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Harry should have known James was up to something, so insistent that he come over for dinner on his first night back in LA. He’d tried to beg off, knowing how spaced out he can get after a long flight. But James wouldn’t let up.
Sleep on the plane, you git! James had texted back.
That’s what 1st Class is for!! James added.
We’ll see you at 8.
Only, Harry hadn’t ended up in first class.
It was a little embarrassing, really, when he’d run into Tom GC at the check-in counter, and realised that Tom was flying economy. Harry hadn’t paid too much attention to those sort of details, but just assumed that they’d be flying together. Apparently not. So he’d had a quiet word to the VIP check-in agent, and it didn’t take much more than a sincere smile and meaningful eye contact for her to agree to swap his first class ticket to business class seats for the two of them.
Tom had been proper chuffed by the surprise upgrade, clueless to the fact that Harry was behind it. And Harry was happy to leave it that way. It was the least he could do, after all of the nastiness directed at Tom, just for being seen with him. Just for daring to smile at Harry and to make Harry smile. Tom had been incredibly understanding about it all, insisting that he was a grown man and could handle a little online slander. But there was just something pure and innocent about Tom, which made Harry want to shield him from abuse of any kind.
Young Tom, they called him on set. To distinguish him from the other Tom. And even though Harry was only a fraction older than Young Tom, he quite enjoyed not being the baby of the group, for once. Especially considering he was definitely the least experienced, at least when it came to acting.
He just hoped that what he lacked in acting experience, he made up for in life experience. Because he had that in bucketloads, compared to the other lads. Years of staying impossibly composed in situations which would stress the hell out of mere mortals. Years of knowing how to diffuse the tension of 16 hour work days with a few (admittedly lame) jokes. Years of being able to turn it on in front of the camera, even if he was previously only playing a version of himself, amped up to entertain even the farthest reaches of a stadium.
Harry manages to sleep for almost half the flight, even in the relative confines of business class. He wakes to a flight attendant gently touching his shoulder, letting him know that they’re preparing to land. Slowly blinking his eyes open and looking out the window, he finds they’re already over the Inland Empire, and he looks for the boulevards stretching all the way to the ocean, to the very edge of the Western world. He smiles to himself, realising just how much he feels like he’s coming home.
The flight attendant politely asks him to get up so she can convert his bed back into a seat for landing, so Harry pads down the aisle in socked feet (technicolour polka dot socks, a Christmas gift from Niall). He finds Tom a few rows back gazing out the window, the sunshine flooding the cabin setting his blonde hair aglow. He looks enraptured by the seemingly endless grid of greater Los Angeles surface streets dissecting the suburban sprawl, and his face lights up just a little bit more when he realises that Harry is there.
“Hey! How did you sleep?” Tom asks brightly.
“Yeah, pretty well. Think I got, like, almost six hours in,” Harry answers, running his hand through his hair to try and smooth it back from its sleep-messed state. “And you?”
“Didn’t sleep a wink!” Tom replies. “Too excited to sleep! Who knows if I’ll ever get to fly business class again. I wanted to enjoy every second of it.”
Harry grins back at him. He remembers being just as excited the first time he flew out to LA, to work on the first album. He loves that Tom doesn’t try to play it cool, makes no pretense of hiding his enthusiasm. He is just genuinely, truly, super-duper excited to be going to LA for his first feature film. And Harry is pretty pumped about the filming too, if he’s being honest, even if he internalises it a touch more.
The whole experience so far has been beyond everything he ever imagined it would be. Really hard work, but a lot of fun at the same time. He’s learned so much in just a few short months, cast and crew alike so very generous in guiding him through the nuts and bolts of making a film. And he has loved getting inside the head of his character, of figuring out what feels real and authentic, of traveling back in time and becoming someone else for a brief moment.
“Did you see the Hollywood sign?” Harry asks, nodding at the window.
Tom shakes his head, still smiling. “Can you really see it from the plane?”
“Yeah, we should be able to,” Harry says, perching on the armrest of Tom’s seat, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder for balance, then leaning over him to peer out the window.
“See the hills over there,” Harry says, pointing into the hazy distance.
“Yep,” Tom nods.
“That’s Griffith Park, and the white building at the top is the observatory.”
“Like, from Rebel Without a Cause, right?” Tom says. “Wicked.”
“Now if you look a little to the left of the observatory, you should be able to see… well, I guess it looks more like a white smudge from this far away, but that’s the Hollywood sign.”
“Cooooool,” Tom says softly, then adds, “don’t worry, I’m good at using my imagination.”
“I’m sure you’ll have lots of opportunities to see it up close,” Harry says, leaning back so he’s no longer draping himself over Tom, but keeping his hand resting on Tom’s shoulder.
“I hope so,” Tom says, turning away from the window to look up at Harry with big blue eyes and a heartbreakingly sweet smile.
“Where have they got you staying?” Harry asks.
“Um, we’re at a place called The Tangerine.”
Harry shrugs. He’s never heard of it.
“It’s right next to the studios, apparently,” Tom goes on.
“Hey,” Harry says slowly, formulating a plan. “I should have thought of this sooner, but you’re more than welcome to stay at my house. If you want to.”
“Oh, no, I mean, thanks, that’s really nice of you, really, but I would hate to impose.”
“It wouldn’t be any imposition. Not at all,” Harry insists. “There’s plenty of space. And I kind of hate being there by myself, to be completely honest. So you’d actually be doing me a favour.”
“I… I don’t know,” Tom stammers. “I’m not sure how Barry would take it if I abandoned him at the hotel.”
“He can stay too, there’s actually space for all of you guys,” Harry says. “God, I really should have thought of this earlier. I was just so focused on Dorset that I didn’t really think ahead to LA.”
Tom’s face has slipped into a sort of neutral expression, and Harry starts to feel uneasy, like he has said something wrong.
“Don’t worry, it was just an idea,” Harry says, abruptly standing up. “You’re probably better off at the hotel, not having to deal with the LA traffic and all.”
“Harry,” Tom says warmly, reaching out to take one of Harry’s hands between his two own. “I am genuinely touched that you would offer. But I just think that maybe I should stay at the hotel until I get my bearings. And if I get bored there, perhaps I can come stay with you then?”
“OK,” Harry says with relief, trying not to smile too widely. So it’s not an outright rejection, then. He can work with that.
Tom lets go of Harry’s hand when a flight attendant comes through the cabin and asks Harry to be seated for landing. Harry walks up the aisle, then turns to look back before he sits down. Tom is gazing out the window again, mouth a little open, as if in awe of the infinite possibilities awaiting him in the new city below.
∞∞∞∞
They breeze through Immigration with the help of a VIP airport liaison. Harry is traveling light with just a carry-on, prepared to make a quick getaway through a side exit. Tom, on the other hand, has several suitcases to pick up at baggage claim.
“Will you be OK from here?” Harry asks. “You just need to head straight down that tunnel, and when you get to the end, the baggage carousels will be on your right.”
“Got it, all good,” Tom says, grinning at him.
“Hey Tom,” Harry says, trying to sound casual, although he’s been toying with the idea of making this invitation for the last hour or so. “What are you up to tonight? Because I’m going to a friend’s house, for dinner. My friend James. Corden. And I’d love for you to join us. If you don’t already have plans.”
“Are you serious?” Tom says with a tiny giggle. “I would love to meet James Corden. That would be incredible.”
“Really? Great. Excellent. I can pick you up from the hotel?”
“Harry,” Tom says, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m a grown man. I can call an Uber.”
“OK, sure, yeah, well, why don’t you come around to my house first, for a drink. And then we can go from there.”
“Sounds great,” Tom says, nodding. “Just text me your address.”
Harry watches Tom as he walks away, not quite shaking the feeling that he needs to protect him, even though being seen with Harry would probably draw him into more trouble than anything else. Halfway down the tunnel turns back and waves at Harry, as if to say ‘I really do have it from here, I’ll be fine.’ Harry smiles and waves back at him, before turning to leave.
So that’s one yes and one definite maybe from Tom, not a bad start to LA. Harry hates it when anyone says no to him, so he tries to do everything in his power to stop it from ever happening.
∞∞∞∞
Tom rings Harry’s doorbell at exactly 7pm.
“Welcome!” Harry says, ushering him inside. “You didn’t have any trouble finding it?”
“No, no trouble at all,” Tom says, eyes wide with wonder as he looks up at the small colony of George Nelson bubble lamps hanging from the double height ceiling. After a moment he turns his attention back to Harry.
“I’m sorry, I tried to pick up a bottle of wine on the way. But I forgot my ID, and the bottle shop wouldn’t sell me anything.”
Harry laughs. “Yeah, you’re going to have a tough time here without ID. My best mate’s, like, 30 and still gets asked for ID. But don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of wine - is that what you want to drink?”
“Yeah, sure, I mean, if that’s what you’re drinking? I’m happy with anything, really.”
“White? Red? Rosé?” Harry asks over his shoulder as he walks towards the kitchen.
“Ummmmmm, rosé sounds good, in this weather,” Tom replies, following Harry into the kitchen.
“Welcome to the land of balmy summer evenings,” Harry says as he opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. “It’s a bit of a change from old England, innit?”
“Yeah, it is. It’s nice, though. Just how I always imagined LA would be.”
Harry opens a cabinet to grab some wine glasses, but is confused to find only coffee mugs. His housekeeper must have done some rearranging again while he was gone. He locates the over-sized wine glasses in the second cabinet he tries, saving himself from looking like a complete stranger in his own home.
“You’re lucky that you are actually 21, though,” Harry says as he opens the bottle and pours the wine. “It was agony coming out here when I was 18,19, 20 and not legitimately being able to drink.”
“I bet you found a few illegitimate ways to have a drink though, right?” Tom says, raising an eyebrow as Harry hands him one of the glasses.
“You bet,” Harry says, laughing at the memories of some of the stupid things he’d done before he was old enough to know better.
“And that’s part of the fun, sometimes, innit?” Tom says, “doing things you’re not supposed to do?”
“As long as you don’t get caught,” Harry says, raising his glass up. “What should we toast to?”
“To getting away with it,” Tom says, winking at Harry as they clink their glasses together.
They wander outside onto the terrace overlooking the pool. Harry flops down onto one of the lounge chairs and stretches his legs out to prop them up on the terrace railing. It’s far too hot for jeans, so he’s in his favourite pair of Gucci print shorts, but his legs are so much paler than the last time he wore them. He’s missed the California sunshine, and he closes his eyes for a moment to luxuriate in the late afternoon rays on his skin.
Harry opens his eyes to find Tom staring at him intently.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Tom says, gesturing with his wine glass to the garden and the pool and the pool house beyond.
“Thank you,” Harry says, looking out over his domain. He really does love this house. “The ridiculous thing is, though, I really don’t spend much time here.”
“Yeah, it sounds like your touring schedule was pretty insane,” Tom says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out to join Harry’s on the railing.
“It was. But even when I’m in LA, unless my family is visiting, I usually stay at my friend’s house.” Harry takes a sip from his glass. “He’s in New York for a few days, but I might go stay with him when he gets back. Unless I can convince you to move in here?” Harry says, turning his head to look at Tom with a hopeful smile.
Tom laughs. “You really don’t like to be alone, do you?”
Harry shrugs. “I like people. I like being around people.” He slides his foot along the railing until it’s nudging Tom’s. “I like being around you.”
Tom laughs again. “Harry, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Would you like me to seduce you? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Harry asks, raising both of his eyebrows at Tom.
Tom laughs some more, and Harry just wants to make him laugh like that forever and ever.
“God, that’s a great film, innit?” Tom says.
“An all-time classic,” Harry agrees.
“Dustin Hoffman was, like, our age when he made it, right?” Tom asks.
“I think his character was our age, but he might have been a bit older,” Harry replies. “I’ve always identified more with Mrs Robinson, though.”
That laugh, again. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just like to be the one calling the shots, the one in control,” Harry says, then takes another sip of wine. “Also, that leopard print coat she wears is incredible .”
“You are a unique snowflake, Harry,” Tom says with a laugh, putting his glass down on the small table separating their two chairs. He rubs his hands on his trousers for a moment, and then shifts in his seat so he’s looking directly at Harry, pulling his legs of the railing and tucking them under himself.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Tom says, “but when I first met you, I did think you were trying to seduce me.”
Harry’s smile turns sheepish as he lightly drums his fingertips on his thighger tattoo.
“Then I realised you were just that way with everyone,” Tom goes on.
Harry ponders that statement for a moment, even though it’s not the first time he has had that accusation directed at him.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Harry says, his voice a little quieter than before.
“No, not at all,” Tom assures him. “I quite enjoyed it, to be honest. I was just a bit confused about what was going on, is all.”
Tom pauses for a moment, then adds, “but are you into guys, though?”
Harry laughs softly, a smile creeping back over his lips. There’s so many different ways he could answer that question. He’s practiced them in his head, and even said a few of them out loud, on the rare occasions when he has been asked directly. Normally the question comes more in the form of actions rather than words. Hungry lips pressed against his own in the dark, sweaty, hidden corners of nightclubs, the bass pounding loud enough to make words redundant.
It would be easy enough to dodge and deflect the question, but there’s something about Tom which makes Harry want to open up to him instead.
“Believe it or not, I’ve really only ever been into one guy,” Harry responds.
Tom smiles, with his eyes as much as his lips. “When does he get back from New York?”
It takes Harry a moment to catch on. “Oh no, god no, the friend I stay with out here is really, genuinely, just a friend.”
“So tell me about this guy you’re into, then,” Tom says, picking up his wine glass again.
“There’s not much to tell, really,” Harry sighs. “I like him a lot, and I think he likes me too, but maybe not in quite the same way. So it’s never really gone anywhere.”
“But does he know you like him, like that?” Tom asks.
“Oh yeah, he knows,” Harry says with a sad sort of laugh. “I mean, I thought he knew for a long time, but when I actually talked to him about it, it turned out he really didn’t have a clue, until I spelled it out for him. And then he basically ran in the opposite direction, got as far away from me as he could. Went off-grid for, like, six weeks, I didn’t hear from him at all. And since then, it’s just been an occasional text every now and then. We keep almost crossing paths, but not quite. If he’s not deliberately avoiding me, it definitely feels like the universe is conspiring to keep us apart.”
“I’m sorry, that must be really tough,” Tom says, reaching over to squeeze Harry’s knee reassuringly.
Harry shrugs again. “It gives me something to write about, I guess. But it’s been good to have the film to focus on, instead. I just really hope we can go back to being friends, if nothing else.”
“I’m sure he just needs a bit of time,” Tom says. “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting you as a friend.”
Harry sighs deeply. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pour all of that out on you. I’m not quite sure why, but rosé always makes me maudlin.”
“Well, let’s switch to something else, then,” Tom says brightly, standing up from his chair. “Vodka? Tequila? Espresso martinis?”
“Actually, we should probably get going, if we don’t want to be late,” Harry says, also getting to his feet.
“Of course, yes,” Tom says. “But Harry, there’s no need to apologise. Any time you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”
“Thanks, mate,” Harry says, slinging an arm around Tom’s shoulders as they walk inside.
“And maybe I will come stay with you,” Tom adds, eyeing the impressive selection of guitars propped up against the lounge room wall. “Now that I know for sure that you’re not trying to hit on me. Your house is certainly a lot nicer than the hotel.”
“Really? That would be great!” Harry says with a huge smile. “Although I can’t say for sure that I won’t try to hit on you at some point in the future. Cute, blonde guys who I work with are my weakness, apparently.”
Tom laughs and Harry laughs with him. God, he really does love that laugh.
∞∞∞∞
They get to James’ house just after sunset, the sky all dusky pinks and blues. Julia greets them at the door.
“H! It’s so great to have you back in LA,” she says, pulling him into a tight hug, “we’ve really missed you.”
“It’s really good to be back, Jules,” Harry says. “You look amazing. You smell incredible,” he adds, burying his face into her neck.
“Oh, stop it, before you make my husband jealous,” she says with a laugh, batting him away.
“And you… you are not Jeff,” Julia says, sounding surprised, when she notices Tom. “God, I’m sorry, I hope that didn’t sound rude, I just assumed that Jeff was coming when James said Harry was bringing someone.”
“Julia, this is Tom,” Harry says, belatedly making the introduction. “We’ve been working on the film together.”
“Tom! Welcome! Welcome! I’m so happy you can join us,” she says warmly. “Please, come on in.”
They follow her through to the back of the house, the sliding doors pulled all the way open to let the night in. Outside, under a wisteria-draped pergola, a table is set for dinner.
“So Jules, what can we help you with?” Harry asks, rubbing his hands together.
“You know what? I think I actually have the food under control,” Julia replies. “But I was just about to make a jug of Campari and soda. How does that sound?”
“That sounds… deliciously refreshing,” Harry answers. “Or refreshingly delicious. Or maybe both. What do you think, Tom?”
“Works for me,” Tom says, nodding enthusiastically.
“James is running just a little bit late, but he should be home any moment now,” Julia says as she opens the liquor cabinet, in search of Campari. “Carey’s already asleep, and Max is just about to go down, but you can pop your his head into his room to say hi, if you want to.”
“I do, I do want to,” Harry says with a grin. “Tom, do you want to…”
“You go on, I’ll give Julia a hand with the drinks,” Tom says.
“Now, is that a Mancunian accent I detect? Where’s home for you, Tom?” Harry overhears as he heads for the stairs.
∞∞∞∞
He overhears another voice as he approaches Max’s bedroom, a voice so unmistakably familiar it makes his heart rise up into his throat. He gets to the doorway and almost wants to cry when his eyes confirm what his ears already knew: Niall sitting up on Max’s bed next to the 4-year-old, a Beatrix Potter book open across both of their laps.
Both Niall and Max look up at the exact same moment.
“Harry!” Niall says with a big smile, and the fact that Niall sounds happy to see him means everything.
“Uncle Hawwy!” Max exclaims a beat later and jumps out of bed, knocking the picture book onto the floor.
Harry kneels down to meet Max on his level, and Max runs into his arms.
“I’ve missed you, kiddo,” Harry says, wrapping his arms tightly around Max and lifting him off the floor.
“Hawwy, did you bwing me a pwesent?” Max asks, and Harry laughs as he puts him back down on his feet.
“You know, I did, young Max, but the present’s at my house. You’re going to have to come visit me to get it.”
“When? Now? Can we go now?” Max demands, jumping up and down with excitement.
“No, we can’t go now, because it’s time to sleep now,” Harry says, shaking his head solemnly. “But maybe on the weekend. I’ll talk to your mum and dad about it. Deal?” Harry asks, holding his palm out in front of him.
“Deal!” Max responds, sealing it with a high five.
Harry ushers him back into bed, and bends down to pick the book up off the floor.
“Do you want to stay and finish the story with us?” Niall asks as Harry hands him the book.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” Harry says, smiling widely. He slips off his shoes as Niall and Max scoot over to make room for him, and then sits on the bed next to Max.
Niall opens the book and flicks through the pages to find their place again, then continues reading the story. Harry tries to follow along, but his eyes keep drifting down to the end of the bed, to Niall’s white ankle socks, to Niall’s ankles, his trousers rolled up just enough to reveal a flash of skin.
As Max counts the number of carrots Peter Rabbit stole from Mr McGregor’s garden, Niall reaches an arm around to rest his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry turns to look over Max’s head at Niall.
“It’s really good to see you,” Niall says, so softly that he’s really just mouthing the words, but Harry still understands him perfectly.
When the book is finished, Max is tucked under the covers, and the nightlight is switched on, Niall and Harry slip out of the room.
Niall closes Max’s bedroom door gently behind him, and then it’s just the two of them, staring at each other across the hallway.
“Well, come ‘ere then,” Niall says, arms wide open as he takes a step towards Harry and Harry doesn’t need any more encouragement to go in for the hug. Niall lets go sooner than Harry would have liked, and Harry holds on to him for a beat longer before releasing him.
“Can you believe it’s been seven months?” Niall says, smiling while shaking his head. Harry shakes his head too, matching Niall’s smile.
“Your hair looks good, I like it like that,” Niall says.
Harry instinctively puts his hand up to run it through his hair, and realises he still has sunglasses on, holding it back. “Thanks. It took a bit of getting used to, but I’m OK with it now. And your hair looks… very freshly bleached.”
“Yeah, I just got it done today, actually,” Niall says with a chuckle.
“What happened to going natural this year?” Harry asks. Niall had always talked about growing out the blonde, about how he was going to become completely anonymous with dark hair.
“Yeah, I don’t know, that was the plan,” Niall says, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve become more attached to the blonde than I realised.”
“I’d hate it if I didn’t recognise you any more,” Harry says softly.
“Impossible,” Niall says firmly. “You’re always going to know me, maybe better than I know myself. Seven months doesn’t change that.”
“There’s a lot to catch up on, though,” Harry says.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got time,” Niall says, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “But right now, we should probably head downstairs to dinner. I’m starving , I could eat a horse.”
That’s one thing that definitely hasn’t changed.
∞∞∞∞
Everyone’s already seated at the table when they get downstairs. James is home from work, with Ben and Meredith in tow, and is in the middle of explaining to Tom how they actually record the Late, Late Show in the afternoon, because it needs to be ready for the east coast broadcast.
“A lot of people think I’m in the studio until 1.30am, and I’ll tell you what, they should be thankful that I’m not, because I become pretty incoherent after about 10pm. I’m warning you now.”
Tom laughs. “OK, thanks for the heads up.”
“So it’s actually quite civilised hours, at least for the entertainment industry,” James goes on. “Most nights I’m home in time to tuck the kids into bed. When Niall isn’t around to do it for me,” James says, grinning as he watches Niall and Harry approach the table.
“Honeys, I’m home!” Harry declares with a devilish grin, and James and Ben are both quick to their feet to sandwich him in a three-way hug. After greetings have been exchanged all around, Harry takes a seat at the head of the table, while Niall claims the empty seat to his left, opposite Tom.
Harry introduces the two of them. “Niall, this is Tom. Tom, Niall.”
Niall sticks out his hand, and they shake across the table.
Harry hates to admit it, but they really do look uncannily alike. If not like brothers, then at least like close cousins.
It’s a beautiful night, with beautiful food and beautiful people, all of Harry’s favourite things. He loves his friends, he loves the extraordinary lives they lead, the stories they have to tell about the White House and Michelle Obama, about playing golf at Augusta, about the Tony Awards, and Emmy Award nominations, about movie castings, about Glastonbury. Harry has a few stories too, from the movie set, but he encourages Tom to tell them, adding to the stories with his own humorous details. There have been various one-on-one catch-ups over the past few months, but they haven’t all been together in one place since last December. Harry has missed this.
After the remnants of summer pudding are cleared away, Tom leans over to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Hey, I am absolutely shattered. I probably should have slept on the plane. So I’m going to head back to the hotel.”
“Of course, I’ll take you,” Harry whispers back.
“No, no, I don’t want to break up the party,” Tom protests.
“No, really, it’s fine,” Harry insists. He looks over at Niall, who is staring directly at the two of them. There’s still so much more he wants to say to Niall, that he needs to hear from Niall. But now that they’re finally in the same place, he hopes that it will happen as easily as it always used to between the two of them.
“Hey, folks,” Harry says loudly, standing up from his seat. “Tonight has been wonderful, really lovely, but Tom and I are going to have to head off.”
There are a few boos from around the table.
“Hey, hey, it’s been a very long day for us!” Harry says, holding his palms up in defense. “But it has been so lovely to see you all, and I think we should do it again. Soon. And by soon, I mean Sunday. Lunch at my house?”
He looks at James and Julia. “I’ve promised Max a present, so he’s going to pester you until you bring him around.”
“We’d love to, H, that’s very kind of you,” Julia says.
“ We would love to,” James agrees. “But it’s a shame someone won’t be around to join us,” he adds, staring pointedly at Niall.
Harry looks at Niall, who is glaring back at James.
“Niall, are you out of town for the weekend?” Harry asks. He really doesn’t understand why Niall likes Vegas so much, especially in summertime, when it’s stupidly hot there.
“I’m going back to London for a couple of weeks,” Niall says quietly.
“What? Why? You only just got here!” Harry says with a faint whine in his voice.
“Because he’s being an idiot, that’s why,” James answers for him.
Niall rolls his eyes at James.
“What’s going on?” Harry asks as he sits back down, genuinely confused.
Niall speaks up before James can answer for him again. “I thought the renovations on my house were finished, but the place is still a construction zone. It’s going to be another two weeks until I can move in. So, I’m going to back to London, until it’s ready.”
“Noooo, don’t do that,” Harry says, reaching for Niall’s hand. “Come stay with me. Please.”
Niall sighs and leans back in his seat, but allows Harry to keep holding his hand. Harry leans in closer to him.
“What happened to, ‘we’ve got time’?” Harry asks quietly.
Niall doesn’t answer, just stares back at Harry with a blank expression that’s impossible to read.
“Would I have even got to see you, if I hadn’t come to dinner tonight? Or would you have just disappeared again without even saying hello?” Harry goes on.
“It’s not what you think, Harry,” Niall says. “I haven’t been trying to avoid you. I’ve just been trying to get on with my own life. Like you’ve been getting on with yours.”
Niall’s eyes shift to the left, to look at Tom, and then back to Harry.
Harry instantly realises what Niall is thinking, and knows he needs to remove himself from the situation before he snaps at Niall for jumping to conclusions. He lets go of Niall’s hand and stands up again.
“For what it’s worth, I really think Niall should stay,” Harry announces to the table. “But I fear Tom’s going to fall asleep before I can convince him of that, so we best be going.”
Amid the thank yous and good-byes, Harry notices Niall wander off into the garden, talking into his phone. He wonders if Niall is really on a call, or just pretending to be, but he doesn’t go after him to find out.
∞∞∞∞
It doesn’t take long to get to Burbank at this time of night, traffic flowing smoothly on the freeways. Harry loves seeing the downtown skyline rapidly approach from the 10, and if Tom wasn’t quite so tired he would detour into downtown, to show him Walt Disney Concert Hall and the 2nd Street Tunnel. But Tom is asleep within a few minutes of getting in the car, so Harry merges onto the 110, and then onto the 5, and then onto the Ventura Freeway, and he’s happy to find that Tom’s hotel really is right outside Warner Bros Studios.
He pulls into the hotel driveway and gently rubs Tom’s shoulder to wake him up.
Tom slowly opens his eyes and smiles at Harry.
“Thanks for tonight,” Tom says. “I really enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad you could join us,” Harry says, smiling back at him.
“I already feel like, many years from now, when I’m writing my memoirs, one of the chapters will start with: ‘On my first night in Hollywood, Harry Styles took me to dinner at the home of Tony Award-winning actor James Corden’.”
Harry laughs. “Just the first of many magical nights in Hollywood for you, young Tom,” he says, patting him on the knee and then leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. He realises it’s a bit of a weird thing to do, but Tom doesn’t seem to mind.
“Good night, Harry,” Tom says, grinning as he gets out of the car.
“Night, Tom,” Harry responds, and waits until he’s safely inside the hotel lobby before driving off.
∞∞∞∞
There’s a black Range Rover in his driveway when Harry gets home. He doesn’t need to check the number plate to know whose it is.
By the time Harry gets out of his car, Niall is out of his as well, leaning back against the door of the 4WD. They eye each other for a moment, before Niall speaks.
“Was just about to leave, thought maybe you were staying somewhere else tonight.”
Harry closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, urging himself to keep his cool.
“I dropped Tom back at his hotel, that’s all,” Harry says calmly. “There’s nothing going on between the two of us, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’d be pretty shit of me to hold it against you, even if there was, though, wouldn’t it?” Niall says.
Harry sighs. “What are you doing here, Niall?”
“I have something for you,” Niall replies, turning to open his car door and retrieve the present. He holds the brown paper package out to Harry, and Harry has to step forward to take it from him.
There’s something soft inside. “What’s this for?” Harry asks.
“Happy belated birthday, I guess?” Niall says, shrugging. He continues talking as Harry unwraps the present. “I got it ages ago, just one of those things I saw and it made me think of you.”
Niall takes the paper off him as Harry shakes out the shirt that was folded up inside. It’s a garish shade of blue, printed with palm trees and pineapples. It takes him a moment to notice the Disney characters cavorting amongst the tropicalia.
“I don’t even know if you’re still into that sort of thing,” Niall says as he scrunches the paper into a ball.
Harry studies the shirt for a moment longer, running his thumb over the soft fabric, before replying. “It’s ridiculous. It’s perfect. I love it.”
“Really?” Niall asks, sounding relieved.
“Of course,” Harry says, and takes another step forward to draw Niall into a hug. This time Niall doesn’t let go. “You still know me, Niall,” Harry murmurs, as Niall buries his face into Harry’s shoulder.
They’re both smiling when they let each other go.
“Do you think we can go back to being friends, now?” Harry asks hopefully.
“I’d like that,” Niall says, nodding. “But there’s something I’d like even more.”
Harry furrows his brow. Niall goes on talking.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said back in January, about how you thought there was something that goes beyond friendship between us. And I’m not going to lie, it freaked me out at first. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised you were right. And now I’m pretty sure I want to give it a try. If you still want to.”
Niall looks up at Harry with hope in his eyes. “Do you still want to?”
Again, Harry has to urge himself to keep his cool. But he thinks his heart is turning backflips inside his chest.
“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I still want to.”
Niall closes the distance between them, and Harry is pretty sure Niall goes up onto his toes, just a little bit, as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck and threads his fingers through the short hair at the back of Harry’s head. He gently pulls Harry’s head down until their lips line up, mere millimetres separating the two of them. Harry closes his eyes. He can feel Niall’s chest rising and falling against his own, can hear the soft whistle of his breathing through his nose.
The anticipation of what’s going to come next is thrilling. Not just the inevitable kiss, but everything after it, everything that will come with having Niall back in his life. They still have so much to catch up on, but in that moment Harry knows for sure that they will never again spend so much time apart.
Finally, finally, the waiting is over. Not just the long seconds of waiting for their lips to meet, but the long months before it, of hoping and wishing that they would one day get to this point, and the years before that, of flirting incessantly with Niall, trying to seduce him more intently than anyone else.
Finally, finally, Niall presses his lips to Harry’s, and for once Harry is more than happy for Niall to be the one in control, the one calling the shots.