Chapter Text
2006 ~ Liam is 13, Louis is 14
Liam’s life is over. He’s only thirteen, but his life is most definitely over. It’s the beginning of summer and usually, every other summer that he can remember, he’d be bouncing out of bed by now and running down the stairs, skipping out the front with a quick “see ya” to his mum and meeting his best mate next door. Excited faces and heads full of ideas to plan a near two months of adventure ahead of them.
But this summer he’s not. Liam’s lying in his bed and feeling all sorts of sorry for himself and a little bit angry, too, because this year he hasn’t got anyone to run downstairs to. There’s no one to sneak an ice lolly out to at six a.m. even though it’s really bad for their teeth but Andy has a sweet tooth. There’s no one to have to duck out of a headlock or tackle in retaliation from the previous morning because Andy isn’t there. He’s not been there for a week now, and Liam isn’t moping.
He isn’t.
His mother let him have the last week off school so he and Andy could do all the stupid things they could in avoidance of packing Andy’s bedroom into three little boxes. They’d let loose the little frogs they’d found the month before when they’d been exploring at the park and had researched at the library how to care for because Liam’s parent’s wouldn’t let him have any other pets (one turtle was enough, apparently) so Andy’d kept them in a tank in his dad’s shed. They’d ridden their bikes as far as they were allowed—and then a little further, because Andy was always pushing Liam to break the rules. They’d camped in Liam’s back yard the same way they’d always done, and Liam had not cried when Andy had told him they’d be best friends forever.
He definitely hadn’t got choked up and he definitely hadn’t seen Andy’s eyes looking a bit glassy, either, when they’d hugged goodbye the next morning before Andy’s car had driven away.
So he isn’t moping. Liam just has nothing to look forward to, is all. It isn’t as if he doesn’t have other friends; he isn’t the least popular boy in their year, by any means. There’s Maz and Aiden, and even Cher isn’t too bad. Andy was loud, though, Andy was loud and funny (sort of) and brash and people either liked him or hated him, but he always had Liam’s back and Liam liked knowing there was someone to always be on his side. The thing is that Maz and Aiden and Cher aren’t exactly Liam’s mates as much as they had been Andy’s, and Liam never really hangs out with them without Andy, so the thought of ringing any of them up just to go to the beach for the day or something doesn’t really seem like something Liam can do.
His bed is lovely and he has his comic books and his Toy Story DVDs, and if he gets really bored his dad has offered to take him out on the boat for the day. Liam has thanked his dad politely but the thought of going out at three in the morning isn’t exactly something Liam is interested in, not on his summer hols. Not during a time when he’s supposed to be having all sorts of fun, and getting into mischief and maybe lazing about, instead of the study and the running and the dreams of an Olympic future, are things he could be doing.
Should be doing.
Bloody government and bloody job losses and bloody Andy’s family making more money renting out their house in the summer than living there at all.
Liam sighs and rolls over, looking out at the perfect blue sky and hating that Andy isn’t around to yell up at his window to come out (no matter how hard Liam tries to hear). What Liam does end up hearing is the sound of a car and then doors closing. It’s too close to be the house across the way (and Mrs. Fletcher never has visitors, anyway), so that means it has to be next door—and Mrs McGinty is in hospital, so no one there, which leaves the house to the left. Andy’s old house.
Liam slows his breathing and listens hard as voices fill the air. Girls voices.
“Just great,” Liam whispers to himself, because all he needs is another girl around the place. He has two of his own, thank you very much. Not that his sisters are annoying or nasty or anything—Ruth he has a lot of fun with, being closer in age and all, and Nicola’s doing her GCSEs so he never really has much to do with her anymore. But he just—he’s just hoped that whoever rented the place out for the summer would at least have someone new for Liam to talk to. A mate, even if it was only for a short time, just to get him through till school when he could just fall back into the fold of the people who know him, if not best, then close enough.
Now completely in a funk, Liam rolls onto his stomach, closes his eyes, and wonders if he can actually sleep the entire summer break away.
% % %
Turns out he can’t.
He’s woken the next morning (after blatantly refusing to come downstairs for food and only leaving his room when his bladder is fit to burst) by the soft voice of his father telling him to get up. It’s the voice his father uses when no isn’t really an answer that will be acceptable, so Liam does. He dons his warmest knit jumpers and a few shirts underneath as well as his wellies that pinch a little, but it’s okay, they just don’t have the extra for a new pair for Liam and it’s not like he goes out that often with his father anyway. Not with school and the extracurricular stuff he gets up to (his favourite being track and his least being the drama club thing, but that was always Andy’s forte; Liam will drop it when school starts up again).
His dad is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, a toasted sandwich and a travel mug in hand that he passes to Liam with a smile as they head out to the car with nary a word said between them. It’s nice like this. As much as Liam isn’t overly fond of being near dragged from his bed at half two in the morning, he is grateful for the extra time with his dad because his dad works hard and Liam feels like his only answer to that is to study just the same amount. He wants to make his dad proud, wants him to smile that big smile of his and look up from the paper when Liam comes in the door in the afternoon and can tell from the simple “All right, son?” that his dad is pleased as punch with how hard Liam is trying with his life.
Liam may only be thirteen but he’s got a good understanding of what little to no education means in this tourist trap of a town, and he wants more. He already knows he’s not the flashest at anything moderately scholarly; he’s awful at English, spelling is hard for some reason, and maths is so-so. But get him out on the track or in the chorus for choir at church every Sunday and, well, that’s a different story altogether. Liam can feel that he’s meant for more than serving chips or working as hard as his dad has all his life on a boat, breaking his back for a few fish. He just hasn’t figured out what that is yet—but he’s only thirteen, time for that will come later.
So he plasters a happier look on his face, hoping his dad won’t take offence at the fact that it’s not completely genuine, and clicks his seatbelt on, settling in for a day of not so much adventure but doing something instead.
% % %
Liam’s back hurts and his hands are chapped and he’s dead certain he’s got the world’s worst sunburn starting to prickle hot and tender across the back of his neck and his nose and cheeks. It was a good day out on the boat. He helped with the crates and he got water for the men when they asked and his dad even let him steer for a while today, so there’s that. He feels tired but wound up at the same time, because everyone was in a good mood out on the water. The sky was clear and the fish were plentiful for a change, and his dad threw a bit of money Liam’s way when they’d docked and told him he was done for the day. He wasn’t really—there was still loads to get done on deck—but the smile his father gave him and the ribbing he got from old Mr. Cowell was enough to have Liam jumping off the boat and heading up the stairs to the street above.
Liam’s smiling at strangers and ambling along the beach front. He’s got a waffle cone with a double scoop of his favourite vanilla ice cream and he’s tired, yeah, but he’s got an afternoon and a bit of change in his pocket, so. He’s a slightly different boy than the one who was wallowing in his own sweat on his bed the day before. He’d never acknowledge that it came down to his dad and a day out on the boat working, of all things, but he’s happy and he’s near forgotten that his best friend moved away forever, so Liam makes the most of it. He wanders along to the pier with the ferris wheel and walks right out to the edge where he can see nothing but the sea and hear gulls and laughter and screams that are that blend of excited and scared all at once from high above. It’s kind of nice. Liam’s standing there licking at his ice cream, all slow and careful not to let any of it drip, and he thinks that maybe the summer won’t be so bad. Maybe he can learn to like being on his own a little more than he ever did before.
The sun is finally setting when Liam starts to make his way home. His family doesn’t live too far away and he’s been out long enough now that his dad will have driven back and his mum will definitely have finished her shift at the restaurant for the day, so he’s going to just have to walk. It’s not that Liam minds, it’s a nice evening for it and yeah, he’s pretty tired, but he figures he can just sleep in in the morning. He’s about halfway there when he realises there are footsteps behind him. He’s not worried, he’s never had any trouble here in this town where most of the people know each other’s names, so he ignores it.
Well, tries to ignore it until the footsteps get closer and then they become even with his own and there’s a second shadow beside Liam’s. It’s a little weird because this person is just walking there and not saying anything. Liam doesn’t want to be rude and speed up or slow down so they pass, so he ends up just saying nothing instead. He tries not to sneak glances to his right and just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until they’ve rounded two corners and are about to go around another, and this boy (fine, he looked) is still there.
“Catch the sun today, did you?”
And Liam’s footsteps falter because, well, that’s not exactly a normal question to ask someone you don’t even know, even if you’ve near followed the same person for the last three blocks.
“Pardon?”
“Your neck, mate. It’s a fair shade of red, you know.”
Liam reaches up to rub his palm lightly over where his skin feels tight and hot even without his added touch. “Yeah, guess I did.”
The other boy laughs, and it’s loud and Liam wonders if he’s taking the piss or something, but before he can think on it too much the boy is talking again.
“Yeah, well, it was bloody hot out today. Had to live on ice lollies and sips of salt water today, I did.”
Liam chances a look to his right and the boy is looking back at him, too, and Liam can see pink over the bridge of the other boy’s nose and his brown hair is fluffy in parts and clinging to his forehead, sticky wet. The boy’s eyes are very blue, made more so by the cheery colour of the skin surrounding them, and Liam thinks, Oh, he’s a pretty one. And it’s not that he likes boys, because Liam’s not exactly sure whether he does or doesn’t or if it’s just because he was nervous that he threw up when Danielle kissed him at Maz’s birthday party earlier this year. But Liam can appreciate that there are people in the world that are decent to look at, even if he doesn’t really think he’s one of them. There are people like Maz, with his lovely skin and warm eyes, and Cher with her pretty smile, and Andy just knew how to get people to laugh, so Liam gets it. There are people like his mates, and apparently this boy falls into that category of good-looking and definitely more popular with people than Liam can ever hope to be.
“Do you like Toy Story, then?” this boy asks, and Liam is lost for a moment because weren’t they just talking about the weather like they were old people?
“Yeah, um. Sure?” Liam answers, a little lost with his footing because it’s an odd question to be asked completely out of context.
The other boy is nodding and pointing at Liam’s trainers, which are old but all he had apart from his wellies that he found in one of the compartments on the boat. He’d actually forgotten Maz had scribbled cartoon versions of Woody and Buzz on the toes of each. They’re near rubbed off now, worn away from all the times he’d worn them trundling through the forest with Andy on their many camping trips. They’re comfy, though, and a little roomier because the left has a hole from where his toes have pushed through.
“You do that?” the boy asks after Liam finishes looking down and before he can get a word out in reply.
Liam shakes his head, intending to say, “No, I’m not that clever,” but the boy keeps on talking.
“I’m not much of a drawer meself, failed art last term—my roses looked more like rotten tomatoes, but—well, what can you do?”
Liam shrugs, because he can remember his art class and how poorly he’d done and can commiserate completely.
“Which one would you say is your favourite, then?” the boy asks, and Liam doesn’t hesitate before answering “Woody,” because Woody is sort of a hero, in the way Liam thinks there is a distinct possibility that Batman could be real. Maybe. One day.
The boy grins and nods. “Me, too! He can be boring sometimes, but I guess that’s what makes Buzz the perfect sidekick. He’s always going to be loud and a bit of a tosser, dragging Woody into things.”
Liam smiles, because as much as he doesn’t like the idea of Woody being a bore, he does realise that Woody can be a bit straitlaced and Buzz’s overexcited crazy ideas always end up okay in the end. Well, they nearly got killed by Andy’s next door neighbour, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Buzz has all the good lines, though.” The boy pauses and takes up a familiar stance. “To infinity, and beyond!” They say the last part together and Liam wonders for just a moment if this boy is actually real. He’s had imaginary friends before (a few, really) when he was younger; the doctors said he’d grow out of it, and he had. (Well, they actually grew out of Liam; he can distinctly recall the day he saw the two figments of his blessed imagination wave goodbye as they walked out his front gate together, never to be seen again.)
“Am I a bad fan right now if I can’t remember a single one of Woody’s catch phrases?” Liam says with a grin once they start walking again.
The boy shakes his head. “Nah, mate. Me, either. So, you seen that new Superman show, then?”
“Yes, what a load of crap that is,” Liam starts, and the boy nods avidly and, well, that’s where it begins, really. They discuss the pros and cons of Smallville compared to the movies that Liam loves (his dad got him into the cheesy Christopher Reeve eighties films). Then it’s Batman and how the other boy hated the one that had Arnold Schwarzenegger in it and Liam didn’t think it was so bad because it finally had Robin, and he always liked Robin. The boy laughs at him a little and Liam takes it because he’s not felt this happy and relaxed, especially around someone new, in such a long time. Before he knows it they’re on Liam’s street, and he’s slowing down because he doesn’t really want to stop talking with this boy. He’s enjoyed the company and it made the walk home so much faster than by himself.
Liam can see his house now and Andy’s beside it, a variety of pink bicycles in the yard and a car big enough to fit an army—and oh yeah, girls. He’s turning, about to say something or invite this “new friend” of his over to his house, when he’s stopped physically by an armful of boy. The other boy has got his arms wrapped around a stunned Liam, squeezing tight, and then he’s off with a “Thanks for the chat, mate! I’ll see you round, yeah?” and he’s skipping through the gate—Andy’s old gate—with a wave to Liam that sort of reminds him of a salute, all at the same time.
Liam blinks and blinks because he’s not exactly the hugging type and he barely even knows this boy, doesn’t even know his name, and . . . oh.
“Hey! Hey, wait,” Liam calls out, and the boy turns a few steps from the door, cheeks pink and eyes bright and he’s sweeping his fringe up from his forehead as he looks back at Liam, squinting a little in the setting sun.
“Liam, my name’s Liam,” he calls out, stuttering a little and scuffing the toes of his left shoe a little on the dirt before realising that’s the reason why there’s a hole there and scraping his big toe instead.
The boy’s face lights up even more. “Well, my friends back home call me Tommo, but I have a feeling you're more of a proper name type of person, Liam,” he says, accent heavy on the first part of Liam’s name like it feels funny rolling off his tongue. “So it’s Louis to you, all right?” and he grins again, waving, and before Liam can say “Nice to meet you” or “Hey, we’re neighbours!” the boy is in the door and Liam’s alone again. He stares up at Andy’s old house and listens as a wail of squeals starts up, and it hits him then. This boy Louis who he spent a good hour with this afternoon, letting himself stupidly believe he could have made a new friend, isn’t actually going to be here when school starts up again.
He’ll only be here for the summer.
Liam traipses the few steps forward to his own house and grunts as his mum calls out hello.
He falls atop his duvet, squeezes his fists into his pillow, and tries to remember how happy he felt less than ten minutes before.
% % %
The next morning he’s awoken to the sound of laughter and girlish giggling and he lies there feeling a little out of place until he hears a boy’s voice rise above the rest, telling them to get inside for breakfast.
Louis.
Liam thinks about the strange conversation he had with Louis the day before, the way they sort of fell effortlessly into banter and chatter without it taking too much of an effort. Liam’s never really had that with anyone; even with Andy he’d have to censor what he thought or said aloud, because Andy had opinions on anything and everything. And Andy wasn’t exactly the type to find middle ground if anyone disagreed with him. Even his supposed best friend.
Liam does miss him, though.
Liam rolls over, pulling his pillow over his head as he hides underneath it. It’s not fair that Andy had to leave and it’s not fair that this new possible friend is only here for the holidays. It’s not fair that Liam is so shit at making and keeping friends, and it’s not fair that he gets shy and can’t find the words to speak properly when he’s faced with situations he’s not entirely comfortable with. It’s not Liam’s fault that he’s awkward. He tries. Really. He’s forced himself to go to school dances with Maz because Maz loves to dance. He made his feet walk the entire way to Danielle’s house for her thirteenth birthday just because she smiled at him when she pressed the invite into his hand. He’d even gone without Andy because Danielle made it clear she wasn’t fond of his mate. He can do things on his own. Has done them when he has to, and it was pretty easy with Louis yesterday. He didn’t really have to try at all to get to carry on the conversation; Louis had talked through it all, was pushy, really. So maybe Louis liked talking to Liam that afternoon. He had said he’d see him around.
Which is the thought that he needs to get him rolling out of bed and headed toward the bathroom to get ready for the day. He might not be able to make friends easily but he did enjoy the little company he had with Louis the day before—and he’s got nothing else to lose, so why not?
He bounds down the stairs, feeling a little better than he had the previous morning. He ignores the way his mum’s eyes light up and a small smile pulls at the corner of her lips as he kisses her cheek on the way out the front door, banana in hand. He can hear them before he sees anyone, girlish giggles and a squeal followed by a lower tone that sounds authoritative. As he turns out his front gate and walls along the short fence line, Liam can make out where Louis is bent down on one knee, two evenly statured blonde girls in front of him. Each is using one hand to rub at her eyes while Louis clasps their other hands in his much larger grip, and both have bottom lips trembling.
Liam can’t hear what Louis is saying, but the girls nod their heads and then he’s wrapping his arms around them both and it’s the kind of lovely older brother thing that makes Liam miss his sisters.
Then he remembers how annoying it can be when Ruth gets on her high horse about Liam taking too long in the loo or Nicola yells at him to turn his music down while she studies, and—well, that’s the end of that.
They break apart and the little girls hold hands, skipping towards the front door as Louis stands up. Liam pauses with his hand on the gate. Louis turns, and when he meets Liam’s eyes he smiles and it’s a proper big smile that Liam can see meets the bright blue of his eyes, and it makes Liam smile, too.
“Hey, mate! Was hoping you’d be around today,” Louis says as he walks along the cracked concrete path, dodging the bits that are near crumbled to nothing and where chunks of grass poke through that shouldn’t on his way to where Liam’s still standing on the other side of the fence.
“Summer hols,” Liam says by way of explanation, fingertips stretching the small hole at the bottom of his shirt as Louis brushes his fringe out of his face and behind his ear. Louis makes him feel nervous for no apparent reason—well, except that he’s new and Liam doesn’t really know him. And then Liam is never great with new people, so.
“Believe me, I’d be in the same boat if I were back home. So, young Liam,” Louis says, jumping over the fence with one hand resting on the brick pillar instead of simply walking through the gate Liam’s standing at. “I’m free of the sisters all day and I do believe I saw a roller coaster on one of those piers at the beach. What do you say we see how many times we can ride without either one of us throwing our guts up, shall we?”
Liam laughs and shakes his head because he loves the coaster, has ridden it so many times he can’t even keep count, and Andy hated it so he hasn’t been on forever. This makes his friendship with Louis even somewhat better than he thought and he nods, walking fast to catch up to Louis who is already headed down the road, backwards with this half-smile on his face that Liam has decided is going to get him in trouble before the holidays are out.
“Record is twenty-three and that was on a day when I had a cold and was just getting over tonsillitis. Reckon you can last that long?”
And Louis’ grin deepens as he turns to walk the right way, nudging Liam with his shoulder.
“Mate, I think we can double that.”
% % %
And that’s how Liam’s summer starts. What started out being what Liam thought could possibly be the worst holiday of his life so far has turned out to be one of the greatest. After that first day he and Louis have become inseparable, sleeping at each other’s houses or in a tent in the yard or even once at a party Maz threw toward the end and invited Liam, and of course Louis went, too. It isn’t weird. Isn’t strange that Liam took somebody new, and it should have been strange how easily Louis fits in with the group of friends Liam has come to realise are actually that—Liam’s friends—even more so with the absence of Andy. Louis is bright and fun and in your face and has a laugh that makes everyone laugh with him.
Everyone loves Louis.
Liam’s sisters love Louis. Liam’s dad loves Louis (though he was banned from coming on the boat after he near cost them a day’s load of fish by leaning on one of the levers that keeps the water levels up in the holds). Liam’s mum loves Louis; she even likes Louis’ mum, too, which is great considering how much time Liam and Louis spend together. A fact that means Louis’ mum lost her head babysitter when it came to Louis’ four younger siblings.
(Liam and Louis had tried to look after the girls together one night, but after Liam woke up covered in sparkles and sticky makeup on the living room floor where previously he’d played Transformers and watched Pokemon, Jay thought her girls had traumatised Liam enough.)
Too soon it’s the last few nights before the Tomlinsons are due to head back to Doncaster. Liam and Louis have finally convinced their parents they can head out on their own to camp at a little patch of forest that old Mr. Cowell owns. It’s not like they’ll be completely alone, just a little off the beaten track, and in the end it’s the fact that old Mr. Cowell will be only a ten-minute walk from the boys and that Liam’s mum has found a friend in Jay to drink Sangria with that seals the deal.
They set up their tent and make a fire, cooking up a tin of beans to share, and they eat so many roasted marshmallows that Louis ends up rolling about, whining about his stomach, on the sleeping bags they’ve laid out on the forest floor. It becomes obvious to them both once the sky starts to darken that they aren’t really going to use the tents. Not with the way the stars are shining bright and Louis’ saying he never gets to see them enough where they live at home. They tell stupid ghost stories and Louis laughs whenever Liam jumps at the suspenseful parts and Liam wrestles with Louis a bit, getting him in a choking headlock when the teasing gets too much, and then they’re lying shoulder to shoulder, breathing deep and giggling, looking at the night sky above.
The fire crackles quietly next to them and Liam can’t remember feeling as happy as he does. As content—as free, even, because there’s no judgement or need to watch what he says or does around Louis. He can be touchy and feely, which he’s learned to be around Louis because that’s just the way Louis is. Liam doesn’t feel bad when he pulls Louis in for a hug when they meet at the fence or say goodbye, not like he would have with Andy. Liam doesn’t feel weird when Louis rests his head on Liam’s shoulder, or bad at all when Louis rolls onto his side, one hand plastered over Liam’s stomach. Andy was never big on touching, would freeze up and tell Liam no girl was ever going to look at him twice if he acted like that, never saying the words exactly that Liam knew he meant.
Not that Liam thought that way about Louis. Louis was just—Louis. The boy who touched and cuddled and showed affection to family and friends like it was nothing, because it was. It was just another part of Louis, and one that Liam was going to miss the following morning when they packed up and headed back and then Louis would be in his car with his sisters and that would be that. A friendship built on a summer’s worth of adventure, gone—all because Andy’s family had to rent out their house and the Tomlinsons were only here for the season before they left and the house became empty once more and Liam’s heart did a little, too.
“Have I told you, Liam,” Louis says, drawing out the start of Liam’s name like he started doing once he realised Liam was okay with it. “Have I told you that I actually hold a certificate for my penmanship from year three?”
Liam, who’s learned by now that Louis is full of strange and wonderful random little facts, shakes his head a little, shuffling a little to his side so Louis can rest his head further onto Liam’s chest.
“I do. I have fantastic lettering. Amazing, really. And you know, dearest Liam James Payne, that when you put these things called letters close together you can form words?”
Liam rolls his eyes. “You don’t say?”
He squeaks a little afterward, jostling Louis’ head a little because the bastard is faster than lightning, attacking one of Liam’s nipples with a quick pinch. “I just mean I can write letters. Stamps are way cheaper than phone calls and our dial-up connection is shit, but I can write.” Louis says this starting out so clear and sure, but by the end his voice has dropped to almost a whisper. It’s almost as if he’s nervous—not that Liam would know what that looks like on Louis because he hasn’t seen it once in the whole time he’s known Louis over the summer.
“I can write, too. I’m crap at spelling, so you’d have to deal with that,” Liam says, in the same tone because it feels like something. Feels like neither of them want to let go of a great friendship they’ve formed, and Liam loves that Louis brought it up first. He doesn’t want Louis to leave but who knows, maybe the next summer they could meet up here again or maybe Liam’s mum could take him and his sisters on holiday to Doncaster—though from Louis’ description they’d have nothing to do there, nothing to lure his mum there with anyway.
“You’re my best friend, Louis,” Liam says without censoring his words as much as he wants to so his thoughts pass through his lips unbidden. He’s wanted to say it for a while now because Louis is just that. He’s wormed his way into Liam’s heart with his jokes and his loud, unforgiving personality, and Liam feels like he’s known Louis forever and even if he hasn’t, he sort of wants to.
Louis’ hand grips Liam’s shirt hard and it’s like he’s trying to hug him just by pressing his head into Liam’s shoulder. Liam leans the side of his head on Louis’ and Louis hums before answering in the smallest voice, “You're mine, too.”