encouragement, his reassuring smile. Harry held a camera, ready to capture every moment of the event, while Liam was busy doing live streams on social media, documenting the entire unveiling.

When the clock hit the scheduled time, the city’s mayor, who had supported the initiative, took the stage. “We are here today to celebrate not only art but also community and personal expression. The murals we are about to unveil represent a piece of our city, a reflection of our diversity and creativity. And now, without further ado, I present to you the artists behind these extraordinary works: Zayn Malik!” He continued listing the names of the collaborators and project sponsors.  

The crowd cheered warmly as Zayn stepped forward, visibly emotional. He felt the warmth of their gazes on him, the energy of the crowd supporting him. He took the microphone, his voice a bit shaky but determined.

“Thank you all for being here today. This project means a lot to me. These murals tell stories of struggle, hope, love, and acceptance. I hope they inspire anyone who sees them, just as creating them inspired me.”

With those words, the large cloth covering the first mural was pulled down. A murmur of wonder spread through the crowd. The design depicted a group of people of different ethnicities and sexual orientations, united in a symbolic embrace. The vivid colours and dynamic lines conveyed a sense of movement and life, and the eyes of the characters seemed to follow anyone who looked at them, conveying a message of inclusivity and belonging.

Zayn felt a lump in his throat as he observed people’s reactions. He saw teary eyes, touched smiles, and people holding hands. This was exactly what he had hoped for: an emotional impact, a connection with people’s hearts.

They moved on to the second mural, which depicted Marsha P. Johnson, one of the most prominent figures in the 1969 Stonewall riots. Then to the third, which depicted a tree with deep roots intertwining with other roots, symbolising human connections and the strength of community.

When all the works were unveiled, Zayn felt a deep satisfaction. He had transformed a corner of London into something brighter and more welcoming. His murals were there, visible to all, standing as a testament to the power of art to change the world.

He looked at them with a little smile. He had left something of himself, something indelible that would remain there for years and years.

Louis approached and hugged him tightly. “They’re incredible, Zayn… You did an amazing job!” Zayn let himself relax into the hug, feeling the tensions dissolve, swaying a little before pulling away.

Liam came over, his camera aimed at Zayn. “Hey, Zayn! Got anything to say to your followers who are watching live?”

Zayn smiled into the camera, raising a hand in a wave. “Hey, everyone! Thanks for the support. I hope you can come see these murals in person. And remember, love is love, and we all deserve to be accepted for who we are.”

As the day continued, Zayn watched people interact with his murals. Some took photos, others stopped to read the quotes embedded in the designs, and still others discussed the hidden meanings. And he realised that this, more than anything, was his legacy. An indelible mark left on the city he loved.

Later, they were all on the Pride float. The music was pounding so loudly that Zayn could feel it in his chest, and the heat was stifling even though the temperature had dropped. The celebration was coming to an end, and he was a little tired, but he had promised Matthew he’d help out with the expected crowd that evening. Harry and Matt were handing out flyers inviting people to the club, where there would be performances by emerging queer singers, including Harry, in the first part and a Drag Queen show in the second.

Zayn wandered on the float looking for his backpack. His mouth was dry, and he absolutely needed some water. He looked around before his eyes landed on Louis, who hadn’t moved from his spot since they had gotten on, a little off to the side but still near Harry. He was watching him as he drank the last sips from his water bottle.

Louis looked overwhelmed, his face pale, and his eyes slightly lost among the crowd and the noise. Without saying a word, Zayn pulled a pair of noise-cancelling headphones from his backpack, the ones he used when he needed to concentrate on drawing. He knew what it was like to have all that noise around and feel overwhelmed. He gently placed the headphones on Louis’s ears, who looked at him with a relieved expression.

LOUIS

“Thank you, Zayn.” Louis said, a weak but sincere smile on his lips. Zayn merely nodded in response. Louis closed his eyes and fully enjoyed the silence he had just earned. It was hard, after months of being in the dark, in the quiet of his room, to immerse himself in such a loud and crowded event. The shouts, the feet being stepped on, the elbows of the people around him—things that once seemed so normal and trivial now made him sink into total discomfort. He couldn’t wait for it all to end, even though a night at the club awaited him.

The club was lit by colourful lights and adorned with Pride-themed decorations. Zayn was behind the bar, the crowd of friends filling the space. Among the decorations, there were rainbow balloons, banners with messages of equality and love, and a stage ready for the night’s performances.

Louis had sat at the bar surrounded by his friends. He felt safer in this place than at the parade earlier in the day, knowing that he could step outside for fresh air or go to the bathroom to cool off if needed. He was having an animated discussion with Liam about whether Harry and Draco were a queer couple. Of course, Louis argued that they were. He could hear Zayn laughing behind him every time he got worked up, looking for his support with a cold Coke in his hands, unable to drink alcohol because of his medication.

Harry, on the small stage, had already sung two songs and began speaking, drawing the attention of the crowd.

“The next song is one I wrote.” Louis and his friends perked up. Harry rarely sang his own songs, always unsure or perhaps too much of a perfectionist.

“It’s dedicated to someone special to me, who is here with us tonight… my boyfriend.” Cheers and whistles erupted from the audience. A smile spread across Louis’s face. He adjusted himself on the stool to better watch his boyfriend.

“This is the first time I’m singing it in public, be gentle…” Harry said in a quieter voice, making the audience laugh before he started playing the guitar and singing “Sweet Creature” with a sweetness that seemed to envelop the entire room. The lyrics of the song filled the air.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Louis, sitting at the bar, visibly teared up, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped with the back of his hand. When the song ended, the club erupted in loud applause and cheers. His friends surrounded him with hugs and pats on the back, while the emotion of the moment resonated throughout the space. Harry stepped down from the stage, making room for the Drag show, and Louis waited impatiently.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted over the music when Harry appeared in front of him, before taking his face in his hands and pulling him in for kisses, one after the other. Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist.

“It’s beautiful, Harry.” Louis commented after letting him go. “I agree.” Liam added. “You should send it to the record label.” Harry smiled in satisfaction, while Louis looked at him, enchanted, dimples at the corners of his mouth, wishing he could bite them.

“Already done… waiting for news.” Harry placed his finger on his red lips, signalling he didn’t want to talk about it anymore for superstition. Everyone understood and started discussing something else. But Louis no longer listened to anything, he only looked at Harry with a dreamy smile and starry eyes while sipping from his glass, his heart pounding and his legs light.

ZAYN

While Harry sang “Sweet Creature,” dedicating the song to Louis, Zayn watched the scene from behind the counter. The club was filled with lights and sounds, the crowd seemed like a living wave moving to the rhythm of the music. Harry stood there, under the spotlight, his melodious voice filling the air, each word pronounced with a warmth that made the walls vibrate.

Louis was sitting at the bar, surrounded by their friends, his face lit by the colourful lights reflecting in his eyes. He wore a tight white tee, covered by a loose red shirt, probably not his own. His expression was one of pure bliss as he listened to Harry sing, and Zayn couldn’t help but notice how completely captivated Louis was by the words and the melody. Each tear that fell from Louis’s face seemed like a direct blow to Zayn’s heart.

The moment when something inside Zayn decided to break came when Louis took Harry’s face to kiss him.

A sharp pain in his chest, as if a knife had been repeatedly stabbed into his heart, each kiss a stab.

He stood frozen in that feeling, hearing the voices of the customers calling him, but he couldn’t move. It was as if the world around him had become a blurred image, the sounds distorted and distant. His breath caught in his throat, making him pale.

The room became tight, suffocating, everything muffled, he couldn’t distinguish the songs from the voices of the customers, like a ringing in his ears. He was terrified to admit to himself what he was feeling.

Zayn’s hands gripped the glass so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Thoughts raced in his mind, confused and disordered. He forced himself to stay calm, but his body betrayed his emotions.

Zayn closed his eyes, trying to find air again, but the images in his mind continued to torment him.

“Zayn, move!” Missy scolded him, shaking his arm.

The sound of breaking glass broke the loop he had been trapped in, the muffled sounds came back to life.

“Shit!” the girl next to him exclaimed, looking down at his hands, red—so red—he started to tremble, holding his right wrist.

The glass had cut him.

The hand with which he drew.

He watched the drops shatter on the bar, dazed, his breath rapid.

“Calm down, breathe…” a warm, familiar voice near his ear tried to reassure him, two warm arms were leading him to the bathroom.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the hand.

The pain didn’t seem to ease, nor did the trembling.

“Don’t worry, it’s not deep, the hand loses a lot of blood…” the voice reassured him while gently touching the wound with their thumb, he looked up at the lowered head that was tending to him so carefully, the hydrogen peroxide cleaning the wound.

“Zayn, hey… It’s nothing, don’t be scared… stop shaking.” Matthew was caressing his face with one hand, his thumb brushing over his beard, while with the other, he pressed a gauze against the wound. His big green eyes were focused on Zayn’s jet-black, restless ones, trying to reassure him with soft touches on his face, but those wouldn’t heal the wound.

“Did the blood scare you?” he asked gently while carefully wrapping the gauze around his hand.

That was the last thing that scared him.

“Matthew…” he managed to say.

Admitting his feelings meant opening up to a vulnerability he wasn’t ready to face. The fear of losing someone he had called ‘home’ was suffocating him.

“I think I’m in love with Louis…” he said breathlessly, before letting out a sob, his heart pounding wildly after saying it out loud.

A little laugh escaped the man in front of him, still with his head down over Zayn’s hand.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out.”

All the jealousy, all the irritation he felt at the mere sight of Harry—even though their friends seemed to adore him—the sense of abandonment that crept in when Louis stopped coming home as often… it all had meaning. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. It made sense why Zayn always felt so uneasy whenever he was around them.

“Zayn, what’s wrong? You look like you’re on the verge of tears.”

Liam, in the passenger seat next to Matthew who was driving, turned around to look at him with concern.

“Shitty evening. I’m exhausted,” Zayn mumbled, his gaze flicking up to the rearview mirror, where Matthew’s eyes briefly met his.

“Does it hurt?” Liam asked, glancing at Zayn’s bandaged hand before returning his focus back to him.

“Not too much,” Zayn replied, though his fingers instinctively brushed against the bandages. It would probably leave a scar. Great. Another beautiful memory to mark this day.

His gaze shifted to the two men sitting in the front seats. Liam and Matthew were deep in conversation, talking like old friends. Zayn and Matthew had ended their arranged relationship a while ago; they were just friends now. But seeing Matthew so close to someone else felt strange—though, oddly, it was also reassuring.

For some reason, Zayn always felt like Matthew was meant to be a part of his life. Matthew was the only person who could be brutally honest when Zayn needed it most. Knowing that he got along with Liam and the others actually made him feel a little better.

“Liam,” Zayn began, his voice teasing but strained, “I think you jinxed me.”

Liam laughed, glancing back at him. “What do you mean?”

Zayn exhaled, trying to keep himself from spiraling into panic. “Best friend clichés, you know. One falls in love with the other.”

Liam’s smile faltered as his brow furrowed. Zayn was already fiddling with his earrings, his anxiety bleeding into every movement. “I was only joking, Zayn. I didn’t actually think—” He stopped mid-sentence as Zayn’s eyes locked onto his, full of unspoken truths.

“Oh.” Liam’s voice softened. “Oh,” he repeated, realization dawning. His expression melted into a look of pity. “Darling, I’m so sorry…” he whispered.

Zayn leaned forward, resting his forehead against the seat in front of him. It didn’t take long for Liam’s hand to reach his hair, gently stroking it, perhaps in an attempt to ease his state of mind.

“Why now? he’s in a relationship…” He couldn’t wrap his head around the awful timing. He wondered if, deep down, his feelings had already been there, growing quietly before now, and he had simply failed to notice. Not that he intended to confess how he felt, but if Louis had been single, maybe he would’ve at least tried to test the waters.

“Has Louis ever been in a relationship?” Matthew asked, trying to help him think things through. Maybe analyzing the situation would bring some clarity to Zayn’s mind.

“No, I mean, yeah, but they’d last a month or two at most. Then Louis would say he didn’t feel what he was supposed to feel and would end it…” Zayn sighed, recalling how sad Louis had been in those moments. He’d always had to order him a pizza and force him to watch a movie to cheer him up.

“Maybe that’s why you’re realizing it now… because this is his first real relationship, and you’ve never had a reason to feel threatened before. Are you sure it’s not just that? The fear of losing him and maybe mistaking it for something else?” Liam suggested. But Zayn shook his head immediately at the question.

Sure, this was the first time Louis had been in a stable relationship, but it wasn’t the first time Zayn had felt this way about someone. He remembered it all too well.

“I know what this feeling is. I’ve felt it before; I’m not mistaken… This ache in my chest, the fear, the way my stomach twists until it hurts…” Zayn began listing all the symptoms he associated with being in love—symptoms he despised.

“Being in love isn’t all bad, Zayn. There are good parts too…”

“There are no good parts to it for me,” he replied firmly, allowing no room for debate.

Zayn sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. “Can one of you host me for the night? I sense it’s better if I stay away from my house tonight.”

Liam nodded quickly, his voice eager. “You can stay in my room, of course.”

“Thanks,” Zayn murmured, forcing a small, strained smile.

9 years earlier

“Louis, I need to tell you a secret…” Zayn whispered. They were lying on the mattress on the floor, the one Louis used on the rare occasions he was allowed to sleep over at Zayn’s house. At Zayn’s place, two boys weren’t allowed to share the same single bed. Obviously ten minutes after the ‘good night’ Zayn would crawled on Louis’ bed or viceversa.

The room was dark, except for the dim light on the bedside table that softly illuminated their faces. Louis’s blue eyes shone under the yellowish glow, his hair no longer quite so blond, and his cheeks still round with the early signs of puberty.

“Tell me everything,” Louis urged, moving closer. His cheek sank into the pillow beneath their heads, his thumb in his mouth eating his cuticles —a habit Zayn could never get him to break, despite how much it annoyed him.

“I like a boy,” Zayn murmured, so quietly it was almost inaudible. He didn’t want anyone else to hear—only Louis, who nodded silently, waiting for him to continue. Zayn’s heart was racing; it was the first time he had said it out loud.

“His name is Rashid. I see him every time I go to the mosque.” Though Zayn had begun to doubt his faith and what his religion said about homosexuality or anything resembling it, he couldn’t refuse to go to the mosque with his father. His father would never accept it, he was his favourite and Zayn didn’t want to upset him, so he resigned himself to attending. But now that he had met Rashid, he looked forward to going again.

“He has dark hair and eyes like yours, these gorgeous blue ones. He’s funny, affectionate, and so beautiful, I swear, Louis.” Zayn was smiling as he spoke, and Louis continued to nod silently, thumb still between his teeth. “We pray together, and since our dads know each other, we go to the supermarket afterward to buy junk food and sit and talk until our parents are ready to leave. I can’t wait to see him every Friday.”

“You’re in love—you sound like a girl,” Louis teased with a giggle. Zayn shook his head, embarrassed, before confessing, “Maybe. He’s smart and knows so much about everything. Every time he greets me with a hug, I feel like I’m going to faint, I swear. But I think he’s straight.” Zayn pouted, torn between excitement and shame over the feelings he couldn’t control. He was terrified someone would notice, that they’d figure out Rashid wasn’t just a friend to him. That they’d hear how his stomach twisted, the thunderous sound of his heartbeat when Rashid smiled at him, or the fleeting thoughts of how amazing it would be to kiss him.

Of course, Zayn didn’t know yet that months later, they would kiss in secret, the day before Rashid moved to another city. Nor did he know he’d cry for a week afterward.

LOUIS

After the scare of seeing Zayn’s hand covered in blood, Louis found comfort in Harry’s arms. With their fingers entwined, Louis's head was nestled between Harry's shoulder and chin in the backseat of Niall's vehicle. Harry whispered sweet words into his ear, drawing soft chuckles from him.

Harry murmured, "You look so beautiful tonight in my shirt, honey," in that smooth, low voice that always made Louis's heart skip a beat. The air in the car suddenly felt too tense and thick for the three of them alone. In an attempt to stay grounded and prevent himself from igniting at the thought of Harry's lips being so near to his ear, Louis bit his lip.

As Harry's lips started to gently kiss him along his cheek and down to his neck, leaving a path of warmth behind them, his eyes fell close.

“You’ve arrived!” Niall exclaimed, making Louis jump. His heart raced in his chest. “Thank you, Niall. Good night!” Harry patted Niall’s shoulder before getting out of the car with him. Louis unlocked the building door and hurried up the stairs to his flat.

“Why are you running?” Harry whispered, catching up behind him. It was 3 AM, a grin on his face as they entered the flat. Louis stopped in the middle of the living room, staring at him as though he were seeing a hallucination.

How could the boy in front of him be in love with him? Louis couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Harry was tall, stunningly beautiful, and his eyes made Louis’s legs weak. His pink, pouty lips looked so kissable, and he was there, smiling innocently at Louis, while he’s only having dirty thoughts about him during the last month. Everytime they  kissed or touched a little more, Louis can feel his body responding in a different way than usual, and now, Harry stood right in front of him, wearing a green shirt that barely covered his sculpted chest, his sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, tattooed arms.

"Harry, kiss me." Louis's voice sounded almost commanding.

Harry's lips, still chilly from the beer he had twenty minutes earlier but as soft as clouds, kissed him as if he had been waiting for the order. While Louis put his hands into Harry's lower back, his big hands cradled Louis's face. Louis's fingers tightened around Harry's shirt fabric and pulled it out of his trousers as he tilted his head and intensified the kiss. When Louis bit Harry's bottom lip, he heard his quiet groan and he smiled in return.

Louis planted tiny pecks in between sentences as he muttered, "I'm ready."

“For what?” Louis chuckled faintly as Harry mumbled.

“What do you think, Harry?” Louis took one of Harry's hands, kissed the inside of his wrist, and then pressed it against his stomach, their eyes locked. Slowly, he pushed it down and slipped it beneath his jeans' waistline. Harry remained silent until his hand, which was concealed under his trousers, touched Louis's half erection.

"Are you sure?" was the only thing Harry managed to say. Louis nodded quickly, and for a moment, he was caught off guard by the sight of Harry's smile. A mix of sensations rushed through him when Harry pulled him onto the table. His large hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and his lips left sloppy kisses along Louis's neck. Within minutes, both of them were shirtless. Louis panted against Harry's mouth, his hands gripping Harry's bum as their groins pressed together.

"I-fuck... I need to tell you something." Louis tried to speak between the heavy breaths, his chest rising and falling as Harry's hands moved over him, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his voice low, his movements slowing down, sensing the hesitation.

Louis's eyes flickered with apprehension as he swallowed hard. "It's my first time... with a man." He spoke softly and almost hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to say it.

Harry hesitated, a look of surprise flashing across his face, and then a tiny, playful smile pulled at his mouth. "Oh, you're not sure how to do that?" Harry started to tease him, and Louis rolled his eyes.  Harry grinned as he moved in closer and removed Louis from the table with ease. He taunted, "A little drawing can be useful?" and carried Louis to the bedroom, placing him gently on the bed with his hands gripping him tightly.

Louis' laughter mixed with frustration. "Fuck you!" he muttered, though the smile playing on his lips betrayed his words.

Harry leaned over him, eyes glinting with mischief. "Yeah, fuck me Louis.” he said, his hands finally pushing Louis' trousers off. He crawled over him, the air thick with heat, before capturing his lips in a kiss that was raw, full of anticipation.

Before drawing him in closer, Harry's hands moved over Louis' torso, following the curve of his waist. The heat of Harry's touch caused Louis' heart to accelerate, combining the anxious thrill in his chest with the moment's intensity. Harry's breath was warm and gentle against Louis's skin as his lips lingered just above his.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked softly, his previous jokes giving way to something more profound and real. His gaze swept across Louis' face, measuring each glimmer of feeling.

Louis looked at Harry and swallowed hard as he nodded. His voice remained steady as he whispered, "I trust you," but his heartbeat accelerated.

The corner of Harry's mouth lifted slightly as he grinned. He kissed Louis again, slowly this time, savoring the taste of him. Louis's chest constricted with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, and his skin tingled where Harry touched him.

Harry bent over Louis and whispered, "Just relax," his lips grazing his jaw. "We'll go slow."

Louis let out a breath, his nerves gradually easing as Harry's touch and words brought him back to the present. He felt the heat of their bodies pulling them closer as he allowed himself to melt into Harry's embrace on the bed.

Harry's hands followed Louis' body's contours, learning each inch and curve.

Every kiss and touch seemed to be revealing something deeper within Louis—a mixture of vulnerability and pleasure he hadn't anticipated feeling so strongly.

"Are you okay?" As he waited for an answer, Harry paused and asked, pressing his forehead against Louis' and running his fingers over his jawline.

With a gentle smile, Louis's anxiety gave way to confidence. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice full of emotion.  "I'm okay." then reversed their positions, trapping Harry beneath him, a little squeak came out of him letting Louis snort before pushing Harry’s trousers away.

Chapter Text

LOUIS

He knocked on Zayn’s bedroom door but received no answer, even though he’d seen him come in just moments earlier. He opened the door slightly to check if he was there. Zayn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, coloring, his head bent low over a sheet of paper, completely immersed, with black headphones isolating him from the outside world.

He knocked again on the doorframe, but Zayn was too distracted to notice. Louis decided to approach with steady yet gentle steps, as if afraid to disturb a sacred moment. When he reached him, Zayn slowly lifted his head and slid the headphones down to his neck. His dark, deep eyes—like wells of water—locked onto Louis with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Want to come with me to buy some new clothes for Mykonos?” Louis asked, trying to mask his excitement with a casual tone, placing his hands on his hips, covered by the white shirt Harry had left him.

“Can’t Harry go with you?” Zayn replied, leaning back against the bed. Louis pouted.

“We never hang out, just the two of us… Come oooon?” he said, putting his hands together as if in prayer. They hadn’t gone out together in months; he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d been alone.

“I’m not really in the mood, Tommo.” Zayn was avoiding his eyes, Louis pouted and knelt in front of him between his legs, forcing him to watch Louis. He pulled out his best weapon, his puppy face. He widened his eyes and his lower lip slightly jutting out.

“No, don’t pull the puppy face with me.” Zayn almost shouted, pushing him away, but Louis didn’t surrender, Zayn tried to slip away from him but he trapped his hips between his knees. “Please!” Zayn rolled his eyes, his ears pink. “I’ll buy you fries, I swear!” Zayn sighed in resignation, his eyes fixed on Louis's widened ones, still trying to convince him.

“You’re a pain in the ass, be glad that I love you too much.” Zayn shoved him away while Louis’s face lit up with pure joy. He practically skipped to the door like a child receiving a long-awaited gift.

To Zayn’s “When?” Louis enthusiastically replied, “Now!” followed by Zayn’s amused but genuine groan as he accepted the decision.

“Nothing fits me…” Louis murmured, staring at his reflection in dismay. “I don’t recognize myself in the mirror,” he added, his tone tinged with disillusionment. His reflection seemed like a stranger. His arms, once toned, now looked thin and soft, and pants that once flattered his figure now hung loosely.

He stepped out of the fitting room, his face marked by a mixture of frustration and despair, finding Zayn waiting for him, distracted by his phone. His slouched body wrapped in a white plain tee and designer jeans, full of colorful drawings, Louis didn’t know how Zayn managed to found these cool pieces.

“Do you like it?” Louis asked hesitantly, showing how the polo shirt he’d just put on fit him. Zayn gave him a once-over, furrowing his brow.

“Isn’t it too big?” Zayn said, approaching to touch the excess fabric at the sleeves. Louis huffed, his eyes welling up.

“Forget it. I give up!” Louis declared in a resigned tone, his voice breaking as he turned to head back to the fitting room. Every attempt to improve his appearance only seemed to amplify his sense of failure.

While changing back into his original clothes, the crushing feeling of defeat weighed heavily on him. Then Zayn’s hand appeared with some hangers, stirring a mixture of hope and weariness in Louis.

“Try these.” Zayn said loudly from outside the fitting room. Louis took the items, pulling the curtain closed more securely. The outfit consisted of a dark green sleeveless shirt and tailored black pants, the fabric soft to the touch. It didn’t seem like something Louis would like, but he decided to give it a chance.

He opened the curtain to show Zayn the outfit, spreading his arms out for effect. He wasn’t impressed.

“Not like that…” Zayn chuckled, leaving Louis frowning in confusion. How was he supposed to wear it? Zayn sighed and stepped closer.

“Tuck the shirt into the pants,” Zayn instructed with a nod of his chin. Louis followed his advice. Zayn then grabbed his arms and turned him toward the mirror, adjusting the shirt so it puffed out slightly. The high-waisted pants hugged Louis’s hips and flattered his silhouette, while the loose fit down the legs concealed the parts he disliked.

A smile crept across Louis’s face as he looked in the mirror, Zayn’s hands still on him.

“You look hot.” Zayn said in a tone that felt almost like a declaration, his words filled with sincerity as he leaned against the fitting room wall. The compliment had an immediate effect: Louis’s face flushed bright red, and his heart started pounding. In that moment, his insecurities eased, as if Zayn’s words had reminded him he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I… feel good.” Louis added quietly, tilting his head and brushing his stomach with his hand as he observed himself. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. After a moment, he looked up at Zayn, who was already watching him through the mirror.

“You have to enhance your strengths…” Zayn added and touched Louis shoulders. “Like your arms… are really defined, full of tattoos and with the tan they will be even better.” Louis gaze moved along his arms into the mirror, he was judging them in his mind five minutes ago. “And I like your legs, I don’t know why you want to cover them and not try some shorts.” He added, Zayn liked his legs? Zayn was giving him compliments? Louis’ neck gone literally red.

“Since when you give me so much compliments?” Louis tried to divert the conversation, trying not to blush in front of him. Zayn took a step back, leaving his shoulder, suddenly shy and avoiding his eyes.

“I give you compliments all the time.” He stated, his arms crossed.

“That’s not true, insults more like.” Louis chuckled.

“Should I grab you something else?” Zayn suggested. Louis scrunched his nose and nodded. He had no idea how Zayn had nailed it on the first try. It wasn’t his usual style, but it wasn’t far off either, and Zayn’s own style had evolved dramatically since he could afford better clothes.

Feeling relieved, Louis let out a deep breath as he was left alone again. Moments earlier, he’d been on the verge of tears from frustration; now, he actually felt good.

The warm light of the little shop where they’d sought refuge contrasted with the cold light of the fitting room. Louis felt more at ease now, surrounded by their shopping bags and lighthearted conversation. They sat at a table, with the chair next to Louis occupied by their purchases. Across from him, Zayn was snacking on fries while scrolling through his phone. Louis sipped his iced tea, swirling the straw in the glass, the ice clinking noisily.

“Thanks, Zayn,” Louis said, looking at him. Zayn immediately put down his phone, giving Louis his full attention, and shook his head.

“For what?”

Louis shrugged—everything? For coming out with him? For helping him with clothes? For always being there, no matter what?

“For helping me. I probably would’ve gone home crying without you,” Louis admitted with a small, embarrassed laugh, though he was sincere. Zayn shook his head, chuckling without replying.

Louis tried to keep the conversation going—they hadn’t had a heart-to-heart in a while.

“So, what’s the deal with Matthew?” he asked, taking another sip of tea while waiting for an answer. Zayn shrugged, leaving Louis puzzled.

“We haven’t sleep with each other in months. We’re just friends now.” Zayn said after a pause, making it clear they weren’t sleeping together anymore. Louis nodded slowly.

“Do you still like him?” Zayn laughed.

“I never liked him that way, Louis. I know you might not understand, but I’m serious—I never wanted anything more.” A small smile played on his lips. Louis frowned, almost offended. Why couldn’t he understand?

“Look, I do feel sexual attraction—just to fewer people, but I do feel it.” Zayn nodded, biting into a fry and looking away.

“I need to tell you something…” Louis began, trying to get Zayn’s attention, who was now focused on his fries.

“It happened… with Harry,” Louis confessed, his voice trembling. The Pride night, a whirlwind of emotions and passion, had swept him away. He hadn’t thought too much about it—it had been a moment of pure connection that left him breathless. He felt vulnerable now, but he knew Zayn would never judge him.

ZAYN

Please let a meteorite hit, right now.

The conversation had become unbearable, and Louis’ revelation was like a punch to the stomach. Every word Louis spoke was a scratch on Zayn’s heart, nausea rising with each one. Louis seemed relieved as he talked about Harry, but for Zayn, every word was a blow, a cruel reminder of the distance between them.

“Mhm… I’m happy for you,” Zayn said, his voice forced, as a fry slipped from his hand. He couldn’t suppress the image of Louis and Harry together. Nausea rose in his throat—a mix of jealousy and anguish that made him feel like he was suffocating. Zayn was fighting to maintain a façade of normalcy while his internal world burned.

Please, a lightning strike. Just on me. Thanks.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t quite… what I expected?” Louis mused, his voice trembling slightly. Zayn lifted his head to stare at him, his face dark and tense. He could see the vulnerability in Louis’ eyes, and it amplified his inner turmoil. He struggled to appear calm while his mind churned in chaos.

“What do you mean?” Zayn bit his lower lip, suddenly curious. Had Harry failed to meet expectations?

“I mean, it was nice and romantic, but… something was missing. I wasn’t fully into it? I guess. Has that ever happened to you?” Zayn parted his lips, surprised. Part of him rejoiced at the news, while another part wanted to reassure Louis.

“Only if I didn’t like the person. But I don’t think that’s the case for you.” He decided to comfort him. Louis nodded, lowering his gaze, visibly lost in thought.

Great. I’m helping that idiot now.

“Maybe you were just a little anxious and had trouble focusing on the moment? That can happen… or maybe you idealized it too much, and your expectations were too high? You do that sometimes.” Zayn chuckled, teasing him, which drew a smile from Louis. “Anyway…” Zayn mustered all the strength he had, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll get better next time.” He forced a small, close-lipped smile, the only relief being the way Louis’ blue eyes relaxed at his words.

“So, where were you the night of the pride?” Louis tilted his head curious, the little teasing smile on his face, he probably thought Zayn had slept with someone. Zayn rolled his eyes. “At Liam’s.” he declared, Louis jaw dropped and Zayn widened his eyes shaking his head. “Not in that way!” He almost shouted, Louis can be so stupid sometimes, but he’s cute.
What the fuck are you thinking Zayn, oh my god.

“Hey! I got out early!” A breathless voice interrupted them—it was Harry, in his satin shirt and a new haircut that made him even more annoyingly attractive. He bent down to kiss Louis.

“Hi, Zayn,” Harry greeted him with a smile. Zayn returned the greeting with a nod, already typing into the group chat with Matthew and Liam.

Please tell me I can escape to one of you

he typed quickly while the two talked among themselves.

I’m at Liam’s, come over

Matthew replied after a few seconds. Zayn got up from the table, catching the attention of the couple.

“I’m off. I had plans with Liam!” He grabbed his chips, hearing only Louis’ goodbye as he quickly walked away, sighing in relief.

Zayn found himself sprawled out on the rug in Liam’s living room, starfish-style. Matthew layed comfortably on the couch, while Liam sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, Matthew’s hand running through his hair.

“Awful… I won’t recover until next week…” Zayn whined like a child, eyes closed. His friends laughed at him.

“But shouldn’t you be happy you spent time with him? I don’t get it…” Liam asked, his head thrown back, enjoying Matthew’s caresses.

“He talked to me about… sex. With Harry.” Zayn clarified, emphasizing the name. His friends made disapproving noises, and Zayn finally felt understood.

“Ouch” Matthew added.

“I swear, I felt like throwing up… We’d had such a peaceful afternoon until that point.” He ran his hands over his face in despair, letting out a groan.

“Well, did he just tell you about it, or was he looking for advice?” Liam pressed on, torturing Zayn with questions.

“Advice. Without going into too much detail, he said he’d expected more.” Zayn turned his head toward the two, lips pressed into a thin line.

Matthew raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You should be happy Harry didn’t live up to the hype!” he said, but Zayn found no comfort in his words.

“True…” Liam added with a grimace of agreement.

“I did enjoy it… a little.” Zayn admitted in a low voice, trembling hands resting on his stomach as if his body were betraying his mind. The relief he felt was bittersweet, mingled with a guilt that gnawed at him.

“And you’re right to enjoy it. Maybe they’ll hit a rough patch because of this!” Matthew commented, locking his phone and sitting up, pulling Liam between his legs.

“I don’t think so…” Zayn sighed, a sound of resignation betraying his anguish. “Louis doesn’t put much weight on these things. He could probably do without them entirely…” His words came out with difficulty, as if each sentence was an unbearable weight. Even if Louis and Harry did hit a rough patch, Zayn knew he’d never find the courage to intervene. He wished with all his heart for this infatuation with Louis to fade, so he could finally move on with his life. He had no intention of jeopardizing such an important friendship.

“Well, if he’s complaining, it must mean it’s bothering him a little.” Matt added, while Liam crawled toward him for a hug. Zayn immediately wrapped his arms around him.

“Little Zayn… you’ll find someone who’ll love you so much.” Liam said in a reassuring tone.

Zayn took a deep breath. It wasn’t just the uncertainty of finding someone who could return his feelings, but also the doubt that that person entirely existed. He stayed silent, his heart heavy, while the only certainty was the comfort his friends were trying to offer him, even though he couldn’t fully believe their words.

LOUIS

As soon as they stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air of Mykonos embraced them, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of the sea. The sky stretched endlessly above, a flawless shade of blue, and the sun shone brightly, casting reflections on the crystal-clear waters below. The small airport, surrounded by lush greenery and dotted with the signature white-and-blue architecture of the Cyclades, felt like a gateway to another world.

Louis took a deep breath, letting the atmosphere sink in as they made their way toward the island’s center. The narrow streets seemed to wind endlessly, lined with pristine white houses adorned with brightly colored doors. Bougainvillea in shades of pink and purple spilled over balconies, adding bursts of color to the already picturesque scene.

Harry was captivated, his camera clicking away as he tried to capture every moment. His smile was wide, his curls bouncing slightly in the breeze. “I can’t believe we’re here,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

Louis found himself drawn to the sea, his gaze lingering on the glimmering waves and the boats gently swaying in the port. The sheer beauty of it all was almost overwhelming. “It really is paradise,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Matthew took charge as they wandered through the maze of streets. “Let’s get settled first!” he said, his tone practical but tinged with enthusiasm. “Then we can explore.” He led the group with a sense of purpose, though even he couldn’t help pausing now and then to admire the surroundings.

When they arrived at their villa, it exceeded every expectation. Perched on a hill, it offered a panoramic view of the sea. The terrace was spacious and inviting, furnished with cushioned sofas in vibrant colors. Louis could already picture the sunsets they’d watch together, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink.

Unpacking didn’t take long, but the room arrangements caused a bit of a stir. With only three rooms, someone would have to double up. Niall leaned in to whisper to Zayn and Liam, “How are we splitting this?”

“I’ll go with you!” Zayn said quickly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He grabbed his suitcase and disappeared into the room, leaving the others to sort out the rest.

After changing into swimsuits and slinging backpacks over their shoulders, the group set out to explore. Mykonos seemed even more magical now, the sunlight casting playful shadows along the streets. Harry, ever the photographer, was in his element, his camera often aimed at Louis. Whether it was intentional or not, Louis couldn’t say, but he caught Harry’s sheepish grin more than once.

Zayn drifted away from the group as they wandered, his steps unhurried as he took in the sights. Louis followed him instinctively, drawn by a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite name.

Zayn had stopped in front of a statue, his gaze fixed on it. He wore a loose white T-shirt that clung slightly to his skin in the heat, his blue swim trunks bright against the backdrop of the white streets. “It’s Manto Mavrogenous,” he said, noticing Louis beside him. “She was a revolutionary. Used her wealth and influence to support Greece’s fight for independence.”

Louis smiled, watching Zayn as he spoke. There was something about the way Zayn’s voice softened when he explained things, the way his sunglasses hid his eyes but couldn’t mask his sincerity.

“I like it when you explain things to me.” Louis said, his voice quieter than he intended.

Zayn hesitated, a faint blush creeping up his neck, Louis blamed it on the heat. “Anytime.”

Before either could say more, the others called out, urging them to join the group for lunch. With a glance at each other, they turned and headed back, the easy rhythm of their steps falling into sync.

The scorching afternoon sun weighed on them as they made their way back to the villa. Louis couldn’t wait to dip his feet in the water and stretch out on a lounge chair. The heat and exhaustion seemed to intensify his anxiety, which Louis felt even more acutely in this weather.

Matthew had rented a car for the trip, a spacious SUV that allowed everyone to travel together. Once packed with towels, sunscreen, and snacks, they set off. They arrived at Psarou Beach, a stretch of golden sand kissed by turquoise waters. The atmosphere was lively but relaxed, with people enjoying the sun and sea. They found lounge chairs and umbrellas to rent. Louis pulled out the book he’d brought and spread out his towel. Meanwhile, Harry and Niall went to grab some cold drinks.

Just as he was about to lie down, he noticed the sun above him was blocked. He looked up, shielding his eyes with one hand. Zayn stood there with a sly smile on his lips.

“Take off your shirt.” he said quickly.

Louis shook his head. “I don’t feel like it…” He felt a bit self-conscious; he had lost a lot of weight recently and didn’t like how he looked. He knew his friends wouldn’t judge him, but he struggled to shake off the thought. Zayn knew this; he’d seen Louis’s reaction in dressing rooms when nothing seemed to fit right.

“Alright,” Zayn replied, confusing him, before lifting him off the ground and throwing him over his shoulder. The sudden contact of Zayn’s body against his made him startle, but he couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh.

“No! Help!” he squirmed as his friends laughed, none of them coming to his rescue. He gave up and closed his eyes when he felt himself being lifted again. Suddenly, the suffocating heat vanished, replaced by the refreshing sensation of seawater enveloping his body. He enjoyed it for a few seconds before resurfacing. The water wasn’t very deep; he could feel the sand beneath his feet.

“I hate you!” he exclaimed, brushing his dripping hair off his forehead. Zayn stood a few steps away, the water only reaching his pecs. He laughed as Louis splashed cold water at him. Louis paused for a moment to look at him, noticing a few new tattoos and definitely more defined muscles.

“When did you start working out?” he commented. Zayn looked like a Greek statue, his hair  half dark half blonde, shaved on the sides, with a light beard that emphasized his already defined jawline. The water Louis had splashed made Zayn’s already tanned skin glisten. Louis snapped out of his trance when cold water hit his face, making him shut his eyes.

“Done staring?” Zayn had noticed. Louis turned bright red as the other swam farther out.

“I wasn’t staring…” Louis muttered to himself. Harry had just returned from the bar and was wading into the water. He approached Louis. “What’s with the shirt?” he chuckled as the water reached his chest.

“Zayn threw me in,” Louis replied with a pout.

“Hmm… evil.” Harry joked before pulling him close. Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist. He ran a hand through Harry’s freshly cut hair, wetting it. The curls Louis once loved were gone, replaced by a prince cut. The soft locks framed Harry’s face in a way Louis found irresistible. To Louis, Harry was beautiful no matter how he chose to look. He watched him with a mix of envy and adoration, captivated by a face that made his heart race every time he saw it.

“I’m so glad you’re here with us…” Harry whispered, making Louis smile. Louis pressed his forehead against Harry’s, letting him know how much those words meant, before kissing him on the lips.

“Zayn, but that’s not fair! Since when are you stronger than me?” shouted Liam just before being tossed into the water. They were wrestling, Zayn perched on Niall’s shoulders and Liam on Matthew’s. Zayn high-fived Niall before diving off to switch places.

“Come on, Louis!” Niall called, while Harry dove underwater, easily lifting Louis onto his shoulders.

ZAYN

Zayn found himself face-to-face with Harry, who was glaring at him disapprovingly. A wave of irritation surged inside him.

“What?” Zayn asked begrudgingly, as the water lapped just under his chin. Harry, with his wet hair plastered to his forehead and his green eyes fixed on Zayn, looked annoyed.

“You could’ve avoided throwing him into the water…” Harry muttered, thankfully drowned out by the others’ shouts.

“Go on, Louis, knock him down!” Liam yelled.

“I don’t care what you think, and Louis didn’t seem that upset,” Zayn snapped, squinting against the sun and salty water. He slid off as Niall toppled, getting ready to lift him back onto his shoulders. His heart pounded with suppressed anger. Why did Harry always act so possessive?

Harry’s expression darkened even further after Zayn’s retort, and a pang of jealousy hit Zayn. What was wrong between Harry and Louis? And why did Zayn always have to bear the brunt of it?

“Are you cold, love?” Harry asked, tilting his head toward Louis, who was shivering. Love? It made Zayn’s skin crawl.

Louis nodded, though he insisted he was fine, even if it wasn’t true. Zayn felt a sharp ache in his chest, watching Harry fuss over Louis.

“Maybe it’s the wet shirt—take it off,” Niall suggested helpfully. Everyone agreed.

Louis reluctantly pulled off his shirt, tossing it to Liam, who wasn’t playing. He wasn’t as skinny as he claimed, Zayn thought. Louis always had a skewed perception of himself.

A kick to Zayn’s shin made him yelp, “Ouch!” He immediately looked up.

It was Harry.

“Everything okay, Zayn?” Niall asked, looking down at him with concern.

“Yeah… I just… stepped wrong.” Zayn lied, glaring daggers at Harry. His blood boiled with frustration. Why wouldn’t Harry leave him alone? And why did he always make him feel this way?

“Will you two stop fighting?” Matthew asked quietly as they returned to shore. Zayn had seated himself on the wet sand, legs submerged in the cold water, rubbing sunscreen onto his arms. Matthew, with his dark hair and chiseled frame, handed Zayn his sunglasses and sat down beside him.

“Tell him that.” Zayn replied through gritted teeth, carefully spreading the sunscreen over the intricate tattoos on his arms.

Matthew sighed and wiped a streak of sunscreen off Zayn’s nose. Zayn scrunched it up but let him do it.

“You know he’s doing it on purpose. He provokes you, and you always take the bait!” Matthew chided gently. Zayn rolled his eyes, exasperated. He didn’t need a lecture. He knew Harry didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. But he couldn’t stand Harry’s high-handedness, especially when Louis was still so fragile.

“Let’s change the subject… you and Liam?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, watching Matthew avoid his gaze, staring at the sea instead. The water sparkled under the sun, exuding a sense of calm.

“Me and Liam what?” Zayn sighed loudly at the evasive response. Did Matthew really think he was that naive?

“I’m not stupid. I figured something was up. Why do you think I gave you two the room?” Zayn pulled his knees to his chest, resting his arms on them.

“Yeah, but don’t say anything… I don’t know, it’s still kind of…new.” Zayn saw Matthew blush for the first time, his cheeks slightly red as he avoided looking at him. Zayn chuckled, amused by the sight, and decided to drop the conversation.

“Just be careful. Liam’s more sensitive than us…” Matthew nodded, finally meeting Zayn’s gaze, squinting against the sun. He already seemed aware of Liam’s personality, perhaps why he was treading lightly.

“You’re more sensitive than he is; you just don’t show it.” Matthew observed him for a moment before getting up and heading toward the lounge chair next to Liam, who was napping with a book open on his face.

Zayn spiraled into his thoughts after that comment. He had always considered sensitivity a double-edged sword, both a superpower and a curse.

While it helped him understand others, made him more empathetic, and allowed him to express himself better through art, it also meant he felt everything too deeply. Every emotion that might seem trivial to others was amplified in his body and mind.

“Hi! I’m Hussain! What are you drawing?” A sudden shadow darkened Zayn’s notebook, and a bright voice snapped him back to reality. He looked up to find a boy about seven years old wearing a Spider-Man swimsuit.

“Hi, I’m Zayn… I’m drawing a superhero,” Zayn replied with a smile, showing the boy his sketch. The child sat cross-legged in the sand, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Do you like it?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, showing a gap-toothed grin. Zayn chuckled, amused by his reaction.

“I like drawing too, but my dad says it’s pointless,” Hussain said with a hint of sadness in his voice. Zayn shook his head, noticing the disappointment in the boy’s eyes.

“That’s not true. If you like drawing, you should do it as much as you want,” Zayn replied, recalling his own childhood spent sketching in his room, with his mother begging him to come out and eat. As he spoke, he tore a page from his notebook and handed it to Hussain, who accepted it with glee.

“He looks like you…” a soft voice said beside him. Louis, sitting on a lounge chair, was watching the scene. Zayn noticed that the boy’s dark hair and complexion were indeed similar to his own, and even his accent reminded him of Doncaster.

“There you are, Hussain. Sorry if he’s bothering you!” A blonde woman, looking worried, crouched next to the boy, stroking his head.

“No, don’t worry. He was just curious about my drawing,” Zayn replied with a smile, trying to reassure her. The woman gave him a look that was equal parts relief and mistrust, perhaps put off by Zayn’s tattoos. She watched as he gently pried Hussain away from the sketch he didn’t want to leave behind.

“Okay, I’ll call your dad now,” the woman said, visibly exhausted, as she walked away. Zayn looked at the boy’s drawing of Spider-Man, impressed by how good it was for his age.

“You’re really talented,” Zayn commented, making the boy giggle with joy.

Louis, still sitting on the lounge chair, watched the scene, while Zayn glanced back at him. His face was weary, a hint of concern in his expression. Suddenly, a low voice broke through the beach’s noise.

Zayn, holding his breath, slowly looked up, trying to confirm what he was thinking.

“Baba?” he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. The figure in front of him lowered his head, revealing a face Zayn hadn’t seen in years. It was as if time had stopped, but not in the comforting way one might expect from a family reunion. Memories of a painful childhood, marked by impossible expectations and harsh words, came flooding back.

The man looked at him with a mix of recognition and coldness.

“Zayn?” he said, his voice laced with surprise but devoid of warmth. The past seemed to resurface in that moment, and Zayn felt a lump form in his throat.

Chapter Text

LOUIS

Zayn remained still, paralyzed by a wave of emotions he couldn’t control. The man in front of him greeted Louis, also visibly uncomfortable. Their relationship had never been the best, and over the years, it had completely deteriorated. Louis remembered a different man, young and vigorous, who now showed the signs of time but still held onto his charm. It was inevitable that Louis thought back to those times as a teenager when he would meet that man at Zayn’s house, and the way he would blush.

“Hi, Louis.” said Yaser, his voice low and controlled, as he shook his hand in a formal gesture. “I heard about your mother. My condolences. How are you?”

Louis gave a slight smile, while Zayn stood up next to him. The air seemed to grow denser, almost suffocating, and Louis felt the tension flowing between them.

“Hi, Yaser.” Louis’ hands trembled slightly, despite his efforts to keep them steady. He wasn’t used to receiving condolences, and every time someone mentioned his loss, it felt like a direct blow to the heart, reminding him of the harsh reality: his mother was gone.

“It’s been hard…” he continued, his voice breaking just a little, “because it happened suddenly… but you move on, somehow.” As he spoke, his gaze wandered to the sand, avoiding Yaser’s eyes.

Yaser nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave Louis. Meanwhile, Louis cast a quick glance at Zayn, who remained silent next to him. He could sense the anger his friend was trying to suppress; his jaw was clenched, fists balled, and that silence, heavy with unspoken words.

“The death of a parent is always difficult to face…” Yaser said with a calmness that almost seemed like a challenge, “unfortunately, it’s one of the few certainties in life.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing every word before speaking. “And you, what are you doing now? Studying, working?” he asked.

Louis felt trapped. Answering seemed wrong, yet ignoring the question would have been rude. “Both, actually.” he replied at last, forcing a neutral tone. “I’ll graduate in September, in English literature.” His gaze dropped again, staring at the grains of sand between his feet, as if he could hide from the oppressive conversation.

“Good!” Yaser commented with a nod of approval. Then, his eyes shifted to Zayn. “And you, Zayn? How’s it going?”

Zayn nodded quickly, a strained smile, almost a grimace. “Everything’s fine, as always.” he replied, but the tension in his voice was palpable. His dark glasses hid his eyes, but Louis knew that behind those lenses was silent anger.

“Alright.” Yaser nodded again, as if he had already lost interest in the conversation. He took Hussain’s hand, who had remained silent up until then, watching the adults. “Have fun!” he exclaimed before turning and walking away, with the little one waving goodbye, unaware of the tension that had built up among the adults.

Zayn responded to Hussain’s wave with a quick gesture, but as soon as his father walked away, he grabbed his t-shirt and started walking quickly, as if he had to escape something unbearable.

“Zay—…” Louis tried to stop him, but the words died on his lips. Zayn had already put on his t-shirt and was heading quickly away from the beach, his steps determined, almost furious.

“Maybe it’s better to leave him alone for a bit…” Harry whispered, appearing behind Louis like an anchor of stability. He gently took his hand, and Louis clung to that grip, finding comfort in that simple gesture. He sighed, resigned, realizing that right now, there was nothing he could do to help his friend. Not now, not like this.

He lay down next to his boyfriend on the lounge chair, closed his eyes, and tried to slow his breathing, which had become short and irregular. He felt Harry’s caresses on his arms, and gradually the tension began to ease. But his mind kept wandering, worried about Zayn. That unspoken anger, that repressed pain… Louis knew that sooner or later, it would all explode.

LIAM

“Don’t you think he’s been gone too long?” Liam whispered, moving closer to Matthew, who was playing beach paddle with Niall. Matthew paused for a moment, looking at Liam carefully. The sea breeze blew his hair, briefly covering his green eyes. Liam tried to ignore the chill of worry that crept down his spine. He had seen Zayn talking to Louis and a man he assumed was his father. Louis had confirmed it shortly after. Now, Zayn seemed to have disappeared from the beach.

“Do you want to go look for him?” Matthew replied, furrowing his brow. He moved closer to Liam, gently brushing aside a lock of hair that had blown in front of his eyes. That intimate gesture made Liam smile slightly. He couldn’t help but think that Matthew was incredibly handsome, especially in that moment, so close.

“Yeah, will you come with me?” Liam asked, and Matthew nodded. They began searching through the rows of umbrellas, but Zayn was nowhere to be found. Not even the bartender had seen him. They ventured along the promenade, but Zayn wasn’t responding to texts, and calls wouldn’t even go through. Maybe his phone was dead, Liam thought with a resigned sigh. He kept looking around, hoping to spot a familiar figure. Mykonos, in August, was a sea of people; spotting him would be nearly impossible.

“Wait, come here!” Matthew suddenly said, taking Liam’s hand without thinking. Liam felt a wave of warmth rise up his arm, as if a fire had ignited inside him. Matthew pulled him forward, determined.

They had met because of Zayn, and after some conversations, they had discovered a connection they couldn’t ignore, like they already knew each other. They had exchanged more and more messages, and then started seeing each other alone. It was Matthew who confessed first, one evening a few weeks ago, after a group outing.

Matthew had offered Liam a ride, and while waiting for Matthew to finish his cigarette, Liam had watched him, mesmerized by the calm with which the other seemed to face everything. Matthew’s hair, slightly flattened from the July heat, and his languid eyes that watched Liam attentively as he told a story from his internship, were images that had been etched in his mind.

Matthew’s perfectly groomed beard was a detail Liam longed to touch every time he came a little too close. He realized he was looking at him differently than anyone else; his presence never tired him, in fact, it filled him with an energy he couldn’t explain. Yet, despite everything, Liam had tried to convince himself that this crush would pass, especially since Matthew had always been described by their friends as a Casanova. He couldn’t hope that Matthew would notice him, with a line of admirers waiting for him.

But that evening, Matthew had shaken all his convictions. “Liam…” he had started, interrupting the flow of Liam’s thoughts, “I don’t know how to say this, I’m not good at these things, but I’ve realized you’re more than just a friend to me.” His voice, usually confident, betrayed an unusual uncertainty.

Liam held his breath, his heart pounding. Was Matthew really confessing? All those signs, those small gestures that Liam had interpreted as attention, were they real?

“… and I can’t stop smiling when I’m with you,” Matthew concluded, hands in his pockets, shifting slightly from one foot to the other, an obvious sign of discomfort.

“For not being good at it, you did great,” Liam replied, a wide smile lighting up his face. Then he nodded, adding sincerely: “I like you a lot too, Matt…”

Matthew, usually so confident, lowered his gaze, cheeks flushed, and a shy smile that Liam found incredibly endearing. From that moment on, they started seeing each other more and more, and every small gesture from Matthew made Liam’s heart do somersaults, like a teenager with his first crush.

“It looks like him.” Matthew said, interrupting Liam’s thoughts. He pointed to a figure sitting on a swing across the street. Liam nodded, but his gaze lingered once more on their intertwined hands.

“Oh, sorry…” Matt was about to let go of Liam’s hand, but Liam tightened his grip, weaving his fingers through his, gently trapping it. Without saying anything, Liam pulled him across the street. It felt like he was walking on air.

It was really Zayn, the one on the swing. He was gently swaying, his feet barely touching the ground, a cigarette between his lips, his head resting on the chains, as if he wanted to hide from the world.

“Hey, you made us worry…” Matthew scolded him as they reached him. Zayn didn’t answer immediately, continuing to sway slowly, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but not the aura of sadness that seemed to envelop him.

“Sorry, it’s dead…” he finally said, lifting his phone to show them, his voice hoarse and tired. “I was going to come back soon anyway,” he added, but Liam couldn’t help but notice the tremor in his voice. He was convinced Zayn had been crying.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry!” His friend said, using a trivial excuse to mask his discomfort. Without waiting for a response, he got up from the swing and started walking toward the beach, his steps slow but determined. Liam and Matthew followed him, wordlessly, but with a silent understanding that connected them in that moment. Despite everything, they were there, together, ready to support each other.

After changing and washing up, they sat at the table, Matthew between him and Zayn, Louis and Harry across from them while Niall, at the head of the table, had cooked roast chicken, which smelled amazing. Liam took some salad from the center while Harry sat across from him. It seemed like they hadn’t really spoken to each other in months, exchanging only a few words of circumstance. Harry no longer confided in him, and Liam was upset at that. His friend seemed to be drifting further away every day, preferring the company of his boyfriend and Niall. He didn’t know why, maybe it was just the natural flow of things. By now, he felt closer to Zayn and Matthew, but he was always happy to spend time with all his friends, because, despite the different relationships with each of them, he knew they would always be there when needed.

“Niall, the chicken is spectacular!” Louis exclaimed, smiling and giving him a look while Niall proudly boasted about his culinary skills, a cheerful expression on his face that Liam hadn’t seen in a long time.

Louis had been a sunny person since the first time he met him, one of those who radiates positive energy wherever they go, a contagious smile that lights up any room and puts everyone at ease. It wasn’t hard to see why someone like Harry had fallen in love with him. Harry, with his head often in the clouds and a certain detachment from reality, had found in Louis a safe anchor that brought him back down to earth. At the same time, Louis had found in Harry the lightness and adventure he perhaps lacked, creating a perfect balance between them.

But even more so, Liam could understand why Zayn was in love with Louis. At first, when Zayn had confessed it to him, Liam had struggled to believe it, but looking back, it all made sense. Louis had those qualities that fit perfectly with Zayn’s more reserved and reflective nature. It was enough to watch how Zayn transformed in Louis’ presence: his usually furrowed expression softened, his words became gentler, and his whole being seemed to light up.

Yet, when Louis had gone through that period of deep sadness and apathy, his light had dimmed. His sunny personality seemed extinguished, and Louis didn’t seem like himself anymore. Liam had done his best to be there for him, to offer support, but he knew well that, among the people Louis trusted most, he wasn’t at the top of the list. This made him feel a little powerless, but aware that he had different relationships with every one of his friends.

What brought him back to reality was Matthew, who was filling his empty wine glass, winking at him, and Liam felt his ears go hot. He hated the effect Matthew had on him, amplified by the fact that this night would be the first spent in the same bed. Instinctively, he reached out and took Matthew’s hand under the table, Matthew’s eyes never leaving his, and Liam had forgotten how to breathe.

Liam jolted slightly when Louis spoke. “Are you guys going to tell us something?”

The guy was looking at them with a knowing smile, almost as if he already knew the answer. Liam and Matthew weren’t planning to hide anything, but they preferred to maintain a certain discretion, as they didn’t consider themselves an official couple yet. Matthew chuckled awkwardly, while Liam noticed out of the corner of his eye that Zayn was smiling in their direction.

“Yeah, we’re sort of… dating?” Matthew replied with a tone that betrayed a slight hesitation but also showed a sense of calm. Liam immediately nodded, recognizing that this was the right way to describe what they were experiencing. Louis smiled even wider, while Matthew squeezed Liam’s hand under the table, as if seeking reassurance. Louis and Niall, visibly happy for them, began asking curious questions: how long had they been seeing each other, how did they realize there was something more between them.

But just as the atmosphere had become light and pleasant, Harry, with a glass of wine in hand, interrupted them.

“Sorry Liam, if the question is intrusive, but doesn’t it bother you that Zayn and Matthew were intimate until like… a few months ago?”

Silence.

The smiles disappeared like snow in the sun.

“Harry…” Louis scolded him, nervously running a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

“As if we all didn’t already know it here.” Harry retorted with a shrug, his face impassive, as if he didn’t care at all about hurting those in front of him. Liam knew that there was bad blood between Harry and Zayn, but with those words, Harry was striking not only Zayn but also Liam.

Liam had never doubted Zayn and Matthew’s loyalty. He knew their relationship had ended a while ago, and that Zayn had lost interest in Matthew some time ago. But most of all, Liam trusted both of them completely.

“It’s one thing if it were someone outside your circle, but those two are always together, even when you’re not around.” Harry continued, adding fuel to the fire.

Louis, exasperated, shook his arm, whispering, “Enough, stop.”

Liam noticed Matthew’s face stiffen, but the guy said nothing. Even Zayn, far enough away to be out of his sight, didn’t say a word.

“No, it doesn’t bother me. I trust Zayn and I trust Matthew. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t make sense to even start this thing.” Liam replied, keeping his tone calm but firm. Louis nodded, visibly relieved by Liam’s response, while Niall commented with a “Makes sense.” offering a small encouragement that made Liam sigh with relief.

“Congratulations, I couldn’t do it. I’d ask him to stop talking to him right away if he wanted to be with me, but I admire your trust, Liam…” Harry replied with a sarcastic smile, before taking a sip of wine.

Suddenly, the loud screech of a chair being abruptly moved interrupted the conversation. Zayn stood up and left without saying a word, heading inside the house. Louis followed him with his gaze, then stood up, calling him in a worried tone, ready to follow him.

“And where are you going?” Harry asked, eyeing his boyfriend from head to toe with a look that brooked no argument. Louis stopped, as if frozen. He tried to say something, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out. Eventually, he lowered his head and sat back down, a gesture that surprised and confused Liam.

“Why should I? Zayn and Matthew have been friends since before I knew them. I’d feel bad if they distanced themselves because of me!” Liam replied, starting to lose patience. Harry didn’t seem ready to back down; he had already made Zayn get up, and now he kept planting doubts.

“Besides their ‘friendship,’ the fact that Matthew keeps receiving messages throughout dinner…” Harry made air quotes with his fingers, lowering his gaze to Matthew’s phone next to his plate, which had just vibrated. “…doesn’t seem that normal to me. I’m telling you this because I care about you, Liam, nothing else.”

Liam remained silent for a few seconds, only now realizing that Matthew’s phone had received several notifications during dinner. Without saying a word, Matthew let go of Liam’s hand, making his eyes widen. Was he hiding something?

The older man grabbed the phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Liam with a decisive gesture.

“I have nothing to hide. If you have doubts, check for yourself.” Matthew’s eyes were fixed on Liam, as if Harry’s opinion didn’t matter at all to him; he didn’t have to prove anything to him. Liam was about to say something, but Matthew blocked him, continuing to speak.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to check on Zayn, since no one here seems to fucking care.” Matthew said, standing up from the table. Liam sensed those words were directed at Louis.

“As expected…” Harry muttered with a sarcastic expression, while Matthew headed toward the house. Liam noticed the other man stop for a moment, having heard the comment, but he didn’t react and kept walking.

Liam lowered his gaze to Matthew’s phone, now in front of him. There were many notifications, but no open chats. Matthew only responded to messages from a few people; Liam and Zayn were at the top of the list, while the rest were work contacts, like lawyers and accountants. Liam immediately closed the phone; he didn’t need further proof. His trust in Matthew remained intact.

“Harry, I care about you, but sometimes you can really be an asshole.” Liam snapped, standing up and heading toward the house. He needed to talk to Zayn and Matthew, reassure them that his opinion of them had never changed.

“You’ve gone too far…” Liam heard Niall say as he crossed the hallway and found Matthew standing by the bathroom door.

Liam handed the phone to Matthew, but the usual confident and calm expression on the other’s face was gone, replaced by an expression that mixed anger and irritation. Liam felt uncomfortable, a chill running down his spine.

“There was no need, I trust you.”  Liam said, trying to stay calm as Matthew took the phone from his hands.

Matthew stared at him, his face marked by clear tension. “That’s not true, I saw you change your expression. Harry planted doubts in your head.” he retorted with a note of bitterness, bringing his index and middle fingers to Liam’s temple, a gesture that made him flinch.

Liam rolled his eyes, irritated. Did he really think that just a few words from Harry would make him waver? “Matthew, I don’t give a damn about what Harry says,” he replied, stepping closer and placing his hands on the other’s broad shoulders, trying to calm him down.

Matthew sighed, gesturing with a tilt of his head toward the bathroom door in front of them. “Zayn’s in there. He won’t let me in.” he said, his voice now softer but filled with concern.

Liam nodded and approached the door, knocking gently on the white wood. “Zayn, it’s me, Liam. Can I come in?” he asked, but received no response. He tried to turn the handle, but the door was locked.

He paused for a moment, thinking about how to convince him to open. It was clear that Zayn was shaken, probably feeling guilty or, worse, betrayed. Liam thought back to the moment when Zayn had stood up from the table, right after Harry had suggested he should leave. Maybe he needed to feel accepted, reassured.

“Come on, Zayn… I just want to talk about how much of an idiot Harry is!” he said with an ironic smile, resting a hand on the door. He hoped the irony would lighten the tension and show Zayn that there was no intention to exclude him; on the contrary, he wanted him to feel part of their lives.

He heard the click of keys turning in the lock and smiled. He turned to look at Matthew, who was now watching him with a softer gaze, the earlier coldness gone.

Liam opened the door and found Zayn sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his shoulders hunched and his knees nervously bouncing. Zayn’s gaze was down, almost lost, and Liam felt a wave of sadness wash over him.

Liam was overwhelmed with emotion when Zayn, with a broken voice, whispered a simple but meaningful “I’m sorry…” The tone of his friend was so filled with pain that it hurt even just to hear it. Liam remained silent for a moment, letting the meaning of those words sink in. He wasn’t sure what Zayn was apologizing for: for the chaos Harry had stirred, for the past that connected him to Matthew, or perhaps for a pain he never wanted to cause.

For a moment, Liam remained silent, letting the weight of those words wash over him. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought that Zayn might consider himself an obstacle, a complication in their life. He couldn’t let Zayn, one of the people he cared most about, feel that way.

He slowly approached, trying not to scare him or make him feel more uncomfortable. Every step toward him was filled with affection and understanding. “Zayn,” he said softly, kneeling in front of him to look him in the eyes, “you have nothing to apologize for.”

Zayn’s silence, the way he avoided his gaze, spoke of the pain he was feeling. Liam, seeing all the vulnerability and anguish hidden behind that apology, felt a wave of protection and affection for his friend. Liam knew he had to do more to make him understand how important he was, how much their friendship meant to him.

At that moment, Matthew approached them, his expression still stern from the episode that had shaken them, but full of concern for Zayn. He placed a hand on the dark-haired guy’s shoulder, trying to offer comfort. “Zayn,” he said reassuringly, “you’re not the problem, and you never have been. If anyone should feel sorry, it’s Harry, not you.”

Liam nodded, feeling that Matthew had perfectly understood the point. “The truth,” he continued, “is that I trust you, Zayn. And Matthew trusts you. Nothing Harry said can change that. I care about you, no matter what happened. I’ll never let something like this tear us apart.”

Zayn looked up, and for a moment, Liam could see the vulnerability hiding behind that strong facade. There was still pain in his eyes, but it seemed like a small part of the burden he carried had been lightened by their words. Matthew gave him a light pat on the shoulder, adding with a slightly forced smile: “And besides, Harry has always been a dick, you know that. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

Zayn managed a weak smile, finally finding the strength to meet Liam’s gaze. “Thanks…” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m really sorry for putting you in this situation.”

Liam shook his head, determined not to let Zayn take the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. “You don’t have to apologize, Zayn. It’s not your fault Harry decided to turn every night into a drama.”

The tension in the room began to melt, and Liam decided to lighten the mood further. “You know,” he said with a mischievous smile, “maybe we should think about leaving Harry at home next time. It could make a big difference, like having a peaceful evening.”

Zayn gave a genuine smile, the first one since they had entered the bathroom. Liam noticed how Zayn’s body seemed to relax visibly, the tense muscles in his shoulders and arms finally loosening. The tight expression on his face had softened, and even his posture was less stiff. It seemed like Liam’s words had swept away some of the weight that had been pressing on him.

Zayn raised one corner of his mouth into a real smile, the first since they had entered the bathroom. “Remind me, why do we invite Harry?” he asked, casting an ironic look at Matthew.

Matthew became serious, “Well, he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, or rather, ‘the guy you have a crush on’’s boyfriend.”

Zayn rolled his eyes with a smile. “Ah, right. Always nice to be Zayn, guys. No drama at all.”

Liam burst into laughter, watching how Zayn seemed much more at ease now, the worries on his face gone. The warmth of their affection for each other outweighed any trace of tension. “Don’t ever change, please!” he said, standing up and offering a hand to Zayn to help him get up.

Chapter Text

It was already the evening of the second day, and since Zayn had met his father and the scene with Harry at the table, the coldness between him and Louis was palpable. They exchanged only furtive glances, with Louis always seeming on the verge of speaking but stopping at the last moment.

Despite the tense atmosphere, Zayn had decided not to dwell on it and to enjoy the vacation with his friends. That evening, they went to a nightclub. The night was fun and crowded, and Zayn had managed to distract himself easily.

“Disgusting…” he commented as he approached the couch where Matthew and Liam were kissing, making the two laugh. Matthew wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans, with Liam sitting on his lap, wearing a shirt that left little to the imagination.

“Got a condom to lend me?” he asked nonchalantly before drinking from the glass he had just bought.

“To lend, as in, you’ll give it back?” Liam commented as Matthew pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his pants to check.

“Disgusting, again!” Matthew chuckled in response, shaking his head as he checked the compartments of the wallet. Liam touched his pockets with his hands.

“I don’t have one, do you?” the older one asked the other, who shook his head. Zayn let out a groan. Boyfriends without condoms, he couldn’t believe it.

“Well, doesn’t he have one?” Liam replied. Zayn rolled his eyes; it was clear they thought it was obvious he would spend the night with a man. He was about to respond when he felt a hand slam into his chest. He looked down at the tattooed hand pressing a square package against his sternum. He took it before turning around and seeing Louis in his black tank top walking away from him. He didn’t want to think or even ask himself why Louis had a condom with him. Zayn furrowed his brows in surprise before returning his attention to the couple in front of him.

“He’s got it, not you guys, shame on you!” he pointed at them both with the package between his index and middle fingers, implying that Louis was demisexual while the two in front of them he was convinced they had sex a lot. Liam shook his head, amused. Zayn swallowed the clear liquid in his glass, then left it on the table before finishing the conversation.

“And anyway, it’s a SHE, see you tomorrow!” he winked at the two who were left a bit stunned,before stuffing the package in his pocket and walking away toward the bar, where the girl was waiting for him. He had to admit it. It bothered him a bit that his friends assumed he would sleep with a man. He had always clearly stated that he was bisexual. Sure, he found men more attractive than women, but those were just preferences. In moments like this, he realizes how subtle discrimination existed even within the queer community, hidden beneath the surface.

“Oh, there you are!” the blonde girl in front of him was handing him a glass full of red liquid, holding hers with the other hand.

“Trying to get me drunk?” Zayn chuckled, gladly accepting the glass and bringing the straw to his lips. The girl in front of him was now laughing, shaking her head.

“Well, maybe it would be easier to persuade you to stay with me tonight!” she replied, raising her eyebrows and widening her bright blue eyes, which sparkled under the glittery makeup and strobe lights of the nightclub. Zayn smiled, moistening his lips before leaning closer to Nora’s ear.

“You’ve already convinced me…” he whispered, trying to be heard over the loud music. Zayn immediately noticed Louis, just a little further away, leaning on the same counter, waiting for his drink. Louis’s serious expression didn’t go unnoticed, but instead of looking away, Zayn decided to face him, without hesitation. Louis’s eyes were fixed on him, almost as if trying to decipher every movement he made.

With a smirk on his lips, Zayn leaned closer to the girl beside him, gently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before starting to place slow, deliberate kisses on her neck. It was a calculated move, a way to test Louis, to see how long he would stay and watch. And Louis didn’t look away, not for a second.

Zayn could feel the tension in the air, a tension that fed on the silent and intense exchange of glances. He continued pressing his lips to the girl’s skin, but his mind was focused only on Louis. He felt a mix of excitement and challenge, knowing that every kiss, every movement, was being watched by those dark, serious eyes.

Then, suddenly, Harry’s presence broke the moment. Zayn saw Louis being distracted as his boyfriend approached him, speaking in a cheerful tone. Zayn took the opportunity to leave the counter unnoticed and walk away with the girl, knowing Louis would try to find his gaze again, but he wouldn’t be there.

The next day, he was tired. He just wanted to sleep. The girl had left him a few meters away. He was still wearing the clothes from the night before and was sure he didn’t look good. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as Niall opened the gate to let him in. Matthew, Liam, and Louis were sitting outside, having breakfast.

“Look who had a nice walk of shame!” Matthew exclaimed, teasing Zayn as he entered the house, while Liam laughed heartily beside him. Zayn grabbed a cup from the kitchen and sat at the table in front of the two, throwing a furtive glance at Louis, who was sitting a few chairs away. When Louis quickly looked down, Zayn felt a small pang in his stomach, an indefinable sensation that made its way through the fatigue.

“I slept for two hours…” Zayn complained, rubbing his face still marked by the previous night. He took the carton of milk from the center of the table and poured it into his cup carelessly. When his phone vibrated on the table, he didn’t even have time to read it before Liam snatched it from his hands with a mischievous grin.

“Nora, huh? Is that her?” he asked while reading the message. Zayn nodded with a tired groan, silently begging him to give it back. He had no strength to do anything other than put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“Three?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow, his expression a mix of mischievous and surprise. Matthew, next to him, an arm over the brunette’s shoulders, peeked at the phone with a curious look but kept a calmer demeanor. Zayn felt a mix of confusion and exhaustion envelop him.

“Three what?” he asked, tilting his head, still feeling heavy from lack of sleep. Luckily, as he ate, he slowly began to feel his energy return.

“Three times?” Liam replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he continued to watch the screen.

Zayn furrowed his brow, still not fully awake.

“What did she write me?” he asked, trying to grab the phone as he shifted slightly in his chair.

“You shouldn’t read these things,” he huffed, quickly replying to Nora’s message before setting the phone back on the table.

“Okay, sorry…” Liam apologized, raising his hands in surrender, then resting his head on Matthew’s shoulder affectionately. “…and anyway, you’ll probably never see her again, so no need to act like that.”

He added, pouting exaggeratedly while Matthew chuckled, amused by the situation, gently rubbed Liam’s shoulder. Zayn rolled his eyes. Although Liam could be touchy, he was right; after this vacation, he probably wouldn’t see Nora again, who wasn’t even English, but French.

“She and her friends are probably already talking about your di—” Liam was continuing, but Zayn stopped him, waving his hands in front of him with an exasperated expression.

“Please!” he begged, causing both his friends to burst into loud laughter. He felt his head throbbing with exhaustion; if he closed his eyes, all he could see was a bed and a pillow. He took another spoonful of cereal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Louis get up from the end of the table and leave without saying a word.

Suddenly, he felt hands on his shoulders, beginning to massage them with slow movements. He looked up and found Niall behind him.

“Niall, if you keep doing this, I’ll fall asleep here…” he murmured quietly, closing his eyes and letting his head slowly fall against the blonde’s stomach, who was laughing lightly.

“How did it go last night?” Niall asked curiously. Zayn took a few seconds to process the question, his mind still foggy from sleep, Niall removed his hands from his shoulders.

“Everything went fine… I think some of them are really cute, maybe you will like them.” Zayn said, reopening his eyes and yawning while covering his mouth. Niall sat next to him, his usual relaxed smile, and Zayn felt a sudden sense of relief. With Niall, he always felt comfortable.

“Do they have a house like ours?” Matthew asked, while Liam slowly caressed his beard. Zayn nodded in response, watching the scene with some curiosity. There was something intimate in the way Liam and Matthew interacted. That kind of connection made him wish, even just for a moment, that he had something similar.

“Yeah, it’s like four or five girls, and I saw some guys too… but I don’t know if they’re on vacation together or just… stayed for the night?” he said, trying to remember the details of the previous night. There was a bit of confusion in his mind, a mix of tiredness and slight disorientation.

“I was forgetting!” he exclaimed, interrupting his thoughts as he pointed to Liam and Matthew with his finger, glaring at them but with a playful grin. “While you guys make fun of me…” he continued, pulling a pre-rolled joint out of his pocket and placing it on the table. In an instant, Matthew had grabbed it and tucked it behind his ear with a satisfied smile.

“…And tomorrow we’re invited to a boat party.” Zayn smiled as his friends cheered like teenagers, and for a moment, he felt lighter. The thought of the party and the upcoming fun seemed to push away the shadows lingering in his mind.

“Thanks, Zayn. Your sacrifice will be rewarded.” Niall said, patting him on the shoulder, making everyone laugh.

Zayn stood up from the table with the others, passed his bowl to Liam, who was cleaning everything in the sink, and started unbuttoning the few remaining buttons of his light blue shirt, ready to retreat to his room. But just then, he furrowed his brow when he heard voices arguing animatedly from one of the rooms. He wasn’t the only one to notice; Liam immediately spotted it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Liam commented sarcastically, wrapping his arms around Zayn in a sort of hug. Zayn felt the warmth of Liam against him, a contact that gave him comfort.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” Zayn made a fake distressed expression, making Matthew and Liam burst out laughing. As they laughed together, Zayn felt the heaviness of the situation with Louis lighten a little. With his friends, everything seemed simpler, as if the problems could be put aside, at least for a moment.

As they walked toward the rooms, Liam stayed close to him, and Zayn absentmindedly stroked his arms while Liam rested his chin on his shoulder. Zayn realized that this closeness made him feel good, even though a small knot of uncertainty remained. It seemed like he was searching for something, a sense of belonging or perhaps intimacy, that he still couldn’t define.

“You stink, you need a shower…” Liam commented without showing any intention of pulling away. The background voices continued to argue, a reminder that outside of their little circle, there were other things troubling him.

“I know… will you join me later?” Zayn joked, turning his head toward him with his usual provocative grin, his tongue between his teeth.

“In the shower? I’ll think about it…” Liam replied, lowering his voice and accepting the challenge. Zayn noticed that Matthew, strangely silent, was watching them with a serious expression he had never seen before. Matthew’s eyes moved from Liam’s hands on Zayn’s chest to their heads close together, as if he was trying to decipher something.

“Liam, what do you think jealousy looks like? Because I think Matthew’s face is pretty close…” Zayn whispered, a playful smile on his lips. Liam, quickly catching the provocation, glanced at Matthew and started chuckling.

Matthew slowly approached, almost as if he was giving Zayn time to escape. And Zayn, laughing, didn’t miss the chance to dart away quickly.

“Good job, you got it!” Matthew commented with a smile. He wasn’t really angry, but Zayn swore he saw a shadow of jealousy in his eyes. Maybe it was just a game, but that moment left Zayn with a strange feeling. Before walking away, he gave Matthew the middle finger, who, in the meantime, turned to Liam and asked, “Who are you going in the shower with?”

Zayn watched them as they approached and kissed. A scene that should have felt familiar but hit him differently. He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away, and went into the bathroom for a hot shower. As the water ran over his skin, he thought about how well Matthew and Liam made a couple. He wondered if he would ever find something like that for himself, but then let the thought go, allowing the warmth of the water to wash away all traces of doubt and uncertainty.

LOUIS

Louis felt trapped in a tangle of emotions he couldn’t untangle. After spending the entire day in silence and anger with Harry, he found himself at a beach bar, trying to find some peace. The place was really cute, with fairy lights attached to the wooden ceiling, creating a relaxed, summery atmosphere. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore and the soft music from the bar should have helped him unwind, but his thoughts kept tormenting him.

He sat with a Coca-Cola in hand, trying to focus on the view. Harry was sitting next to him, but there was a palpable distance between them, an invisible barrier caused by the resentment he had built up during the day. In front of him were Niall and Zayn, and just the thought of lifting his gaze to meet Zayn’s made him feel even more uncomfortable.

The memory of the previous night at the club was still vivid in his mind. That moment when his eyes had met Zayn’s while he was slowly kissing that girl’s neck had caught him off guard. He had felt a tightness in his chest, something complicated he had experienced years ago with him. That intense eye contact with Zayn had shaken him, making him feel exposed, as if Zayn had been able to see inside him, to scrutinize something Louis himself wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Now, sitting at the table with him, he found himself glancing furtively in his direction every now and then. Zayn seemed immersed in conversation with Niall. The way Zayn smiled, relaxed and confident, irritated him, but there was also something magnetic about him, something that made Louis look back despite the discomfort.

“Are you having fun?” Harry’s low voice interrupted his thoughts. Louis turned toward him, trying to hide his thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. But his gaze immediately returned to Zayn, drawn by a force he couldn’t control.

Zayn, almost sensing his attention, slowly lifted his gaze, and for a brief moment, their eyes met again. Louis felt overwhelmed by a wave of conflicting emotions. He forced himself to look away, returning to stare at his glass, but he could still feel Zayn’s gaze on him, like a fire he couldn’t extinguish.

As Louis continued to struggle with the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings flooding his mind, Liam and Matthew, who had disappeared half an hour ago, returned to the table with knowing smiles. “Guys,” Liam called, “wanna play foosball? Louis, come join?” The suggestion seemed innocent enough; surely Liam had called him because Louis loved soccer, but it immediately struck him in the heart.

Foosball was their game. He and Zayn had always teamed up, ever since school. They were an unbeatable pair, almost naturally synchronized, as if they always knew exactly what the other would do. It was one of the few moments when Louis could fully relax, have fun without any worries, simply enjoying his best friend’s company. But now, with everything that had happened, the idea of playing together seemed harder than he ever imagined.

Despite the underlying sadness, Louis nodded slowly, accepting the challenge. He stood up from the table, trying to ignore the look Zayn gave him. For a moment, he hoped Zayn would get up and join him, like always.

But instead, it was Niall who moved. With his usual energy, he stood beside Louis, ready to play. “You and me against Liam and Matthew, what do you think?” the blonde asked enthusiastically, as some guys around them watched them play while chatting with their friends.

Louis tried to smile, even though he felt a tightness in his chest. “Okay,” he replied, trying to sound more cheerful than he really felt. It felt strange playing without Zayn by his side, but maybe it was for the best. At least for now.

With Niall ready to play with him, Louis moved toward the foosball table, trying to focus on the game. But as he grabbed the handles and prepared his strategy, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at Zayn, who was still sitting at the table with Harry. The silence between them was palpable, and Louis could sense the tension that had built up between the two. Zayn and Harry had never really gotten along, and that night, it seemed particularly evident. Maybe Zayn had heard them argue.

As the game began, Louis tried to let go. Niall, as always, was a contagious source of energy, encouraging Louis and trying to keep the mood light. But it wasn’t the same. There was no sync, no camaraderie that he and Zayn had always shared. And it made him nervous, almost clumsy in his movements.

It was as if everything that night was in the wrong place, as if something had irreparably changed. And Louis couldn’t shake the thought that all of this was, in part, his fault. On one hand, there was Harry and his constant work; he couldn’t enjoy an afternoon with him in peace, always having a call to make or emails to respond to. He understood that this was the most important phase in his career, he was about to sign a record deal, it was important, but that had to be their first holidays together.

On the other hand, there was Zayn, whom he hadn’t spoken to in days, partly because of Harry, with whom it felt like walking on eggshells every time he approached the dark-haired man. He didn’t want to argue any more than they already did. And then there was the fact that he didn’t know exactly what to say to him. After the meeting with his father, dinner, the club situation, he had so many things built up that he didn’t know where to start. He knew he was messing up, but every time he tried to speak to him, the words died in his mouth.

After a few games, Niall began to show signs of fatigue, loosening his grip on the handles and sighing lightly. “Guys, I think I’m out of shape,” he chuckled. “I’m dead tired, I think it’s better if I stop here.”

“How about a tournament?” suggested one of the guys around them, smiling. He introduced himself as Lucas, a tall, very blonde guy who must have been Scandinavian, Louis thought.

“What’s the prize?” Matthew insert himself in the conversation as the others discussed the teams. They decided on two free drinks for the winners, but unfortunately, Louis couldn’t drink.

“Louis, you’re the strongest, who do you want to play with?” Liam asked, perhaps expecting him to choose one of them.

Louis looked at him, hesitating for a moment before making a decision.

“Zayn, if he wants to.” he suggested, trying to mask the nervousness in his voice. He didn’t want to admit how much he missed having Zayn by his side at that moment, but he knew they had always been unbeatable together. And maybe, even if just for a moment, they could be again.

Niall nodded with a smile and stepped aside, making room for Zayn. “Come on, Zayn, show these guys how to really play.” he encouraged, trying to make the transition as natural as possible.

Zayn stood up from the table without saying a word, his expression relaxed as he approached the foosball table. Louis felt his heart beat a little faster as Zayn came closer, as if something important were about to happen. But when Zayn gave him a pat on the shoulder and, with a calm gesture, moved him from the attacking position to defense, Louis couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly like when they were kids, when Zayn always preferred attacking and left Louis the job of guarding the goal. That habit, that little ritual, almost felt like a return to simpler, happier times.

Despite the initial nervousness, Louis felt immediately at ease. It was as if everything else had faded away for a moment, leaving only the game and the perfect synergy with Zayn.

Ball after ball, Louis and Zayn played like a well-oiled machine. The two they were challenging, despite their efforts, couldn’t score even a single goal. Every attempt was blocked by Louis’ defense or collided with Zayn’s relentless attack.

“How do you do it?” Liam exclaimed, now resigned, as Lucas shook his head in disbelief. “This isn’t fair, it’s like playing against a computer!”

Zayn smiled for the first time that evening, a real, relaxed smile that lit up his face. “Just years and years of practice.” he replied with a light laugh, looking at Louis with an understanding that didn’t need words.

For a moment, it felt like everything had fallen back into place. As if those moments when they played as kids had the power to erase the tensions, misunderstandings, and bring them back to a time when everything was simpler. Louis felt almost relieved, as if that game had opened a door to the possibility of rebuilding what he thought he had lost.

But despite the crushing victory and the apparent lightness of the moment, Louis knew their problems wouldn’t be solved so easily. However, for those few minutes, he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of having Zayn by his side again, as it had always been, and as, deep down, he hoped it would always be.

After winning the tournament, Matthew, Liam, and Niall began jumping and shouting like fans at a stadium. A spontaneous smile formed on Louis’ face, the kind where his eyes almost disappeared. He felt arms wrap around him, pulling him to the chest, and closed his eyes to the warmth against his back—Zayn, he could recognize him with his eyes closed, his scent and the way he hugged him, tight but never hurting him.

“We need to talk.” Zayn whispered, his warm breath brushing his neck. Louis felt his heart race, beating so hard it seemed to throb in his temples. He nodded without saying a word, his mind already focused on everything that could go wrong in the upcoming conversation.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Harry a few steps away, phone in hand, but his gaze fixed on them. There was something icy in those eyes, a tension Louis could almost touch. Meanwhile, he could feel Zayn’s chest vibrating as he spoke with the others, but the words didn’t really reach his mind, too focused on what was about to happen.

“Can you please leave him alone?” Harry’s voice cut through his thoughts, now standing in front of him, but not talking to him, instead looking directly at Zayn. Harry’s eyes, usually soft and sweet when he spoke to him, now almost scared him, radiating pure anger.

“No.” Zayn replied without hesitation, making Louis’ eyes widen. He looked at both of them for a moment; they seemed about to explode, Harry’s clenched jaw and Zayn’s furrowed brows. Louis felt his breath quicken.

“Zayn, I swear I’ll—” Harry’s threat was interrupted by an arm between them, pushing Harry back.

“Calm down, let’s not make a scene.” Matthew scolded them, now the two were looking at him. Louis felt trapped in a situation with no way out. Harry’s eyes, full of rage and coldness, were fixed on him with such intensity that it felt like they were digging into him, while Zayn, standing by his side, didn’t show any signs of letting go, neither physically nor emotionally. He could feel his heart pounding, as if it might explode from his chest, but he knew he had to stay calm, even though the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.

Matthew, with his usual peacemaker attitude, had placed himself between them, his hands raised in a sign of peace. “Guys, this is neither the time nor the place,” he said firmly but reassuringly. “Let’s talk, but let’s do it civilly.”

Harry took a step back, but his eyes never left Zayn’s. “Civil?” he retorted sarcastically, almost disdainfully. “Civil would be if he stayed away from my boyfriend.” Harry’s words were sharp, and each syllable seemed to strike Zayn where it hurt the most.

When Louis, in a choked voice, said, “Please, stop.” Zayn looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching for a sign of what was going on in Louis’ mind. But he respected his wish and, without saying anything more, walked away slowly. Louis saw him head to the beach and light a cigarette, away from everyone.

Meanwhile, Harry stepped forward, approaching Louis with a suddenly worried expression. There was a mix of hesitation and need in his eyes, as if he were fighting against his own emotions.

“Louis, I have to go back to London tomorrow,” he began, his voice softer than Louis had expected. “I have to sign the contract.”

Louis looked at him, feeling the world tilt slightly beneath him. First, he had been fighting with Zayn, growling like two German Shepherds in front of a prey, and now he was being told he was leaving?

“You’re leaving?” he asked, trying to process the information, but Harry interrupted him.

“It’s not just that,” Harry admitted, looking to the side, avoiding eye contact for a moment. “I’m nervous about leaving you here… because I’m jealous of Zayn.”

Harry’s confession hit Louis like a punch to the stomach. The news that Harry had to leave, mixed with his sudden and raw confession of jealousy, left him speechless. He remained silent, knowing that Harry had been jealous of Zayn, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but for him to admit that he was afraid of leaving him “alone” with Zayn was too much for Louis to process. He returned to the table, staring at his glass in his hands, unable to respond. Thoughts piled up in his mind, but none seemed to clarify what he was really feeling. He watched the others laugh and talk, seemingly unaware of the drama that was consuming Louis from the inside.

Then he saw Zayn return, the smoke from his cigarette still dissipating in the air around him. Zayn approached a group of guys, starting to chat with them, a light smile on his face as if nothing had happened. Louis watched him, his jaw muscles tight as he gripped the glass with force in his hands. He felt a growing discomfort, an emotion he couldn’t quite define, but that burned in his chest. Was it jealousy? Anger? Disappointment? He didn’t know.

Harry came closer to sit next to him, his warm, familiar presence beside him, but Louis couldn’t find any comfort. Instead, he only felt the weight of everything that was happening, a weight that was crushing him more and more.

“Then let’s break up.” Louis finally said, his voice serious and filled with a determination that even surprised him. He turned to look Harry in the eyes, the ones that had once reassured him and made him feel safe.

“If you think that, let’s break up and we’ll see each other in London.”

His words were a challenge, a desperate request for clarity in the midst of emotional chaos. Harry stood there, stunned, his face betraying his inability to process what Louis had just said. He hadn’t expected a response like that, not from Louis, and certainly not with that cold seriousness.

The silence between them grew heavy as the reality of Louis’ words began to take shape. His eyes slowly turned to his best friend, a few meters away, his eyes were already fixed on him.

Chapter Text

ZAYN

He was chatting with the guys he’d played against, trying to distract himself from the earlier argument. Matthew kept rubbing his back, attempting to comfort him. Zayn had decided not to drink so that his friend could, knowing he wouldn’t have to drive later. He sipped from the non-alcoholic drink in his hands, stealing glances at the table where Louis and Harry were having an intense argument.

Louis looked distressed, his hands covering his face, while Harry seemed on the verge of tears, cheeks flushed and lips pouting. Zayn closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to clear his mind. He couldn’t let those two ruin every single day for him.

As he tried to focus on the conversation in front of him, his attention was suddenly drawn to a worrying scene across the bar. Amidst the moving crowd, he spotted a group of girls, including Nora—the girl he’d spent the night before—clearly annoyed by some guys who weren’t taking no for an answer.

Zayn’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, determined expression.

He noticed Niall approaching the group, trying to diffuse the situation with his usual peaceful demeanor, but the guys weren’t taking him seriously. Frustration was evident on Niall’s face, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Zayn immediately realized that a polite intervention wouldn’t suffice.

“Excuse me,” he murmured to the group around him before walking away.

Zayn moved toward the commotion with a steady, purposeful stride, his face devoid of emotion but his eyes cold and resolute. His presence alone usually was enough, brown guy covered in tattoos, stereotypically not the guy you present to your parents. He didn’t say a word until he was standing directly in front of the men harassing the girls.

He stepped between the men and the girls, fixing them with a glare that seemed to freeze the air. “Back off of my girlfriend.” he said, his voice low but brimming with authority, Nora immediately grabbed his arm.

One of the men, trying to mask his discomfort with a nervous laugh, made a dismissive comment. “Chill, we’re only talking!” But when Zayn leaned forward slightly, emphasizing his words with a deliberate motion, the laughter died instantly.

“I won’t repeat myself,” Zayn added, his tone colder and more threatening. His dark eyes bore into them like blades. “Leave.”

The tension in his voice left no room for argument. One of the men hesitated, then stepped back, prompting the rest to follow suit, muttering curses under their breath but not daring to look back.

As they retreated, Zayn turned to the girls, his expression softening completely. “Are you all okay?” he asked gently. Nora nodded quickly, thanking him, and introduced him to her friends.

Holly had a delicate, angular face, icy blue eyes, porcelain skin, and sleek blonde hair. She reminded Zayn of an ethereal woodland creature, elegant and mythical, her long green dress only adding to the impression.

Cinda, on the other hand, was her complete opposite, exuding an air of mystery. Her soft features contrasted with her almond-shaped, dark, expressive eyes that seemed to peer into your soul. Her golden skin matched Zayn’s own tone, and her jet-black hair was tied in a high ponytail. She was a little intimidating.

“Nice to meet you,” Zayn said after the introductions. He noticed Niall focusing solely on Holly. “Love the makeup,” Zayn complimented, pointing to Cinda’s striking eyeliner. She chuckled and thanked him.

“Want to join us? We’re almost all gay, I promise!” Zayn added with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender. Nora laughed, charmed by his expression, and after a moment’s hesitation, she hooked her arm through his.

“Why not?” she replied with a cheeky smile.

As they headed back, Zayn made introductions between the girls and his group, noting Niall’s growing interest in Holly. It didn’t escape him that Louis seemed quieter than usual, lost in thought.

After a while, they all moved to the parking lot, smoking cigarettes before heading to the guys’ house. Liam relaxed in Matthew’s arms, leaning against their SUV. The girl beside them was talking with Niall, and Nora was tucked under his arm. Louis and Harry stood near each other, both slightly awkward.

“So, the only single ones are you and Niall?” Cinda asked, exhaling smoke. Zayn nodded, his cigarette between his lips. A little chuckle escaped him when his gaze dropped to Niall and Holly, talking closely, as if in their own world.

“And the straight ones?” Cinda asked, raising an eyebrow. Zayn shook his head violently, eyes wide at her question. “How dare you! I’m not straight, I’m bi. Niall’s the token straight one here.” He pointed at the blonde, almost accusingly, causing everyone to laugh.

“What’s your type, Cinda?” Matthew asked, raising his eyebrows. “Why? Are you bi too?” Cinda narrowed her eyes.

“Oh Cinda, I have an overwhelming love for cock, nothing else. Don’t worry.” Zayn burst out laughing, joined by Nora and Louis. Liam muttered an “oh my god” under his breath, making the situation even worse.

“Well, I don’t really have a type, but I don’t usually go for white guys…” She shrugged. “Yeah, we know…” Nora teased, and Cinda stuck her tongue out.

“Zayn, what’s your type, apart from Nora…” Cinda winked at the girl, who giggled, a little embarrassed. Zayn rolled his eyes, then decided to joke. “Niall.” He tilted his head toward the blonde, who seemed like he’d just returned from another planet.

“What?” Niall asked cluelessly, making Cinda chuckle.

“Come on!” Nora whined, and Zayn sighed. “I don’t have a type either!” But everyone kept waiting. Zayn pressed his lips around the cigarette before speaking. “Watercolor eyes and… I don’t know, really. I’m not picky.”

“Such a poet, ‘watercolor eyes’” Liam mocked, and Zayn rolled his eyes again.

“So, anyone but… me and Liam?” Cinda arched an eyebrow. Zayn shrugged. “So, even Harry?” She pointed at the boy with her index finger. Zayn turned his head toward him and Louis, who stood across from them for the first time in a while—Louis with his arms crossed, his boyfriend two steps behind with his hands in his jacket pockets, a grin on his face.

“Nah, I don’t like teenagers.” Zayn answered, a malicious smile spreading across his face. Louis shot him a confused “What?” and then, “I’m twenty-two, Zayn.” followed by a burst of laughter from everyone.

When Zayn drove them all home, his hand instinctively rested on Louis’ knee—a habit he hadn’t noticed forming. He insisted to seat at the passenger seat, all began to seem weird. Louis looked down at his hand, his fingers brushing over the faint scar on Zayn’s palm from the glass-cutting accident.

“You okay?” Zayn asked, his voice calm but laced with concern.

Louis glanced at him, offering a sarcastic smile. “Fantastic.” he replied dryly, his tone betraying his true feelings.

Their eyes met, holding each other’s gaze as the traffic light turned red. For a moment, for Zayn the world seemed to pause, the laughter and chatter from the backseat fading into the background. 

When they arrived at the house, Zayn excused himself to change, returning in casual clothes that matched the relaxed atmosphere. He watched his friends gather in the garden, laughter echoing under the soft glow of string lights.

“What were you talking about?” Zayn asked as he rejoined them, taking a seat next to Nora.

“Coming out stories,” Niall replied with a grin. “Want to share yours?”

Zayn hesitated, meeting Matthew’s gaze across the table. Matthew gave him a subtle nod of encouragement, the only person who truly knew the weight of his story. Louis only partly knew. Zayn took a deep breath, lowering his eyes for a moment before beginning to speak, his voice steady yet vulnerable.

6 years earlier

It was 9 PM, and Zayn stood in front of Louis’ house. He dropped his bike onto the lawn before picking up some small stones and tossing them at his friend’s window.

“Is he deaf?” Zayn muttered, growing impatient as Louis took his time appearing. With a huff, he stood there, hands on his hips, until he finally saw the curtains shift.

“Will you let me in?” Zayn pleaded, watching as Louis rolled his eyes before disappearing from view.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked in a hushed voice as he opened the door. The downstairs lights were off, signaling that everyone else was already asleep. Zayn could barely make out his friend in the dim light, his straight hair falling over his forehead, nearly obscuring his eyes.

“What happened?” Louis asked, his eyes widening as he gently brushed Zayn’s cheek. Zayn batted his hand away with a small slap, sighing.

“A fight with some guys,” Zayn lied. “Can I stay here tonight?” He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. Louis simply nodded, opening the door wider.

“Shh… everyone’s asleep already,” Louis scolded as he walked in with his shoes on. Zayn rolled his eyes, taking them off as quietly as he could before following Louis to his room.

Louis fell asleep quickly, one arm draped over Zayn’s torso. But Zayn laid awake, staring at the ceiling for hours, unable to relax.

He eventually slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Louis, and went to the bathroom to wash his face. The faint bathroom light illuminated his tired reflection. His usually unruly hair was flattened, and his cheek was red, marked by a series of small scratches that formed an irregular map across his olive skin. He wore a gray, slightly oversized tank top that bunched around his torso, and black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, giving him a disheveled appearance, as though the weight of the day had drained him completely.

Hearing footsteps, Zayn quickly shut the bathroom door. Johanna didn’t know he was staying there, and he planned to sneak out early in the morning.

A knock startled him. “Zayn, I saw you.” Johanna’s sleepy but gentle voice called out. Zayn sighed and opened the white wooden door, his head hanging low.

“Sorry…” he whispered before glancing up at the woman in her pink robe. She cupped his chin gently.

“Do you want some chamomile tea?” she offered without pressing him further. Her eyes lingered on his face as she led him downstairs.

“Zayn, you can stay here whenever you need to, you know that. But I don’t like it when you don’t let your parents know.” she clarified always gently, even as she scolded him. Zayn hid behind the warm mug in his hands.

They sat alone at the kitchen table. The house felt enormous compared to his own. He loved baking cookies and cakes there in the kitchen with Louis in the winter, though Louis usually just sat on the counter, chattering away while Zayn did all the work.

“I ran away.” Zayn admitted, his eyes darting nervously as he confessed.

“Why?” Johanna asked calmly, her tone unfamiliar but soothing to Zayn.

“Promise you won’t tell Lou?” he pleaded. He couldn’t bear the thought of Louis worrying about him. Louis didn’t understand what it was like to live in a dysfunctional family. Sure, his dad wasn’t his biological father, but he treated Louis as if he were.

Reassured by Johanna’s nod, Zayn continued.

“My parents found out I like boys too. They saw some pictures…” He trailed off, somebody’s sent them to his father. Photos of him and his boss kissing.

“My dad threw a chair at me.” Zayn finished, making Johanna flinch. Embarrassed, he turned away, focusing on a random spot on the wall.

“And your mom?” she asked, her calm demeanor easing Zayn’s tension.

“She stayed silent, as always, just standing there while Dad yelled. Don’t go reporting it or anything!” he warned, his brows furrowed.

“It’s the first time he hits me. Usually, he just yells—like all parents do, I think.” He lied.

Johanna shook her head firmly. “I won’t report it.” she assured him, reaching out. Zayn grabbed her hand quickly.

“But promise me you’ll quit that supermarket job.” she insisted. Zayn sighed but nodded, his father wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t have his own money anymore, but he’d find another way.

“How do you feel?” she asked as he finished his tea, fiddling with the string of the tea bag.

“I don’t want to go home… Dad said he’d never speak to me again and that I’m not his son because his son can’t be a… a faggot.” he choked out, letting a small sob escape.

“Oh, sweetie…” Johanna stood and walked around the table to kneel beside him. She took his hands in hers as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. “You might not be his son anymore, but you’re a little bit mine. I’ve known you since you were a baby, and I don’t care if you like boys or girls. You’re always welcome here.”

Zayn broke down, wondering why he couldn’t have parents like Louis’. Why was his life so complicated and sad? Why did he have to endure constant reminders of everything his parents had sacrificed for him? The pressures of being the eldest son in a Muslim family were crushing him.

He threw his arms around Johanna, burying his face in her shoulder as she stroked his back. He was grateful for Louis and his family, knowing they would never abandon him.

“How old was that guy from the supermarket?” Niall asked after Zayn had briefly recounted the story.

“Twice my age.” He was 17 and Kash was 34.  Zayn replied calmly, to the others, he must have seemed minimally affected by it. Everyone was silent, and Zayn didn’t have the courage to look at Louis’s face at that moment; He knew that if he did, he would break down in seconds.

“So the scar you have here…” Liam pointed to his right cheekbone, where the dark-haired boy had two small marks, and Zayn nodded quickly, not thinking they were that visible anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Zay.” Liam murmured, with Cinda and Niall nodding silently while Nora gently stroked his arm. “Me too,” added Holly with a sad smile. Zayn tried to reassure them, changing the subject with a lighter tone, when suddenly, he felt two arms wrap around him from behind. Louis’ face was buried in his shoulder, and the warmth of Louis’s tears soaking into Zayn’s neck made his heart tighten. He immediately understood that Louis was crying, and without thinking, he began to stroke his arms reassuringly.

“It’s okay, it’s over, everything’s fine…” he whispered, trying to calm him down. He hadn’t expected Louis to react this way; he thought Louis would have gotten angry for being kept in the dark. Instead, here he was, crying in his place.

“You two are so sweet.” Cinda commented, watching them with a little smile, her face resting on her hand. Louis lifted his head while Zayn chuckled awkwardly, thanking her. Louis wiped his tears with the back of his hand, too exhausted to listen.

The others resumed talking about something else, but Zayn couldn’t shake the feeling of Louis’ hands still trembling slightly on his arms. “Is everything okay?” he asked softly, continuing to gently touch his arms.

“You’re an asshole, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Louis responded, his voice still broken with emotion. Zayn sighed, lowering his gaze. It wasn’t easy to explain why, after all this time, he hadn’t been able to talk about it. With Matthew, it had been easy, almost natural, but with Louis…

“I don’t know… it just never happened, I guess.” he admitted, turning his face toward him. He found himself face to face with Louis, so close that he could feel his breath. He quickly turned back forward, his heart racing, but the warmth of a kiss on his temple made him flinch and blink. He only breathed more easily when Louis pulled away and sat back in his place, his eyes still slightly red.

“Guys, sorry to interrupt but I need to give you some news,” Harry said, interrupting the chatter. Everyone turned toward him, curious. “Tomorrow I’m going back to London to sign the record deal.”

There was a moment of silence before the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations. Everyone started congratulating him, overlapping voices of compliments and promises of celebrations when they returned to London. Harry received hugs and pats on the back, a smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Zayn noticed that something was off. Harry, usually so enthusiastic, only had a faint hint of a smile on his lips, while Louis, who would usually be among the first to celebrate, was staring at an indefinite point on the table, lost in his thoughts.

Zayn congratulated Harry anyway, but couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Something was wrong.

“Come to the kitchen?” Zayn asked Louis, his voice calm but firm, amidst the other conversations. Louis looked up, visibly shaken, and nodded silently. He stood up from his chair and followed Zayn out of the crowded room, he felt Harry’s eyes burning into his skin.

Zayn closed the kitchen door behind him, the metallic sound of the latch seeming to amplify the palpable tension between him and Louis. The room was bathed in a quiet twilight, but the atmosphere was anything but calm. Louis, leaning on the counter, avoided Zayn’s gaze, staring at the floor with almost desperate concentration, as if searching for the right words among the cracks in the tiles.

Finally, Louis lifted his head and, in a faint voice, asked, “You’re still angry at me, aren’t you?” His tone was filled with anxiety, his voice barely a whisper, but full of concern.

Zayn crossed his arms over his chest, trying to maintain a hard expression, but his gaze betrayed him. “A little, yeah,” he admitted, his voice gentler than he’d expected.

Louis lowered his gaze again, his face marked by an overwhelming sense of guilt. “I didn’t know what to say after the meeting with your dad. You were so upset, and I… I didn’t know how to help you.”

Zayn stiffened at the thought of that day. “You didn’t need to say anything special, Lou. A simple ‘how are you?’ would have been enough. I wasn’t asking for much.”

Louis closed his eyes, visibly struck by Zayn’s words. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was paralyzed by the fear of saying the wrong thing, of making it worse. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.” He placed his hands on the edge of the counter and sat on it, his body collapsing under the tension.

Zayn stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Louis, full of frustration and pain.
“And the dinner? When Harry almost started insulting me? You didn’t say anything there either.”

Louis bit his lower lip, tears threatening to fall. “I know, and I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have let him do that… I should have defended you.” His voice cracked, and a tear slid down his cheek.

Zayn sighed deeply, his hand running over his face. The silence that followed was heavy and oppressive, a void that seemed to widen between them. Louis, meanwhile, started to cry silently, his shoulders trembling slightly.

“I can’t do this anymore, Lou,” Zayn finally said, his voice full of exasperation. “I miss my best friend. I miss being able to count on you, being able to hug you when I need it, without feeling judged, without you pushing me away.”

Louis shook his head, desperate. “I don’t get it anymore, I swear. I miss you too, but I don’t want to lose Harry. At least, I think… The thing is, I don’t know how to not hurt you again.”

“You hurt me more when you stay silent,” Zayn replied, his voice rising. “When you pretend everything is fine, as if ignoring the problems will make them go away.”

“I don’t want to ignore you, Zayn! I don’t want you to think I don’t care. But I don’t know what to do!” Louis shouted, his voice broken by emotion.

The two found themselves just inches apart, with Louis sitting on the kitchen counter and Zayn standing in front of him, their faces so close they could feel each other’s heavy breath. Their shouting faded into a tense and sudden silence, and for a long moment, they remained still.

Zayn felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as his eyes locked with Louis’, which were glossy and wet. All the words he wanted to say seemed stuck in his throat, replaced by a feeling of confusion and unspoken desire. Every detail of Louis’s face was amplified, from the curve of his eyes to the corners of his lips, and Zayn couldn’t tear his gaze away, both captivated and tortured by how close he was.

LOUIS

Louis, sitting on the kitchen counter, lowered his gaze to Zayn’s lips, his breath becoming more erratic. The attraction between them was palpable, like an electric energy vibrating in the air. His hands trembled imperceptibly, but he remained still, waiting for Zayn to break the silence.

Finally, Zayn reached out a hand and gently placed his fingers on Louis’s cheek. His touch light, he wiped away his tears with tenderness, like he was afraid of breaking him. “Lou… I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I know I don’t wanna lose you.” His eyes also glossy now.

Closing his eyes, Louis allowed himself to be enveloped by Zayn’s caress, a comfort that at the same time tormented him. Was it normal to want a caress from someone who wasn’t his boyfriend?  He felt like his life had become a joke: just when he found someone he had fallen for, and who reciprocated, the feelings he had buried for years were resurfacing overwhelmingly.

Zayn had been his secret crush all through high school, and now Louis couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if he had had the courage to confront those feelings years ago. If he had told Zayn the truth instead of burying everything under a veil of friendship and unspoken emotions.

Looking again into Zayn’s gentle eyes, Louis realized how much he had repressed these feelings over the years, buried under layers of friendship and other unexpressed emotions. Now, with Zayn so close and his feelings resurfacing, the confusion was unbearable. Louis felt crushed by the sense of betrayal toward Harry and by the last request Harry had made before their breakup: not to disrespect him, at least until they met again in London.

“I don’t want either,” Louis whispered, his voice trembling and full of emotion. “Zayn, I broke up with Harry.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re like… this…” Zayn stepped back, leaving Louis surprised, with an unreadable expression in his eyes, before shifting his gaze to the door, where someone had just knocked. Harry’s head peeked in, his eyes darting between Zayn and Louis.

“Everything okay? I heard yelling…” Harry asked, his tone calmer than usual. Louis felt almost disoriented, wondering if breaking up with him was necessary to get better treatment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you two alone…” Zayn reassured Harry, then gave him a worried glance before heading toward the door. Louis felt like he couldn’t breathe, exhausted by the constant tension, trapped.

When the girls left, everyone quickly returned to their rooms, leaving just him and Zayn. “Shall we go to bed too?”

Louis shook his head; he didn’t feel like sleeping. To be honest, he didn’t feel like going back to Harry either. “I’m not tired,” he simply replied, watching Zayn get up with curiosity.

“Want some ice cream?” Zayn offered, a small smile on his lips as he extended his hand toward him. Louis grabbed it and stood up quickly, accepting the proposal.

“Hi! A small cup for me, with chocolate and mmmh…” Louis found himself staring at the endless list of flavors, overwhelmed by the choice.

“May I suggest hazelnut?” the ice cream vendor smiled kindly at him. Louis nodded quickly, and while Zayn ordered his, he began chatting.

“I’m Louis… yeah, from London… oh, Spain, cool!” he answered with a small smile to the girl. As he paid, he noticed her scribble something on the receipt before handing it to him—her number.

Zayn chuckled at the entire scene, watching as Louis turned bright red. Sitting at the table, he took a spoon of his ice cream.

“You’ve made an impression…” Zayn teased, holding out his cup so Louis could taste his flavors: chocolate and pistachio.

“What an embarrassment. Stuff like this usually happens to you, not me… yours is good.” Without saying anything else, they swapped cups.

“You’re hot, Louis, even if you don’t believe it,” Zayn said, bringing his spoon to his mouth, a sly smile on his face. If Louis had already been red, now he was even redder. He shook his head quickly in disagreement before focusing on his ice cream.

“Do you want to talk about… you know?” Zayn asked, his voice softer than usual, tilting his head to one side as he lit a cigarette and tapped the ash into his now-empty ice cream cup. Louis’s was still half full.

“Not really…” Louis replied, knowing Zayn was referring to Harry and the whole situation that had unfolded that evening. Zayn nodded in response, exhaling smoke as he turned his head to the side. Leaning back in his chair, his loose shirt slipping off his shoulder to reveal the tattoos on his collarbones, his legs relaxed and spread around the table legs—Zayn seemed completely unaware of how effortlessly beautiful he looked in everything he did… Louis widened his eyes at the thought and quickly focused back on his melting ice cream.

“Want a drag?” Louis glanced up again at the boy in front of him, who was now leaning closer, his forearms resting on the table and his gaze fixed on him. When Louis nodded, Zayn took a drag before handing it over, gently placing the cigarette between Louis’s, his fingers slightly touching his lips. A gesture they’d done countless times before now felt charged with something new. The atmosphere was broken by the vibration of Zayn’s phone on the table. Louis’s eyes quickly caught the name “Nora” on the screen before Zayn ignored the message and locked the phone.

“Not answering?” Louis raised an eyebrow, motioning toward the phone with his chin as Zayn took back the cigarette. Zayn shrugged, clearly uninterested.

“Sorry, I forgot—you’re the one who doesn’t want relationships…” Louis raised his hands in mock surrender. Zayn had been saying that line for years whenever Louis asked him about someone. The boy licked his lips and smirked, unfazed by his words.

“Why do you care so much?” Zayn countered, dropping the cigarette butt into the empty cup in front of him, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“It’s better than thinking about my own romantic problems which, funnily enough, are partly your fault.” Louis raised his eyebrows, leaning forward on the table. Zayn narrowed his eyes, the usual smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not my fault if Harry’s an idiot.” Zayn clicked his tongue against his palate, and Louis’ mouth fell open in surprise at Zayn’s audacity. A small laugh escaped his lips.

“Careful what you say…” Louis replied simply, licking his lips.

“You’re still defending him? After he dumped you?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“I dumped him.” Louis emphasized, making sure to stress the word “I.” A surprised expression crossed his best friend’s face.

“Why?” Zayn asked simply, leaning forward toward the table. Louis averted his gaze. The ice cream shop was closing, and he had no intention of explaining anything.

“Let’s go home, it’s late.” He stood to clean up the mess on the table, Zayn following behind him, apparently unsettled.

Chapter Text

LOUIS

Louis had no desire to go back to bed, to lie down next to Harry, to slip under the sheets beside the person he had just broken up with—the person who would leave him the next day, alone, at the mercy of his thoughts. The villa was silent when they returned. Everyone had officially retreated to their rooms. Louis wondered if Harry was still awake, if he was waiting for him, if he was tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep while his mind raced just as much as Louis’s did.

On the other hand, Zayn had stopped talking. He hadn’t said a word since their conversation at the ice cream shop. It was strange; Zayn never usually stayed quiet around Louis.

“I think I’m going to bed.” Zayn informed him, grabbing a glass of water before disappearing into the room he shared with Niall.

“I’ll stay here and read for a bit.” Louis replied softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself rather than Zayn. He settled onto the couch and picked up the book he had left on the coffee table that afternoon.

Reading the first few lines and understanding them felt like an impossible task. His mind kept wandering, thinking and overthinking—about what Harry would do in London over the next few days, about how Louis would cope without him, about whether he would fall back into the spiral of his depression once Harry was gone. He tried to distract himself, fighting these thoughts with the positive affirmations he had been learning in therapy. One of his few comforts was the presence of his friends. He counted on them for support, especially Zayn. But suddenly, a wave of fear crept into his chest and mind. All those strange feelings he had been experiencing around Zayn lately, the sadness Zayn had admitted to feel since they had slowly drift apart—the same sadness Louis felt but tried to bury under the rug of his seemingly happy relationship with Harry—were resurfacing. Louis’s head felt heavy, full. He needed to empty it, so he decided to use his phone’s notes app to pour out his thoughts.
Once he had dumped everything onto the screen, he managed to return to his book, finally understanding the words that flowed before his eyes. One, two, three chapters—it was now the middle of the night, and Louis had no intention of stopping.

Silence had never been his friend; it didn’t belong to him. In social situations, he always felt the need to fill it with a joke or some chatter. If he wasn’t talking, it was only because his ears were filled with music or the sound of someone else’s breathing beside him. But that night, he was embracing the silence. No complaints, no forced laughter, no meaningless chatter. Just him, his book, the salty scent of the sea, and the cool summer breeze drifting in through the veranda door.

The sound of footsteps interrupted his reading. Louis instinctively tightened his grip on the book, his heart racing. His mind immediately jumped to Harry. Maybe he had noticed Louis wasn’t in bed. Maybe he thought Louis had been with someone else. Maybe he would throw a fit if he found out Louis had gone for ice cream with Zayn.

“You’re still here?” a voice as sweet as honey murmured. It wasn’t Harry. Zayn emerged from the dark hallway, his hair disheveled, showing he had just gotten out of bed. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, squinting against the light.

Louis simply nodded as Zayn approached and sat down beside him, resting his cheek on Louis’s shoulder.  

“What are you reading?” Zayn whispered again.

“A mystery. Nothing special.” Louis replied, not daring to look away from the open pages on his crossed legs.  

“Is it good?” Louis nodded again, and then silence fell. The only sound was Zayn shifting to get more comfortable beside him, his head still resting on Louis’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you going back to sleep?” Louis broke the silence after a few minutes, realizing he couldn’t focus on reading anyway.

“I can’t.” Zayn replied simply. Louis remembered Zayn’s recurring nightmares. They had gotten worse when they moved out on their own. Zayn had knocked on his door many times, just as Louis had done when he heard him  going to the bathroom to splash water on his face over and over.

“Are the nightmares back?” Louis asked, finally turning his face toward Zayn. From his angle, all he could see was Zayn’s half blond hair.

“Mm, no. I just can’t fall asleep,” Zayn replied. Another reason for Zayn’s sleep troubles was his tendency to overthink. He had always been a highly intelligent guy, his mind full of ideas, connections, and thoughts. But the same ability that made him so special during the day became a torture at night. He had sometimes, when they were both younger, tried to explain Louis how his thoughts would tangle, one on top of the other, and he would try to untangle them, to let them wander, to free himself from them—but he never quite could. Only drawing, painting, and creating art seemed to unravel the twisted knot in his mind.

“Overthinking?” Louis whispered, his breath brushing against Zayn’s hair. Zayn must have noticed because he lifted his head just enough for their eyes to meet—Zayn’s slightly swollen and tired, but still as large and expressive as ever.

“Talking about my coming out brought back some bad memories… I can’t shake them off.” Zayn confessed. Louis couldn’t look away from those deep brown eyes that seemed to hypnotize him. He simply nodded.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I knew there was something strange between you two. I thought maybe you had a crush on him… but I didn’t realize it had gone that far.” Louis’s breath was short, not just because Zayn was so close, but also because of the conversation they were having. He remembered Kash—tall, bearded, dark-haired, always kind when he stopped by Zayn’s workplace. But he also remembered Kash’s wife and young children.

“I was ashamed. I still am.” Zayn admitted, swallowing hard. Louis sighed. Zayn wasn’t the one who should feel ashamed here.

“It wasn’t your fault. It never was. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Louis said firmly, his voice steady but laced with warmth. Without thinking, he reached out and placed a hand on Zayn’s wrist, his fingers brushing against the stack of bracelets that Zayn always wore—a habit he’d held onto since they were kids. In some ways, Zayn still carried that same boyishness, that same vulnerability, as if time hadn’t touched him at all. Louis’s touch was gentle, a silent reminder that he was there, that Zayn wasn’t alone.

“But Louis, I knew. I knew he had a wife and kids, and I didn’t care. I never cared. He spent money on me, bought me things, and then we’d hook up in the stockroom of the shop.” The last words came out faintly, so faint that Louis wouldn’t have heard them if he hadn’t been so close. He tightened his grip on Zayn’s hand, unable to process or imagine those scenes. They filled him with disgust, and the fact that Yaser had done nothing to protect his son—instead, he had beaten him—disgusted Louis even more.

“It’s still not your fault. What’s disgusting is him.That’s called grooming, Zayn. You were a fucking kid, and he took advantage of you,” Louis said, his voice firm but gentle, his hand still resting on Zayn’s wrist. Zayn blinked several times, his dark eyes glistening with unshed emotions, before letting out a small, shaky breath.

“I was 17, Lou. I wasn’t a kid,” Zayn murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if trying to convince himself more than Louis.

Louis let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Zayn, would you sleep with a 17-year-old boy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, his tone a mix of challenge and reassurance.

Zayn shrugged, lifting his head from Louis’s shoulder as if physically shaking off the weight of the question. “Absolutely not,” he replied without hesitation, his voice firm.

Louis’s smile widened slightly, his eyebrows still arched, waiting for Zayn to connect the dots. Zayn sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he finally understood where Louis was going with this. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. “I was a kid.”

“Don’t be ashamed of what happened to you, and don’t ever be ashamed to tell me anything. I’d never judge you. You know that…” Louis said, almost scolding him. Zayn pressed his lips into a thin line, still seemingly full of thoughts, before nodding quietly.

“Try to go back to sleep now.” Louis suggested, shifting his gaze back to his book, hoping he might find some sleep himself. But Zayn didn’t move. Instead, after a moment, his head was back on Louis’s shoulder. Louis sighed softly. He wouldn’t be getting any more reading done that night.

“Am I bothering you?” Zayn murmured, so quietly it was almost as if he didn’t want to be heard, perhaps fearing Louis’s response.

“No, I just want you to rest. Your eyes look tired.” Louis deflected, though deep down, he really did think Zayn needed at least a few hours of sleep.

“You look tired too. Should we sleep together for a bit?” Zayn lifted his head to look at him, his eyes red from exhaustion. Where would they even sleep? There were no available beds, and Louis wouldn’t dare do it with Harry around.

“Where, Zayn? You’re better off going back to your own bed. You’ll manage…” Louis replied, slipping the bookmark between the pages and placing the book back on the coffee table. “I should too.”

“The couch seems big enough for both of us…?” Zayn hinted. Louis sighed again, his gaze still fixed on the table.

“Zayn, it’s not. We’ll wake up with back pain… and we’re here to relax.” Louis argued. The couch was spacious, but not enough for both of them without having to squeeze and contort themselves.

“Okay… can you stay until I fall asleep? You know I sleep better with you…” Zayn’s voice was softer now, almost like the tone he used as a teenager to convince Louis to go along with his ideas—and it always worked. Louis closed his eyes, almost resigned, before agreeing. He stood up to let Zayn lie down on the inner side of the couch. Zayn, with a small smile on his lips, curled up, his back against the couch to leave as much space as possible for Louis.

Louis lay down with his back to Zayn, curling up slightly, his arms crossed over his chest and the back of his calves brushing against Zayn’s legs. Since when had he been so afraid of hugging Zayn while they slept? They had spent a lifetime attached to each other. He blamed the new feelings he had for Harry. He didn’t want to disrespect him, and the only comforting arms he wanted around him were Harry’s—no one else’s.

Even though Louis had been on the verge of sleep for a while, he could still feel Zayn moving behind him, letting out small huffs and sighs that Louis felt against the back of his neck. “Can you stay still?” Louis asked, slightly annoyed.

“Sorry, I can’t sleep. If you’re tired, go.” Zayn murmured nervously, as if he were angry with himself for not being able to relax. Louis decided to turn around, finding himself face-to-face with Zayn, their knees pressing together. Zayn’s eyes were still closed. Louis began to blow softly on his tense face. As the steady stream of air hit him, Louis saw Zayn’s forehead relax, the corners of his eyes soften, his lips part slightly, and his breathing grow heavier.

Louis smiled. “It still works.” he whispered before finally giving in to sleep himself.

12 years earlier

Louis and Zayn were only ten years old and had known each other already for five years. They always rode their bikes to the local football pitch, weaving through the narrow streets of Doncaster. Ever since they became friends, the two had been inseparable, spending every waking moment together playing games, sharing secrets, and dreaming up adventures. Most nights, Louis ended up sleeping over at Zayn’s house or viceversa. Their days were filled with discoveries, laughter, and a sense of wonder as they explored the neighborhood like it was their own personal kingdom.

That evening, the summer air was warm and heavy, carrying the scents of grass and blooming flowers through the open window. Crickets chirped incessantly outside, their song blending into the quiet hum of the night.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked, his head resting on the pillow, his blond hair messy and glowing softly under the dim light of the bedside lamp. A white tank top in contrast with his slightly tanned skin and shorts, looking as relaxed as ever.

Zayn turned over, his red tank top slightly wrinkled, and rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I can’t sleep,” he muttered, sounding frustrated. He shoved a hand under his pillow and sighed. “My brain just won’t stop thinking…” His gaze wandered to the ceiling, distant and restless.

Louis shifted closer, propping himself up on one elbow. “Alright,” he began softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Imagine you’re a tiny firefly. You’ve just learned how to fly. With your little wings, you hover above a small, still pond, glowing with the other fireflies and casting light across the water.”

Zayn turned his head toward Louis, his dark eyes wide and curious. He didn’t say anything, but his expression asked for more.

“All the other fireflies have yellow lights,” Louis continued, his tone steady and gentle. “But yours is blue. It shines brighter than all the others. You’re special.”

Zayn’s gaze softened, and his breathing began to slow, his imagination painting the scene Louis described.

“One day,” Louis went on, “you decide to leave the pond and explore what’s out there. And that’s when you find another firefly. This one doesn’t have a yellow light either—it’s red, glowing bright and warm. You’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Zayn’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his body relaxing against the mattress. Louis smiled to himself, knowing his story was working.

“You think this red firefly is strange,” Louis added, “but you like it. It’s different, just like you. Together, you start flying above the pond, your blue light mixing with their red. As you move, the colors swirl and blend, creating a dance of light that no one has ever seen before. The other fireflies stop to watch, mesmerized by the way you and your new friend paint the night sky.”

Zayn’s breathing had deepened now, steady and calm. His eyelids had drifted shut, and the faintest hint of a smile curved his lips.
Louis leaned back slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“It’s a bit like this.” He blew softly across Zayn’s face, imitating the gentle breeze of their imagined flight. Within moments, Zayn was sound asleep, his expression peaceful. Louis grinned to himself, settling back down and closing his own eyes.

“Goodnight, Zed.” he murmured, knowing his friend wouldn’t hear him.

MATTHEW

“Lou, Louis… you better get up!” Matthew murmured urgently, shaking the boy awake. He and Liam had just woken up and found Louis sprawled completely on top of Zayn, with Zayn’s arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling.

“W-what?” Louis groaned, swatting Matthew’s arm away and snuggling even closer to Zayn. Harry had just woken up and gone to the bathroom, and Matthew didn’t want to witness another pointless argument.

“Harry’s awake.” Matthew whispered, leaning down closer to Louis. Not only was he trying to help, but he was also being ignored. Louis’s eyes shot open—perhaps he hadn’t realized the person beneath him wasn’t his boyfriend. He glanced at Matthew’s face, then at Zayn’s sleeping one, and quickly scrambled to his feet.

“Good morning, princess!” Liam exclaimed, handing Louis his usual cup of tea. Louis’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, his hair a mess, and his face bore the expression of someone who was just realizing they were alive.

“What time is it?” Louis asked, stumbling over his words.

“Nine,” Matthew sighed, bringing his own cup of milk to his lips.

“Zayn?” Liam asked, looking at the body on the couch. Zayn hadn’t moved an inch; he looked like a corpse. The three of them stood in front of the couch, staring at Zayn’s motionless form.

“Good luck! He probably slept five hours, which in Zayn’s world means barely three.” Louis said sarcastically before walking away to sit outside with Niall.

“Zayn, are you alive?” Matthew asked, shaking him. The only response was a groan as Zayn turned onto his stomach. Liam shot Matthew a sly grin before starting to slap Zayn’s bum.

“Come on, love, wake up! You’re going to be late!” Liam nearly shouted, eliciting a chuckle from Matthew and an even louder groan from Zayn. Liam decided to climb on top of Zayn and continue slapping his hips. “Come on! You’ll sleep on the beach, show off your tattoos, and all the hot guys will be drooling over you!” Liam kept teasing him, and Matthew couldn’t help but laugh.

“If you don’t stop, I’m reporting you for harassment.” Zayn mumbled in a whiny tone. Liam burst out laughing, while Matthew glanced at Harry, who happened to be passing by at that moment. He completely ignored them and headed straight outside toward Louis.

“Just a reminder, Harry’s leaving soon…” Matthew whispered, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Zayn’s face.

“They broke up.” Zayn declared, slowly opening his eyes and shifting under Liam’s weight, which was still on top of him.

“WHAT?” both Liam and Matthew exclaimed, Liam’s mouth hanging open.

“Shhh!” Zayn gestured, not wanting to attract the attention of the three outside. “Yeah, yesterday. Louis dumped him. He didn’t tell me why.”

“Take advantage of it!” Liam immediately interjected. “What’s more romantic than the beach, the sunset, Greece? Take him out to dinner, make him realize what he’s missing.”

Zayn frowned, unsure, and turned to Matthew. “What do you think?”

Matthew shrugged. “I’d take it slow. Maybe they just had a fight, and you’ll end up getting rejected…” Liam huffed in annoyance. Matthew was worried about Zayn, about how this would end. Despite everything, Louis seemed very into Harry, and Matthew didn’t want his friend to get his hopes up. Zayn nodded.

“Anyway, good morning, love.” Liam said with a smile, running a hand through Zayn’s hair.

“Good morning!”Zayn replied unusually happy this early in the morning, giving Liam a quick kiss on the lips before pushing him off to get up.

“Can you not kiss my boyfriend?” Matthew asked sarcastically, his eyes narrowing as he downed the last sip of his milk. Liam was already on his feet, while Zayn was still stretching.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” Liam asked, placing a hand on his hip.

“Since… now?” Zayn watched their exchange with a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Is that a threat?” Liam licked his lips, and Matthew couldn’t help but glance at them. “Don’t I get a chance to say yes or no?” Liam was now leaning in, his arms around Matthew’s neck. Matthew’s face turned red from the neck down, and he couldn’t look away. He gave a small smile.

“You do… Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Matthew almost whispered as Liam tilted his head.

“What do you think, Zayn? Should I say yes?” Liam was clearly trying to embarrass him and drive him crazy at the same time. Without realizing it, one of Matthew’s hands had found its way to the small of Liam’s back, his fingers brushing the edge of Liam’s shorts. He bit his lower lip.

“I think if you two are going to hook up, please don’t do it in front of me,” Zayn commented, causing Liam to let out a laugh that was like music to Matthew’s ears. Matthew leaned in to kiss him, but Liam pulled back with a smirk.

“Yes or no?” Matthew whispered again, his lips brushing Liam’s. Liam’s big eyes seemed to read into his tension. He was starting to fear rejection or a “I’ll think about it,” but then Liam closed the gap between them, their lips meeting for a few seconds.

“Yes.” Liam whispered before breaking into a wide grin. Matthew set his cup down on the coffee table and kissed him again, this time more deeply.

“Guys!” Zayn whined in the background, still sitting on the couch. Without a second thought, Matthew bent his knees, lifted Liam onto his shoulder, and carried him off to their room, giving him a playful slap on his ass as Liam laughed and squirmed.

ZAYN

When Matthew lifted Liam with such ease, Zayn’s jaw dropped. He was convinced Matthew could lift both Liam and Zayn without breaking a sweat. Liam was laughing, playfully slapping Matthew’s back as he was carried away. Zayn shook his head, smiling, before standing and walking toward the kitchen, where he heard the clinking of dishes. Louis was rinsing his cup.

“Hi.” Zayn managed to say, because there Louis was, right in front of him. His hair was still slightly messy, his lips pouting—maybe because he was struggling with the cup, or maybe because of whatever thoughts were running through his head. His cheeks were flushed from the sun of the past few days, and his bright blue eyes, now looking up at Zayn, contrasted sharply with his tanned skin.

“Hi.” Louis replied with a small smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Zayn was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat, and he realized he was in deep trouble. This was yet another confirmation that he liked Louis—and, despite his hopes, that feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Zayn walked straight over to Louis, leaning on the counter that separated them with his arms. Louis didn’t stop scrubbing the bottom of the cup, trying to remove the stubborn residue.

“Can you warm up a cup of milk for me?” Zayn asked, placing a hand over Louis’s, the one that was holding the sponge. “I’ll take care of this.” he whispered. Louis’s movements stopped. He closed his eyes, sighed, and nodded. Zayn chuckled softly.

“We came here to relax, remember? Breathe!”Zayn continued, his thumb gently brushing Louis’s wrist, right above the tattoo of a knotted rope. Their inked arms near each other looked like a continuous canvas of black-and-white designs.

“I’ll go make your milk.” Louis said simply, leaving the cup in the sink and heading to the fridge. Zayn quickly moved around the counter and, in no time, had the cup looking as good as new.

“You have to use hot water… done!” He poured the excess water into the sink and showed the clean cup to Louis, one hand on his hip and a small smile on his face. Louis, however, seemed annoyed. “I can’t even wash a cup properly, I know.” he replied without even looking at Zayn, as he placed the cup in the microwave. Zayn fell silent, his smile fading. He pressed his lips together and put the cup back in its place.

“Sorry, it’s just that…” Louis started, but the microwave timer beeped, cutting him off. Zayn went to grab it, the box of cereal in his other hand.

“Harry?” Zayn asked bluntly, not beating around the bush. He stopped and looked at Louis, waiting for a response.

“Yeah,” Louis nodded, clearly frustrated. He ran a hand over his forehead before pushing his hair back. Zayn nodded too and started to leave the kitchen. Just before stepping out the door, he added a comment.

“I can’t wait for him to leave.”

Louis didn’t respond—or at least, Zayn didn’t hear him—before he left the room.

The morning had passed quickly. Matthew had taken Harry to the airport and the atmosphere in the house felt lighter since he left, perhaps also thanks to the girls, who had agreed to go to the beach with them.

Liam had noticed, commenting on Louis’ livelier chatter with Holly and Cinda, the tension of the past few days had weighed on everyone. Even Niall seemed more carefree, though that was probably Holly’s doing—she seemed to have cast a spell on him.

“I swear, I think I’m in love…” Niall had confessed to Liam, who burst out laughing. He had only known her for a day. Liam had given up trying to reason with him, figuring that as long as Niall was happy and having fun, it was fine.

Zayn was lying on his sunbed, headphones in his ears and one arm covering his eyes from the sun. He had just taken a dip in the water to cool off from the scorching heat of the afternoon.

“Look who’s here…” Cinda, lying on her stomach next to him, turned onto her side. Her hair was tied up, and her sunglasses were slightly lowered. Zayn frowned, glancing at Cinda before following her gaze. It was the group from yesterday—the ones who had challenged them to a game of foosball. Zayn propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. There were four of them: two girls and two guys. They had approached Matt and Louis, who were nodding and chatting about who knows what. The tallest one, a blond guy with a muscular but lean build, was scanning the area, his eyes searching for something—or someone—until they landed on Zayn. Zayn gave a small smile and a wave, which the other guy immediately returned. Louis, standing right next to him, was also watching, but the moment their eyes met, Louis quickly looked away.

“He’s hot!” Cinda commented.

“You think?” Zayn’s gaze shifted between Louis and the blond guy, who were almost complete opposites.

“Oh, right, you only care about eyes…” Cinda replied sarcastically, recalling their conversation in the parking lot. Zayn rolled his eyes, but his response was cut off by Liam’s arrival.

“They want to play volleyball. Are you in?” Liam asked, hands on his hips, wearing Matthew’s sunglasses.

“Sports and I don’t really get along and I have backache.” Zayn admitted.

“We’ll watch!” Cinda said with a smile, grabbing her towel and sunscreen before standing up. She, Zayn, and Holly settled on the sand while Liam, Matthew, Louis, and Niall played in front of them.

Zayn chatted with the girls, but his eyes kept drifting in the direction of…  “He’s Lucas, by the way, and he’s obviously into you,” Holly said. And Zayn might just be interested. When Lucas spiked the ball and scored against his friends, Zayn clapped and cheered for him, earning a smile from Lucas in return.

“Can you put sunscreen on my face?” Louis suddenly appeared just centimeters away, crouched between Zayn’s legs, sweaty and out of breath, holding out the sunscreen. Zayn rolled his eyes before opening the bottle and starting to spread it on Louis’s face.

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for us?” Louis added, referring to Zayn’s earlier support for Lucas. Meanwhile, Holly and Matthew had switched places, and Matthew was now half-lying on the towel next to Zayn.

“Are you gonna have sex with me tonight?” Zayn asked bluntly. That’s how it was with Louis—either sweet and almost too kind or bickering like teenagers. While Cinda’s jaw dropped in shock, Louis didn’t seem fazed at all.

“I don’t think so,” Louis replied as Zayn slathered a thicker layer of sunscreen on Louis’s nose and under his eyes, where he was already sunburned, making him look like an ’80s lifeguard.

“Then why should I cheer for you?” Zayn shot back, hearing Matt laugh as he adjusted Louis’s sunglasses and fixed his hat. Louis sighed.

“Best friend of the year, huh?” Louis replied sarcastically before leaning in, pressing a quick kiss to Zayn’s mouth, and walking away with a mischievous grin, leaving Zayn stunned.

“You bastard…” Zayn muttered with a smile, realizing Louis was trying to ruin his flirtation with Lucas.

“What was that?!” Cinda exclaimed, trying to keep her voice low. Her sunglasses were pushed up on her head, and her eyes were wide. Zayn shrugged.

“You like him!” Cinda added.

“Lucas? Yeah, kinda,” Zayn replied, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. Matthew snorted from his spot.

“No, not Lucas—Louis!” Cinda continued, still shocked. Zayn, meanwhile, clapped for Lucas again, pretending nothing had happened.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Zayn said. He had no intention of continuing that conversation. Louis had just broken up with Harry, and they’d probably get back together. Zayn didn’t want to complicate things. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew shaking his head at Cinda, as if telling her to drop it. Zayn wanted to punch him.

But then his attention was caught by something that played out in slow motion in his mind: Louis taking off his hat with one hand and pouring a bottle of water over his head with the other. The droplets ran down his warm, tanned skin, glistening with sweat. His now-wet hair splashed water everywhere as he shook his head.

“Fucking hell!” Zayn groaned, covering his face with his hands and flopping back onto the towel. Since when had he found Louis so hot?

Chapter Text

“Watch out, I’ll beat you up!” Zayn, with his tongue peeking between his lips, was focused on the TV in his room, gripping the joystick as a FIFA match unfolded on the screen. Lying on his stomach on the blue carpet, equally focused, was his best friend, Louis.

“Shut up!” Louis, the blond one, retorted, secretly savoring the only game where he could beat his friend. With their homework already done, Louis had no intention of opening another book.

“Goaaaaal!” he shouted in triumph, while Zayn groaned, rolling onto his back on the bed.

“Hey! Keep playing!” Louis protested, glancing at his friend, reminding him the match wasn’t over yet.

“Hold on, Rachel texted me.” Zayn said, referring to the girl he liked. They were in eighth grade, and Louis hadn’t even had his first kiss yet.

As Zayn exchanged messages with the prettiest girl in class, Louis huffed in frustration, pressing the controller buttons in vain since his opponent’s player stood idle on the field.

“Come on, Zed, you’re so annoying!” Louis complained, resting his cheek on his hand while putting the game on pause. Zayn groaned again before finally rolling back onto his stomach and hitting play.

“You’re just jealous because I’m talking to Rachel,” Zayn said, annoyed at his friend’s impatience, giving him a pouty look. Louis, lying on the floor in a gray tracksuit that could easily pass for pajamas, scoffed.

“I don’t care about Rachel,” he lied, feeling offended—not by Rachel herself, but by the fact that Zayn, unlike him, got attention from girls.

“Girls like football players; why don’t you try with Emily?” Louis rolled his eyes. It was the umpteenth time his best friend had suggested he go for someone.

“I told you, I don’t care.” His voice raised slightly as he glanced at his friend on the bed, who was shaking his head disapprovingly. If he were honest, he was also a bit jealous of how much better-looking Zayn was compared to him—always well-groomed, with big eyes and perfectly straight teeth. Zayn was good in school and much more popular than Louis, who was only known for being good at football. Louis had never cared much about his appearance until now. He dressed for comfort, with tracksuits as his savior, and kept his hair short because it bothered him while playing. The only thing he liked about his face was the color of his eyes. He didn’t pay attention in class, and since last year, when he ended up in the same grade as Zayn after being held back, he had copied all his tests from him.

“No need to yell at me, Tommo. I know you like Emily; I read it in your diary,” Zayn replied, annoyed. Louis widened his eyes. Why had Zayn read his diary?

“What do you mean, in my diary?” Louis asked, terrified, trying to stay calm as he pressed buttons on the joystick, his voice slightly higher than usual.

“Your school diary. You wrote ‘Emily’ with a heart on the last page,” Zayn explained, entirely unbothered, meeting Louis’ gaze.

“Oh, right,” Louis relaxed his shoulders. For a moment, he had thought Zayn was talking about his secret diary, the one no one was supposed to open.

“So?” Zayn continued, sighing as Louis scored yet another goal.

“What am I supposed to say to her? She doesn’t even notice me,” Louis said, quickly licking his lips and smiling when the victory message appeared on the screen.

“Nothing, just invite her to the park after school.” Zayn let the controller fall onto the bed, defeated. He didn’t want to play anymore and rested his cheek on the mattress, facing his friend.

“And then? Say her I like her?” Louis sat cross-legged, his blue eyes fixed on Zayn, eager to learn his strategies.

“Tell her…” Zayn corrected, making Louis roll his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, then tell her she’s pretty and give her a kiss.” Zayn continued. Louis was surprised by how calm his friend sounded. He, on the other hand, felt utterly mortified.

“A kiss? With tongue?” the blond asked, his cheeks reddening slightly. Zayn looked at him, somewhat puzzled, squinting as if to figure out the issue. He lifted his head off the mattress and propped himself up on his arms.

“If you want,” Zayn shrugged. Louis lowered his eyes, nodding as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“I’ve never done it. I don’t know how…” Louis gestured . Zayn chuckled, sitting up.

“Me neither, but it just happened naturally,” Zayn said, smiling at him from the bed. Naturally? What if he messed up? What if Emily told everyone? What if they started making fun of him? He shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, I’m too scared. I’ll never do it,” he declared firmly, crossing his arms. Zayn burst out laughing at the sight, but stopped when he noticed Louis still looking down.

“If you want, I can teach you… how to do it.”Zayn offered hesitantly. Louis frowned. What did he mean?

“What do you mean?” he asked quickly, tilting his head to one side.

“I’ll show you how… “ Louis still seemed confused, looking at him questioningly.

“I’ll kiss you, Louis,” Zayn clarified, exasperated. Louis’s eyes widened, his cheeks turning bright red.

“Are you crazy? What if someone sees us? Guys shouldn’t do that kind of stuff!” Louis was flustered, gesturing wildly as his ears turned fiery red. Why was Zayn so calm?

“My dad’s out of town, and my mom won’t be back until eight,” Zayn pointed to the Spider-Man clock behind him. “And it’s six.” He sat cross-legged on the bed, his loose purple shirt hanging off his shoulder. Louis thought about it for a moment while Zayn watched him expectantly. He hadn’t anticipated the suggestion and felt breathless with fear. He had never considered kissing Zayn, but now that the idea had crossed his mind, his stomach clenched painfully. At the same time, the thought of kissing Emily terrified him. Maybe practicing first wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

Louis, still hesitant, stood up and slowly approached the bed, feeling the cold floor beneath his bare feet. He sat down cross-legged in front of Zayn, trying to ignore the trembling in his hands and the knot in his stomach. Sensing his hesitation, Zayn moved closer, closing the distance between them.

“Promise you won’t punch me?” Zayn asked with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood. Louis nodded, unable to imagine ever hitting Zayn, even in jest.

“Close your eyes; you’re making me laugh,” Zayn instructed, and Louis obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut as if the sun were blinding him. He heard the creak of the mattress as Zayn leaned in, felt a hand rest gently on his neck, and then soft lips pressed against his own. The contact set him ablaze, the taste of gummy candies Zayn had eaten earlier filling his senses. Louis parted his lips slightly, allowing Zayn to deepen the kiss. In that moment, he lost all sense of himself, his breathing shallow and his head spinning.

When he opened his eyes, Zayn was lying beneath him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, dark eyes locked on his. Only then did Louis realize he was on all fours above him, his body pinning Zayn down.

“Sorry,” he whispered breathlessly, rolling off to the side, embarrassed, and covering his face with his hands to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re good; you can kiss Emily,” Zayn said lightly, already sitting up as if nothing had happened. Louis slowly lowered his hands from his face to look at him, feeling a sudden emptiness. He said nothing, simply nodded, and got off the bed, agreeing to Zayn’s suggestion to play another match.

On the bike ride home, Louis felt strange—tired and unusually warm despite the biting autumn chill. It was as if he had a fever, a mix of unease and confusion he couldn’t shake off.

LOUIS

He had spent the entire day chilling at the beach with his friends, and it had been a fun he hadn’t had in a long time. Now, as he combed his hair in front of the mirror to get ready for the evening party, he couldn’t help but smile. Once he sprayed his usual cologne, he left the room to join the others. Outside, he found Niall already there, dressed in his typical white tank top under an open light blue shirt and white jeans, his tan accentuating every detail. Louis decided to light a cigarette with him while they waited for the others.

“Harry told me you guys broke up. How are you doing?” Niall asked gently. Louis sighed, feeling like an avalanche was hitting him again after a carefree day. He had barely thought about Harry until then, but now everything came rushing back. He wasn’t sure how he really felt; he was doing his best to distract himself, and he had succeeded, but he knew the thoughts would overwhelm him again that night when he found himself alone in bed.

“For now, I’m trying not to think about it too much.” he replied, stifling another sigh as Niall nodded sympathetically, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Anyway, we’ll talk in London, the day after tomorrow. We’ll see…” Louis said, feeling Niall’s hand squeeze his shoulder in a gesture of support. Wanting to change the subject, he asked about Holly, trying to push the thought of Harry away for a bit longer.

“Alright, Liam, I’ll lend them to you, just stop asking me about it!” he heard Zayn’s familiar voice, full of exasperation, as he, Liam, and Matthew emerged one by one from the house. Louis suddenly felt awkward seeing them arrive, all impeccably dressed, while he wore a black shirt two sizes too big, light, loose jeans, and white sneakers. Maybe he had made a mistake in choosing what to wear, he thought.

“What are you lending him this time?” Niall chuckled, breaking his moment of uncertainty and earning his gratitude. Those seconds allowed him to observe Zayn, who was wearing a white, open-collared shirt, a silver chain glinting on his chest, and black pants with thin white stripes.

“The pants, because he has no idea how to dress,” Zayn teased Liam, who began to respond annoyed. Meanwhile, the dark-haired guy gave Louis a knowing look, accompanied by a wink that made him smile. As Zayn adjusted his watch, Louis couldn’t help but think how unfair it all was. How had he ended up surrounded by a group of friends all so incredibly attractive, while he felt so mediocre in comparison?

Arriving at the party, Matthew announced that he and Liam wouldn’t be going in; they preferred to take a walk around. “Call us when you want to go home,” he said with a smile. Zayn sighed, visibly annoyed at the thought of not having his friends with him. Louis shrugged, a bit disappointed: maybe Zayn didn’t want to spend the whole evening with him, and the idea of staying at the bar watching others have fun was starting to weigh on him.

“Behave!” Liam yelled as Zayn got out of the car.

“Don’t fuck too much!” Zayn shouted back, and Louis couldn’t help but laugh as he got out of the car, seeing Matthew flip him before driving off.

The girls were already in front of the boat, waiting for their arrival. Louis greeted Holly with a hug; she wore a simple black long dress, but her eyes showcased a rainbow of colors. He expected nothing less from a makeup artist. Her blonde hair was tied in a high ponytail, and when Louis complimented her, a wide smile lit up her face. He saw Niall looking at her in adoration, as if he were staring at an angel. With an arm around her waist, Louis shook his head amused—Niall was truly a lost cause.

Louis glanced at Zayn, who was behind the two. Cinda had linked arms with him, while Lucas, just appearing to welcome them, approached without a shirt, arms wide open and two glasses in hand.

“Come in, come in!” he exclaimed, greeting only Zayn by name, which made Louis roll his eyes. He slipped his hands into his pockets and hesitated a bit as he stepped onto the small bridge connecting the dock to the boat. Once on board, the music hit him like a wave, loud and overwhelming, there were people everywhere. Louis squinted, not yet used to the noise. The boat was huge, with two floors entirely covered in wood. Lucas must have been incredibly rich, Louis thought. The DJ, positioned at the bow on a raised platform, was surrounded by people jumping to the beat, headphones firmly on their ears. On the sides, cubes for drinks and white sofas lined the edges, while the bar was indoors.

Louis followed Niall and Holly, but he felt a little lost in the midst of all the unfamiliar faces. The crowd surrounded him, the sweaty skin of people in swimsuits brushing against him, and he started to feel overwhelmed. He was about to give in to the confusion when an arm wrapped around his neck, making him jump.

“Everything okay?” Zayn yelled in his ear, getting closer to him. Louis sighed in relief. Even just the physical contact with his best friend instantly calmed him. He waved his hand, signaling that he felt “okay.”

“Let’s get a drink!” Zayn suggested, getting closer to Louis’ ear. He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled toward the bar. While Zayn sipped his gin lemon with clear satisfaction, Louis settled for a simple lemon, as it seemed there wasn’t even any Coca-Cola on the boat.

“You have no idea how annoying it is not being able to drink!” Louis shouted over the music, with a frustrated grimace. Zayn chuckled and nodded, knowingly.

“Not even one drink?” Zayn asked, placing his lips on the straw of his drink. Louis watched the gesture for a moment, then shook his head with an amused smile.

“At most, I can smell it,” Louis replied, trying to lighten the mood. Zayn laughed a little, covering his eyes with one hand.

“Come dance?” he asked as soon as Louis put his drink down on the counter. Louis immediately shook his head, determined. Zayn threw his head back in mock despair, then looked at him with raised eyebrows in a pleading gesture. Louis chuckled, unable to take him seriously.

“Go hit on someone, I’ll wait here,” Louis said, nodding toward the crowd in front of them as he leaned against the counter. Zayn studied him, squinting. Louis suddenly felt uncomfortable. Why was he looking at him like that?

“Now you’re single too, why don’t you try it… and I’ll wait here,” Zayn replied with a mischievous smile. Louis widened his eyes before bursting into laughter, crossing his arms over his chest. Zayn looked at him with that amused expression, waiting for a response.

“Have you seen me? No, it’s not my thing. I don’t know how to do it, you know.” Zayn leaned against the counter with one arm, resting his cheek on his hand as he studied him carefully, top to bottom. Louis watched him confused, furrowing his brows. What was going on with him tonight? Maybe the drink was too strong?

“And yet, you took Harry home,” Zayn observed, raising his eyebrows as if throwing it in his face. Louis shook his head, looking away to watch the people dancing.

“That was just luck,” he replied, laughing and shaking his head.

“And what luck…” Zayn replied sarcastically, making Louis’ mouth fall open in surprise. Zayn never made comments like that, at least not in his presence. Louis shoved him playfully before laughing along with him, both now facing the DJ.

“You say you don’t know how to do it…” Zayn resumed the conversation, while Louis nodded, signaling that he was listening. “… what if I show you how I do it?” Louis looked up at the starry sky, then looked at him with a grimace.

“I know how you do it, I’ve seen it a thousand times. Just go already.” But Zayn kept looking him straight in the eyes, the now empty glass in his hands.

“I didn’t tell you to watch…” Zayn murmured. “… I’ll show you, by trying to hit on you.” Louis blinked, trying to understand. What did he mean by trying to hit on him?

“Get into the crowd, like you’re alone. I’ll come find you soon…” Zayn bit his lower lip, while Louis stared at him in confusion. Was he really suggesting a roleplay?

He stayed silent for a moment, confused about why part of him was tingling at the idea of accepting. It was as if a part of him, the seventeen-year-old part who had always had secret feelings for his friend, was exploding with joy at the idea that Zayn considered him worthy of attention. And it was for that part of himself that Louis stepped away from the counter, walking backward with his eyes locked on his friend’s, before disappearing into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Louis was now immersed in the crowd of people dancing and kissing, barely noticing when he stepped on the feet of those around him. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the music while nervously clutching the edges of his T-shirt. Large crowds always made him uncomfortable, especially when he was alone, but the thought that Zayn would arrive soon allowed him to breathe a little more easily.
A gentle hand brushing his arm snapped him out of his dreamy state. He opened his eyes to find Zayn staring at him intently, circling him with a new drink in hand. Zayn’s scrutinizing gaze made Louis stifle a laugh, as it made him feel both embarrassed and amused. Louis wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and Zayn’s exaggerated behavior seemed designed to make him laugh.

"You’re pretty creepy, you know that?" Louis said, as Zayn continued to circle him, straw between his lips and eyes fixed on him.

"And you’re all red, so I guess I’m not that creepy…" Zayn replied, and Louis felt his face flush, probably turning even redder than before. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but when he turned around again, Zayn was gone. A brief moment of panic set in before he heard Zayn’s voice in his ear—he was behind him.

"Nice to meet you, Zayn.” the boy said with theatrical emphasis. The warmth of his breath on Louis’ skin sent a shiver down his spine, leaving him both confused and intrigued. It made him wonder if this was why people said someone could make your head spin.

"Louis." he replied with a giggle. It felt strange to introduce themselves when they had known each other for almost twenty years. Zayn moved in front of him, smiling with his eyes slightly narrowed. Louis held back a smile; it was the typical look Zayn used when he was flirting. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, but Louis had seen it so many times that he recognized it immediately.

"I noticed you earlier at the bar. I was with my friends... Are you alone?" Louis nodded as he listened, wishing he had at least had a drink before starting this conversation.

"No, I’m with my best friend, but he left me to hit on a girl..." Louis raised his eyebrows, throwing in a little jab with a sly smile. Zayn wet his lips and leaned closer to Louis’ ear, lowering his voice.

"Your best friend must be a complete idiot for not hitting on you instead of the girl..." Louis burst into laughter, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don’t cover it." Zayn said, quickly moving Louis’ hand and placing his fingers under Louis’ chin, stroking it with his thumb. Louis kept smiling, but he felt like he had stopped breathing in the face of those words, that gaze, and the fingers caressing him.

"Want to dance?" Zayn tilted his head slightly to the right, waiting for an answer. His fingers were still under Louis’ chin, his eyes exploring every feature. In Louis’ mind, there was only emptiness, like the noise of a TV with no signal. The height of the boy in front of him, slightly taller than his own, made it impossible to look away. Louis took a deep breath and nodded, aware that accepting meant feeling surrounded by Zayn’s hands. The seventeen-year-old Louis was still jumping for joy, while the twenty-five-year-old Louis was paralyzed by fear. The words "don’t disrespect me" echoed in his mind.

"How much do you want to kiss me right now?" Zayn asked with a mischievous smile, abandoning his usual demeanor for a moment. Louis shook his head, amused by his lack of modesty, and a mischievous smile made its way through his pursed lips.

"Less than zero.” he replied, raising his eyebrows in challenge and crossing his arms over his chest. Zayn nodded, holding back a half-smile as his eyes lit up with amusement. He raised an eyebrow playfully, clearly skeptical but entertained by their little game.

"We’ll see…” he said, in a tone that promised new surprises.

"One sip won’t hurt you," he added, bringing the nearly empty glass closer, probably more ice than alcohol. Louis grabbed the straw between his index finger and thumb, and the strong taste of alcohol, though diluted, flooded his mouth, making him close his eyes for a moment. It was definitely watered down, but he didn’t mind. As Zayn placed the glass on a nearby table, Louis watched him with his hands in his pockets.

"Take your hands out of your pocket!" Zayn huffed, annoyed, pulling them out by the wrists. Louis was about to retort, but he was interrupted when Zayn firmly grabbed his hips. Zayn’s bare chest, his shirt unbuttoned, pressed against Louis’ back. He froze, with his hands raised as if he had just touched something unpleasant, while Zayn started dancing, his body moving in sync with the rhythm. Louis was motionless, as if caught off guard, unable to react.

"What are you doing?" Zayn laughed, his voice vibrating with amusement. Louis felt confused, almost as if he were living a surreal moment, unable to react as he normally would. He was experiencing a wave of panic, and he closed his eyes to try to focus on what was happening. A deep breath allowed him to relax his shoulders and lower his arms. This wasn’t the first time they had danced together; sometimes Zayn had convinced him to hit the dance floor, but not like this. They would scream lyrics at each other and jump around, but the flirting Zayn was doing now did something to his already messed-up brain.

"Good..." Zayn’s voice, low and reassuring, calmed and agitated him at the same time. "It’s still me... you can trust me," he continued, his breath now more controlled. Zayn’s hands were slowly pushing him back until Louis’ butt brushed against his hips. Zayn’s face was so close to his that Louis couldn’t turn his head without brushing against him. Louis felt his stomach churn and his hands tingle.

"Loosen up a bit... follow me." Zayn’s voice snapped him out of his paralysis. Louis blinked as if surprised by a sudden flash. With an almost mechanical gesture, he placed one hand on Zayn’s neck and the other on one of his hands, then began to move with him, following the rhythm of the music pulsating in the background.

The sensations intensified: the warmth of Zayn, the beat of the music, and the vibrant energy conveyed by their synchronized movement. The light kisses Zayn placed on his neck made him shiver and feel a new emotion, a mix of excitement and nervousness. A flash of that evening when he had met the boy’s eyes while kissing Nora’s neck. Zayn began to let his hands wander over Louis’ body, exploring gently but with evident confidence. Every touch seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and Louis found himself letting go, feeling his body respond to the rhythm more naturally. His hand slipped into Zayn’s hair, while the other, still resting on Zayn’s hand, wandered across his stomach and chest. Zayn slowly moved a hand up his shirt until it reached Louis’ neck, the warm hand on his skin making him close his eyes for a moment. The brunette took his chin to force him to look into his eyes. His smile was smug, almost as if he were boasting.

"So Louis Tomlinson can dance." Zayn said with a playful tone of pride. Louis smiled, shaking his head slightly, but without breaking eye contact.

"Who told you my last name?" Louis asked, returning to their game. Zayn’s soft laugh left him enchanted for a moment; under the blue light, Zayn seemed even more attractive than usual. His skin shiny from the heat, his black hair messy from the touch of his hands as they danced, his dark and deep eyes focused exclusively on him. His full lips were so close that Louis could almost feel their softness without even touching them.

Zayn seemed to notice that Louis was staring at his lips because he began to brush them with his thumb, playing especially with the lower lip. The tension between them was palpable. Louis felt sweat running down his back as he tried to push away thoughts of him and his best friend in that way. The temptation to eliminate the few centimeters that separated them was strong, but he didn’t want to give in; Harry’s words echoed insistently in his mind. With a huge dose of willpower, Louis managed to pull away from Zayn, turning to hug him instead. He rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, trying to breathe deeply while his eyes wandered, desperately trying to regain clarity. It took a few seconds before Zayn returned the hug, perhaps surprised by Louis’ move.

When a new song started, Zayn began to sing and sway to the rhythm, shaking Louis playfully and making him giggle. Louis clung to his shoulders to keep his balance before letting go and joining in the singing. The tension from earlier seemed to have dissolved, replaced by a carefree energy that swept them both up.

And you're acting like a stranger

‘Cause you thought it looked like fun

Alex Turner’s voice from the Arctic Monkeys echoed through the air, the bass reverberating in his chest as he grabbed Louis’ hands, forcing him to keep dancing. Zayn and him had always been obsessed with that band, and Louis couldn’t help but smile as Zayn jumped and sang at the top of his lungs. The intermittent white lights illuminated Zayn’s tattoos and muscles, his golden skin glistening under the glow. Reflecting on the lyrics of the remixed song, *"The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala,"* Louis found it almost eerie—or maybe funny—how perfectly they matched the situation he found himself in. His contemplation was interrupted when Cinda approached, singing along with Zayn. Behind her, Niall and Holly joined the group.

Louis let go of Zayn’s hands, allowing him to dance with Cinda, who swayed her hips playfully before running her hands over Zayn’s bare chest, eliciting a laugh from him. Despite the scene, Zayn’s eyes kept drifting back to Louis, searching for his gaze. The heat was becoming unbearable, sweat beading on Louis’ forehead as he tried to cool down by fanning himself with the collar of his T-shirt.

Louis felt a small nudge as someone tried to get past him. He moved aside just in time to see Lucas approaching with a bottle of alcohol in hand.

“Want some?” Lucas asked, but Louis quickly shook his head. He watched as Lucas poured the clear liquid into Cinda’s mouth, then Niall’s, before turning to Zayn.

“Last sip to the hottest guy on this boat!” Lucas shouted shamelessly, making Louis sigh as the girls cheered and Niall clapped, laughing. Zayn, unbothered, leaned back to let Lucas pour the drink, while he placed a hand on his neck and whispered something in his ear. Louis blinked several times, his hands nervously gripping the edge of his T-shirt. Before he could fully process the scene, Lucas was already kissing Zayn just a few meters away.

“Shall we go sit down? You look tired…” Holly suggested, stroking his arm. Louis nodded distractedly, unable to look away from what was happening in front of him. Lucas’ hands, which had wandered over Zayn’s bare skin, now rested on his hips, while Zayn’s hand was buried in Lucas’ hair. At that moment, there was no more room for denial. Louis was jealous, and he knew it.

ZAYN

After a few songs, Zayn was dying of heat and thirst. Lucas dragged him by the wrist through the crowd toward the bar. After drinking two glasses of water, Zayn felt much better and grabbed another one to bring to Louis. He had decided to distract himself; otherwise, he’d go crazy. Having Louis so close and not being able to kiss him was torture. What had happened earlier had been strange but comfortable at the same time. Zayn had never seen Louis behave or move that way with him before, and he was sure Louis had enjoyed it too.

When he reached the table where his friends were resting, Zayn bent down to hand the glass of water to Louis, who was fanning himself with his T-shirt. Louis thanked him with a smile, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile back. While answering a question from Cinda, with Lucas’ arm wrapped around his waist, Zayn felt a fixed gaze on him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Louis, who was watching him with an expression Zayn had never seen before. Louis’ features were tense, his brows furrowed, and his eyes seemed to pierce through Zayn’s skin. There was something strange in that face—a mix of discomfort and frustration that Zayn couldn’t explain. The tension in Louis’ posture, the way his eyes followed every movement of Zayn and Lucas, made Zayn feel as if there was an unspoken barrier between them. For a moment, he wondered what Louis might be thinking, but he couldn’t find an answer.

Zayn began to feel uneasy. Had he done something wrong? Louis kept staring at him, elbows on his knees, lips pursed, and his sweaty hair falling messily back. Yet, even in that disheveled and tired state, Louis looked incredibly attractive. Zayn decided to approach and sit next to him.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Louis kept his gaze fixed in front of him, not even hinting at looking at him, and nodded briefly before taking a sip of water from the glass Zayn had brought him.

“You sure? Did I do something wrong? If something’s wrong, tell me…” Zayn continued, worried, bringing a hand to Louis’ hair to stroke it. But Louis moved away, avoiding contact.

“No, don’t worry, I’m just tired,” he replied curtly, dismissing him. Zayn sighed, resigned and a little frustrated, running a hand through his hair before pulling out his phone and opening the chat with Matthew.

“Shall we go home?” he proposed. Niall also seemed exhausted, sprawled on the couch with Holly on his lap.

“Are *we* going? Aren’t you staying with Lucas?” Louis asked, still without looking at him. Zayn automatically furrowed his brows, puzzled. He had absolutely no intention of staying with Lucas. Then it hit him: the kiss earlier, Louis’ look now, and his cold behavior. Everything made sense—Louis was looking at him like that because he was *jealous* of Lucas.

“No, I want to go home,” Zayn replied firmly, making sure there was no doubt. A small smile began to creep onto his face at the thought that Louis might be jealous.

Once in the car, the only sound was the low music coming from the radio. Holly and Niall, sitting next to Zayn, both had their eyes closed, probably dozing. Louis, sitting to his right, was looking out the window, biting his nails, without saying a word.

“Was this party so devastating? You’re all unusually quiet,” Matthew commented as he drove, making Zayn chuckle. He glanced at Louis, who didn’t react, probably lost in his thoughts.

“The boat was huge, he must be rich…” Zayn said, lowering his gaze to Louis’ hand, relaxed on the seat. Slowly, he brought his own closer, letting their pinkies touch. “...there were at least 150 people on board, for a moment I was afraid it might sink.” He saw Louis lower his eyes to their hands close together. With a look of slight annoyance, Louis rolled his eyes and directly grabbed Zayn’s hand, squeezing it firmly, before turning back to look out the window. A small smile escaped Zayn at that reaction, as he squeezed Louis’ hand tighter, gently stroking the back of it.

“Did you behave?” Liam asked, turning in his seat to look at him.

“Of course,” Zayn nodded.

“Tsk…” Louis commented, without taking his eyes off the window. Liam chuckled, while Zayn, with furrowed brows, found himself torn between laughing and worrying about that reaction.

“Louis doesn’t seem to agree much.” Liam observed, with an amused smile and raised eyebrows. Zayn sighed, but with a smile on his lips, he decided to drop the matter, even though the idea of teasing him further was tempting.

He leaned closer to Louis, resting his chin on his shoulder. Louis, surprisingly, didn’t move away.

“If you keep making this angry face, you’ll get wrinkles before your time, you know?” Zayn whispered, speaking only to him. Louis let out a small smile at the joke, which Zayn clearly noticed despite only seeing his profile. He closed his eyes and let his head drop, resting it on Louis’, feeling the boy’s shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh.

While the others had gone straight to bed, murmuring their goodnights, Louis lingered outside, offering Zayn a cigarette before heading back inside. The night was quiet, the road deserted, and the first hints of dawn were beginning to break through the darkness.

“I’ll sleep on the couch again, don’t worry.” Zayn said, exhaling a plume of smoke. Niall and Holly had already claimed his bed, leaving him with little choice. Louis frowned and shook his head, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray on the wall.

“What are you talking about? Sleep with me.” Louis replied, his tone casual but firm. They stood side by side, staring out at the empty road, the silence between them comfortable yet charged.

“Do you think you can resist all this?” Zayn joked, gesturing dramatically to his own body, barely holding back a laugh. Louis raised an eyebrow, his expression sardonic.

“Okay, sleep on the couch.” Louis concluded, putting out his cigarette with a smirk. Zayn laughed, and as Louis turned to go back inside, Zayn grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist.

“Just kidding, just kidding,” Zayn giggled, pressing a kiss to Louis’ warm cheek and holding him a little tighter. Louis squirmed in his grip, wrinkling his nose.

“God, you reek of alcohol,” Louis complained, pulling away with a playful grimace. He placed a hand on Zayn’s chest, pushing him gently toward the outdoor shower. “A good shower would do you good,” he commented, his tone light but teasing.

Zayn looked up, realizing he was now standing under the outdoor shower. He was tipsy, but not so much that he didn’t understand the situation. “Maybe not dressed…” Zayn said, half-closing his eyes, a sly grin spreading across his face. Louis’ hand was still pressed against his chest, and Zayn leaned back against the wall, feigning innocence.

“Ah, you call this dressed?” Louis asked, looking him up and down with a critical eye, though Zayn noticed the mischievous smile tugging at his lips. Zayn placed his hand over Louis’, holding it against his chest.

“Don’t be jealous. You could… no, you should dress like this too,” Zayn teased, winking. Louis’ blue eyes narrowed skeptically, but Zayn couldn’t look away. Those eyes were his favorite thing.

“Unbearable… you really deserve me turning on the water,” Louis threatened, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. Zayn chuckled, knowing full well that if Louis turned on the water, he’d trap him there with him.

“Do I deserve it? Why?” Zayn asked, his voice dripping with mischief. He released Louis’ hand, pretending to let him escape. “Because I made a joke?” He raised his eyebrows, leaning closer. “Because I’m half-naked?” he continued, tilting his head and half-closing his eyes, his grin widening as Louis sighed in mock exasperation. “Or because I kissed Lucas?” he finally asked, his tone softer now, more serious.

Louis’ face immediately changed. The amusement and irritation vanished, replaced by an embarrassed surprise. He hadn’t expected Zayn to figure it out, though he had to admit his reaction hadn’t been subtle.

As expected, after a moment of realization, Louis turned on the water, drenching Zayn in a cold spray. Louis tried to escape, but he was faster, wrapping an arm around his waist and trapping him against his chest. “I’m not stupid.”Zayn said, his voice low but steady. He was referring not only to Louis’ attempt to escape but also to the jealousy he had sensed earlier. Louis stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together, water dripping from his hair onto his face. His soaked T-shirt clung to his skin, and his hands pressed against Zayn’s chest, though they made no real effort to push him away.

Zayn took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as he prepared to say what he’d been holding back. “But… do you know *why* I kissed Lucas, Louis?” he asked, his gaze locked on Louis’ blue eyes, intense and unwavering. He wanted to be honest without scaring him, but the tension between them was too palpable to ignore any longer. Louis’ eyes darted nervously, waiting for his answer.

“Because I couldn’t kiss *you*, and it was driving me crazy,” Zayn whispered. He expected to feel more anxious admitting it, but instead, he was surprisingly calm, even though his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. When Louis pushed him again, this time more firmly, Zayn let him go, lowering his arms to his sides. He ran a hand over his forehead, brushing his wet hair back as the water continued to flow around them, the sound filling the heavy silence.

Louis kept staring at him, his expression unreadable. Zayn couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, and the uncertainty was starting to make him uncomfortable. He would have preferred Louis to explode, to storm off angrily, rather than face this quiet, tense stillness.

Then, Louis took a step forward. The sound of water under his shoes made Zayn jump. Without warning, Louis leaned in and gave him a quick peck, then pulled back, looking at him intently. Zayn stayed still, confused. Was that kiss just a gesture of consolation? Or was it one of those kisses they used to share when Harry wasn’t in the picture?

As these thoughts overwhelmed him, Louis pressed another kiss to his lips, longer and more decisive. At that point, Zayn realized it couldn’t just be for consolation. Otherwise, why would he have kissed him twice? But Zayn’s eyes betrayed his disorientation. Louis was looking at him with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out what was going through Zayn’s mind. And in that moment, Zayn realized that all the confidence he usually felt vanished into thin air whenever it came to Louis.

"Zay-" He didn’t let him finish, Zayn his face in his hands to kiss him. The kiss started slowly, gently, as if both were testing the waters. Zayn’s lips moved with an almost reverent softness, barely brushing Louis’. Then, with a natural and fluid motion, Zayn ran his tongue over Louis’ lower lip, silently asking for permission to go further. A shared breath seemed to dissolve the tension that had accompanied them until then, and the kiss grew more intense, deeper. Louis’ hands moved to Zayn’s hips, pulling him gently closer as he stepped forward. Zayn stumbled slightly backward until his back touched the wall behind him.

Kissing Louis was different from anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t like the kisses he’d shared with Matthew or anyone else. If kisses used to feel like fireworks—explosive and full of adrenaline—this was the opposite. With Louis, it was like wrapping himself in a warm blanket on a cold winter night. Every movement of their lips was soft, sure, and filled with a quiet intensity that made the rest of the world fade away.

Louis, without breaking the kiss, reached out an arm, fumbling to turn off the shower. When Zayn noticed, he couldn’t help but chuckle at Louis’ awkwardness. “The water…” Louis murmured, his lips still brushing against Zayn’s. In response, Zayn wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist, lifting him slightly off the ground and carrying him effortlessly toward the shower controls. He turned off the water, all while laughing softly, his heart swelling with affection. Zayn felt like he was losing his mind—Louis’ flushed cheeks, his bright eyes, his kiss-swollen lips, and that sly smirk. He wanted to capture the moment, to draw him right then and there, to preserve that image forever.

“You know I can walk, right?” Louis quipped, his voice teasing, though his cheeks were flushed.

“You know I don’t care?” Zayn shot back, his grin widening. A small laugh escaped Louis’ lips, followed by an almost inaudible mutter of “unbearable” before he kissed Zayn again.

By the time they reached the entrance of the villa, Zayn gently set Louis down, pinning him between himself and the wall. Their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath, the intensity of their kiss fading into soft, lingering pecks and gentle bites. Zayn’s eyes remained closed, savoring the feel of Louis’ hands cupping his cheeks, fingers tracing his jawline, while his own hands rested on Louis’ hips.

“Shall we go inside?” Zayn whispered, his voice a breathy, almost relieved sigh, before leaning in to place one more tender kiss on Louis’ lips.

LIAM

Liam noticed Matthew was quieter than usual that evening. They stood on the beach, the cold sand beneath their bare feet, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the air. But Matthew’s expression was tense, his thoughts seemingly miles away. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I have to admit… I’m nervous. Scared, even. I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

Liam felt a surge of tenderness wash over him. It was rare to see Matthew so vulnerable. Without hesitation, he reached out, placing a warm hand over Matthew’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” Liam said softly, his voice steady and full of conviction. “We’ll figure it out together. If something’s wrong, we’ll talk about it. No secrets, no hiding. Relationships take effort, but I know we can make it work.” Matthew nodded slowly, the tension in his face easing as a faint smile tugged at his lips. With a sigh of relief, he leaned his head against Liam’s shoulder.

“You know,” Matthew continued, his voice quieter now, “after everything I’ve been through, I avoided relationships for years. I didn’t believe in them. I didn’t think… I didn’t think someone like me could ever have this. Even now, it’s hard to believe someone could actually care about me.”

Liam’s chest tightened. He knew little but enough of Matthew’s past—the years in the military, the trauma that followed, the family that had turned their back on him. Those scars ran deep, invisible but ever-present, and Liam felt them acutely whenever Matthew opened up like this.

“It’s real,” Liam said firmly, his voice gentle but unwavering. “I know I might sound like a hopeless romantic, but I truly believe—no, I know—this exists for everyone, Matthew. You’re no less deserving than anyone else. It’s just harder for some of us to see it in ourselves. But look at your life—your place, your community. You don’t even realize how much good you do, how much love you’ve built around you. You give so much, and you deserve to receive it too.”

Matthew relaxed further against him, and Liam pressed a soft kiss to his curly hair, breathing in the faint scent of the sea.

“Don’t say things like that,” Matthew murmured, his voice cracking with emotion, though he tried to mask it with a laugh. “You’ll make me cry.”

Liam chuckled, pulling him closer. He had never felt this deeply for someone before, and he was slowly realizing just how devastating it would be if their relationship ever ended.

Later, as they prepared for bed, Matthew sat on the balcony, a cigarette between his fingers, watching the night envelop the world around them. The glow of the ember illuminated his face, his eyes distant and thoughtful. Liam watched him from the doorway, captivated by the way the dim light highlighted his sharp features, his green eyes reflecting the soft light of the night.

“Who’s taking a shower at this hour?” Matthew muttered, breaking the silence.

Curious, Liam stepped onto the balcony and peered over the railing. What he saw left him speechless. “Zayn and Louis… and Louis just kissed Zayn?”

Matthew spun around, nearly choking on his words. “What the hell are you talking about?” He joined Liam at the railing, his voice hushed but incredulous. Together, they stared down at the scene unfolding below. Louis and Zayn were locked in an embrace, kissing as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Liam and Matthew exchanged a look of pure astonishment. Liam had suggested Zayn to make some steps, but he didn’t think they would kiss already.

“Harry?” Matthew asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Liam shrugged, his confusion evident. He hadn’t spoken to Harry in ages, and his interactions with Louis had been minimal. Since Harry had left, Zayn seemed to have latched onto Louis, but Liam had no idea what was really going on. Matthew ran a hand over his face, frustration etched into his features as he stubbed out his cigarette.

“I’m telling you,” Matthew sighed, “the return to London isn’t going to be pretty.”

Liam nodded reluctantly, though a part of him still clung to hope. He tried to focus on the fact that they still had one more day of vacation to enjoy, but it was hard to ignore the storm brewing on the horizon.

“Not necessarily,” Liam said, his voice tinged with desperate optimism. “Maybe Harry realizes he needs to step aside, and Louis and Zayn end up together.”

Matthew turned to him, shirtless and ready for bed, and gave him a skeptical look. “Liam, keep living in your fairy tale…” he chuckled, leaning in to cup Liam’s face and kiss his forehead.

Liam stuck out his tongue in response, but deep down, he knew Matthew was probably right. He didn’t want any more drama, but he had a sinking feeling that London would bring plenty of it.

Chapter Text

LOUIS

Zayn and Louis continued to kiss, the rhythm of their lips slow and soft. Louis was half-asleep, the weight of exhaustion creeping between them. His eyelids closed at regular intervals, but he didn’t want to stop kissing Zayn. The warmth of the sheets and the heat of Zayn’s body against his made him feel incredibly safe.

But at some point, Zayn pulled away slightly, his dark eyes fixed on Louis with a mix of concern and affection. "You should change and dry off, we’ll catch a cold," he murmured, his tone sweet but firm.

Louis huffed, his eyes closed, the cheek against the now completely soaked sheet, trying to hold onto the sleep that was enveloping him. "I don’t want to... I’m fine like this," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and stubbornness. He tried to ignore the discomfort of his wet, cold clothes clinging to him, but Zayn wasn’t convinced.

Zayn leaned in again, gently stroking his cheek. "Let me help you, come on," he offered, his voice low and full of a tenderness that Louis felt deep in his stomach. Louis looked at him through half-closed lashes, unable to suppress a small smile before nodding, accepting the help.

"Okay, but go easy," he murmured, relaxing under Zayn’s touch. Zayn got to work, starting with the t-shirt, carefully lifting it from Louis’ damp skin.

"How many times did I do this?" Zayn commented, his tone nostalgic. "You were always wasted after parties, and I’d carry you to bed and change you so you could sleep comfortably."

Louis smiled, a soft, memory-laden sound escaping his lips. "Yeah, I remember..." he murmured, a crooked smile lighting up his face. His fingers absentmindedly tangled in a lock of Zayn’s hair. The truth was, Louis was often only slightly tipsy, but he pretended to be more drunk than he really was. He liked the idea of Zayn taking care of him, but Zayn didn’t need to know that.

Zayn smiled back, finishing pulling off the shirt and tossing it to the floor before moving to the pants. With careful movements, he began to unzip and unbutton Louis’ jeans, but as he did so, Louis accidentally shifted his leg, lightly kneeing Zayn in the lips.

Zayn froze suddenly, bringing a hand to his now throbbing lip. "Ow!" he exclaimed, trying to stifle a groan of pain as he touched his lip.

Louis’ eyes flew open, sleep vanishing in an instant as he tried to hold back a laugh, but in the end, he couldn’t stop a small chuckle from escaping. "Sorry, sorry!" he said quickly, but the expression on his face betrayed amused guilt. "I didn’t mean to... come on, let me see," he added, reaching out to take Zayn’s face in his hands and check the damage, sitting up to face him.

Zayn winced as his lip throbbed under Louis’ gentle touch. "You split my lip," he said, his voice trying to sound annoyed but actually containing a hint of amusement. Louis shook his head, laughing, leaning in even closer.

"So dramatic!" he commented with a smile as he examined the damage.

"It’s bleeding," Zayn retorted, touching his lip with his fingers, making Louis sigh, who now felt a little guilty for laughing.

"Do you want me to get you some ice?" he asked, but Zayn shook his head as he went to the bathroom to rinse his mouth. Meanwhile, Louis took off his jeans and put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. When Zayn returned, Louis tossed him some clothes to change into, then lay back on the bed, closing his eyes, ready to let sleep take him, his cheek sinking into the white pillow.

He opened his eyes again when he felt the mattress dip under Zayn’s weight as he lay down on his back, hands clasped behind his head. His profile was faintly illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window, and his long lashes fluttered lightly against his cheeks.

Louis could have filled entire pages trying to capture Zayn’s profile in words. In the moonlight, his face looked sculpted, every line and shadow a perfection that deserved to be described. Only a few times as a little teenager with a crush on his best friend, he had had the courage to do it, to admit what he felt for Zayn. Putting it on paper or saying it out loud would mean confirming it, and Louis had never been really ready for that.

With Harry, on the other hand, he had written pages and pages. He had filled diaries, computer files, scattered sheets of paper around his room. He had found him in the sentences of the books he read, in the movies he watched.

Suddenly, a weight pressed on his chest, and his breath grew short. He sat up abruptly, trying to calm himself, his hands pressed to his chest as he closed his eyes to keep from crying.

"Lou? Louis..." Zayn’s voice called him back to reality, and a hand on his shoulder made him flinch. Louis quickly brushed it away. "Don’t touch me." He quickly got out of bed, his legs feeling like feathers as he headed toward the glass door. He needed air, while his mind continued to chatter incessantly, not giving him peace, not letting him rest.

I love you, Louis, as much as I love my guitar, and that’s a very important declaration of love.

I thought of you when I saw these flowers, I hope you like them.

I wrote you a song, I’ll let you hear it someday.

If I go on tour, I’ll take you with me, I’ll show you the world.

He sat down on one of the chairs around the small table, his head in his hands as he desperately tried to slow his breathing, but to no avail. How could he have hurt the person who had said those words to him so deeply? Tears began to flow on their own, and he couldn’t stop them. He heard Zayn’s footsteps approaching, but he remained silent, Louis grateful that he didn’t touch him.

Don’t disrespect me.

It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s him I don’t trust.

He doesn’t want what’s best for you, I do.

He wants you to be his little lapdog forever, that’s why he doesn’t like me, because I’m waking you up.

A few sobs escaped his mouth, his hands still gripping his hair, the words in his mind echoing like a reverberation, mingling with the soft rustle of the wind. Louis felt as if he were trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: love, remorse, anger, and a suffocating sense of guilt. Every phrase he remembered, every whispered promise and declaration of love now felt like sharp knives that kept stabbing him relentlessly.

Louis couldn’t stop thinking about how he had let Harry down, how he had betrayed the trust of someone who loved him so deeply. But he also couldn’t deny what he felt in that moment, for the person he had just kissed with such intensity.

Zayn knelt beside him, "Louis..." his voice was low, full of concern and a tenderness that only Zayn could direct toward him.

"You don’t have to face this alone, tell me what’s wrong?"

Louis’ words tangled in his mind, creating a chaos of thoughts and emotions that left him breathless. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Zayn, but his vision had blurred, tears streaming down his face without him being able to stop them.

"Harry mustn’t know anything about this..." he whispered, his voice cracking but determined. Each word was a knife twisting in the wound, but he couldn’t do anything but say them. "Everything will go back to how it was... like always."

Zayn looked at him confused, and Louis saw a spark of incomprehension in his eyes that made him even angrier. "What do you mean, like always?" Zayn asked, his voice genuinely perplexed.

Louis felt the blood boiling in his veins. How could Zayn not understand? How could he pretend that all those times hadn’t happened? In high school, at the 6th form prom, during the first parties in London, the last time a year ago. He snapped to his feet, feeling the anger overwhelm him, like a wave that had finally crashed over him.

"Don’t pretend you don’t know, Zayn!" he exploded, his voice trembling with anger and the pain he had accumulated for so long. "How many times we kissed and the next day you were already with someone else? It never meant anything to you, and it never meant anything to me either."

Zayn’s eyes widened, and Louis saw guilt paint his face, but he felt no satisfaction. Instead, he only felt a deeper pain. He had lived too long in that confusion, in that uncertainty. Every time Zayn kissed him, Louis had hoped it was real, that Zayn truly wanted him. But it was always the same. Always the same wound reopening, always the same illusion crumbling the next evening when Zayn was already with someone else, as if Louis had never been there, as if those kisses had never meant anything.

"Lou, I—" Zayn started to say something, but Louis cut him off sharply, his heart pounding, full of anger and disappointment.

"No, Zayn. No excuses this time," he spat out, feeling a lump in his throat that made it hard to breathe. "Don’t pretend it’s different. Harry mustn’t know because... because there’s nothing between us. There never really was, right? Just stolen kisses, moments that mean nothing. But this has to end, we’re not teengers anymore, we can’t keep playing."

His words hung in the air, heavy as boulders. Louis looked at him, waiting for an answer, a reaction, but deep down he already knew that nothing Zayn could say would change the reality. He could no longer hide behind those lies, he could no longer pretend that everything was fine. The pain of those years, of those stolen and then forgotten kisses, was too great, too deeply rooted.

And in that moment, as he watched Zayn struggle, Louis felt a part of himself finally break, as if he had finally accepted that there would never be anything more between them. That their "us" was nothing but an illusion he had clung to for too long. Zayn’s silence and his refusal to look at him was proof of that.

ZAYN

The fourth drink went down smoothly, leaving a trail of warmth down his throat and chest, spreading to his head like a confused and oppressive fog. Zayn had let his head droop against the couch as soon as he arrived. The wound on his lip throbbed, a dull pain that, strangely, seemed to intensify with every sip of alcohol, becoming almost pleasant, a constant sting that kept him anchored to reality.

"Everything okay?" Matthew’s voice slipped into his thoughts, a distant and muffled sound. Zayn felt the other’s knee press against his, but he just nodded slowly, keeping his eyes shut, as if opening them would make the world unbearable. He brought the empty glass to his lips, hoping for one last sip, but there was nothing left.

"Doesn’t look like it... what’s wrong?" Matthew insisted, with a solicitude that was starting to irritate him. Zayn opened his eyes with effort, only to reach for the table and pour himself another shot of vodka, ignoring his friend’s reproachful look telling him to stop.

"Louis kissed me," he murmured, sinking back into the couch, his eyes half-closed as he slowly turned his head toward Matthew. Matthew’s eyes seemed to shift, but at that moment they were dark, piercing, as if trying to dig into his soul.

"And that’s not a good thing?" Matthew spoke softly, but Zayn wasn’t sure if it was genuine or if the alcohol was distorting everything. He slowly shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line, and went back to staring into the void in front of him.

"He yelled at me, after..." Zayn’s voice broke, and he fell silent for a moment, letting the background noise of the bar fill the void. "Louis doesn’t do things by halves when he’s angry... He told me not to say anything to Harry and then started throwing all the times we’ve kissed in the past in my face. He said this time didn’t mean anything either..."

Matthew stayed silent, trying to understand, while Zayn took refuge in another sip. "And you? Didn’t you tell him you’re in love with him, that you weren’t before?" Zayn laughed, an exaggerated, almost bitter laugh, shaking his head.

"I stayed quiet." he finally said, staring at Matthew with a closed-lipped smile, his eyebrows raised in an expression that tried to be casual but failed miserably. The other looked at him with wide eyes, concern evident in his furrowed brows and slightly open mouth, but Zayn no longer had the strength to explain, nor the desire to confront what he really felt.

"Why? It’s so obvious he feels something for you, he showed it with the kiss. If you just told him—"

"No. I won’t tell him. I’ve already ruined his life enough, apparently. Maybe Harry’s right, I should just get out of the way." A heavy silence fell between them, and Zayn felt the pounding in his head sync with the rhythm of the music playing in the background.

"You would have been kinder," he began to say, his mind seemed to float between thoughts and words he couldn’t keep in order. A senseless little laugh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his sweaty, sticky hair.

"Me?" asked Matthew, turning to him with an expression that mixed confusion and amusement, a hint of a smile on his lips. Taking another sip from his glass, Zayn felt the alcohol finally taking over, making his mind more and more foggy.

"When we started, uh, our arrangement, I liked you... you would have been kinder to reject me, I mean," said Zayn, gesturing as if to shoo away the thought. It was as if the matter had become an insignificant detail, a thought dissolving into the air. He took a deep breath and settled on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Why didn’t you tell me you liked me? I would never have proposed—" Matthew tried to interject, but Zayn cut him off with a casual gesture, laughing and wetting his lips before answering.

"Exactly because I wouldn’t have had you even that way..." he explained wearily, downing the entire contents of the glass in one dry sip. "But don’t worry, it passed quickly. We’re too alike, you and me..." he added, shrugging and showing a crooked smile.

"What do you mean?" asked Matthew, curiosity in his voice. Zayn reached out and stole the drink from his hands, laughing as he sipped it.

"You’re not saying anything?" Zayn asked when Matthew remained silent. The other sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, the fabric of his pink shirt stretched over his biceps.

"You’re already drunk," he finally replied, and Zayn winked at him before bursting into laughter and drinking more from his friend’s drink.

"Anyway, don’t get me wrong, fantastic sex..." Zayn emphasized the word "fantastic" with an exaggerated expression, making it stand out as if it were the most important thing in the world. Matthew’s laughter filled the air as he covered his face with a hand to hide his smile. "But we don’t click, not like you and Liam, not like me and... Louis," he sighed before saying his name. "...we need… someone to lift us up, not drag us down, and you and I are too used to being at the bottom."

"Zayn, you get almost poetic when you’re drunk, you know that?" Matthew chuckled, running a hand through the hair falling on his forehead. Zayn, swaying a little, slowly leaned closer to the other’s face, the world seeming to rotate at a different rhythm.

"Strange, Louis always says I get a little molest when I’m like this..." Zayn smiled, his face turning into a laugh when he saw Matthew scoot further away on the couch, his face amused. "Relax, you’re not my type..." he joked, with a lightness that seemed to reveal itself only now. Suddenly, he felt more energetic, freer. His head was empty, as if every confused and heavy thought had been swept away by the alcohol, leaving him floating in a space of relaxed euphoria.

Matthew was talking, but the words came to him like a distant melody, indistinct and blurred. Zayn tried to focus, but his head was spinning and the world seemed to sway.

"Hey, what are we doing? Heading back? We have to leave tomorrow afternoon, I didn’t want to stay out too late—" Liam was blabbering, but the sound of his voice was like an echo in a tunnel. Zayn, completely overwhelmed by sensations, shot up, his heart racing and his mind going a mile a minute. He grabbed Liam’s face in his hands, leaning in with enthusiasm, and kissed him square on the lips. "Liam!"

Liam’s face scrunched up in confusion. His eyes wandered for a few seconds toward Matthew, as if seeking an explanation. Zayn realized he was completely out of it, his balance wavering. Reality seemed uncertain and unstable, and Zayn found it hard to anchor himself to any coherent thought.

"He’s drunk, leave him alone..." Matthew sighed, standing up and shaking his head. Then he approached Zayn, who was starting to sway without even realizing it. Matthew put an arm around his waist, trying to keep him upright, while Zayn continued to stumble, laughing for no reason.

LOUIS

Louis had decided to stay home, tired and disappointed after the argument the night before and an emotionally exhausting day. He didn’t feel like going out dancing; his only desire was to read a book and go to sleep as soon as possible. He had exchanged a few messages with Harry before closing his eyes, a simple 'I miss you' that had left his fingers before he drifted off to sleep.

Then, the voices in the living room woke him abruptly, followed by the sound of a chair falling and keys jingling. "Christ, Matthew, you’re making a mess!" A voice he couldn’t ignore, followed by a laugh he knew all too well, pushed him out of bed to check. "Let’s try not to wake Louis, please?"

"Louis is already awake, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, appearing from the hallway, his eyes squinting against the sudden light, running a hand on his crinkled face  as he heard Liam apologize. He found himself facing Zayn, clearly wasted, being held up by a worried Liam and a somewhat irritated Matthew as he bent down to pick up the keys from the floor. Niall behind them quickly said goodnight, a bit dazed, before closing himself in his room.

"Do you need a hand?" Louis asked, approaching with a tone that tried to remain calm despite his growing frustration. Zayn, confused and staggering , ignored his presence and continued to look at the others.

"Sure? He’s a bit of a handful, he’s already kissed me three times... and he tried with Matthew too," Liam chuckled, and Louis smiled calmly—nothing he hadn’t seen before. Zayn rarely went further, but when he did, it was always like this. Once put to bed, though, he’d crash into a deep sleep.

"Don’t worry, if we get him to bed, he’ll fall asleep right away..." Louis was saying to Liam, but as soon as Zayn noticed his presence, he lunged at Louis, who swayed back. "Damn it, Zayn, next time you get drunk, I’m leaving you where you are," Matthew commented as he tried to peel Zayn off Louis. Zayn, continued to mumble incomprehensible words into his ear. Louis couldn’t help but chuckle, a tired and resigned laugh. It was a thought that had crossed his mind every time Zayn overdid it with alcohol, but despite everything, he always ended up taking care of him. It was always him bringing Zayn home, even if he found it exasperating.

"Sure you don’t want to just leave him on the couch?"

Louis shook his head, knowing it wouldn’t be fair. Zayn had already slept on the couch last night because of him; it wasn’t a huge sacrifice to spend one night sharing the bed, especially since Zayn would be out cold in a few minutes. Matthew and Liam finally managed to get Zayn into the room, and Louis bent down to take off his shoes while the two walked away, wishing him goodnight and closing the door behind them.

"Tommo?" Zayn, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked at him with one eye closed and the other open. Louis stifled a laugh at his comical expression.

"Mh," Louis replied, sighing as he pulled Zayn’s shirt off his shoulders. "You’re beautiful," Zayn said, and Louis chuckled as he slipped off one sleeve. Zayn’s eyes were fixed on him, the boy remained still, not moving a muscle to help Louis. Why was he even doing this? Why was he helping him? He could just push him onto the mattress and let him fall asleep, but no, Louis had to be kind even when he was angry.

"Sometimes you’re so beautiful I draw you, you know?" Zayn continued, slurring his words, and Louis was amused, finally pulling off the other sleeve of the shirt.

"No, you once told me you never draw me like…because you see my face every day and you got tired of it," Louis smiled at the memory, knowing Zayn had been teasing him during that conversation, but he had believed it—that Zayn never drew him.

Zayn shook his head like a petulant child, and Louis, now standing beside the bed, looked down at him. "Liar, I drew you like a thousand times." Zayn insisted. Louis rolled his eyes. There was nothing credible about Zayn’s words, but it was hard to stay mad at him in that moment.

"Alright, time for bed," Louis said before walking around the bed and lying down with his head on the pillow. He felt Zayn move and settle beside him. When he turned to face him, his cheek resting on the pillow, he noticed Zayn was already watching him. His hands were clasped on his chest, his lips slightly parted, and though the darkness of the room made it hard to see his face clearly, Louis could sense the steady rhythm of his breathing. In that moment, despite his irritation, Zayn’s tenderness struck him, making it hard to maintain his coolness.

"Lou?"

"Mh."

"Can you hold my hand?"

Louis sighed but placed a hand between them. A moment later, he felt Zayn’s hand grip his.

"Do you really love Harry that much?"

"Zayn, go to sleep."

"Louis."

"Stop it."

"You’re an asshole."

A sudden sob made Louis open his eyes. Was Zayn crying? He hadn’t heard him cry in a long time. Louis felt the warmth of Zayn’s hand pull away and then saw him turn over, facing away. He remained still, wanting to comfort him but knowing Zayn would probably push him away.

He waited.

After a few minutes, the sobs subsided, and Zayn’s breathing grew heavier. He had fallen asleep. Louis felt partially relieved, though the awareness that Zayn had cried moments ago—perhaps because of him—troubled him.

Louis woke up at dawn and, after a final glance at Zayn, still lying on his side, got up. He decided to take advantage of the last morning by the sea for a solitary swim. Who knew when he’d have another chance to enjoy such tranquility.

He reached the beach, still deserted, and dove into the cool water. The sea was calm, with gentle waves lapping the shore. Louis swam with steady strokes, his thoughts beginning to occupy his mind, just like the waves surrounding him.

As he swam, Louis reflected on how difficult it was to manage his relationship with Zayn. Since Harry had entered his life, the space Zayn occupied had grown smaller and smaller. Louis realized that, perhaps, this was the cause of the constant ups and downs between them. Harry had brought a new kind of stability and love that he couldn’t reconcile with Zayn’s instability. "Harry was right," Louis thought, "I can’t keep being his lapdog forever."

Louis stopped for a moment, floating on his back. The sea was a refuge, but his worries were still there, despite the water’s calming effect. "Maybe it’s time to think about myself," he told himself.

When he reached the shore, he felt lighter but also reflective. The solitary swim had given him the clarity he needed to think about the direction of his life. He was aware that the road ahead would be difficult, but he felt that distancing himself from Zayn, at least for a while, was a necessary choice. With one last look at the sea, Louis headed back to the villa, ready to face reality and the decisions awaiting him.

Chapter Text

ZAYN

Zayn woke up with a headache that felt like it was about to explode, every heartbeat amplified into a painful buzz that echoed in his skull. He opened his eyes with difficulty, only to see that the bed next to him was empty. Louis must have gotten up early. He felt an annoying emptiness inside, an anguish he couldn’t shake off.

Staggering, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, where he clung to the sink just in time to throw up. He felt miserable, drained. When he finally finished, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to wake himself up completely. But his head kept throbbing, and the confusion seemed to thicken instead of dissipating.

After a quick shower, he threw on some random clothes and dragged himself to the kitchen, hoping that some food might help. But more than anything, he needed a painkiller. As he poured himself some orange juice, he felt Liam’s presence watching him with an amused smile.

"What did I do last night?" Zayn asked, his voice hoarse, hoping he hadn’t caused too much trouble.

Liam wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him into a brotherly hug. "You just kissed me a couple of times," he replied, laughing, planting an affectionate kiss on Zayn’s temple. Zayn closed his eyes, seeking some relief in the contact, but the guilt didn’t leave him.

"I’m so sorry..." he muttered, the nausea returning. He felt like he had annoyed everyone, and that thought made him feel even worse. But Liam shook his head, hugging him even tighter in a reassuring embrace.

"Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything serious," he said, continuing to stroke Zayn’s hair. Zayn let himself go, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder, seeking some comfort in that moment of fragility.

"I need to tell you some things..." he murmured, his voice breaking with uncertainty. He felt the need to vent, to explain, but the words seemed to escape him.

"Matt already told me," Liam said, his tone now more serious. "How are you?"

Zayn sighed deeply, trying to sort out his thoughts. "I don’t know, Liam... It’s all so confusing."

Just then, the door opened, and Louis walked into the room, still wet from his swim in the sea. "Good morning, guys," he said with a smile that seemed to light up the entire room, ignoring the heavy atmosphere that hung in the air. "The girls came to say goodbye," he added, his tone so light it almost seemed out of place.

Zayn looked up at Louis, his heart pounding in his chest. Seeing him so at ease, so serene, while he felt trapped in a spiral of confusion, made him feel even more lost. Louis seemed in control, even when things were going badly. Zayn, on the other hand... he felt lost, as if every decision dragged him deeper and deeper.

Louis immediately noticed his pitiful state, and his smile faded slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, with a concern Zayn didn’t feel he deserved.

Zayn shrugged, unable to give a clear answer. "I don’t know... just a really bad headache," he murmured, lowering his gaze.

Louis shook his head and walked over to him. "Finish your breakfast and take a painkiller, okay?"

Zayn nodded, grateful for Louis’ kindness but also aware of the chasm he felt between them. "Thanks, Lou..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

As Louis walked away to take care of other things and the others went to greet the girls, Zayn remained staring at the juice in his glass, lost in his thoughts, which crashed like waves. His head throbbed, but he didn’t know if it was from the hangover or everything else that was tormenting him.

"You look like shit," said Cinda, her voice deep but lively, a combination that was both reassuring and provocative. She appeared with some croissants in hand, the buttery smell drawing him in like an anchor.

"Thanks!" Zayn replied with a tone of ironic relief, grabbing a croissant and biting into it quickly. Hunger was just an excuse: he needed to take that pill, and food was the only way to do it without further irritating his already upset stomach.

Cinda watched him for a moment, then nodded with a half-smile. "Want to go outside and smoke a cigarette, just the two of us?" she asked, with that hint of complicity Zayn knew well. Zayn nodded silently, appreciating Cinda’s discretion, as he finished the croissant and prepared to follow her.

"Why did you end up like this?" Cinda asked, sitting on the wall with her legs crossed as she lit a cigarette. Her tone was calm, but her attentive gaze betrayed genuine concern. Zayn shrugged, taking a deep drag from his own cigarette, as if the smoke could suffocate the emotions tormenting him.

"There’s always a reason..." she continued, with an air of someone who isn’t easily fooled. Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find an answer that wasn’t too painful to admit. He rested his arms on the stone wall, the cold skin under his elbows, as he searched for the words.

"For someone?" he finally replied, uncertain, almost as if it were a question to himself rather than to her. Cinda chuckled, but her smile was affectionate, without judgment. The contrast between her rested face and Zayn’s haggard one was evident, her eyes clear, his with dark circles as if he hadn’t slept for days.

"It’s always a guy’s fault. Who is it though? What happened?" Cinda raised an eyebrow, curious but respectful. Zayn looked at her in silence, his gaze distant, as if every word were a weight he wasn’t ready to carry. The silence stretched between them until Cinda took a deep breath, deciding to break it.

"Here’s the deal," she proposed, her tone trying to be light. "I’ll tell you something few people know about me, and you tell me what happened. Deal?" Zayn nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the cigarette burning between his fingers.

"I’m a lesbian," she confessed, with a shy smile she had never shown before. "Only a few people know, like Holly and Nora." Zayn furrowed his brows, surprised not so much by the revelation itself but by the fact that Cinda had chosen him, a near-stranger, to confide in.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, confused, unable to hide his surprise. They had only known each other for a few days, had shared some chatter, even a bit more intimate during the evenings, but he hadn’t expected such a personal revelation.

"Because you inspire trust, and I knew you wouldn’t make any comments," she replied, with a disarming sincerity that made Zayn smile. It was reassuring to know he gave someone that feeling, that he wasn’t completely lost.

"Now it’s your turn," she gently pressed.

Zayn exhaled a long breath, as if trying to release the weight on his chest. "I like someone... but they’re taken, I think. I’m not sure." His voice was confused, almost lost, as he gestured nervously with the hand holding the cigarette. Cinda nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue. "We kissed, actually... they kissed me, but then they regretted it. They told me to pretend it never happened."

"Pretending I didn’t figure out who you’re talking about..." Cinda commented, resting her cheek on her shoulder with an ironic expression. Zayn gave a crooked smile.

"...I’m not an expert on relationships," she continued, her tone more serious, "but I’ve been through something similar with someone who was taken. If a relationship is that complicated and makes you feel this bad, I ask you: is it really worth it? Love should be simple. If someone is in a relationship and falls for someone else, they should leave their partner. It shouldn’t be a constant back-and-forth, a never-ending pain. Love, when it’s real, is straightforward."

"Like Matthew and Liam?" Zayn turned to look through the window at the two boys talking and smiling inside the villa. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Like Matthew and Liam," Cinda confirmed. "I’m not saying they don’t have problems, they do like all couples. But their story..."

"Was simple.” Zayn finished, finally understanding what Cinda meant. A silence heavy with thoughts hung between them as the cigarette smoke dissolved into the cool night air.

Zayn was sitting at the gate, his gaze fixed on the arrivals and departures board, though the letters scrolling in front of his eyes seemed to have no meaning. The crowd around him moved like a fog, made of indistinct sounds and blurred faces. The airport was full of life, but he felt like an island in a sea of people. The echo of Louis’ voice, still tense, echoed in his head, but he couldn’t piece together what had happened.

Louis approached, gripping the handle of his bag with one hand. He seemed hesitant, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he dropped into the seat next to Zayn, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Zayn," Louis began, his voice calm but firm, as if he had already thought long and hard about what he was about to say. Zayn slowly turned to him, a sense of apprehension tightening his chest. "We need to talk."

Zayn remained silent, his heart pounding as he tried to prepare himself for whatever Louis had to say. Louis took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I think... maybe it’s better if we take some time apart."

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. Zayn felt a void open inside him, something he couldn’t fill. "Why?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

Louis looked down, visibly struggling with his feelings. "It doesn’t feel fair to Harry," he finally admitted, his voice a little lower. "He... deserves my full attention, and with you around... I can’t give him, or myself, what we need. I need to think about me, Zayn. And about him."

Zayn was silent for a moment, trying to make sense of everything Louis was saying. Confusion mixed with pain, creating a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t handle. Finally, in a voice firmer than he expected, he asked, "But... if that’s the case, why did you break up with him then? Harry, I mean."

Louis closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to find the answer within himself. When he opened them, there was a deep sadness in his gaze, but also a determination Zayn had never seen before.

"I left him because I wasn’t sure of what I wanted," Louis admitted, his voice low and tense. "Because it bothered me to see him treat you that way, because sometimes I don’t understand exactly what we are... the two of us." Zayn’s eyes flickered for a few seconds as he processed the last sentences.

Zayn felt a wave of frustration and pain overwhelm him, a grip tightening his chest as he stared at Louis, desperately trying to understand what was happening. He couldn’t stop the bitter words that escaped his lips. "And you want to figure it out by distancing yourself? This is bullshit."

"Zayn, I’m not joking," Louis said, his voice more serious, almost tense. "That..." He looked around, lowering his voice as if he wanted to avoid the world hearing that confession. "...that kiss… it was just for fun like you always do."

Zayn furrowed his brows, confusion and anger beginning to mix, an explosive cocktail threatening to make him lose control. "Who told you I only did it for fun?"

Louis looked at him with an expression that seemed to cut through his heart like a blade. "Because that’s what you always do, we’ve talked about this before."

Zayn felt the anger growing inside him, like a fire fueled by every word Louis said. But there was more. A sense of confusion, a fear he had perhaps never wanted to admit even to himself. "This time it wasn’t like that."

For a moment, he saw something change in Louis’ eyes, a small spark of doubt, but it was quickly replaced by a bitter smile. A laugh that sounded more like a stab. "Sure, conveniently when I’m telling you I want to be with Harry, you say that."

"What the hell does that mean?" Zayn asked, his tone sharp and desperate. He couldn’t understand, he couldn’t make sense of this conversation that seemed to slip through his fingers like sand.

Louis shook his head, disappointment painted on his face like a mask that made him even more distant. "I’m not your fucking lapdog, Zayn. Stop manipulating me.”

Those words hit Zayn like a direct blow to the heart. Louis was serious, angry, and Zayn couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t understand how they had reached this point. And then, in an instant, Louis got up and walked away, leaving him there, alone with his questions and the growing pain consuming him.

Zayn couldn’t stop staring at the boarding gate as passengers began to board the plane. Every step he took brought him closer to a fate he couldn’t comprehend, an ending he had never imagined. But maybe, he reflected, it was for the best. Maybe it was better if Louis walked away, if he left him behind, so he wouldn’t have to face his feelings for real.

As they approached the plane, Louis walked ahead of him, head down, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Zayn tried to figure out what he was thinking, but it was like trying to read a closed book. He only felt the void between them. Every now and then, Louis turned to exchange a few words with Liam, but he avoided looking at him.

Once on board, Zayn settled into his seat, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. When he saw Louis stop next to Liam, whispering something in his ear, a part of him hoped he was trying to find a way to reconcile. But that hope shattered when he noticed Liam nodding slowly, getting up, and switching seats with Louis.

Louis said nothing as he settled into the new seat, a few rows away. He didn’t even look at Zayn, who was feeling sick, a tightness in his chest.

Liam sat back down next to Zayn, giving him a worried look. "Everything okay?" he asked cautiously, as if afraid to ask too much.

Zayn couldn’t answer. His throat was tight, as if every word were blocked by a lump he couldn’t dissolve. He just nodded, though he knew it wouldn’t fool anyone. Liam didn’t press, but the silence between them made the reality of the situation evident.

The flight seemed to last an eternity. Zayn tried to close his eyes, to sleep, but every time he did, Louis’ face appeared in his mind. He thought of all the moments they had shared, every smile, every laugh, the kiss that had made him feel things he had never felt before. He began to curse himself for doing it, for getting close to him, for shamelessly trying, almost as if it were a game, without thinking about the consequences. Zayn hadn’t thought, too caught up in the moment, about the possibility of losing the person he loved most in the world. The only certainty he had had until then, the one that hadn’t left him, the one he hadn’t let slip away, was his friendship with Louis. He had been so arrogant as to think that nothing could damage it, but now he was paying the price.

When they finally landed and headed to baggage claim, Zayn felt exhausted, drained. His steps were heavy, he was almost dragging himself. And then he saw him: Harry was waiting there, a bouquet of flowers in hand, the smile of someone who knew nothing.

Louis paused for a moment, his face unreadable, before taking a step forward and going to meet Harry. Zayn watched the scene as if it were a movie, feeling like a spectator in someone else’s life. Harry handed the flowers to Louis, who took them with a sincere smile, and they exchanged a hug that seemed like a promise of something new.

Zayn felt his heart sink in his chest. He couldn’t look any longer. He turned just in time to catch Matthew and Liam’s gaze, both already looking at him. No one said anything. There was no need.

Without a word, without saying goodbye, Zayn grabbed his bag and headed for the exit. Walking fast as if he could escape the pain of his broken heart. But he knew that, wherever he went, that pain would follow him.

LOUIS

The muffled noise of voices, the screeching of suitcases on tiles, and the sharp smell of disinfectant saturated the air. Amidst the chaos, his eyes instinctively searched for a familiar face. And then he saw him, as if he had been waiting there all along. Harry, with his messy brown hair tousled by the wind, his green eyes meeting his with intensity, and that cocky smile Louis knew so well. He was wearing a pink shirt that contrasted perfectly with his denim jacket, an outfit that accentuated his muscular build.

Louis, tanned from his recent vacation in Greece, with his buzzed hair and a rebellious tuft framing his face, suddenly felt out of place. He walked over with long strides, dragging his suitcase behind him, his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety making him tremble slightly. As he approached, his eyes caught Zayn passing by, completely ignoring him, not even a nod.

A wave of shame washed over him, remembering the kiss they had shared. That secret weighed like a boulder on his conscience, a burden he couldn’t shake off.

Finally, he was in front of Harry. The man was holding a bouquet of red hyacinths in his hands, a gesture that should have seemed romantic but at that moment felt out of place, almost surreal. Their eyes met, intense, filled with conflicting emotions Louis struggled to decipher. Then, Harry smiled and opened his arms. Louis hesitated only for a moment before letting himself go, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder. The scent of cologne mixed with the flowers enveloped him, and for a moment, he forgot everything else.

Harry’s hands moved slowly on his back, a reassuring touch trying to convey all the affection he felt. Louis closed his eyes, seeking peace in that embrace. Yet, his mind kept returning to Zayn, to that kiss that had bound them in a moment of vulnerability. He felt like a traitor, a liar. But he couldn’t pull away from Harry, from his presence that made him feel protected, from his love that enveloped him.

"These are for you... hyacinths, they mean 'I’m sorry,'" Harry declared, his voice soft with emotion and his eyes slightly teary. Louis smiled weakly, unable to hide his surprise. He hadn’t expected such a thoughtful gesture. He took the flowers, inhaling the intense scent that filled his nostrils, while a lump formed in his throat.

"Thank you, Harry," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. With one hand still tightly gripping the suitcase handle, the other trembled slightly, betraying his nervousness.

The ride home was silent. The radio music filled the air as Harry and Niall exchanged a few light jokes. Louis, however, stared out the window, seeking refuge in the familiar landscapes of London rushing past the glass. He felt Harry’s fingers occasionally brushing his thigh through the thin fabric of his shorts, and each touch sent a small shiver down his spine, but the tension didn’t ease. The cool air coming through the open window caressed his hair, but it couldn’t dispel the oppressive heat weighing on him, a mix of anxiety and exhaustion that grew heavier.

"Let’s talk a bit?" Harry said when they arrived at his apartment. Louis nodded slowly, his throat suddenly dry, following him into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. He felt his heart beating faster, his throat tight with a knot he couldn’t loosen. His hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together, trying to stay calm.

Harry sat across from him, on a chair, and his green eyes stared at him with a disarming calm. "I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting these past few days. Actually, this past month, to be honest. I overdid it, I know."

Harry’s words came straight, without hesitation. Louis felt even more uncomfortable, almost small under that confident gaze. He felt the weight of his physical exhaustion in his tense shoulders and legs that struggled to stay still. A persistent tremor had crept into his hands, and he tried to hide it by clasping them together, but it was useless.

"I’ve thought a lot these past few days, and I don’t want to lose what we have. I’m willing to work on myself. I’ve realized I was biased. Zayn is important to you, and I can’t ignore that." His voice was calm, but Louis felt every word like a push inside him, a pressure that increased his guilt.

As Harry spoke, Louis ran a hand through his short hair, a nervous, almost distracted gesture. His skin tingled with agitation, and despite his attempt to remain still, he felt the need to move, to do something with his hands. His fingers slid along the edge of the bed, gripping the bedspread tightly to try to contain that uncontrollable trembling. He felt the heat rising from his neck to his face, and a weight crushing his chest.

The smile he managed to give Harry was weak, almost forced. He hadn’t expected Harry to understand so well, to be willing to move forward. Yet, he couldn’t tell him the truth, not now. Not after Harry had opened his heart like that. Speaking would make things horrible.

Harry smiled back, his lips red and always so perfect. "I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I just hope it’s not too late..." Harry’s head tilted slightly, his unruly hair falling over his eyes, and Louis felt his heart beat even faster.

He shook his head quickly, unable to hold that gaze for too long. "It’s not too late, Harry... really." His words came out broken, almost as if he were struggling to breathe. He wiped his sweaty forehead, trying to find a foothold, a thought to cling to so he wouldn’t collapse under the pressure. "I talked to Zayn. I asked him to... stay out of each other’s way, at least for a while. I don’t want any more drama, no more fights. I just want... to finish university, get my license. Focus on my things."

His tone was uncertain, every word came out with effort, as if the strain of staying calm was draining his last energy. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and Louis felt the heat rising behind his eyes, ready to explode at any moment.

Harry nodded quickly, but his gaze was worried. His large hands moved toward Louis’, holding them gently. Louis felt the warmth of Harry’s fingers caressing the back of his hands, trying to calm him. "Are you sure about this decision? How did he take it?" he asked, his voice low and reassuring.

"Yeah... I’m sure," Louis replied, but the tremor in his voice was evident. He felt exposed, fragile. A wave of restlessness swept through him as he tried to avoid answering that question truthfully. "He didn’t take it well, but I’ve decided... for now."

He tried to escape the tension by leaning closer to Harry, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him in. He looked into his eyes for a few seconds, his breathing still irregular, before pressing his lips to Harry’s in a light, almost fleeting kiss.

"You don’t seem well..." Harry whispered, his eyes full of concern.

Louis closed his eyes, trying to push away the dizziness that kept spinning in his head. He took a deep breath, his chest painfully swelling with the weight still oppressing him. "I’m just tired... I didn’t sleep well last night."

It wasn’t a lie. The brief, troubled conversation with Zayn had robbed him of sleep, leaving him with a heavy heart and a mind in turmoil. Harry stroked his forehead, gently brushing his hair back with an affectionate gesture.

"Do you want to sleep a bit?" Harry asked, his voice softer than ever. Louis nodded slowly, exhausted from the effort of keeping everything under control.

"Only if you stay with me," he replied, a tired, weak smile on his lips. Harry chuckled lightly before lying down next to him. Louis curled up against him, his head resting on Harry’s chest, feeling the steady, calm beat of his heart. Harry’s large hands stroked his back and hair in a slow, reassuring gesture. Louis finally gave in to that feeling of safety, and within minutes, sleep enveloped him, taking him far from all his worries.

Chapter Text

The cold wind of late September swept through the streets of London, and Liam pulled up the collar of his coat before entering the crowded café. Inside, the warmth and the smell of roasted coffee enveloped him as he searched for Zayn among the tables. He spotted him immediately, with an iPad in front of him and headphones slightly lifted on one ear, engrossed in drawing something with quick, decisive strokes. Zayn's dark hair, short on the sides and longer on top, fell messily over his forehead. Every now and then, he pushed it back with a quick flick of his fingers, revealing the earring that glinted faintly under the café's soft lighting. The rings on his slender fingers clinked softly each time he moved the digital pen across the iPad screen. He wore a black leather jacket over an oversized hoodie, the frayed hem adding to that effortlessly disheveled look that he pulled off with enviable ease.

Liam approached and set the steaming cup he had just ordered on the table, the scent of hot chocolate filling his nostrils.

"Hey, handsome," he said with a smile, sitting down across from Zayn and opening his laptop. Zayn glanced up briefly, offering a faint smile before returning to his screen.

Liam watched him for a moment as his friend went back to his drawing, captivated by the intensity of his movements. Every stroke Zayn made seemed to flow with a passion that only he could bring to his work. As carefree and distracted as he might seem on the outside, Liam knew how deeply Zayn lost himself in his art, retreating into his own world, finding solace in the creativity that sometimes seemed like his only true escape.

"How's the project going?" Liam asked, trying to break the silence. He knew Zayn well by now. He could see the tension hidden behind his smile, and the question was just a pretext to dig deeper.

"Same old, sketches, drafts... nothing too interesting."

Zayn shrugged, but Liam knew it was only half the truth. There was always something more, something hidden beneath those vague answers. He knew that, despite his apparent nonchalance, Zayn wasn't doing well. It wasn't just the project or his drawings. It was Louis, and everything that had been left unsaid between them.

For a few minutes, they worked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The hum of the café around them was a soothing background noise. Yet, that silence held a subtle tension that Liam couldn't ignore.

He decided to break it. "Louis has practically moved in with us, you know? Ever since he got back, he hasn't left. When Harry goes out to the studio or the agency, Louis stays there finishing his dissertation. It's like our house has become his personal library."

Zayn scoffed, putting down the digital pen. "He's doing everything he can to avoid me. Like, seriously. It's like he has a map of where I am and makes sure he's always on the other side of the city. It's... frustrating."

Liam watched Zayn, noticing the bitterness in his voice and the nervous gesture that betrayed his frustration as he rubbed his forehead. No matter how much Zayn tried to mask his emotions, Liam could see the cracks in his facade.

"I don't think he's doing it on purpose," Liam said softly. "Maybe it's just... complicated for him."

Zayn didn't respond right away. The silence grew heavy, almost suffocating, as Liam reflected on how complicated the situation was. They couldn't keep tiptoeing around each other forever. Maybe Zayn just wanted an explanation, a chance to close that chapter. Or maybe, Liam thought, he still hoped there was something left to salvage.

Suddenly, Zayn's phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up without thinking, glancing distractedly at the screen. Then, as if struck by lightning, his expression shifted to one of shock.

"What is it?" Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zayn handed him the phone, and Liam found himself reading an email announcing a scholarship... in France.

Liam read slowly, his eyes widening as he absorbed the information. Then a huge smile spread across his face. "Oh my God, Zayn! This is amazing news! You have to accept it!"

Zayn smiled faintly, but he seemed uncertain, almost lost. "I don't know, Li. I didn't really expect it. I haven't even thought about what it would mean. I'm not sure I'm ready... to leave everything here."

Liam looked at him, and in that moment, he felt a tightness in his chest. Leaving everything here... Zayn's mind immediately went to Louis, Liam thought. Maybe he would never admit it openly, but Liam knew that thought was there, hidden between the unspoken lines. It had always been there.

"Zayn, this is an incredible opportunity! You can't let it slip away. Think about all the things you could do there, how it could open new opportunities for you."

Zayn kept staring at the phone, as if trying to find an answer in the lines. "Yeah, but... I don't know if I want to leave London. I don't want to leave you guys. You, Matthew... and Louis. I never really took this seriously, it was just... a shot in the dark."

Liam took a deep breath. The mention of Louis wasn't accidental. "You don't have to decide right now. Think about it—it's only six months. You can always come back after... you know this is an opportunity that might not come again. You don't have to make this choice for others, you have to make it for yourself."

Zayn nodded slowly, but his expression was still thoughtful, almost confused. "Can you not tell anyone for now? Not even Matthew. I need to think about it, you know?"

Liam nodded without hesitation. "Of course, it'll be our secret." He smiled and winked at him, but deep down, a deeper worry began to creep in. It wasn't just about the scholarship. He knew Zayn was avoiding confronting something much bigger. And sooner or later, that something would surface, whether they wanted it to or not.

Zayn put the phone down and for a moment seemed relieved. Then, as if to change the subject, he asked, "What about you and Matthew? How are things going?"

Liam smiled almost instinctively, feeling his face warm as he spoke. "Everything's good," he said, almost dreamily. "Actually, better than good. You know, it's the first time I've ever felt so... comfortable with someone. It's like every time I'm with him, everything else just disappears."

Zayn tilted his head, listening in silence, and Liam continued, lost in his thoughts. "The other day we went to see that exhibit you recommended. Matthew was so into every detail... he kept asking me about each piece and listened so intently."

Liam leaned back in his chair, a spontaneous smile lighting up his face as he thought about Matthew. His fingers played with the cup, and without even realizing it, he kept talking.

"With Matthew... it's different from anything I've ever felt before," he said, his voice softening, almost as if he were confessing a secret. "It's like with him, everything is simpler, more natural. I don't have to pretend, I don't have to worry about how I look or what to say."

His eyes drifted for a moment, as if reliving every moment spent with Matthew. "When we're together, it's like the world slows down. I feel at peace, you know?"

Zayn smiled slightly, but Liam noticed a hint of melancholy in his eyes and decided to lighten the tone further. Liam looked down at his cup and smiled, almost embarrassed by the sincerity of his own words. "I'm getting sappy, huh?" he said, chuckling. "I think I'm head over heels..."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, playing with the ring on his middle finger. "Oh, I've known that for a while, Payne. You're an open book."

Liam chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I know, I know. But I'm not ashamed of it..."

ZAYN

Zayn walked into the house and immediately felt the weight of the tense atmosphere. He paused in the doorway of the living room, his heart beating faster than usual as he took in the scene. Louis and Harry were sitting on the couch, side by side, and it was a sight that left him breathless.

Harry was the first to notice his presence, stretching a bit and flashing him a smile, as if nothing was wrong. "Hey, Zayn! How's it going?"

Zayn stared at them, trying to hide the wave of emotions tightening his chest. He hadn't seen Louis in weeks. The last time they had spoken, Louis had made it clear that he wanted to put distance between them, leaving Zayn with a coldness that had devastated him, as if every thread connecting them had snapped in that moment. And now, seeing him so close to Harry was making him physically sick.

"Uh... hey," Zayn replied hoarsely, forcing a smile as he took off his jacket. Every movement felt heavier, and he didn't even know where to look. He ended up focusing on Harry, still surprised by how relaxed he seemed. Just a short while ago, Harry had been avoiding him or exchanging only polite words, clearly jealous of his closeness with Louis. But now? Now he seemed to want to be his friend, as if there had never been anything problematic between them.

"How's it going?" Harry repeated, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at him with an expression that seemed genuinely sincere.

Zayn nodded, holding back the urge to run away. "All good... you?"

"Good, good," Harry replied with a light laugh, as if everything was perfectly normal. "Louis is back to finish his thesis." He gestured toward Louis, who still hadn't looked up from his laptop. That detachment hurt, as if Louis was no longer the person he knew, as if he was forgetting him day by day.

The silence between them quickly became unbearable. Louis wasn't looking at him, and the more Zayn watched him, the more he felt that the distance wasn't just physical. It was an emotional gap, an invisible barrier Louis had erected after that kiss, and Zayn couldn't understand how he could be sitting there, next to Harry, acting as if nothing had happened.

He turned to Harry, trying not to crumble under the weight of his confusion. Before the vacation, every interaction with Harry had been tense, almost nonexistent, and Zayn was sure Harry hated him for his closeness with Louis. And now? He definitely didn't know about the kiss. No, Louis would never have told him.

After a few minutes of forced conversation, Zayn decided to leave. "I'm going to sort some things out in my room," Harry waved goodbye, while Louis continued to stare at the screen, completely ignoring him.

In his room, Zayn collapsed onto the bed, trying to forget the scene he had just witnessed. He immersed himself in a video game, hoping the adrenaline and action would sweep away his thoughts. But nothing could truly distract him from what he was feeling.

After a couple of hours, hunger drove him out of his room. The hallway felt like an endless tunnel, and the cold floor sent shivers down his spine as he approached the living room. When he reached the doorway, he paused for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The living room was wrapped in an unsettling quiet. Louis was sitting on the couch with his laptop on his knees, his head bent forward, his hair messy, and his gray sweater accentuating his seemingly small frame. He was alone; Harry wasn't there. Zayn leaned against the doorframe, trying to process the scene in front of him.

Louis seemed completely absorbed in his work, the screen's light illuminating his tired face. Zayn watched him, his breath becoming uneven as he tried to hide the grip of pain and confusion in his chest. The silence between them was heavy, like a tangible presence filling the room.

You were so close to me, Louis.

 Zayn's thoughts were a storm of frustration and desire. He wanted to scream at him how hard it was to stay away, how much he missed him, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Zayn desperately hoped Louis could read the truth in his eyes, the truth he couldn't voice. But Louis remained focused, ignoring Zayn's presence as if he were part of the furniture.

It was Louis who broke the silence a few moments later, when Zayn was trying to put together a dinner, his voice flat and indifferent. "I'm officially graduating on December 1st," he said, without looking up from the screen. "If you're interested, you're invited."

Louis's words hit Zayn like an electric shock. The sarcasm that slipped out was involuntary, an instinctive reaction to what he perceived as a mockery. "What an honor," he replied, leaning against the fridge door and crossing his arms. The disdain in his words was evident. "You avoid me, and now you're inviting me to your graduation as if nothing happened?"

Louis finally looked up, and Zayn saw a mix of frustration and sadness in his eyes that made him falter. "I'm not avoiding you," Louis said, closing the laptop with a sharp motion. "I'm just trying to... manage the situation."

"Manage the situation?" Zayn shot back, his tone fiery with the anger building inside him. "By avoiding me like I'm some problem to solve?"

Louis stood up from the couch, his movements quick and nervous, his face flushed with tension. Zayn could sense the tremor of vulnerability Louis was trying to hide, his tense posture, and his evasive gaze. "It's not that simple," Louis replied, his voice tired. "I'm trying to figure out how to handle everything, Zayn. Harry doesn't know anything, and you... you don't understand."

Zayn's heart felt like it was being squeezed, as if a huge weight had been placed on his chest. "Harry, always Harry," the words came out laden with anger and frustration. "You kissed me, Louis. That's not something you can just ignore and hope it goes away."

Louis looked away, visibly uncomfortable. "I'm not trying to ignore it," he whispered, his voice calmer but filled with emotion. "It didn’t mean nothing to me. And to you neither.”

"How do you know?" Zayn finally burst out, his voice betraying the anger he had held back for too long. Louis scoffed. "And Harry? He used to avoid me, barely even looked at me. And now he acts like everything's normal. It doesn't make sense."

Louis looked at him for a moment, and Zayn noticed a hint of worry in his eyes. "He doesn't know anything," Louis finally said, his voice tense. "I haven't told him anything. It's just Harry. He's trying to make everything okay because he realized he was wrong."

Zayn stared at him in disbelief, feeling the frustration grow. "Really? And you? You're just sitting there, pretending nothing happened?"

Louis looked down again, his shoulders tense. "I'm not pretending, Zayn. It was nothing important and you have to keep your mouth shut."

Zayn narrowed his eyes in two slim lines at the threat. Zayn's frustration exploded. "And what about me? Am I supposed to keep living this charade? While you avoid me, he talks to me like we're friends."

Louis, now unable to look at him, said something that hit Zayn like a punch to the gut.

"You don't have to live any charade if we don't see each other." The words shocked him.

Are you really suggesting we stop seeing each other?

Louis's words felt like a goodbye, an extreme measure Zayn wasn't ready to accept. He stood there, paralyzed by the revelation, as his thoughts spun in circles, trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

The fridge behind him hummed softly, a stark contrast to the tense silence surrounding them. Every muscle in Zayn's body was tense, like a rope stretched to its limit, ready to snap. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Every inch he closed felt like an internal battle, a fight against the temptation to let his anger explode, to scream at him, to make him understand how much he was hurting him.

"Do you really want this?" Zayn whispered, his voice low, barely audible. The words came out with difficulty, as if his throat had tightened to hold back everything he couldn't say. He watched Louis intently, searching his eyes for some answer, a sign that maybe Louis didn't really mean it. But Louis avoided his gaze, as if every thought was hidden behind those elusive blue eyes.

Look at me. Please, look at me.

But Louis kept staring into the void, and every second that passed without a word, without a glance, made the frustration grow.

"Why did you invite me to your graduation then?" The thought slipped out almost unintentionally. It wasn't even a real question, more of a way to try to understand, to make sense of everything that was happening.

Louis looked at him, finally, and for a moment Zayn thought he saw a crack in the armor of indifference Louis had built. But his words were so mundane, so empty, that Zayn couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

"Because you're important to me, so I want you there."

A short, almost stifled laugh echoed in the room.

"Nice way you have of treating people you consider important..." The words came out with a coldness that surprised him. And as Louis looked at him with furrowed brows, Zayn suddenly felt empty, as if all the strength he had mustered to face that conversation had evaporated in an instant.

He walked past Louis, catching the familiar scent of his shampoo, a smell that once comforted him but now only made him feel worse. Every step toward his room felt like a surrender, a painful realization that maybe, this time, Louis wouldn't do anything to bring them back together. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. The hunger that had driven him out of his room was gone. He had no appetite left, not for food, not for forced conversations, not for everything he would have to face with Louis.

He collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The thought of Louis next to Harry, of how he could have left him out of their lives, drove him crazy. Every time he tried to reason it out, every time he tried to find a way out, he found himself trapped in the same cycle. Louis avoided him, Harry seemed to be getting closer to him in an almost unnatural way, and he... he was stuck in the middle, unable to understand how everything had gone so wrong.

He wanted to scream, to let out the frustration burning inside him, but instead, he stayed silent, his hands gripping the pillow. The night would be long. And the silence of his room was too loud to give him any peace.

The last and only time I felt this way about Louis was in middle school, 

he thought, as the memory of that painful day resurfaced in his mind.

And now, it feels like it's all happening again.

The conflict, the confusion, and the pain he had felt back then seemed to mirror the current situation, making it hard for him to find a way out.

It was a sunny day, and the schoolyard was bustling with groups of kids chatting and laughing, their bikes piled up next to each other. Louis and Zayn, as they did every morning, had met there, in front of the entrance, with their backpacks on their shoulders and the distant sound of the bell signaling the start of classes. That morning, however, the atmosphere was different, at least for Louis. Every gesture, every word seemed to weigh on him differently. When Zayn approached him, with his bright, confident smile, and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek as he always did, Louis perceived that gesture in a completely new way.

A sudden confusion clawed at his stomach. That kiss, which just a few days ago had felt natural, innocent, now threw him into crisis. The kiss they had shared at Zayn's house a few days earlier had awakened a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings in Louis that he couldn’t decipher. In his teenage mind, the idea that he might like boys didn’t even cross his mind. It wasn’t possible. I can’t be like that, he repeated to himself, as the laughter of his classmates echoed in the air. He couldn’t be like Coby, the kid everyone made fun of.

When Zayn leaned in for that affectionate gesture, that simple kiss on the cheek that Louis usually welcomed with a smile, Louis stiffened. He felt in danger, as if everyone was watching him.

What if they figure it out? What if they know what’s going through my mind? 

His heart began to beat faster, his throat tightening, choking him in a mix of fear and shame. The sense of intimacy that he had once found comforting now terrified him. I can’t be different. I can’t. Louis felt the weight of his friends’ judgment crushing him, the distant laughter growing louder, amplifying his anxiety. It was as if the world was about to collapse on him, and he knew he wasn’t ready to face that reality.

Driven by panic and the need to push those feelings away, Louis shoved Zayn hard.

"Get off me, I’m not a fag," he spat out, his voice desperately trying not to tremble. Those words, thrown out with a violence he didn’t truly feel, were an attempt to protect himself. He knew they were wrong, that they were hurting Zayn, but the fear of being discovered paralyzed him.

I can’t let them see me like this, think I like boys. He kept repeating it to himself, trying to convince himself.

The laughter of his classmates rose in the background, like a mocking soundtrack, amplifying his embarrassment. Zayn stared at him, completely stunned, as if he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Those words, spoken by Louis, hit him like a slap in the face. Why is he treating me like this? he wondered, the pain and humiliation paralyzing him. He wasn’t prepared for this, not from Louis, his best friend. They had shared so much, grown up together, and now... now he was being publicly humiliated.

Zayn felt his eyes well up, but he couldn’t let the others see him cry.

Now they’ll make fun of me forever.

He thought, as he tried to control his breathing, his hands clenched around the straps of his backpack.

His heart was pounding, not so much from Louis’s shove, but from the humiliation washing over him. He looked around, aware of the eyes that had turned toward them. Some were laughing, others whispering to each other, and Zayn could almost feel the judgment hidden behind those smiles. Shame overwhelmed him. He had never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, but now he felt exposed, vulnerable. *I’m not gay... why is this happening to me?* Zayn repeated in his head. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he had never thought of Louis in that way, and yet now he was being put on display, betrayed by someone he considered a friend.

Louis, his face still flushed with anxiety, tried to appear indifferent. He knew he was hurting Zayn, but he couldn’t stop himself. It’s for my own good… He told himself, even though the tightness in his stomach screamed the opposite.

Zayn, however, couldn’t understand any of this. He didn’t see Louis’s inner conflict; he only saw the betrayal, the public humiliation he was enduring. Frustration built up inside him, and in a burst of anger, he lunged at Louis, trying to hit him. Louis didn’t fight back, even though he knew perfectly well how to. He just defended himself, trying to push Zayn away without hurting him, feeling his heart tighten. Every blow Zayn tried to land felt like a stab, but Louis didn’t want to retaliate. He couldn’t. Not with him. Louis had always been good at protecting himself, at defending himself against others, even with his fists if necessary. But with Zayn, he couldn’t do it. He knew him too well, cared about him too much.

The teachers rushed over, quickly separating them, and the laughter of the classmates suddenly stopped. Zayn was still struggling, while Louis remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the ground, his breathing ragged. Zayn’s pain was evident, but Louis knew there was nothing he could do to fix it. He felt trapped, a victim of his own fears, and the bond between them was breaking under the weight of all that was left unsaid.

Zayn, held back by the teachers, kept looking at him, searching for an answer that would never come. To him, Louis had betrayed him, put him on display in front of everyone, and he couldn’t understand why. That brutal, public gesture hurt him more than any physical blow. He had always thought Louis was different, that he would protect him, but now he felt exposed and vulnerable. And that feeling would stay with him for a long time.

Louis remained still, motionless, unable to lift his gaze. He knew he had done something terrible, but he couldn’t afford to be seen for who he really was, not even by Zayn. And so, for a year and a half, that event deeply marked their relationship. The two didn’t speak again, and Louis, from the outside, seemed almost indifferent, as if everything had returned to normal.

LOUIS

It was a gray, cold November day, the kind only London could deliver. Louis pulled up the collar of his denim jacket, the one with the fleece lining he loved to wear on chilly days, as he crossed the street to enter the recording studio. The building was nondescript, but inside, it pulsed with a creative energy that filled every corner. Harry was recording his first album with the label, and Louis was there to support him, but also to push away the thoughts that had been tormenting him for weeks whenever he was alone with them.

As he stepped inside, the warmth immediately enveloped him, making him forget the biting cold outside. The studio's hallways were bustling with people coming and going, but Louis headed straight for the recording booth, where he knew he would find Harry. He was on the other side of the room, where the producers and engineers were gathered around their screens and mixers. The atmosphere was professional but relaxed. Louis leaned against the wall, watching through the glass as Harry worked. He hadn't knocked yet; he didn't want to interrupt.

Harry, in the other room, was dressed simply but impeccably. He wore a soft beige sweater that draped slightly over his shoulders, perfectly paired with dark trousers that fell softly over his long legs. His curls were disheveled, as if he had been working for hours, but there was a light in his green eyes, the same one that always captivated Louis.

Louis decided to step forward, lightly knocking on the door. One of the producers looked up and gestured for him to come in, so Louis approached with his usual confident stride, though a slight tension lingered in his movements. Harry, on the other side of the glass, noticed him immediately. He smiled that radiant smile that always melted Louis's heart, and in an instant, all the negative thoughts he had carried with him vanished. Louis returned the smile with a small nod, feeling that familiar warmth grow inside him. Harry seemed happy to see him, as always.

Harry raised a hand to signal that he needed a moment, as he prepared to sing. Louis watched from a distance, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, the hood partially covering his head. Seeing Harry so focused, with the microphone in front of him and the headphones over his messy curls, was a strange yet pleasant sensation. It was his Harry, the one he knew in their most intimate moments, but in that moment, he was also an artist, completely immersed in his work.

The notes of the song began to fill the room, Harry's voice clear and powerful. Every word seemed to carry a palpable emotion, and Louis lost himself in the sound for a few minutes. It was impossible not to feel proud. Harry was living his dream, and he was there, by his side. Yet, there was always that subtle layer of guilt, that shadow he couldn't shake. He clenched his hands in his pockets a little tighter, as a small knot formed in his stomach.

When Harry finished the track, he lowered the headphones and said something to the producers, asking for a short break. He got up from the chair and stepped out of the booth, heading straight for Louis. "Hey, you," he said with a radiant smile, hugging him tightly as soon as he was close. The warmth of his body merged with the warmth of Louis's jacket as Harry rested his chin on Louis's shoulder for a second.

Louis let himself be comforted by the gesture, a small refuge that, at least for that moment, kept his worries at bay. "You're amazing, Haz," he said softly, his voice slightly cracked with emotion, but he managed to keep the smile on his face.

"Did you like it? I'm not done yet, but I thought I'd take a little break to say hi to my boyfriend," Harry replied, his voice affectionate, as he looked at Louis with those green eyes that seemed to peer into his soul. Louis stood on his tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Louis smiled, but that thought, that weight, was still there. "You killed it," he said, trying to push everything else aside. Even if just for a moment, he wanted to enjoy this without thinking about anything.