Archive of Our Own

Of all the ways to start a Monday morning, without milk is probably the worst. There’s a cup of steaming hot tea on the kitchen worktop and there’s not a drop of bloody milk in the fridge, so, you know. Today is probably going to suck.

Louis Tomlinson is a man of many talents, but drinking black tea is not among them. He can’t believe he forgot to pop by the shops this weekend, but then again, he’s not lived on his own for too long, he really can’t be held responsible for slip ups like these.

Blame assignment aside, there’s still no milk in the fridge, which means he either has to choke down this entire cup of black tea, or he has to plead his Uber driver to stop at some cafe on the way to work and risk being late. As it is, he can’t even bear to bring the cup two inches from his face, so he supposes he’s going storebought after all.

If he wasn’t such a tit, he could leave now in his own car and use the extra five minutes to pop into Cormac’s on the corner. He absolutely loathes driving in the city, though, and since he’s moved here, he only ever uses his own car for trips back home to Doncaster to visit his mum every now and again. He’s had this beautiful house in Hampstead for a little over a month now and it’s perfect, because it’s just close enough to work that he doesn’t spend a fortune on Uber fairs, and far enough away that he doesn’t ever see anyone he works with outside of the office.

At 24, Louis is two years out of uni and has the world at his feet. His internship at SYCO Music paid off the second he finished school, and now he’s making his way neatly up the ranks of the company. His gorgeous three bedroom home and the black Range Rover parked outside stand as nice little reminders of how well he’s doing.

He dumps his tea with a sigh and slings his bag over his shoulder, shuffling over to the door to slip his dress shoes on. When he looks up, the car is already pulling up, still about three minutes early.

Louis smiles to himself and glances at his reflection in the mirror by the stairs, making sure his hair is smoothed neatly away from his face. He checks his teeth quickly and then hurries out the door, bouncing down the front walk and gracefully falling into the backseat of the Uber.

“Morning, Mr. Tomlinson,” the driver says, turning around to flash him a smile. A beautiful, breathtaking smile. Louis has been in his backseat every weekday for almost three weeks now, and he’s still awed by it.

“Told you not to call me that, Harold,” Louis sighs, dropping his bag into the seat beside him and fastening his seat belt.

“And I told you not to call me that,” Harry hums, glancing at him once more and adding a playful, “Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis rolls his eyes and tries to tamp down his fond grin until Harry turns away, but he fails, of course. He watches out the window while Harry pulls out of the driveway, before peeking up through his eyelashes to watch the back of Harry’s curly head.

He has his long hair up in a bun today, which is Louis’s favorite on him. It makes his jawline stand out more, and it shows off his cute little baby ears. He’s wearing a very soft looking t-shirt that Louis might fantasize about stealing the morning after a night with him, but he looks away before he can get too far on that train of thought. He and Harry have never had an interaction outside of this car, and they probably never will. After all, Harry is just the guy that drives Louis to work, and Louis is just another customer. That’s all they are, really.

“Oh!” Louis suddenly perks up, making Harry jump like maybe he was in just as deep a reverie as Louis. “Do you mind stopping at Cormac’s on the corner here? I forgot to go out for milk this weekend and I can’t drink me tea without milk, so I need to buy one instead.” Louis doesn’t know why he told the entire story, Harry probably could have done with the short version, but Harry just laughs and crinkles his nose at him in the rearview mirror.

“Course,” he hums, pulling over on the curb outside of Cormac’s. “I know the feeling. I could never drink black tea,” he admits, pulling a face at the thought.

Louis grins at him and taps his shoulder in thanks, slipping out of the car and jogging into the cafe. He makes sure to sway his hips a little more than he typically would, just in case Harry happens to be watching, but he probably isn’t.

Cormac is a cute little old guy, and he grins when he sees Louis come in. He doesn’t know Louis by name, but Louis comes in often enough that Cormac knows almost exactly what he wants.

“Medium hot tea, three milks no sugar?” He hums, accepting the money Louis is already handing over.

“Two milks, no sugar,” Louis corrects him jovially, smiling as Cormac taps the side of his head like he’s committing it to memory.

Louis sits down at the counter while Cormac shuffles over to the teapot, leaning his head on his hand and glancing out the window. He can see Harry in his car, happily bobbing his head to whatever song is on the radio. He’s drumming hands on the wheel idly, having himself a grand old time, by the looks of it. Louis has to look away before his fond smile takes over his entire face, turning back around to see Cormac sliding the cardboard cup toward him on the counter.

“Thanks, Cormac,” he hums, nodding at the old man and sliding out of his seat.

“Have a good day!” Cormac calls after him. Harry is still dancing in his seat a little when Louis gets back in the car and, yeah, Louis probably will have a good day.

-

As Louis is leaving work later that day, his boss calls him into his office. Louis pokes his head in and John waves him in, so Louis cautiously steps forward.

“Everything okay, Mr. Whyman?”

“Splendid, Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Whyman chirps. “Have a seat for a moment, son.”

Louis smiles confusedly and sits down. He’s not quite sure why he would have been called into his boss’s office if not to be yelled at for something, but Mr. Whyman seems chuffed.

“Listen, Louis, may I call you Louis?”

“Of course, sir,” Louis smiles, charm out in full force.

“Excellent. Well, Louis, I just wanted to tell you before you head out that I’m quite pleased with the work you’ve been doing here lately. I know you enjoy your job. You enjoy your job, don’t you, Louis?”

“Very much, sir,” Louis says.

“Good. You have potential, and lots of it. If you keep up the good work, I think you could go very, very far in this industry. It’s a lot of work, and a lot of stress, but I really think you could handle it. Do you want to do big things, Louis?”

“More than anything, sir,” Louis grins.

Mr. Whyman grins back at him, nodding his head once. “Well, then you’re on the right track. I’m proud of you, Mr. Tomlinson, don’t let me down.”

“I won’t, sir,” Louis assures, standing when Mr. Whyman stands.

“I trust you won’t. And, please, call me John,” he says, winking when Louis blinks in surprise.

“Of course. Thank you Mr. W- uh, John.”

Mr. Whyman reaches out to shake his hand and then sends Louis on his way, drawing curious looks from his coworkers as he darts down the hall to the lift.

He kind of wants to scream with joy, because this is everything he’s ever wanted. He’s worked so hard the past two years and he’s finally being recognized for it, is finally being seen for his potential. Speeches like that usually precede something big, like a promotion. Louis is vibrating with excitement by the time he gets outside, where Harry is already parked and waiting, leaning against the side of his car looking at his phone.

He looks up just as Louis comes barreling toward him, opening his arms instinctively as Louis crashes into his chest. Harry just kind of laughs while Louis squeezes him tight, squealing into his shirt.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, amused, wrapping his arms around Louis’s slightly smaller frame.

“More than okay,” Louis says breathlessly, pulling away from the hug with a massive smile. “I’m gonna get promoted.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, grinning and squeezing Louis’s biceps gently. “Congratulations! How do you know?”

“My boss just basically told me,” Louis sings, launching into the whole story. He’s talking so fast Harry probably can’t even understand him, but he still hugs him anyway when he’s done talking. Louis feels like he’s absolutely on top of the world, still grinning madly when he eventually slides into the backseat.

“Oh, by the way,” Harry hums, starting the car and then reaching over to the passenger seat. He hands back to Louis a plastic shopping bag, smiling at the confusion on Louis’s face. “I um- I stopped and got you some milk on my way here. I knew you probably wouldn’t want to go today after work and I didn’t want you to have to stop at a cafe again in the morning, so. It’s really no trouble, and you can pay me back whenever.”

Louis wants to kiss him, but then again, he always wants to kiss him.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says softly, his voice quiet and pleased instead of loud and excited like it was a few moments ago. “This is so kind of you, you really didn’t have to-”

“No, I know, and I’m hoping you don’t think it’s weird. I just wanted to help you out, I suppose,” Harry shrugs, busying himself with pulling away from the curb and merging with the traffic heading out of the area.

Louis smiles to himself and looks down at the carton of milk in his lap, spending the rest of the ride home listening to Harry humming quietly along with the radio.

-

Louis loves his job, he really does, but he has to admit that the best hour of his day is the thirty minute drive to work and the thirty minute drive home.

He doesn’t have a lot friends, really, because he’s thrown himself into his job since day one and doesn’t leave himself a lot of downtime. He’s somewhat close to Liam from the office, but Liam has a girlfriend and a dog and a life to go home to at the end of every day, and hardly ever accepts Louis’s offer of friendship. Then there’s Niall from the sandwich shop across the street from the office, but Niall has a million other friends and always seems to be busy when Louis asks what he’s up to after his shift. And there’s Zayn, from uni, but Zayn fucked off about two hours after graduation and Louis has heard sparsely from him since.

The only other person Louis has to talk to, aside from his family, is Harry. Sometimes Louis gets himself dressed up and takes himself out and gets himself laid, but he never keeps any of them around. It’s not because he doesn’t like them, but because they don’t tell him jokes to make him smile when he’s quiet like Harry does, and they don’t sing to themselves when they think he isn’t paying attention, and they don’t have dimples and curly hair and bright green eyes, or at least not all at once.

So, yeah, Harry is Louis’s favorite part of the day, but it doesn’t mean he’s lonely.

But he is lonely, he decides. It’s Saturday afternoon and he’s on the couch in sweats eating crisps straight out of the bag, just like every Saturday since he’s lived here. He wishes he could ring Harry to come over for a pint and maybe a cuddle, but his and Harry’s relationship is strictly professional at the moment, and Louis doesn’t even know Harry’s personal phone number.

He decides that maybe a pet will make him feel better. There’s a large empty stretch of wall in his living room that he thinks would look nice if occupied by a fish tank. It’s not like he can’t afford it, either; he can get a big, extravagant tank with colorful, exotic fish, and maybe he could invite Harry in sometime to see them.

With that he sets off to his room, fixing up his hair and finding some more presentable clothes. He’s in a business suit five days of the week, so he treasures this leisure time when he can leave his house in skinny jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt.

He thinks about calling Harry to drive him to the pet store, but he thinks that might be a bit sad. He gathers up his phone, wallet and keys and he’s out the door, maneuvering his shiny, barely used Range Rover away from the curb outside his house.

An hour and a half later, he rolls back up with a massive, 20 gallon fish tank, enough crushed granite to sink a small ship, three fake plants, two little castles, and one bug eyed goldfish.

He names the fish Poseidon and leaves him in the corner of the kitchen sink in his plastic bag while he sets about getting the tank ready. He arranges the granite artfully in the bottom, making sure it’s all level and even, before setting up the fake plants and the castles. Once he has it perfect, he spends nearly an hour walking back and forth from the living room to the kitchen with a plastic jug, bringing water from the sink to the tank. It takes absolutely forever to fill, but once it’s done, it looks quite sick.

He takes another twenty minutes to set up the filter and then lets it run for a bit, like the girl at the pet store told him. She had been giggling the whole time because of all the elaborate equipment he bought for one stupid looking fish. He quite likes little Poseidon, though; his eyes are constantly aimed upward, and when Louis looks down at him, he feels like the little guy is looking right back at him.

Once he’s satisfied that the filter has been running long enough, he brings Poseidon’s bag from the sink to float in the tank for a bit to get him used to the water temperature. He’s a bit nervous about letting him out into the tank but the pet store girl had assured him that no Finding Nemo business would happen with the filter, and Louis thinks he can trust her.

Louis sits down on the couch and watches for a bit while Poseidon floats around in his bag, smiling at the way the fish’s little bug eyes seem to be taking in his new environment. Eventually he decides it’s been long enough and goes to the tank, carefully untying the top of the bag and letting Poseidon swim free.

At first Poseidon just kind of floats in the corner of the tank, like he’s not sure what to do first. Then he sets about actually exploring, and Louis sits right down on the floor next to the tank to watch him. He swims careful laps around the castles and nudges gently at the plants, swimming up to the filter to investigate the bubbles it lets out every now and again. He looks like he’s having a pretty good time, actually, and Louis feels quite proud to have brought him into this life.

Eventually Poseidon starts nudging around at the granite at the bottom of the tank, and Louis remembers the food he bought for him. He jumps up and finds the little plastic jar in the shopping bag in the kitchen, and gives Poseidon just a pinch, like pet store girl said. Poseidon swims right up to the top and eats happily, and Louis watches in awe. He feels like he just brought this fish into the world, which he didn’t, but he’s the only thing keeping it from dying; it’s a pretty special feeling.

With that he decides he must be overtired or something, because his thought process has gone all bizarre and he really, really just wants a plate of spaghetti, a shower, and then his bed, in precisely that order.

-

Louis wakes up late the following Monday, and it throws his whole day out of whack. He burns his tongue on his tea and cuts his finger on the edge of Poseidon’s food container all before he’s even out the door, and then he hits his head getting into Harry’s car and spends approximately the next five minutes whining about it.

Harry just coos softly at him and reaches back to squeeze his knee gently, which is pretty effective at soothing him. Harry spends the rest of the drive cheering Louis up with knock knock jokes, and by the time he gets him to work, Louis can hardly remember what all went wrong.

He remembers once he gets inside, though. He greets absolutely everyone he sees on his way to his office, but just before he’s about to settle in, Liam tells him rather indiscreetly that his fly is down. Louis curses himself and the rest of the world and zips it up, all but throwing himself into his desk chair.

He’s moderately productive for a while, making all the phone calls he’s been asked to make and doing the research he was asked to do. He’s still a bit irritated with today’s sequence of events, though, and by the time his phone rings around lunchtime, he can’t be arsed to be polite.

“Yes?” He answers, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear while he continues typing away on his computer.

“Hi, dear,” says a soft, comforting voice over the line. “It’s mum.”

“Mum,” Louis sighs, sagging back in his chair a little.

“You sound stressed,” she worries, but she sounds stressed as well, and Louis frowns.

“I am,” he grunts, pushing himself back up and clicking around a bit on his computer. “Listen, mum, it’s really lovely to hear from you, and I would love to talk but I’m really-”

“Lou,” she cuts him off, sounding tired. “I need to talk to you. It’s um- it’s kind of important.”

“I’m sure it is, but can it wait? I’ll take a lunch break in ten minutes and I’ll call you-”

“Louis,” she cuts him off again. “It’s nan. She passed away this morning.”

Louis nearly drops the phone, his heart plummeting to his stomach. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to be gentler but you were-”

“No, no,” Louis assures, reaching out to hold onto his desk for fear that he might fall over. “I’m- how? Why?”

“She’s been sick the past few weeks,” Jay sighs. She sounds like she’s seconds away from tears, and Louis feels his own eyes beginning to water as well. “I didn’t want to stress you out with it, because we all thought it was nothing serious. I’m so sorry, honey, I know how much you loved her.”

“Shit,” Louis breathes, scrubbing a hand down his face. He wants to curl up in a ball under his desk and cry, kind of, but he can’t.

“The funeral is probably this Thursday, do you think you can make it home?”

“I’ll try, yeah,” Louis says miserably, looking up at his computer. He has a ton of work to do before Thursday, but he’ll be damned if he misses his nan’s funeral.

“I’m sorry again, sweetie. I love you, alright?” Jay hums, sounding teary again.

“Love you too, mum,” Louis sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the pads of his fingers. He hangs up the phone a second later and puts his head down on the desk, allowing only a few small tears to slip down his cheeks. He wipes at his face when he picks his head up and reaches out to save his work on the desktop, because he doesn’t think he’s going to get much else done today.

He decides to take his lunch break then, shuffling down the hall to Mr. Whyman’s office. He knocks gently on the door, waiting to be called inside.

“Louis!” Mr. Whyman cheers, standing up to welcome Louis into the room. “What can I do for you son?”

“Hi, Mr. Whyman,” Louis smiles weakly, sitting gingerly in the chair in front of his desk. “I actually have a small request.”

“Shoot,” Mr. Whyman hums, dropping back into his own chair and watching Louis jovially, like he can’t tell that Louis is just barely holding himself together.

“See, my mother just called me a few minutes ago to tell me- um, there’s been a family emergency, I suppose. I really, really need to head home for a few days, is that possible?” He asks hopefully.

“A few days?” Mr. Whyman repeats, suddenly turning grave. “What’s a few days?”

“Wednesday, Thursday and Friday?” Louis asks, wincing, his voice shrinking with each syllable.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Whyman sighs, shaking his head. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you’re too important to this company to lose you for that long. I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.”

“Please, Mr. Whyman,” Louis tries, voice cracking. “Please, it’s my nan’s funeral, I’ll never forgive myself if I-”

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Whyman cuts him off firmly. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. If you care about keeping this job, you’ll listen to me. Big things, remember?”

Louis is about two seconds from dissolving into a puddle on the floor, but he nods. “Right. Sorry for the trouble,” he breathes, standing up on weak knees and slipping right out of the office. He all but runs back to his own and locks the door once he’s inside, body trembling. He doesn’t want to cry, not here, not when anyone could need him at any second. He sits himself down in his desk chair and pulls his knees up to his chest, brainstorming the ways to tell his mother he can’t make it to the funeral until the end of the workday.

Harry is a few minutes late picking him up and Louis waits on the pavement, shivering even though it’s not cold in the slightest. His tongue still feels like cotton from the tea earlier in the day and his finger stings where he cut it and he’s going to miss his nan’s funeral, and he wants to die.

Louis doesn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop when Harry finally shows up, throwing the door open and dropping himself bodily into the backseat. Harry turns around with a frown and Louis can’t bear to see the concern on his face right now, so he closes his eyes.

“Everything okay?” Harry asks gently. Louis nods quickly and leans his head back against the headrest, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Harry, bless his soul, doesn’t push, and a second later the car pulls away from the curb.

Louis doesn’t move an inch while Harry drives, keeping his breaths even and measured so he won’t lose his composure before he gets home. It feels like they’ve been driving for hours when Harry finally opens his mouth again, voice coming out soft and careful.

“Hey,” he says, and when Louis peels his eyes open, Harry is watching him in the rearview mirror. Louis raises his eyebrows and Harry smirks, glancing out the windshield. They’re stopped at a red light, the car humming quietly to fill up the empty space. “Knock knock.”

Louis lets out a rush of air that might have been a sob if he voiced it, eyes falling closed again. “Who’s there?”

“A broken pencil.”

Louis feels a bit like a broken pencil. “A broken pencil who?”

Harry grins, dimple popping when Louis looks up at him in the mirror. “Never mind, it’s pointless,” he says pointedly.

Louis sniffs quietly, glancing out the window. “Light’s green.”

Harry’s smile falls so quickly that Louis almost feels a bit guilty, but he can’t make himself look up again for the rest of the ride home. Harry doesn’t say another word and neither does Louis, until Harry finally parks outside Louis’s front gate.

Louis digs briefly for his wallet and pulls out the cash he owes Harry, handing it over wordlessly. Harry grabs his hand instead, though, making Louis look up at him.

“You can talk to me, you know? I know we’re not, like, friends, really, but... I’m here for you, yeah? I like it better when you smile.”

Louis’s eyes fill with tears so abruptly he can’t even see Harry’s reaction, pulling his hand back slowly. “See you tomorrow,” he breathes, pushing open the car door and climbing out.

He drops his briefcase by the door and walks straight to the sunroom at the back of the house, dropping himself into the wicker two seater and curling up as small as his stiff dress pants will allow. He stares up at the darkening sky through the plexiglass ceiling until the tears build up so thick that the world is just a watercolor painting, and then finally he turns his face into the soft green sofa cushion and lets himself sob.

He doesn’t know exactly how long he cries, but when he finally picks his head up and starts pulling himself together, the sun is all the way down and the stars are starting to peek out.

He rolls off the couch and heads to his bedroom, stripping out of his suit in something akin to a haze. He doesn’t want to go to bed yet but he’s too tired for much else, so he decides that maybe a bath is in order. There’s a clawfoot tub in his ensuite that he’s only ever used once, and today seems like a good day for another trial.

He fills the tub with bubbles and doesn’t dim the lights, because if he does he’s liable to fall asleep. He makes sure his phone is within reach before he climbs in, letting the warm water soak into his skin before reaches for the phone.

His mother answers on the third ring but she’s not paying attention to him yet, and Louis closes his eyes and sinks down in the water a bit while he listens to her talking to the girls.

“Hi, baby,” she finally says, voice soft and warm. Typically he hates when she calls him that, but right now it makes him feel like he isn’t quite as alone as he is. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll survive,” Louis chuckles humorlessly, opening his eyes and watching his fingers as he plays with the bubbles covering his tummy.

“Are you able to come home for the funeral?” Jay asks. Louis flinches; she just jumped right in, didn’t give Louis any time to warm up to the bad news.

“So,” he starts out, leaning his head back against the lip of the tub, “the other day my boss called me into his office and told me all about how proud he was of me and my work and that he thinks that if I keep working this hard I’ll be able to do big things with this company, right? So today when I went in and asked him for a few days off for a family emergency, he told me that if I cared about my job I wouldn’t take the time off. He literally gave me an ultimatum, mum, the funeral or my job,” he sighs, suppressing a whimper once he’s done talking.

“So, you quit right then and there, right?” Jay asks. Louis’s head shoots up, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“If this man cares more about the work you get done than you as a person, he doesn’t deserve to have you working for him.”

“No, mum, that’s not how it wo-”

“Louis, if you can’t take three days off to tend to a family matter then shame on you. Show some initiative, march back into that office tomorrow morning and demand time off.”

“Mum, I’ll lose my job-”

“I don’t care! You’ll find a new one! This is ridiculous, Louis, how can you not come home for nan’s funeral? She adored you, and you adored her! Think of how heartbroken she would be if she knew you weren’t gonna be there to say one last goodbye?”

Louis chokes back tears, hiccuping softly. “I wish it was that easy but-”

“This is outrageous. I can’t believe you are acting like this.”

“Mum, this is my dream,” he says quietly, brokenly.

“And this is your family.”

Louis doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. She’s right, of course she is, she’s his mum, but he’s not wrong either. There’s no happy medium in this situation, and Louis has a decision to make.

“This isn’t how I raised you. I thought you were better than this,” Jay sighs. She’s in tears, he can hear it. He made his mum cry.

“Mum,” he sobs, but she isn’t done.

“Call me if you can pencil us in,” she bites. “I’m so disgusted with you, Louis.”

The line clicks dead before Louis can retort. He stares down at the phone in his hand until the screen goes blank, and then he screams.

He flings his phone at the wall, hoping it’ll shatter, but of course it doesn’t. He has one of those stupidly expensive Lifeproof cases that protects against literally everything. Louis wishes they made Lifeproof cases for people.

-

Thursday is the hardest day of his life to date.

Harry tries the whole ride to work to cheer him up but Louis hardly cracks a smile. He knows that his whole family is gathered around a headstone right now, saying their last goodbyes to Louis’s favorite family member. He has to stop thinking about it before he makes himself cry, but Harry’s lame knock knock jokes only serve to remind him just how sad he is, and the cycle repeats.

He spends the whole day trying to get in contact with someone, anyone. He calls his mum, but she hardly says two words to him, despite how much he apologizes. He tries calling Lottie and Fizzy both, but they don’t pick up, and the twins won’t open his snapchats. Even Dan will hardly give him the time of day over text message, and it’s eating Louis alive.

Three different people catch him wiping at his cheeks throughout the day but no one asks what’s wrong, because none of them care.

-

The days turn into weeks and still his entire family carries on ignoring him. He tries every single day to get a hold of every single one of them, but apparently the damage is beyond repair. Eventually he just stops trying altogether, because if they decide they want to forgive him at some point, they know where to find him.

It gets easier when he’s not actively being ignored, but in the time he’s become used to spending calling and texting everyone relentlessly, he realizes exactly how lonely he is. The absolute only person he has in his life right now that genuinely seems to care about him is Harry, but Louis can’t help but push him away. He’s afraid that if he lets Harry in he’s never going to let him go, and he doesn’t know if Harry is even capable of reciprocating the feelings.

He doesn’t get much work done, either, because the deepening depression doesn’t let him focus on much other than that. He starts missing deadlines, handing in incomplete assignments days late, or just straight up not doing them all together. His boss has him in for quite a few talks, and with each talk, Louis can feel that promotion he was so excited about slipping further and further away.

He’s waiting for Harry on a Friday evening, standing on the pavement outside the office building. He’s looking down at his phone, playing some game, but he hears two people walk out of the building behind him, talking loudly. Their voices cut out abruptly and Louis looks up reflexively, seeing both of the women avert their eyes quickly. He realizes, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that they were talking about him.

He glues his eyes back to his phone and the two women start talking again, this time in hushed voices. He’s about to walk over and give them both a piece of his mind when finally Harry pulls up to the curb, and he just stalks to the back door quietly.

He drops himself into the backseat, as has become a custom, and grunts to himself while he fastens his seatbelt. Harry turns around to give him a smile, like he always does.

“Alright?” He hums cheerily. Louis hasn’t properly talked to him in weeks, but right now he looks so pretty, hair down and framing his face so beautifully. Louis wants to tell him everything.

“Those girls over there are talking shit about me,” he spits, glaring in their general direction out the window. Harry looks vaguely surprised, probably because Louis has been ignoring that question for so long now, but he follows Louis’s gaze.

“Want me to go rough ‘em up?” He offers, holding up his fists like he’s already ready to fight. Louis can’t help but let his lips quirk up, watching Harry throw tiny, pretend punches at the air.

“You look like the cowardly lion,” he giggles softly.

Harry glances back at him and drops his fists, his entire face lighting up. “You’re smiling,” he says, his voice almost sounding breathless.

Louis blushes under his unwavering eye contact, looking down at his knees. “Yeah, because you look like an idiot,” he teases, looking back up at Harry and trying to keep from smiling too wide.

“Hey,” Harry whines, feigning hurt. “I could win a fight.”

“I’m sure you could,” Louis coos softly, reaching across the seat to pet Harry’s hair. Harry freezes a little but he looks ecstatic, and Louis pulls his hand back quickly.

Harry watches him for a moment with soft eyes, and then reaches back to touch his knee gently. He’s turned all the way around in his seat, which probably means they’re not leaving any time soon.

“Not to be invasive,” he says quietly, waiting until Louis meets his eyes to go on, “but I haven’t seen you smile in weeks. You used to smile all the time, and then you just kind of… stopped. You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to, but I am really glad to see your smile again,” he says. He’s so sincere and openly honest, Louis almost envies him for it.

“Thank you,” he breathes, smiling again and reaching down to place his hand on top of Harry’s on his knee. Harry’s hand is so much bigger than his own, but Harry starts to pull away before he can commit the image to memory.

“Let’s get you home then, shall we?”

They spend the entire ride home bickering and laughing, singing along obnoxiously to the radio and making fun of celebrities. It’s not even like old times, it’s better than old times, and when they finally pull up to Louis’s house, it’s almost dark.

“Wow, I feel like that ride took forever,” Louis comments offhandedly, digging around for the money to pay Harry with.

“Yeah, was a bit long, wasn’t it?” Harry hums, but he doesn’t offer any answer. Louis hands over the money and Harry grins at him so wide Louis can’t help but poke a finger into his dimple, both of them laughing softly.

“Harry, would you like to come in and meet my fish?” Louis blurts out suddenly, his face going scarlet immediately. Harry looks surprised, but his eyes are still sparkling.

“I would love to,” Louis’s heart soars, “but I do have other clients tonight.” Louis flinches like he’s been slapped, even though Harry could not have been gentler.

“Oh, right, obviously. Sorry. I forget that this is your job sometimes,” he says, busying himself with collecting his things, even though he only has his bag and his phone.

“That’s okay. Another time, maybe,” Harry is saying, but Louis is already climbing out of the car.

“Another time, yeah. See you tomorrow,” he says quickly, shutting the door and hurriedly letting himself through his front gate. He shakes his head slowly at himself, cursing himself for being so weird.

The thing is, though, as he lets himself into his house, he feels better than he has in weeks. A half hour in the car with Harry, and it’s like all of his problems have been stolen away from him, if just for now.

It should probably be a bit concerning, but he goes to bed thinking about how funny Harry is instead of how cripplingly lonely he is, and he thinks he’ll be alright.

-

Come Monday morning, Louis can’t wait to see Harry. He called his mum Sunday afternoon just to see if she would answer, but she didn’t. He left a long, wordy message apologizing, again, and didn’t hang up until he was nearly in tears. After that, he needs some Harry time, if only so he can smile for just a moment.

He gets into the car already smiling, anticipating a nice morning. Harry turns around and grins at him, and Louis smiles right back.

“Well, good morning, smi-Louis,” he chirps, raising his eyebrows.

Louis stops what he’s doing and levels Harry with the most unimpressed look he can muster, not wavering until Harry snorts a laugh.

“That was the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. I’m hiring a new driver,” he jokes, shaking his head as he fastens his seatbelt.

“I thought it was quite good!” Harry argues, grinning as he pulls away from the curb. “You were all smiley and your name is Louis, so I just combined them, see?”

“Yup, got it the first time, hated it the first time,” Louis chuckles, settling back into his seat while Harry lets out one of his horse-like laughs.

“So, what’s got you so happy on a Monday morning, anyway?”

“Couldn’t wait to see you,” Louis says, and it’s the truth, but he passes it off like a joke. “And I feel like today is gonna be a good day. I’ve been kind of out of it the past few weeks, had a lot of shit going on. I’m gonna try and get back into the swing of things today,” he nods decidedly, watching out the window as the street passes them by.

“That’s good,” Harry grins, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Louis grins back at him and then looks down at his knees, telling himself that everything is going to be okay.

It’s a rather quiet morning, neither of them speaking much more than to comment on a song on the radio or point out a pretty flower bush in someone’s yard. Harry turns around again once he’s parked on the curb outside Louis’s office, giving him another big smile and a gentle squeeze on the knee.

“Good luck getting back into the swing of things,” he hums, eyes glittering at Louis like a Disney princess.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis hums. He wants to lean in and kiss Harry on the cheek, feels like it wouldn’t even be that weird if he did, but he refrains.

He gets out of the car and hurries into the building, humming softly to himself while he waits for the lift. He tries to make small talk with one of his coworkers on the ride up to their floor but the man blatantly turns away, and Louis takes it personally.

He walks into his office and drops his bag on the desk, looking over the multiple piles of work he’s yet to get done. Part of getting back into the swing of things involves getting all of his overdue assignments completed, and he settles in to do just that.

He’s been working diligently for about an hour when his intercom comes on, and Mr. Whyman’s secretary tells him politely and a bit sadly that Mr. Whyman would like to have a word with him. Louis sighs and answers that he’ll be right there, fully prepared to tell Mr. Whyman exactly what’s going on and that he’s going to get better.

-

“You’re firing me?”

Louis can feel panic rising in his throat, his heart picking up as Mr. Whyman nods gravely.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tomlinson, but your work ethic has been lacking lately. I think I’ve given you ample time to get back on track, but you just haven’t been impressing me like you used to.”

“No, no please,” Louis says, almost whining. “God, no, I promise I’ll do better. I know I’ve been slacking off but things have been really hard for me lately, and I came in this morning and I got right to work, I can prove it! Please give me one chance, I can do better,” he pleads.

“Mr. Tomlinson-”

“I know, I know, you’ve given me ample time, but just give me one more week, please! I can finish everything, I’ll work 24 hours a day if I have to, I’ll finish it, I swear.”

“Mr. Tomlinson-”

“Louis,” Louis pleads, choking back tears at this point. “Please, sir. You called me son. You said I could do big things!”

“Well, Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Whyman sighs, pushing back from his desk and standing up, “I’m afraid things like that don’t carry very much weight in this industry.”

Louis wants to break down, shaking his head quickly. “Mr. Whyman, John, please, I can do this. This is my dream, please, I swear I can-”

“Louis,” Mr. Whyman raises his voice, and Louis falls silent. “You’ll have two weeks to finish up any outstanding assignments and clear out your office. I’m sorry.”

Louis hangs his head, defeated. What now, he has no clue. He wants his mum, to be honest, wants to drive home and cuddle into his mother’s side and he wants to cry and apologize and tell her she was right from the very beginning, he should’ve quit a month ago but he didn’t, and now he’s here. His mum hates him, though, as do the rest of his family, and he can’t do a single thing right in his life.

“Right,” he breathes. He swallows thickly and stands up, shuffling slowly out of the office. He drags himself all the way back to his own office and collapses into his chair, puts his head down on his desk, and breathes. He can’t even cry, he’s too miserable for that. He gives himself ten minutes of self-loathing before he straightens up, and gets to work.

No matter what Mr. Whyman said, it may not be too late to save his job. If he gets all of his work done with the quality he used to, it might be enough to change Mr. Whyman’s mind.

He spends the rest of the day working his ass off, finishing off two whole assignments he’s been dreading doing for two weeks now. He sends them both off to Mr. Whyman’s office and gets started on another, one that was due a little over a week ago.

He loses track of time, his head down and buried in his work until his intercom beeps. “Mr. Tomlinson?”

“Yes?” Louis answers, pushing his hair out of his face.

“There’s someone here for you,” says the tinny voice, “a Mr. Harry Styles?”

It takes a minute for the name to register in Louis’s brain; he never learned Harry’s last name. He glances at his desktop for the time, and startles when he realizes that he should have left work almost an hour ago. Harry had probably been waiting forever, got worried enough that he came in and asked after Louis.

“Shit, sorry, tell him I’ll be down in two seconds,” he says hurriedly, clicking off the intercom when the receptionist confirms. He closes up his work and packs up his bag, stopping by Mr. Whyman’s office on his way out.

“Sir?” He hums, poking his head in. Mr Whyman looks up and then sighs, and Louis barrels on before he can say anything. “I sent some stuff down, did you get it?”

“I got it,” Mr. Whyman tells him. “But Mr. Tomlinson-”

“Just, look it over, okay? I promise it’s up to par, just as good as it used to be. Please, I’ll do everything I can to make you rethink your decision,” he admits, looking at Mr. Whyman hopefully.

“Louis, I’d love to keep you here. But the decision has already been made, yeah? We’re already interviewing for your position. You’ve been fired, Mr. Tomlinson. It’s irreversible.”

Louis blinks, his stomach turning. “You’re-”

“We have so much interest in your position. I’m sorry.”

Louis feels like he’s been shot, recoiling quickly. “Oh. Right. So, no matter what I do…”

“No matter what you do, I can’t change my mind. I wish things were different,” Mr. Whyman says. He sounds like he doesn’t mean it.

Louis just nods and turns away, walking numbly away from the doorway to his office. Part of him hopes, when he steps into the lift, that the cable will break and he’ll plummet to the basement and suffer a tragic death if only to escape the tragedy that has become his life.

Harry is waiting in the lobby when he gets there, chatting amiably with the receptionist. He lights up when he sees Louis, and Louis can hardly answer with a weak smile.

“Thought you were never gonna come down,” Harry chuckles, leading his way out to the car. “How went getting back on track?”

The words are sitting on the tip of Louis’s tongue, but he can’t say them. I got fired. He needs to tell Harry, because if he doesn’t tell Harry he won’t be able to tell anyone. He can’t tell his mum, and he doesn’t have any friends he’s close enough to to cry to. He needs to tell Harry, because at the end of his two weeks, he won’t have anywhere for Harry to drive him to anymore.

“Fine,” he says, giving Harry another lame smile when Harry opens his car door for him.

“So this morning, after I dropped you off,” Harry starts, putting the key in the ignition and starting the car, “I went downtown to pick up some middle aged woman for a doctor’s appointment, right?”

Louis hums noncommittally, watching out the window and wondering how to tell Harry that he lost his job today.

“And she got in the car and she’s blathering on and on and on about her gay son and his boyfriend and how repulsive gay people are,” Harry says, chuckling like he thinks it’s funny. Louis tenses up; he’s been through enough today, and if Harry turns out to be a homophobe right now, Louis is liable to put his head through the window just to knock himself out. “So she’s going on and on and on-”

“Kind of like you are right now?” Louis bites out, irritated and vaguely offended.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry laughs, like he didn’t pick up on Louis’s tone. “Anyway, she’s like, ‘gay marriage should be illegal’ and ‘I didn’t raise him that way’ and I’m just kind of yessing her to death, right, because I’m not gonna start fighting this woman with five minutes left of our ride. And she’s like, ‘look at you, you’re such a sweet young man, why can’t my son be like you?’ And I just looked at her in the mirror and I was like, ‘yeah, my boyfriend tells me the same thing.’ You should have seen the look on her face, Louis, I think she wanted to jump out of the car right then and there!” Harry laughs. Louis knows the feeling.

He forces a small laugh anyway, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes when he glances at him in the mirror. So Harry’s not a homophobe, but worse: he’s gay and taken.

“So you’ve a boyfriend, then?” He asks casually. He doesn’t really know why he asks at all, because the answer is probably going to make him sad.

“Nah,” Harry hums, shrugging one shoulder. “My last relationship ended about six months ago. I am gay, though,” he assures, catching Louis’s eyes in the mirror this time.

“Oh,” Louis nods, staring out the window for a moment. “Me too. Gay, that is. Haven’t had a proper relationship since uni, though.”

“Ah, haven’t found anyone good enough for you yet?” It should be said jokingly, but Harry sounds painfully serious.

Louis huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “No, more like I haven’t found anyone that I’m good enough for.”

Harry frowns deeply at him in the mirror, coming to a rather harsh stop at a red light and turning around to look at him properly. “Don’t say that. Anyone would be lucky to be with you, you’re an absolute delight. Even when you’re sad, like you are right now. You carry the sun in your pocket, I just wish you’d let it out more.”

Louis blinks at him, lips parting in surprise. “How do you know I’m sad right now?”

“You’re an open book, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry smiles sadly, turning back around just in time for the light to turn green.

“Am not,” Louis argues, sitting up in his seat. “I’m stoic and complex.”

Harry smiles at him in the mirror, shaking his head. “I know you think you are, but you’re not. Your heart is on your sleeve, and it’s lovely.”

“It is not!” Louis argues, crossing his arms as if to hide the heart on his sleeve. He glances out the window and frowns, his surroundings unfamiliar. “This isn’t the way to my house?”

Harry hesitates, glancing at him in the mirror. “I know, I’m sorry. I took a wrong turn back there. It’ll just be a few minutes longer, you don’t have to pay for it,” he assures.

Louis nods, sinking back in his seat. He feels somewhat insecure now, like everything he’s been trying his damnedest to keep inside of himself has already been picked apart by Harry. They’re quiet for a few moments, and then Harry looks back at him again.

“I’m sorry. I feel like I pissed you off with that comment, and I didn’t mean to,” he says looking genuinely sorry.

“You did, kind of,” Louis admits, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “But it’s not your fault. You’re right, actually, I’ve had a shit day.”

Harry frowns at him, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it? I don’t have any more clients tonight, I could take you to that cafe you like, or something?”

Louis feels like he’s trapped in a whirlwind. He’s literally never been sadder than he is in this moment, and this wonderful, beautiful boy is offering to take him somewhere and let him vent and help him feel better. Louis should say yes, he should take Harry up on it without question, but his brain hurts and he wants his bed.

“Mate, that sounds lovely, but I really just wanna go home right now, if I’m honest,” he says quietly. It’s not the kind of bad day he can sleep off, but Harry doesn’t need to know that.

“No, yeah, of course,” Harry says, smiling at him gently. It’s another few minutes before he speaks again. “Maybe I could come in this time? You said you had, what, a cat you wanted me to meet?”

“A fish,” Louis mumbles. “And, I mean, you can, if you want. Not sure I’ll be such good company tonight, though.”

“You’re always good company,” Harry assures, pulling up to the curb in front of Louis’s house. “But I can tell you don’t want me.”

Louis wants to argue, wants to take Harry by the face and show him exactly how much he wants him.

“Another time, when I’m in higher spirits,” he promises, extending one pinkie to Harry.

Harry grins at him, locking his pinkie with Louis’s. “I can’t wait.”

Louis smiles at him and Harry’s eyes twinkle. Louis only smiles wider, and Harry looks away shyly. Louis squeezes his pinkie a little with his own and then pulls it away, reaching for his wallet. He hands over the cash and Harry expresses the quietest gratitude, and then Louis is on his way.

He goes inside and drops his bag by the door, dragging himself over to Poseidon’s tank. He sprinkles in a bit of food and watches Poseidon go absolutely crazy for it, mouthing wildly at the surface of the water where the little flakes sit.

Louis plops down on the floor beside the tank, staring up at the ugly little fish. “I don’t know what to do now, Poseidon,” he whimpers, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do now.”

He drags himself to bed and flops down, digging his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his contacts. He wants his mum, wants her so bad, wants her to get all soft and tell him everything is going to be okay. He’s terrified that all he’s going to get is a big fat I told you so, though.

Eventually he bites the bullet and hits call, holding the phone to his ear with a shaking hand. It’s late and there’s a good chance she’s already in bed, and Louis tells himself that’s why she doesn’t answer. He still cries himself to sleep over it, though, still in his suit pants and button down.

-

Two weeks come and go faster than Louis could have ever imagined. He’s been discretely bringing things home from his office the whole time, because he still hasn’t told Harry what’s happened.

It’s his last day in the office and he’s absolutely devastated. Some of his coworkers drop by to tell him goodbye but most just steer clear of him, like if they’re seen associating with him they might catch the same kind of plague that’s gotten Louis booted out.

The end of the work day rolls around eventually, and Louis locks his office door for the last time. He heads out without saying a word to anyone, dropping into a bench on the pavement outside the building and staring down at his knees. He wants Harry, and he wants him now.

The car ends up coming almost thirty minutes late, and it’s not Harry driving. Some stubby, balding ginger guy rolls down the window and shouts an apology about being late, and Louis clambers into the backseat miserably.

“Where’s Harry?” He asks almost immediately, fastening his seatbelt and looking up at his unfamiliar driver.

“Who?” The guy asks, glancing at Louis in the rearview mirror. When Harry does it, it’s comforting, but right now Louis feels about ready to squirm out of his own skin.

“The guy that usually picks me up? He usually comes at the same time every day,” Louis says, reaching out to hold onto the door handle as the driver starts weaving through traffic.

“Another client, probably. Or maybe something came up,” he shrugs disinterestedly. Louis sighs and watches out the window for the rest of the ride, trying his hardest not to get motion sickness from this guy’s reckless driving.

It doesn’t hit Louis until he’s home that he’s probably never going to see Harry again. He’ll have to cancel his ride for Monday, because he doesn’t have anywhere to be, and he’ll never get to properly tell Harry what all happened.

With that thought in his head, he goes straight to his room and changes into a pair of joggers and a comfy t-shirt, vowing to live like this until he absolutely has to change. He heads back down to the living room once he’s ready to begin the process of rotting on the sofa for the whole weekend.

He doesn’t quite know what he’s going to do about Harry, or about work, or his family, or anything. He knows that Poseidon is hungry, though, and he knows that there’s an 80’s movie marathon on the telly, and he knows that anything that doesn’t concern his own little bubble right now can wait until Sunday to be dealt with.

-

When Monday comes, Louis still hasn’t a clue what he’s going to do. He gets up and gets dressed for the first time since Friday, but only in jeans and a clean white t-shirt.

He sits on his front step in the mid morning sunlight and rehearses different things he could say to Harry when he shows up, different ways to tell him he won’t be needing rides anymore. Before he’s found anything even remotely acceptable to say, Harry’s little black car rolls up to the curb and Louis’s stomach drops.

He gets up and slowly walks toward the car, pulling open the passenger side door instead of the back door, because he doesn’t plan on staying.

“Hi!” Harry chirps, raising his eyebrows as Louis slides himself into the passenger seat. “We’re on front seat terms now, are we?”

“Harry, listen,” Louis starts, but Harry doesn’t let him finish.

“Sorry I missed you on Friday, a client had me on a wild goose chase all over the city. Did you get home okay? The guy that got you wasn’t too horrible, was he?” He jokes, grinning.

“No, it was fine,” Louis assures. “But look-”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite client?” Harry asks suddenly. At Louis’s responding frown, Harry smiles shyly and elaborates. “I don’t know, you’re just so fun to be with. I love the time I get to spend with you in the car. Most people just want to complain to someone they’ll probably never see again, but you… I have a friend in you, I think, and I like that,” he says, open and honest. Louis wants to cry.

“I like it too,” Louis assures, “but actually-”

“Please don’t ever get your own car,” Harry laughs, seemingly unaware that he’s cut Louis off three different times now. “I’d miss you too much if I didn’t get to drive you every day.”

Louis frowns, glancing out the rear window at his Range Rover, parked on the curb. “I do have my own car,” he informs Harry, smiling slightly as he turns back to him.

Harry looks puzzled, waiting for an explanation.

“That’s my Range Rover,” Louis chuckles, pointing out the window. “I just use Uber because I hate driving in the city. It’s easier to be driven and dropped off than it is to drive myself and have to park and deal with all of that,” he shrugs.

Harry shakes his head slowly, leaning his head back against the headrest. “Rich people,” he sighs, but there’s a smile on his lips.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis laughs, reaching over to push at Harry’s shoulder. Harry just grins at him, and Louis feels himself go a little soft.

“Well, ready to go, then?” Harry hums, straightening up and resting his hand over the gear shift. He nods at Louis’s slightly open door and Louis hesitates, and then reaches out to close it.

“Yup.” Fuck him.

Harry pulls away from the curb just a second later and Louis settles into his seat, cursing himself internally while he fastens his seatbelt.

“Oh, did you have something to tell me?” Harry says suddenly, glancing over at him.

Louis could tell him. Louis probably should tell him. But he’d feel stupid doing it now, because they’re already on their way to his old office.

“No,” he says, internally knocking his head off the window repeatedly. “No, it was nothing.”

“Where’s your suit? You’re usually much more dressed up,” Harry notices, looking at Louis’s skinny jeans and worn in Vans. “Is it like a casual Monday today?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Louis mutters, watching out the window for a few moments.

The drive seems much quicker than normal, and Louis doesn’t have a clue as to what he should do once Harry drops him off. Harry doesn’t usually leave until Louis is safely inside the building, so once Louis is out of the car, he braces himself and pushes through the doors.

He loiters in the lobby with his head down until he’s sure that Harry is gone, and then rushes out. He’d be mortified if anyone saw him right now, because he has no reason to be here and everyone knows it. He darts across the street at his first opportunity and pushes through the door of the little sandwich shop, which is just opening for breakfast.

He drops himself into a booth at the side of the shop, next to a window that looks out at the alley between the shop and the one beside it. He didn’t think he was actually leaving his house today, so he didn’t bring his phone or his wallet or anything, and he has nothing to do until 6:00 tonight when Harry comes back to get him.

He folds his arms on the table and puts his head down, praying to whoever that no one will come over and question him, or ask him to leave.

-

He must doze off for a little while, because when he picks his head up again, the sandwich shop is busy enough for it to be lunchtime.

He wipes discreetly at the corner of his mouth to make sure there’s no drool and looks around, hoping that he won’t see any of his old coworkers. When he decides the coast is clear he puts his head back down, thinking maybe he can kill another few hours with another nap.

Fuck, he must look like a homeless teenager, or something. He certainly feels like one. With any luck, everyone around him will take pity on him and leave him be.

He manages to go unnoticed until the end of the lunch rush, and the clock on the wall behind the counter tells him it’s nearing three. His stomach gives a growl and he groans, cursing himself for not bringing any money or anything with him.

He looks at his reflection in the window beside him, fixing his hair where it’s gotten all flat on the front and side. He still looks like a mess, but he decides it’ll have to do. Just as he’s going to get up to go have a wee, someone slides into the booth across from him, and the first thing Louis registers is bright blond hair and a brighter smile.

“Louis fuckin’ Tomlinson,” Niall grins, reaching across the table to ruffle Louis’s hair. Louis scoffs and fixes it again, smiling at Niall.

“Hey, Niall,” he says, trying to be cheery. “It’s been a while.”

“Damn right it has,” Niall agrees, hugging his elbows and leaning them on the table. “What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you at work?”

Louis lets his smile fall, reaching up to fix his fringe yet again, just for something to do with his hands. “It’s a long, horrible story.”

“Well, mate,” Niall sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I got sent over here to kick you out. Maybe if your story is horrible enough, I’ll convince me boss to let you stay,” he says, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Louis chuckles and rubs at his eyes, shaking his head slowly before diving into the story headfirst. He tells Niall everything, from his nan dying, to his family just about disowning him, his gradual decline at work and then being fired, to not even being able to tell Harry that he doesn’t have anywhere to be anymore.

“And the worst part is,” he sighs, playing idly with a packet of sugar so that he won’t have to look Niall in the eye, “this morning he told me how much he loves driving me, and spending time with me. That was why I couldn’t do it; I would’ve broken his heart, Niall, he loves having me, said it himself. Fuck, I’m fucking in love with him and I can’t even tell him the truth.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up so fast they disappear under his hair, and Louis freezes. Did he just…?

“Woah, you’re in love with him?” Niall questions, leaning a little closer, as if he’s watching good telly instead of listening to Louis’s real life tales of woe.

“I don’t- I mean, maybe,” he shrugs, staring down at the table. “Oh, my god, I’m fucking in love with him. Great! Could this get any worse?” He whines, looking at Niall miserably before dropping his head back down to the table, cradled in his folded arms.

“Hang tight, mate, I’ll be right back,” Niall mutters, petting the back of his head soothingly and then slipping out of the booth. He returns two minutes later and Louis picks his head up, smiling at what Niall’s offering.

“It’s not exactly fresh, it’s a leftover from the breakfast rush this morning. It would’ve been tossed, so, it’s on the house,” he says, handing over a massive chocolate chip muffin, wider than Louis’s palm and as tall as his index finger.

“Thank you, Nialler,” Louis sighs gratefully, taking the muffin and then giving Niall’s hand a little squeeze.

“No trouble at all, mate,” Niall smiles, sliding out of the booth. “You can hang out here until he comes to get you, yeah? Good luck with everything,” he says earnestly, giving Louis’s hair one last ruffle before he turns and walks back to the counter.

Louis takes his time with the muffin, savoring every bit of it and making it last nearly a whole hour. He’s still starving once he’s finished it but it will do for now, because there’s only about two hours left until Harry comes back for him and then he can go home and make himself some dinner. He thinks he’ll try to call his mum again tonight, because talking about things with Niall helped him feel a bit better, but he knows talking it out with his mum will help even more.

He spends the next two hours with his chin cradled in his hand, staring blankly ahead at the seat across from him. Niall comes over occasionally to chat or keep him company for just a few minutes, but he’s working, and Louis doesn’t want him to get in trouble, so he makes sure Niall knows he doesn’t have to entertain him.

6:00 rolls around eventually, and just as Louis is getting out of his seat to go wait on the bench on the other side of the road, he sees Harry pull up. He feels fear flash through him at the thought that Harry is here and Louis is still on the wrong side of the road. Harry will suspect something if Louis comes from the wrong direction, and Louis can’t let him find out like this.

He watches from a safe enough distance from the window that Harry definitely can’t see him, waiting for Harry to put his head down or look away or something. Eventually Harry puts his head down, probably looking at his phone, and Louis takes that as his cue to move.

He darts out of the shop and walks quickly down the street in the opposite direction from Harry’s car, waiting at the crosswalk and quickly crossing to the other side. He approaches the car from behind and jumps into the backseat as quickly as possible, startling Harry’s gaze away from his phone.

Harry looks back at him with a frown, locking his phone without looking and dropping it into his cup holder. “I thought we were on front seat terms?” He pouts, patting the passenger seat like it will entice Louis to move.

“Front seat terms isn’t a real thing, Harold,” Louis sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My name is Harry, and if you don’t get in the front seat right this instant I’m not driving you anywhere.”

Louis rolls his eyes, smiling at Harry. “This is very bad service. I’m going to leave you a bad review when this ride is over,” he jokes, but he climbs out of the car and gets into the front seat instead.

Harry grins at him with all his teeth until Louis grins back, heart throbbing in his chest. God, I am in love with him, he thinks, watching as Harry looks away and starts pulling the car away from the curb.

Harry launches almost immediately into a story about his day and Louis can’t take his eyes off him, watching the way his jaw moves, the way his eyelashes flutter when he checks his rear view mirror, the way his nostrils flare a little when he laughs. Louis is so entranced, so captivated, he hardly even notices when Harry finally parks in front of his house.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, bright and early, in this very front seat,” Harry hums, looking over at Louis happily. Louis just smiles back at him and gets out of the car, closing the door and waving to Harry through the window.

It doesn’t occur to him until he’s at the front gate that he didn’t pay him, and then when he’s inside, that he still didn’t tell Harry that he doesn’t have a job anymore.

-

At 9:00 the following morning, Louis finds himself in his work clothes, bag packed, sitting in the front seat of Harry’s car. Harry is chattering on and on about God knows what but Louis isn’t listening, chewing his thumbnail nervously and watching vigilantly out the window.

Niall is going to think he’s crazy if he spends another entire day sitting in the sandwich shop, but Louis honestly has no idea what else to do. He’s still reeling from the death of his dream, if he’s honest, and he doesn’t even want to think yet about what comes next.

“Louis?”

Louis whips his head around, finding Harry looking at him expectantly. They’re stopped at a red light, the harsh color reflecting off Harry’s luminous skin.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah,” Louis lies, dropping his hand from his mouth into his lap, leaning back in his seat and trying to play it cool. “Something about your sister’s cat?”

Harry just stares at him, blinking once. “That was fifteen minutes ago.”

Louis winces and sighs, glancing back out the window. “Sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied.”

“You don’t say,” Harry hums. He doesn’t sound annoyed, just amused.

“Have you ever noticed,” Louis says suddenly, looking down at his hands, “that the words death and dream are only two letters different from each other?”

Harry looks vaguely horrified when Louis glances up at him, staring straight ahead out the windshield. He checks his rear view mirror and then flips on his directional, pulling over to the side of the busy road. “Alright,” he sighs, throwing the car in park and turning bodily towards Louis. “Spill.”

“Spill what?” Louis chuckles nervously, shifting a bit to face Harry as well.

“You’re so,” Harry waves his hands uselessly, “melodramatic, lately. Sometimes you get in the car and you don’t say a word to me and you look like you wanna cry the whole ride, and sometimes you’re totally fine. I never know what to expect from you, and now you’re saying shit like this, I’m worried about you,” Harry admits. When Louis looks up, he can see the evidence of Harry’s proclamation written all over his face.

It makes Louis feel like shit, frankly. He really doesn’t want anyone worrying over him, especially Harry. Yeah, things are harder now than he thought they could be and he has no idea how he’s going to pick himself up out of the dirt after this, but he’s independent, he doesn’t need looking after.

“Can we just drive, please,” he says quietly, voice nearly a whisper. He’s afraid that if he talks any louder he might break and tell Harry everything, and that can’t happen right now. He doesn’t know when it should happen, but it can’t happen now.

Harry’s face shifts immediately, looking remorseful, like he hurt Louis, or something. “Lou, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s fine,” Louis assures. “I just- it’s easier if I keep my business mine. Easier for me, anyway. And, please, don’t worry about me? I’m a grown man, I can handle myself,” he says. His voice isn’t harsh in the slightest, but Harry still blinks like Louis spit at him.

“Okay, if that’s what will help you,” Harry sighs, righting himself in his seat. “But just know: just because I’m not worrying, doesn’t mean I don’t care. If you ever decide you need your business to be not just yours, I will always, always be here to help you.”

Louis bites down hard on the inside of his lip, remaining uncharacteristically quiet as Harry merges back into the traffic. He doesn’t deserve Harry, not in the slightest, but he’ll take him. God, he’ll take him.

-

Once Harry drops him off in front of the office building, Louis feels like he can actually breathe for the first time since he left his house. He doesn’t hesitate to walk straight over to the sandwich shop, setting up camp in the same booth as the day before and then grabbing his wallet as he heads to the counter.

He spots Niall in the back while he orders a muffin and a tea, smiling as Niall bounds over to talk to him while the soft spoken girl that helped him goes to get his order ready.

“Louis T!” Niall cheers, leaning against the counter and giving Louis a once over. “You look a million times better, mate. Cleared everything up already, did you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Louis smiles, saluting Niall with the muffin he receives a moment later. “I’m still in the exact same position I was twenty four hours ago, but now I’m straight up lying to Harry instead,” he explains, moving over to the side of the counter once he gets his tea to make room for the other patrons in line behind him.

“Mate,” Niall huffs, shaking his head. “What are you thinking? He’s gonna find out at some point, and what are you gonna do then?”

“I’m gonna tell him, I swear I am,” Louis says, holding his muffin to his heart. “I just need to figure out how I’m gonna do it, is all. Until then,” he sighs, gesturing to his booth at the other side of the shop.

“No offense, but your life is a shit show,” Niall says solemnly, shaking his head.

“Don’t I know it,” Louis hums, winking at Niall cheekily before heading back over to his booth. He takes his time picking apart his muffin and sipping at his tea, pulling out his phone to see if anyone has decided they care about him and tried to get in contact with him.

Once the breakfast rush dies down to a sporadic, quiet flow of people in and out the door, Niall appears out of thin air and drops into the booth across from him.

“What are you doing here,” Niall says, deadpan, sounding determined.

“I just told you? Hiding until I figure out a way to-”

“No,” Niall cuts him off, rolling his eyes. “Right now. What are you doing right now?”

Louis glances around, as if to check if Niall is serious. “Hiding until I-”

“No,” Niall cuts him off again, frustrated now. “Right now. You’re sitting here right now, doing nothing. You’re looking at your phone, dissecting a muffin, making a mess,” he adds the last bit under his breath, “but you’re not doing anything. What’s your most pressing issue right now?”

Louis frowns, sweeping his crumbs into a neat little pile. “Probably being unemployed?”

“Then do something about it!” Niall hisses, slapping a hand down on the table. Louis jumps, but Niall is unconcerned. “Get out there. Apply for a new job. Go do interviews, get your name out there, fix your life and stop wallowing in your own self pity,” he says, throwing his hands up like it’s the most obvious thing.

Louis blinks, feeling increasingly stupid for not having thought of any of that on his own. “Niall,” he mutters, scrambling for his bag and getting out his laptop. “You’re a genius! Thank you,” he says sincerely, reaching across the table to pinch Niall’s cheek.

“Anytime, you loaf,” Niall chuckles, slapping his hand away and getting up from the booth.

Louis opens up his laptop and turns it on, bouncing his leg nervously under the table. This feels like a good start, finding a new job, but it’s nerve wracking as well. Louis always dreamed of being at SYCO, never anything else. But he blew that chance, he lived that dream and he lost it, and he’s afraid he’s never going to find something like what he had.

After a bit of searching around, Louis finds a few different companies that are accepting applications. His mum always told him as a teenager that applying for jobs is better in person than it is on the internet so he sends the addresses of the companies to his phone and puts his laptop away, getting up and out of his seat to go and face the world.

“Get ‘em, Tommo!” Niall calls after him, and Louis turns around to give him the most hopeful thumbs up he can muster before he pushes through the glass door and out onto the pavement.

Each of the three companies he plans to hit today are in totally different areas of the city, but it’s nice out, so he decides he’ll just walk. He feels good, feels like a man on a mission, and by the time he arrives at the first office building, he almost feels confident.

-

By the end of the day, Louis is limping, completely exhausted, shoulder aching from holding his bag for so long. He has blisters on his feet from his stupid, stiff dress shoes and he’s pretty sure he could sleep for at least a full day, if he had the time.

He managed to get to all three companies, but with each application he filled out, he lost more and more of his enthusiasm. He’s already sick of the job search process and he’s barely started, so that’s just great.

He’s nearly in tears by the time he gets back to his old office, plopping down on the bench out front to wait for Harry. He should be here any minute, and Louis internally pats himself on the back for rushing and getting here before him.

He nearly nods off on the bench while he waits, but somehow he manages to keep his eyes open. He hasn’t had this much physical activity since university, probably, and all he wants is his bed and maybe a good cuddle from a certain curly haired Uber driver.

Said curly haired Uber driver shows up barely a minute later, and Louis sighs in relief. He peels himself off the bench and limps over to the car, heaving the door open and just about tossing himself into the seat. Harry looks worried immediately but Louis gives him a look, and he averts his attention.

“Busy day?” He asks, watching out of the corner of his eye as Louis eases himself into a comfortable position and fastens his seat belt, kicking his shoes off at the same time to give his poor feet some blessed relief.

“You could say that, yeah,” Louis says around a yawn, curling up with his shoulder against the door.

“Listen,” Harry starts, watching the road while he pulls out onto the street. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. I shouldn’t pry, and I did. You’re just so fascinating to me, you’re an enigma, and I’m just so curious to know what’s going on in that head of yours. You don’t ever have to tell me anything, obviously, and I hope you know that. Just because I’m curious doesn’t mean you have to tell me, especially if it’s something personal,” he says, glancing over at Louis with a crease between his eyebrows.

Louis is too tired to have this kind of conversation, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window and closing his eyes. “I bloody well know what I can and can’t tell you, Harry Steele,” he grins, tone light and jovial but unmistakably exhausted.

“Styles,” Harry corrects gently. Louis can hear the smile in his voice. “Harry Styles.”

“Styles, that’s right,” Louis yawns again, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his jacket closed. Harry turns down the air con, but Louis hardly takes notice.

“Lou,” he hears, but he tunes it out, too busy nodding off to respond to whatever Harry has to say. He’s asleep within a minute, at the most, his face tucked into the passenger door and his feet curled up underneath him on the seat.

-

When he finally blinks his eyes open again, it’s to the sight of a completely dark sky outside the windshield of Harry’s car. He startles a bit and sits up, making Harry jump as well. A glance at the time on Harry’s dashboard tells him it’s almost 8:30, which means they left the city over an hour ago.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Harry hums. He looks fond when Louis looks over at him, catching Harry’s eyes and noticing that they linger much longer than they should. “Have a nice nap?”

“Peachy,” Louis yawns, rubbing at his eye and glancing out the window. “Why are we still driving?”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, ducking his head like he’s embarrassed. “I- you looked cosy, I don’t know. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I just kept driving around while you slept. I’ve done, like, sixteen laps of your neighbourhood,” he chuckles, glancing over at him quickly.

Louis is helpless against the grin that spreads over his face, his heart melting in his chest. “You let me have an hour and half long nap because you thought I was too cute to wake me up?”

“I didn’t say that!” Harry argues, but the blush that colors his cheeks tells Louis everything he needs to know.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says, voice soft and honest and much more open than he’s ever been with anyone, let alone Harry. He reaches over to squeeze the hand that’s resting on the gear shift without thinking, and both of them freeze up a little.

Harry turns his hand over before Louis can pull his own away and gives him a little squeeze in return, the corners of his lips pulling up into the tiniest of smiles.

Louis smiles down at his lap and slowly takes his hand away, playing with his own fingers in his lap. It’s only another few minutes before Harry slows to a stop in front of Louis’s house, putting the car in park. Louis feels like he should lean over and kiss him, or something, but instead he just reaches for his wallet.

“Um,” Harry says, frowning at the sight of the folded leather. “Actually, it’s on the house today.”

Louis frowns, holding his wallet open. “What? You spent a whole extra hour driving me around, the least I can do is-”

“No,” Harry says decidedly, shaking his head. “No charge today. Please, don’t give me anything.”

Louis shakes his head slowly, confused. “But why are-”

“Honestly,” Harry says, too loud for the moment, “you’ve been sad lately. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t help but notice it. I want to do something nice for you, see you smile for real. We’re friends, I’d like to think, and this is one friend doing another friend a favor,” he shrugs, giving Louis a little grin.

Louis blinks at him, a slow smile spreading over his face. He puts his wallet away and reaches for Harry, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Harry hugs him back, face pressed against the side of his neck. “Thank you, Harry. Not just for this, for everything. Thank you for caring about me,” he whispers, holding on until Harry pulls away first.

“I just like to see you smile,” Harry says in return, brushing his knuckles over Louis’s cheek, feather light. It’s too intimate to be purely friendly and Louis pulls back another inch, grinning down at his lap.

“Thank you, again. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, giving Harry one last genuine smile before slipping out of the car.

He moves like he’s inside a cloud, closing the front door softly behind himself and dropping his shoes and bag in the front hall. He drags himself up the stairs and peels all of his clothes off, dropping into bed wearing just his briefs and his softest, dreamiest smile.

-

It takes about a week for the friendship thing to come to a head.

Louis has just had another wildly unsuccessful day of job hunting, but he’s still in relatively good spirits when he gets in the car. Harry immediately sets off ranting about some guy who tried to smuggle an actual squirrel into his car, and Louis is in stitches all the way home.

“It’s a good thing you’re my last client today,” Harry hums, clearly pleased with himself for having made Louis laugh. “Don’t think I can deal with another person before I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

All Harry’s words serve to do is put an image in Louis’s mind; Harry curled up in bed, soft and warm and sleeping. His curls would probably be a mess and his pretty lips would pout so nicely, Louis’s sure of it. It takes him a minute to snap out of his trance, chuckling quietly.

“Yeah, I know that feeling. Feel like I could sleep for a week, to be honest,” he sighs, arching his back against the seat to make it crack, as if proving his point.

Harry frowns at him, glancing over quickly. “Jeez, Lou. What are you doing at work that has you so worn out all the time?” He asks, fingers flexing on the wheel.

Louis has no idea what to say, reverts to sarcasm almost immediately. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He hums, smirking when Harry blushes.

“Shut up,” Harry hisses, but he’s laughing. “That doesn’t even make sense, Jesus.”

“Sure,” Louis argues, “maybe there’s a guy in the office down the hall and we cross paths in the copy room every-”

“Louis,” Harry groans. “Please, not an image I needed in my head.”

Louis laughs brightly, relaxing back into his seat. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he jokes.

“Oh,” Harry says suddenly, tapping twice on the steering wheel. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Louis frowns, shaking his head at Harry. “And the image of me shagging someone brought it to your mind?”

“No!” Harry protests, grinning when he glances over at Louis. “Shut up.”

“Hm, alright. Wouldn’t want to spur any other images in that head of yours,” Louis sings, turning to look out the window so Harry won’t see how wide he’s smiling.

“Seriously,” Harry says, reaching over to push at Louis’s arm. “I want to start giving you a discount.”

Louis blinks, turning to look at Harry again. “A discount?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, I give you rides twice a day, every day, that adds up, yeah? Plus, you’re my most valued client. I think a slight discount would be okay,” he says.

“What’s a slight discount?” Louis asks skeptically, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

“Like,” Harry shrugs again, “half off?”

“Half off?” Louis nearly shrieks, making Harry shrug his shoulders for a third time. “Why?”

“I told you why. You’re my most-”

“Valued customer, bullshit,” Louis says, turning fully in his seat. “Tell me the truth. What do you know? Who told you?”

Harry frowns, glancing at him confusedly. “What? Nobody told me anything, what are you-”

“I don’t need a discount,” Louis spits. “Who do you think I am? I’m rich, I have a great job, I’m not short on money,” he lies. “You’re not gonna sink me by getting the pay you deserve. Don’t you ever fucking undermine me like that again.”

He’s too angry, he knows it. He’s practically yelling at Harry, and Harry looks like he’s going to shrivel up and die, but Louis feels too defensive to care. He really can’t afford this anymore, and he’s lying through his teeth at the moment, but being called out on it makes it too real, makes him feel like this is actually happening.

“I didn’t mean that,” Harry squeaks, his voice tiny and trembling. His shoulders are hunched up like he’s actually afraid and Louis deflates his chest.

“Then what the fuck are you saying?” Louis almost growls. He knows Harry is hurt, but so is he.

“I just-” Harry breathes in sharply, looking up to check his rear view mirror and switching lanes with a jerky movement. “I like you, and I want to be your friend. That’s all. I’m not implying that you don’t have the money for this, because I know you do. Look at you, really. I’m not undermining you, I’m just offering you something, as a friend.”

Louis sinks into his seat, face flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Harry whispers, chewing on his lip harshly and staring fixedly at the road.

Louis tucks his chin into his chest and looks out the window, pinching at his wrist to help him keep his cool. He doesn’t speak again until they’re nearly home, and then, “thank you.” He says it quietly, so quietly he’s afraid that Harry didn’t even hear, but Harry looks over at him with a soft, tiny smile, and Louis can’t help but return it.

-

Louis runs out of money much faster than he thought he would. Sure, he’s not completely broke, but a full month of even half priced rides and no source of income has been harder on his savings than he would like to admit, and he’s sinking quickly.

He’s applied to seemingly every company in the city and hasn’t heard back from a single one of them. He’s tried calling each of them to check on his application but most of them don’t even answer his calls, and he’s growing more and more hopeless.

It’s been almost two months since he got fired, and he’s still keeping it from Harry. They’re on excellent terms, closer than ever, though they still haven’t gotten together outside of the car. Louis considers Harry one of his closest friends, even if everything Harry knows about him right now is a lie.

It’s Monday morning and Louis is still in bed, moping about his life. He woke up sad for no reason and after a short reflection of his life at the moment, he decides he has every right to be sad. He’s never going to get another job, he’s lying to the man he’s secretly in love with, and he still hasn’t gotten more than two words out of his mother since everything went to shit.

He wants to have himself a little cry but Harry is going to be here any minute, and he doesn’t need for Harry to see him like that. He peels himself out of bed and pulls on the same suit he discarded on the floor on Friday, trudging down the stairs to the kitchen to see about breakfast.

He pops a piece of bread in the toaster and eats standing up, leaning against the counter and looking out into the living room. He lets his eyes sweep over the mess he made throughout the weekend, but his heart falls out of his ass when his eyes land on the fishtank.

Poseidon is floating belly up.

Louis drops his toast and runs to the tank, pressing his nose against the glass to get a better look. Poseidon’s stupid little eyes have gone white and glassy, his fins motionless as the filter pushes him gently around the surface of the water.

Louis has tears in his eyes before he can even fully process what’s happened. He drops to his ass on the carpet and buries his head in his hands, letting out a sob despite himself. He thinks back a few days, realizing that the last time he remembered to feed Poseidon was the previous Thursday.

“Fuck,” he sobs, pulling at his hair. This seems like the last straw. This was the last thing he had, the last thing that was in his control, and now it too is gone, just like that. His hands are shaking when he sits up, heart beat speeding out of control.

When he glances out the window, he can see that Harry is already here. He lets himself sob one, two, three more times before he gets up, walking to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He cleans himself up quickly, breathing deep, and walks to the front door like he’s walking to his death. He’ll have to deal with Poseidon’s death later.

He doesn’t even have the capacity to smile when he gets into the car, sniffing loudly and leaning his head against the window. Harry can obviously tell that his eyes are puffy and his face is blotchy and he, bless him, doesn’t ask questions.

He pulls away from the curb quietly, reaching over to squeeze Louis’s knee so, so gently, as if to say it’s okay. Louis manages to hold back his tears, curling his shaking hand into a fist in his lap.

He’s such a loser. Look at him, in a car he doesn’t need getting a ride he can’t afford to go to a job he doesn’t have. He doesn’t have anyone to tell it to, either, not a single person to help him with this, because he’s stupid and he pushes people away and he tries so hard to keep his feelings under lock and key but look at him, nearly in tears in front of the guy he’s too afraid to be anything more than acquaintances with.

He can feel tears prickling behind his eyes and squeezes them closed even tighter, doing everything in his power to keep his breathing even. He’s afraid that if Harry sees him cry, he’ll pull over again, and Louis won’t be able to keep it all in anymore.

The ride feels like it goes on forever, with nothing but the soft music on the radio to fill up the empty space between them.

Suddenly the car jerks and Louis’s eyes shoot open, looking over at Harry. Harry looks panicked, holding onto the wheel tightly, managing to steer the car gently to the side of the road before it sputters to a stop.

“Fuck,” Harry says, too loudly after the long silence. “Fuck, we just broke down. Oh my god.”

Louis sits up a little and looks out the windshield, eyes catching on the steady stream of smoke pouring out from under the left side of the hood. “Harry, it’s smoking,” he rushes, fumbling for the door handle and jumping out of the car lest it blow up like they’re in an action movie.

Harry jumps out on the other side and rushes around the car, throwing open the hood. There are no flames, but the engine is smoking profusely. Harry backs away coughing, already pulling out his phone.

Louis sighs and looks around, tensing up when he realizes he has no idea where they are. It looks like they’re in the country, nowhere near the hustle and bustle of London. There’s a big field on the opposite side of the road and trees everywhere, not a house or hint of civilization in sight. Louis catches Harry’s eye and Harry winces apologetically, but he must get someone a moment later because he turns away and starts talking quickly.

Louis turns around and finds that this side of the road is mostly trees, with a rock wall separating the woods from the tall grass tickling Louis’s ankles. Louis tests the rocks with his foot and then climbs up on top of the wall, leaning back against a tree and letting his eyes fall shut again.

He can hear Harry’s worried, panicky voice as he paces up and down the empty road, probably talking to his boss, or something. Louis opens his eyes halfway, watching Harry while he moves. After a while he can’t stand to look at Harry’s creased forehead or his nervous gesturing anymore and he closes his eyes again, trying his hardest to look on the bright side.

The thing is, though, there is no bright side. His current situation sucks, it’s sucked for a while, and it’s going to keep sucking indefinitely. He thought things were looking up for a while but they aren’t, they aren’t, and they haven’t for so long and Louis wants to die. He wants to fall backward off this wall and disappear into the woods and just cease to exist, because he has nothing, and nobody would miss him.

He hears Harry approaching after a few minutes but he doesn’t move, resigned to just sit here motionless against this tree until he rots away. Harry climbs up next to him and sits, Louis can feel the heat of his thigh next to his own, but still he doesn’t move.

“I’m so sorry, Louis,” Harry says, reaching over to touch his leg tentatively. “I have no idea what happened. I just talked to my boss, they’re gonna try to get a tow truck out here as soon as possible, but it might be a while.”

“Whatever,” Louis mutters. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, anyway.

“Are you upset? Shit, I’m so sorry, I really am. You were already upset when you got in the car, and now I’ve just made it worse for you,” Harry worries, sounding like he’s two seconds away from a meltdown himself.

“Where are we?” Louis asks quietly. If he’s going to die here, he’d at least like to know where he is.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Harry admits. “I was taking the long way to your work to give you some time to cool down, since you seemed like you- sorry, I don’t know,” he says, voice quiet and guilty.

Louis doesn’t react, just keeps breathing. He wishes he could stop.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. Now you’re going to be late to work because of me, and you’re going to get in trouble. This is all my fault, Louis, I should have just taken you straight there. I’m so sorry, the last thing I wanted was to make your life harder by making you late for work,” Harry mutters.

Louis feels like he’s underwater, suddenly, like he’s caught in a riptide and he’s being dragged down so fast he can’t help it, can’t do anything to fight the way he doubles over, face in his own lap, and begins to sob.

He can feel Harry panicking next to him but he can’t stop, covering his head with his hands and crying like a child into his own suit pants. “Louis,” Harry says, touching his back lightly. “Hey, Lou, please. Why are you crying? Please look at me?” Harry sounds close to tears as well, and it’s enough to get Louis to sit up.

Harry pulls him against his chest and the sobs start in again, wracking through his body and making him press his face into Harry’s chest without abandon.

“Louis, please, tell me what’s wrong,” Harry coos, carding his fingers through his hair. “Please? Just tell me why you’re crying?”

“I-” Louis starts, but he chokes, has to start over. “I don’t have a job. I haven’t had a job in two months.”

Once it’s out in the open, it’s like Louis can breathe a little easier. He calms his ragged sobs and leans his head back, looking up at the sky.

“What?” Harry asks gently, trying to meet his eyes. Louis can hardly see through his tears, but he maintains eye contact anyway.

“I got fired almost two months ago,” Louis admits, dropping his eyes closed again. “My life has been steadily going to shit this whole time and I never told you because I don’t want you to pity me and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Lou, you’re not going to lose me,” Harry assures, pressing his face against the side of Louis’s head while he talks. “I don’t care about that. You could have told me, we can still be friends if I don’t drive you around every day.”

Louis inhales slowly, staring at the car a few feet in front of him. He builds his courage for a moment, finds his strength, and then lets the floodgates open.

“My nan died almost three months ago,” he says, keeping his eyes locked on the car. “She was my favorite family member, and I was hers. I was her firstborn grandchild, the one she was most proud of, the one she compared all the others to. She loved me so much, and I loved her back just as much. She got sick, and no one told me. And then she died, and I didn’t go to her funeral, because I cared about my job too much to miss work for her.”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry whispers, but Louis isn’t done.

“And when I told my mum I wasn’t coming because I couldn’t get time off work, she got so mad at me. I kept saying but this is my dream and she just kept saying but this is your family. She was right, she was so right.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he carries on. “She stopped answering my calls after the funeral. I have five younger sisters, four of them have cell phones, and none of them would answer me either. Obviously the twins are just babies, so they probably don’t hate me, but I can’t very well call them up for a chat, can I?” He tries to chuckle, but he just sobs. Harry holds him a little tighter. “I kept getting sadder and sadder. I started getting lame at work; not finishing assignments on time, being rude to everyone. And then I got fired. They fucking fired me, Harry, from my dream job because I was too sad to perform at a high enough standard. They started interviewing people before I was even gone.”

“That’s utter shit,” Harry tells him. Louis nods in agreement.

“And then I didn’t tell you, because I thought that if I did, it would mean I would stop getting to see you every day. So I let you keep driving me, and I just sat in the sandwich shop across the street all day until you came back. And then my friend who works at the shop told me to get out and start looking for a new job, so I did. I’ve applied to every bloody management firm in the whole of London, Harry, and I haven’t gotten a single interview. It’s like the day I got fired, my whole life just stopped, and now I’m nothing but a failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” Harry says, holding him tighter suddenly. “You’re not. You’re an amazing person, and you will get through this.”

“And then,” Louis starts to cry again, just a little. “And then this morning I came downstairs and my fish was dead, and I just-” he buries his face in Harry’s chest again, body trembling. “It’s like I can’t do anything right. I can’t even keep a fucking goldfish alive. I have nothing and nobody and my family hates me and I’m nothing and I- I just want to die, Harry,” he admits.

“Don’t you dare,” Harry spits, suddenly angry. It startles Louis enough that he sits up, looking up at Harry with watery eyes and a tear stained face. “Don’t you fucking dare say things like that. Look at you, Louis, you’re gorgeous and you’re talented and you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of being. I know you’re in a rough patch right now but this will pass, you will be happy again. Look at me,” Louis looks at him, “you make me so fucking happy. Every time you smile it’s like angels start singing and I want, fuck, I want to kiss you, I want to hold your hand and fall asleep next to you and I want to hold you when you’re sad and I want you to hold me when I’m sad. I fucking hate my job, okay? Have I ever told you that? I hate it. The only good thing about it is you. I take the long way to and from your office almost every day just to spend that much more time with you. You make my day every single day, even when you don’t say a word to me. You’re not a failure, alright? You’re everything to me, even if it’s just platonic,” he says, his own eyes full with tears by the time he’s done.

Louis’s lips wobbles and he goes to turn away, but Harry doesn’t let him. He takes Louis by the face and Louis parts his lips on instinct, staring up at Harry until finally, finally he closes the distance.

It’s pretty horrible, as far as kisses go. They’re both crying and shaking and Louis is pretty sure he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t get a deep breath soon, but he’s kissing Harry, and this is all he’s wanted for months.

“I’m sorry,” Harry breathes as he pulls away, pressing his forehead against Louis’s. He’s still holding Louis’s face, and Louis reaches up to lay his hands over Harry’s wrists.”I’m sorry I just yelled at you.”

Louis chuckles wetly, opening his eyes and seeing that Harry’s already looking at him, eyes barely a centimeter away. “It’s okay,” he breathes out. “Thank you.”

Harry smiles tentatively and Louis nods, smiling back. Harry grins and kisses him again, until they’re both breathless and neither of them is crying anymore.

Louis pulls back and leans his head back against the tree, staring up at the sky. Harry shifts closer and lays his head on his shoulder, curling into his side easily. Louis smiles up at the sky and wraps his arm around him, holding him close.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about my job, or anything,” he says quietly after a few minutes, tapping his finger against Harry’s shoulder.

“That’s okay,” Harry assures, smoothing one hand down the length of Louis’s thigh.

It’s another half hour until the tow truck shows up, and they break apart to watch the men hoist the car up onto the back of the truck. Once it’s done, they pile into the front seat of the tow truck, Harry in the middle seat and Louis next to the window.

As they turn around to head back to the city, Louis feels himself start to get choked up again. He kind of just wants to stay out there in the country where everything is peaceful and quiet, where he isn’t a failure, at least in Harry’s eyes. Harry must be able to tell that he’s getting upset again and silently reaches for him, taking his hand and holding it in the space between their thighs. Louis bites down on his lip and smiles out the window, and everything’s okay for a little while.

-

The metal chairs in the waiting room of the mechanic’s office are quite uncomfortable, Louis notes. Harry keeps squirming in the seat beside him, like he’s equally uncomfortable, so Louis reaches over to hold his hand again. Harry stills immediately, and when Louis looks over at him, he has a grin on his face.

“So I guess I won’t be driving you to the city every day anymore, huh?”

“I guess not.”

“I’ll miss you, though.”

Louis looks over at him, lips curled into the tiniest of smiles. “I’m sure we could find something else to get up to.”

Harry grins at him, dimples and everything, and squeezes his hand. “I can’t wait.”

“Well,” Louis sighs, pulling Harry’s hand into his lap and looking down to play with his fingers. “I have a fish funeral to attend when I get home. I’d be honored if you’d be my plus one?”

“Do they have plus ones for funerals?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” Harry grins, squeezing his hand again. “I’d be honored to be your plus one.”

“I’m honored that you’re honored,” Louis hums, squeezing back.

“I’m also gonna buy you dinner to make up for this shitty day, if that’s quite alright with you?” Harry asks hopefully.

“That is more than alright with me,” Louis assures him, “as long as it’s takeout and we eat it on my couch.”

Harry laughs, leaning his head back against the wall. “Sounds like something I can do.”

“Great,” Louis grins, watching him for a moment. “Except, how are we gonna get there?”

Harry purses his lips, glancing over at Louis. Louis raises his eyebrows at him, and Harry grins mischievously. “Call an Uber?”

-

“Harry, c’mon, we’ve been here for two hours,” Louis moans, leaning back against a pole in the middle of the aisle. “Just pick one already.”

“Hush,” Harry hisses, swatting at Louis without pulling his eyes away from the tank. “I wanna see how each of them reacts with the others. We don’t want our pets to fight, do we?”

“I want us to fight,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and toeing at the ground just for something to do. After six months, Harry suggested he finally get a new fish for his massive tank. As much as it hurt knowing he was replacing Poseidon, Louis finally agreed, and here they are, getting one fish for each of them.

Louis picked his fish ages ago. It’s another stupid looking one, but this one is all orange and has two giant bubbles for cheeks. His long, skinny body makes him look a bit like a penis, and Louis already has his name picked out.

(“Louis, you can’t name our fish Dick,” Harry had rolled his eyes when Louis told him.

“Oi, this one’s mine, and I’m not naming him Dick. His name is Richard, we’ll just call him Dick for short,” he’d grinned.)

“We can fight later,” Harry says distractedly, still bent over awkwardly in front of the giant tank. He’ll whine and complain about his back later and make Louis walk on it like he does sometimes, and Louis will whine and complain about having to get off his arse to do it for him. He’ll do it, though, get up and help Harry down onto the floor and then gently step up on him, tiptoeing down his spine until it cracks in all the right ways. Harry will moan like a pornstar and then he’ll get up off the floor and bundle Louis into his arms, and he’ll murmur his thank you into Louis’s parted lips. Louis smiles to himself just thinking about it, when Harry finally whirls around.

“Made a decision?” Louis asks hopefully.

“Yes,” Harry says, smiling softly at Louis. “What were you smiling about just now?”

“You,” Louis hums, pushing up on his tiptoes and curling his arms around Harry’s neck. “Just you, and how you’re all mine.”

Harry grins at him like Louis just told him the best news. Maybe he did. Harry holds his hips and kisses his lips and then pulls away, grabbing Louis’s hand to pull him over to the tank.

“I like that one,” he hums, his index finger trailing along the glass as he follows the fish. Louis follows his line of vision, eyes catching on a small, rather boring goldfish. He’s more white than he is orange, and Louis frowns.

“You made me wait almost two hours just for that ugly little thing?”

“He’s not ugly,” Harry admonishes, slapping lightly at Louis’s stomach. “He’s so discolored because he’s been here for so long, probably, under these horrible artificial lights and shit. He just needs someone to clean him up and take care of him,” he smiles, “kind of like you did.”

“Oi,” Louis argues, taking a wide step away from Harry. “I did not need cleaning up, I was perfectly-”

“Shh,” Harry soothes, stepping after him and pulling him under his arm. “I know. Remember what we talked about?”

Louis sighs, but leans into Harry’s side. “Sometimes it’s alright to admit you need help,” he recites, rolling his eyes.

“Good,” Harry hums, pressing a kiss against the side of his head. “And, as your boyfriend, I quite enjoy helping you out sometimes,” he says, a hint of suggestion in his voice.

“Shut up,” Louis laughs, swatting at Harry’s chest. “Alright then, let’s get your ugly fish and get out of here.”

“I think I’ll call him Tom,” Harry muses, while Louis flags down the employee that’s asked them nearly six times now if they need help.

“Tom?” Louis frowns, questioning.

“Yeah,” Harry grins, eyes lit up. Louis can already tell he’s about to make a bad joke. “Get it? Tom, Dick and Harry,” he says, pointing to the two fish and then to himself.

Louis covers his face with his hands, shaking his head and turning away. “I don’t know you, I don’t know you,” he mumbles, resisting the urge to laugh when Harry squawks and reaches out to tug him back.

“That’s a clever joke!” Harry argues, his grin still star-bright. “You can say, oh, I’ve got every Tom, Dick and Harry living in my house.”

“There has never been a less clever joke,” Louis tells him, watching as the young employee carefully catches Harry’s ugly little fish.

“Alright, fine,” Harry grumbles. “What about Clark? Like, Dick Clark?”

“Dick Clark is dead,” Louis answers idly, pointing out the fish he chose once Harry’s in his plastic carrier bag.

“So is your sense of humor,” Harry fires back.

“Oh, shut up, honestly,” Louis laughs, rolling his eyes at Harry. “How about Moby? Moby Dick?”

Harry’s eyes nearly bulge out his head, his smile taking over his entire face. “That’s amazing! Because, like, Moby Dick was a big mean whale, and these are two little goldfish. It’s ironic. Is that irony?”

“Think is is, yeah,” Louis hums, accepting the two carrier bags from the employee and chuckling as he scurries away as quickly as possible. “Poor kid, we scared him off.”

Harry ignores him, taking one of the bags from him and admiring his new little pet. He hardly watches where he’s going as he follows Louis up to the registers at the front of the store, cooing quietly to Moby. Louis lets him hold both fish on the way home, to Harry’s absolute delight.

Harry doesn’t drive him everywhere anymore, as he doesn’t actually have a car. He’d been borrowing the one he drove for Uber, but since Louis urged him to quit, they’ve been sharing Louis’s.

It took a little while, but finally Louis got a couple interviews, and then, blessedly, a new job. It’s not nearly as prestigious as his old one, and it doesn’t pay quite as much, but Louis has big plans this time around, and he’s not going to fuck them up again.

Niall got Harry a job at the sandwich shop a few weeks ago. Louis had introduced them, finally, and they’d become fast friends. Harry has always claimed that baking is his true calling, and now, finally, he’s doing what he loves.

They leave the fish in their bags in the kitchen sink while they get the tank set up, Louis listening quietly while Harry rambles on about things they should get as decorations and the kind of plants he had growing up. Once the fish are free in the tank, they curl up on the edge of the couch and watch them for a bit.

“Can I sleep over tonight?” Harry hums after a little while, his head on Louis’s chest while he sits in the V of Louis’s legs, lengthwise on the couch.

“Don’t see why not,” Louis smiles softly, brushing Harry’s hair away from his face with his fingertips. “Told my mum I’d call her tonight, though.”

“Okay,” Harry says, turning on his side so he can look up Louis. “I’m so glad you two are back to speaking. You’ve been so much happier,” he says, rubbing his cheek back and forth against Louis’s t-shirt.

“Yeah,” Louis grins, twirling one of Harry’s curls around his finger. “It’s nice that she doesn’t hate me anymore, I guess,” he chuckles quietly, tugging Harry’s hair gently.

It was a relatively quiet night when he’d finally gotten a hold of his mother. Harry had just gone home for the night, and Louis was full of pasta and loneliness. It was his first attempt after having given up so many weeks ago, and she answered the phone on the second ring. Louis had opened up and told her the entire story since missing nan’s funeral, and his mum had been close to tears by the time he was done.

“Oh, Louis,” she had cooed over the phone. “I’m so sorry. I should have answered your calls.”

“I understand why you didn’t,” he’d admitted, quietly. “I’m sorry about missing the funeral. More sorry than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Why don’t you come home for the weekend?” She’d offered hopefully. “We can go visit nan, and catch up a bit?”

“Please,” Louis had breathed out. It felt like he had lost a weight on his shoulders that he’d grown fully accustomed to, didn’t even realize was there anymore.

He’d gone for the weekend, spent an hour crying in the cemetery, and slept in his old bedroom. He and Harry had only been officially dating for around a month at that point, but Louis had spent almost his entire first night at home on the phone to him, telling him how much he missed him and how nice it was to be home.

“Lou?” Harry says, pulling him back to the present. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” Louis hums, stroking down the bridge of Harry’s nose just to watch the way his eyes flutter. They’ve been together six months, and Louis thinks he’ll never get over how beautiful Harry is.

“You look tired,” Harry comments, sitting up a bit and looking back at him. “Why don’t you go call your mum, and I’ll get dinner started, and we can turn in early tonight?”

Louis nods, following Harry from the couch to the kitchen like a puppy. Harry hands him his phone and kisses his forehead, sending him off with a firm pat to the bum.

Louis heads to the sunroom, because even if it’s getting colder now, the room is insulated and he can watch the sky turning pink as the sun sets. His mum answers on the first ring and launches into a story she thinks he’ll find funny, and all Louis can do is smile and get comfy on the loveseat and listen. He can hear Harry bumping around and singing softly in the kitchen and his mum’s voice is so comforting in his ear, he thinks he could spend the rest of his life like this. He’s aware of his mum still chattering on and he’s aware that dinner will be ready as soon as he’s off the phone but his eyes are falling closed, and he’s helpless to stop them. He falls asleep right there under the darkening orange sky, phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear and the love of his life no more than two rooms away. Of all the ways to end a Sunday evening, this is probably the best.