Louis has had social anxiety for as long as he can remember. A blinding sense of panic and claustrophobia that consumes his body and makes him want to shrivel from the inside out. A feeling that often surfaces on public transport. Which is unfortunate, seeing as his dream job is right across London - and seeing as owning a car in London is essentially useless, he is left with one option. The Tube.
It's not particularly the transport that freaks Louis out. It's more the idea of being in such close proximity to other people - strangers at that. Mind racing at a million miles a minute at the endless possibilities about what they could be thinking about him, how they're probably all looking at him and judging him, he probably looks so stupid right now, all shaky and...He has yet to find a way to shut up the critical voices that give him grief the majority of hours in the day. His only escape has been song writing, and he knows he is so, so lucky to have landed this idyllic job in his favourite city fresh out of Uni, especially one offering enough to cover the expenses of living in London. A quiet studio, isolated and soundproofed, here he can spend hours getting lost in the movements and texture of the music, and the lyrics that accompany them. He loves it. And it is his only motivation for putting himself through hell and back every day.
Its two months in when he reaches breaking point. Fighting panic attacks is draining, and Louis is finding himself becoming more and more rundown - to the point where even Liam, his new co-worker, is noticing something's wrong.
"Louis, what's wrong?" Liam asks finally after the third day in a row of Louis turning up to work looking ad acting akin to a startled rabbit.
"Nothing, Liam"
"Doesn't look like nothing."
Louis sighed, raking a hand through his scruffy fringe.
"You just, you won't understand."
Liam hummed, letting Louis settle himself behind the keys of the grand piano, sipping his mandatory morning tea, before pressing further.
"Do you have anxiety Louis?"
Louis nearly choked on his tea - just the mention of the word was enough to get his pulse rising again. He stayed silent, eyes trained on his fingers, which were fumbling anxiously in his lap. Liam picked up on the sudden mood change, taking the lack of an answer as a potential yes. He placed a comforting hand on Louis shoulder, the tension in his muscles a clear indication that Louis hackles were up.
"Lou, I'm not going to judge you. It's okay, just tell me?"
Louis tried to swallow, but already the anxiety held an iron grip on his throat. He could feel the pressure building in his lungs, creating a vacuum where the oxygenated air once was. Liam watched as Louis body seemingly fought to draw breath, acting as though he was trying to breathe through lead more than normal air – he watched as the bouncing of Louis knee hastened, the nibbling of his fingers beginning to draw blood. He moved slowly, but with purpose – removing Louis hands from his mouth, and holding them to his knees, pressing down to stop the now erratic jitter. He crouched down, bringing himself to eye level with the nervous lad.
"Breathe, Louis. Breathe in…"
Louis closed his eyes, trying to focus on Liam's soft voice, cutting clear and crisp through the alarms going off inside his brain.
The clock on the wall counted the minutes as they passed. Louis focused on the gentle ticking – inhaled deeply, feeling the cool air entering his lungs. With each breath, each second that ticked by, he felt the pressure decrease more and more – until eventually his breathing slowed to a normal pace.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting the calm, albeit concerned look in Liam's. He inclined his head slightly, removing his hands from where they were pressed under Liam's palms, and stroking the ivory keys on the piano with his delicate fingers.
"How did you know what to do?" he turned back to Liam, meeting his watchful gaze once more.
"My cousin dealt with anxiety for a few years in their teens." Louis nodded again, casting his eyes back down to the piano. He pressed the keys gently, feeling the harmonies float through the silent room, the piano humming softly under his fingertips. He continued to play, a soft, sad melody.
"Social anxiety. Officially diagnosed when I was fourteen, but I think it's been around longer. Nothing has helped with it yet – mostly because I couldn't ever find a counsellor I actually liked, so I gave up. It's not as bad as it could be - I can leave the house – but it's bad in crowds, and really bad on public transport-"
"Which is why you come into work every day looking like you're on the brink of having a breakdown…"
"Yup. Cause most of the time, I am. But Y'know, you learn to deal with it. It doesn't get easier, but it becomes part of life. And music has always been my escape – the job is worth it, almost."
Louis continued to play, focusing on the melody rather than the pity he knew would be in Liam's eyes. That wasn't something he wanted to see. He didn't ever want to be pitied – it made him feel weak, weaker than he already felt. He didn't need it.
"Have you thought about-"
"Too expensive. NHS don't cover for adults - not for counselling for mild social anxiety."
Liam seemed to drop the subject after Louis curt statement, the rest of the day spent focused on the song they had been working on – but Louis didn't miss the extra tightness in their goodbye hug, the lingering statement that was left unsaid – good luck.
The ride home was equally awful, and it took everything Louis had not to rush straight to bed once he finally pushed through the door to his tiny one bedroom flat in the outskirts of London, forcing himself to make dinner first. Later, once he was lying in bed, clean duvet pulled high up to his chin and hair still damp from the shower, he finally felt the anxious knot in his chest began to unravel, and he drifted into the comforting arms of sleep.

Liam was later than Louis into work the next day, unusually. Louis was halfway through frantically scribbling lyrics down when his sheet music was covered by plain white paper with line upon line of computer writing. He turned to glance at Liam, who shrugged, gesturing to the paper with a small smile.
"Coping mechanisms. For people with social anxiety – there was a tonne of stuff on the internet. There's also a few links to forums with people who go through the same thing, and also a couple of people who offer free online counselling for adults, if you wanted to go that way."
Louis glanced back at the papers, shifting his glasses further down his nose as he looked through them, skimming the text. He felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes, and forcing the stinging sensation away, he hastened to pull Liam into a rough hug.
"Thank you" He choked, the lump in his throat threatening to rid him of his voice completely. Liam clapped him on the back a few times, before pushing the smaller lad at arm's length.
"You don't have to do this alone Louis. This is what friends are for." Louis nodded, flashing Liam a watery smile. After one last quick hug, they settled down to work for the day, with a new, more open atmosphere.
Louis didn't have time to read to papers until later that evening, when he was snuggled under a blanket on his rather sorry looking couch – uni was expensive, as was living anywhere near London, and he couldn't afford to be picky by the time it got to furnishings. He fished the rather crumpled sheets out from his messenger bag, smoothing them slightly before beginning to read, the hum of the TV fading into the background of his mind.
He read about the science of what was happening – but quickly moved to the coping strategies, figuring they would help the most. Some sounded mildly ridiculous, but others, well, they made sense. Keeping a journal. A rubber band on the wrist to snap when you needed to focus on reality. A grounding object – a distraction. He highlighted them in his mind, taking mental note. But there was one which specifically jumped out to him from the list.
Make origami to distract yourself from your surroundings.
Louis cast his mind back to his younger years, when he'd spent many a late night making bouquets of folded paper roses as a last minute present for his mum. Even then, there had been something calming about going through the methodical steps to create something so delicate, so fragile and just beautiful. He'd cut it out when the bullies had started making comments about how feminine he was – something Louis had known, but quickly masked when he realised others considered it a flaws.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he was Googling origami tutorials on YouTube, the page leaping forward with thousands of results in mere seconds. The cursor skimmed over each link, searching the words, until something that appealed to Louis caught his eyes – how to make an origami dragon in 8 minutes! He clicked, grabbing a sheet of printer paper from the pile on the coffee table. Instantly, he was focused on the folds, the precision in the creases, the calm and control chasing away any demons that may have been lurking from the day. He felt at ease, watching the angular creases form a delicate creature that sat in the palm of his hand five minutes later.
It was one o'clock in the morning before Louis collapsed into bed that night, tired but content in the knowledge that he now knew by heart, how to make an origami dragon.
Louis regretted setting his alarm half an hour earlier when he was roused from his slumber the next morning, but not once he got to the tube platform clutching his WHSMITH bag. At seven in the morning, the tube platform on the outskirts of London was still relatively quiet, and when Louis stepped aboard, he was glad to see his seat available. Fingers hastily shoving earbuds into his ears, blocking out the hustle and bustle of the outside world, he reached into the bag and pulled out the pack of origami paper he'd bought at stupid o'clock that morning. With one last glance around him, he sighed. He knew he would probably attract more strange glances than ever now, but he quickly pushed the thought from his mind, instead drawing on the steps to make the plain sheet of paper something much more interesting and special.
What normally felt like a life time in hell was, this morning, far easier than Louis had ever imagined it could be. Aside from glancing up to check what station they were at, he mainly managed to live within his bubble, protected from the glances of others that normally made him shake with fear. Yes, the tightness in his chest was still present – but he was nowhere near having a panic attack, and for Louis, this was a first. The second he strode into the studio that day, he ploughed into Liam, wrestling him into a chest crushing hug.
"Thank you."

Harry liked trains. The repetitive rhythm of the wheels, the soft sway of the carriages – they had become almost comforting to him during his childhood when he would travel back and forth between his parent's houses. He grew to appreciate these train journeys as the time he got to be alone with his thoughts. This comfort lasted through his teens, until he was finally departing home to attend Uni in London. The minutes spent travelling from his shared student flat to campus was the time he allowed himself to just stop thinking, take a breather from life, and relax as he had done all those years ago as a child.
It was a particularly brisk September morning when Harry had first noticed the small feather haired boy who shared his train.
He'd been running later than usual, and had only just managed to slither onto the carriage before it dashed off on its way. Wind tousled hair blocking his vision, he ran his hands through it before pushing it back off his face, only to pause at the sight of the lad sat in the corner seat, making origami. Maybe this was the first time they'd shared a carriage, or maybe it was just the first time Harry had been paying attention, but Harry was captivated by the slow, deliberate motions of his delicate fingers. Harry's eyes flicked up to his face, and that is where his breath caught in his throat. Partially hidden by heavy furrowed eyebrows, the most expressive eyes Harry had ever seen expelled the last of the mornings sleepiness his brain had held onto. To say his eyes were blue was like to say the sun was yellow – sufficient, but not accurate to capture the spectrum of emotion held by the various shade of blue. Determination, yes that was there, but there was more, an anxious look that seemed to fight to be visible, only obvious if you looked closely. The boy flicked his sweeping fringe further off his face, and at the sight of a small, kitten like tongue poking out between pale pink lips, Harry was gone, so far gone for this boy who remained nameless. Every high school infatuation came crashing back to Harry – when he'd left for uni, he'd sworn to himself his days of obsessive crushes had been over – but in this one boy, all Harry's resolve was lost.
He kept his eyes fixed on origami boy, watching as he continued with his paper folding, pausing only to push the sweater arms farther up his tiny wrists from whence they kept slipping down. He chuckled slightly at this antic, laugh catching in his throat when suddenly stormy blue eyes snapped up to meet Harry's. Harry smiled softly, expecting the same in return, however grew confused when the anxiety he'd noticed previously grew in the boys eyes, consuming them and chasing away the calm that had originally been clear. He bit his lip, eyebrows drawing closer has he stared determinedly down at his knees, eyes determinedly trained downwards. Harry grew more worried – had he caused this sudden change in attitude.
The doors slid open, and noticing this was his stop, Harry moved off the train, only glancing once back at the tense figure of the gorgeous lad he'd seen only fifteen minutes ago, yet was already taking up a rather large portion of Harry's thoughts on his walk to Uni that morning.
In the weeks that followed, Harry spent more and more of his time watching "Origami boy" as he'd fondly nicknamed him in his head. Aside from is beauty, there was something else that intrigued Harry, drew him closer and made him want to learn everything about this boy who gave away so little.
Thursday morning, he was sat in the same seat as always, soft baby blue woollen jumper enveloping his tiny form, and matching perfectly to the icy blue sheet of paper he was working on that morning. Pebble grey skinny jeans clung to his slim legs, revealing just a small glimpse delicate ankles before the top of his toms.
The next Monday was much milder weather for September, and Harry got the pleasure of seeing origami boy in a muscle tank, revealing surprisingly strong biceps, and an array of doodled tattoos on his forearms, flexing slightly with each movement as he worked on the bright orange paper he'd chosen today. A paper plane, a stickman, a compass… all simple, but against the slightly tanned skin nonetheless beautiful. Origami boy had caught Harry staring that day, causing both of them to turn away hastily with flushed cheeks.
Friday was the second time Harry caught a glimpse of origami boy seemingly stressed and anxious. He'd noticed instantly that he, unlike usual, was stood up, and had that same fear in his eyes that Harry had witnessed the first time he saw him. Glancing to his right, Harry noticed that origami boys usual seat was taken – the source for this anxiety? He heard a faint snapping sound, allowing his eyes to travel down to the boys hands, which were rapidly plucking the elastic band around one of his wrists. This did not aid Harry's confusion, and he opted to just turn away, in an attempt to prevent a similar series of events to last weeks.
Monday was when he really began to worry, as the carriage was devoid of Origami boy completely. He checked his normal seat, glanced around the crowded standing people, but there was no sign of the familiar feathery fringe, delicate from and most noticeably, anxious blue eyes.
"He wasn't there today" Harry sighed when he dumped his rucksack on his bed later that night, flopping down next to it heavily.
"Sorry, who wasn't where?" Niall, Harry's bleach blonde haired Irish dorm mate asked, eyes still trained on the tiny TV they had set up which was blasting football rather loudly.
"Origami boy." At this, Niall rolled his eyes.
"Have you even spoken to him yet?"
"No."
Niall, turned to look at a rather downtrodden Harry, who looked thoroughly miserable.
"Jeez Harry, you've really got it bad. You've never spoken to him and yet you're sad because you haven't seen him today." Harry groaned, chucking a pillow at Niall's face in a bid to shut him up.
"You don't understand."
"You don't even know his name."
The pillow landed back on Harry's stomach, as he turned over to look at Niall, who still had an irritating bemused expression on his face.
"I am aware of the hopelessness of my situation Niall. You don't have to rub it in." Niall threw his head back in laughter.
"Hopeless? Mate – just talk to him! I'm not being funny right, I know he's evidently you're idea of a "prince charming" cause you're completely gone on him – but you are never going to get to be Cinderella if you don't make a move."
"Did you just compare me to-"
"Irrelevant. Talk to him."

After a brief case of the sniffles, Louis was quickly back to work. Wrapped up extra warm in a scarf and a beanie as per Liam's instructions, he settled himself into his corner seat on the tube, pulling out a pale green piece of paper. Origami had really helped – it was nearing a month since hed had a major panic attack. There had been blips, but on the whole, it was promising. For the first time, Louis had hope.
He was barely through the third step of making his dragon when he felt a heavy weight sink into the seat next to him. Chancing a glance, his chest instantly tightened. A mass of shiny long brown curls, a soft lazy grin, and what Louis could only describe as kind eyes gave away the fact that the tall, attractive boy Louis had noticed smiling at him a couple of weeks ago.
Crushes were bad for Louis. He already had to live with that fluttery butterflies feeling for 90% of his life - and having a crush only intensified this feeling as far as he was aware. Which is why he refused to allow himself to think about how soft those curls must be, how nice it would be to run his hands through them, to feel those plump lips on his own….
"Hey."
Fuck. He was not allowed to have a low gravelly voice that sounded both sexy and soft at the same time. That just wasn't fair.
Louis could already feel the anxiety creeping up inside him, clouding his mind. He could feel the air between them growing tenser as he remained silent. Biting his lip to fight back the nerves, he nodded slightly. Evidently, this was an invitation to go on.
"So, um, what are you making? I've been trying to work it out for weeks…" the boy chuckled, a soft, warm chuckle that made Louis heart leap a little in its cage. He'd been watching him, for weeks, at least.
Probably thinks you're a freak.
Louis twitched slightly, batting away the thought as much as possible. He swallowed thickly, turning to meet Harry's eyes and, holy fuck, he could look into them forever. Mesmerising green sparkled with genuine interest and kindness, a look Louis was not used to receiving from strangers.
"It's, um, it's a dragon." He finally spoke, voice slightly scratchy, partly from sleepiness, mostly from anxiety.
"Cool!" enthusiasm. Not the judgement Louis had come to expect. It was genuine, it was real – Louis could tell from Harry's eyes.
Bet everyone else thinks you're a freak. You're not worthy of his attention. You're just weak.
Shut up! Louis screamed inside his head.
"It's Harry, by the way." Louis looked down at the extended hand, then back up at Harry's expecting eyes.
Weak. Worthless. FREAK.
And just like that, Louis was gone. The anxiety overwhelmed him, hooking its talons into his chest and ripping them apart. Louis clenched his fists tightly, knuckles turning white with the force, his entire body tensed in an attempt to keep the crumbling pieces of himself together long enough to get away, get far, far away from people, from judging eyes. He turned to meet Harry's confused look, breathing heavily. He felt the train begin to slow as they reached a station.
"I'm so sorry." He choked, grabbing his bag as he rushed off the train, three stops too early, leaving an exceptionally confused Harry behind.
He fought the tears all the way to the studio, a thirty minute walk from where he had surfaced. It wasn't until he was enveloped in Liam's arms he allowed himself to break down.
Once Louis breathing became less erratic, and the hot tears stopped spilling down his cheeks, Liam probed the situation.
"What happened Lou?" Louis drew a shaky breath, fisting his eyes, before raking his damp fringe out of his face.
"There's this guy on the tube…"
Liam looked angry
"If he said anything bad-"
"No no, Li, it's not like that he's fine. Well, I mean, he's unfairly attractive and has stupidly kind eyes and these curls – there's the problem. I have a crush. A crush who decided to talk to me this morning, and my good old pal anxiety just had to come along and fuck everything up…" The reality of the situation hit Louis again, drawing the stinging tears back "– and now I freaked out and he's definitely going to think I'm a freak so there's-"
"Louis, if you'd slow down and let me speak, I might be able to actually help."
Louis took a deep breath, turning his tearful gaze to Liam's.
"I seriously doubt you've fucked it up. Maybe confused the guy. But if he's worth you, this won't make him turn on you. He evidently likes you enough to start up a conversation on the tube – the one place on earth it is mandatory to be miserable."
Louis felt his heart give a sickening leap of hope.
"But I completely freaked - he probably thinks I hate him…
"So tell him you don't. In a way that won't make you freak out."
For a second, Louis was confused. Then realisation hit, and he offered Liam a small smile. A small, hopeful smile.

The next morning was stupidly sunny. 'So much for pathetic fallacy' Louis had thought when he'd dressed hurriedly before dashing out the front door. Now he perched on his seat, listening to the soft rumble of the train as it pulled ever closer to the stop Louis knew Harry to get on at. He clutched the small envelope in his hands tightly as the train slowed to a stop, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, when he reached out to grab Harry's coat sleeve, shoving the envelope into his hand with a small smile before turning back to his current, ash grey paper dragon.
Harry was, most certainly, confused by this point. Origami boy had given clear signs he, at the very least, felt uncomfortable around Harry. And yet here he was today, giving rather cryptic envelopes to him. Harry leant against the glass on the other side of the carriage, slipping his long slender fingers under the envelope, and pulling out the contents. Something small and green fluttered to Harry's feet, and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the delicate dragon Louis had been making yesterday before Harry put his foot in it. Smiling slightly, he tucked it away in his coat pocket, heart fluttering. Perhaps hope was not lost. He still held a piece of pale blue origami paper in his hand, with what he assumed to be origami boys spidery handwriting scrawled across its smooth surface.

Harry,
I realise I probably did not give off any very clear signals yesterday. I hope you don't hate me – I'm just not good at speaking in social situations. It's not you, not at all, in fact, I rather liked you quite a bit, but um, yeah. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I hope you don't think I'm too weird. And I hope you like the dragon.
Louis

Louis. He even had a beautiful name. Harry sighed out loud, cringing at how he sounded more like a love sick school girl by the second.
Whilst the note did not answer many of Harry's questions, it did resolve his most pressing issue – Louis did not hate him. And that was more than enough for Harry.
He looked to Louis, for once finding the other boys beautiful eyes already fixed on him. He smiled, a wide, bright smile, and nodded, hoping to show understanding. It was worth it, for seeing perhaps the first genuine smile he'd ever seen from Louis. And god, he was not prepared for how wonderful it would feel to see the corner of his eyes crease up, an often missing sparkle light up in those normally weary eyes, his lips turned upwards rather than set in their normal straight line.
Needless to say, Harry had a hard time getting his thoughts away from Louis during class that day. Every time his mind wandered from the lecturer's dull voice, the image of Louis smiling filled his vision. He disappeared to the library for lunch, attempting to snatch half an hour to himself in order to compose a reply to Louis.

Louis,
Of course, I understand. Although for a second there, you did have me convinced you hated me. I am very glad that is not the case.
I love the dragon – although I have no idea how you have the skill to turn a simple sheet of paper into something so fragile yet beautiful. It's something I've tried to master for several years – and failed miserably at for several years!
Hope this is okay,
Harry x

Harry,
Definitely no hatred on this side.
It's hardly skill – try eight minutes of careful instruction from a YouTube video! But I agree on the beauty part – there is something wonderful about crafting something from nothing.
What brings you on the tube at this horrendous hour in the mornings then? Work?
This is more than okay.
Louis x

Louis,
Definitely skill. But I shall check YouTube and see if I can pick up some of your origami sensei skills for myself!
Uni, in fact. Guildhall School of Music and Drama. Bit of a drag, but considering I never was very academic, and music is the only thing I seem to be relatively good at, this seemed like the best option, it's supposedly the best in the country.
Harry x

Harry,
Definitely the best in the country – although I may be obliged to say that being a post Guildhall student myself. It will work in your favour – I managed to get my ideal job straight of uni, probably because of where I'd been trained. Stick out the theory part – but remember Professor Goodwin is the only lecturer who will actually enforce the turning things on time rule.
Louis x

Harry's next note contained a rather shaky attempt at an origami dragon, which made Louis smile affectionately, and earned it a place on his pin board, alongside the ever growing collection of notes from Harry. Despite his original attempts to fight off his feelings, he had given up the first time he'd seen Harry blush – the simple action which had triggered a tidal wave of emotion Louis could no longer suppress.
Liam was kept much clued in to all that was going on – as was Niall.
It was nearing the end of October when Harry flopped down next to Louis, thrusting a leather bound journal into his hands. Briefly shooting a quizzical look at Harry, Louis turned the book over in his hands, the leather soft like butter in his hands. Opening it, he noticed Harry's familiar cursive written on the front page.

Figured this would be a quicker, and potentially easier way to communicate. Still no speaking, but without the day long delay for a reply.

You do realise this is why texting was invented?

And here I was, thinking you were all for old fashioned romance with your note writing….

Oh shush.

Louis cheeks reddened at the romance. It was one thing to have feelings for someone he was fast considering a friend – it was a complete other for those feelings to be discovered. Lois knew he could never – would never be enough for Harry. He would always deserve more than Louis. Louis felt eyes upon him, glancing around, he noticed that they had caught the eye of a rather grumpy old man. Instantly, Louis felt like a knife was being twisted in his gut.

People are staring at us.

So?

Harry... It makes me nervous…

Focus on me.

With no warning, Louis suddenly felt the large, flat palm of Harry's hand rest against the small of his back, tracing circles with his thumb into the t-shirt material around Louis spine. The knot Louis had felt begin to form eased, his muscles melting into Harry's touch, his breathing already becoming easier, lighter.

Not hard.

By the time November rolled round, they'd been talking in the notebook enough to have learnt what many friends learn in the first few months of friendship. Which was a fair amount.
Louis feelings for Harry had not gone away - much the opposite in fact. The more he found out about him, the harder he could feel himself falling - and the harder it was to accept the fact that they were only friends, especially when they'd spent so many mornings pressed up close to each other in what had most definitely become their corner of the carriage, giggling. It had become Louis new coping mechanism – writing with Harry – and although he enjoyed it, he was all too aware of how dangerous that kind of dependency could be.
"Harry, mate, trust me when I say he's just as gone on you as you are on him."
Niall was lounging on his bed, flicking through the notebook as Harry sat hunched over at the desk.
"No chance. He's gorgeous, and I'm just lanky and clumsy."
"You're the first person I've ever told I'm Bi."
"So what?" Niall rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"You really are pathetic aren't you? Hello, Harry, sexuality is not something most people randomly open up to near enough strangers about. Especially if the stranger is the first person they've EVER come out to."
Harry could remember Louis reaction when he'd told Harry – the paranoia clear in his eyes when Harry had glanced into them. He remembered instinctively reaching for Louis hand, tracing small comforting circles into the smooth skin, the worry retreating with each circuit. That had to be a good sign. Maybe.
Incoherent mumbling sounded from the desk area.
"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself and grow some balls Harry. Even as a straight guy, I can acknowledge your attractiveness – and no one can fault your personality."
"But what if-"
"Just do it. Or we will be having a roommate divorce, due to your incessant whining."

"He asked me on a date." Liam's head snapped up from the guitar he'd been playing around with, a look of surprise plastered on his face.
"Really? When?"
"This morning. He just wrote it in the journal." Liam studied Louis face, his features drawn together, deeply involved in whatever he was thinking.
"What'd you say?"
"Yes."
The nail biting started next, as the face grew more and more thoughtful. Or confused. Liam couldn't tell.
He reached out, taping Louis knee, and offering up and encouraging smile.
"Hey. You deserve this. It's okay."

Harry was breath taking. Tall, lanky form leaning casually against the brick wall of the coffee shop, his long black coat only emphasized his height. As Louis watched from where he was hovering nearby, trying to get up the guts to go over, Harry tipped his head up, running his hands through his steadily growing curls before flipping them back again – and Louis cursed himself when he let out an audible sigh. He glanced down at his own ripped black skinny jeans, and grey sweater with a wide white brush stroke across the chest - he felt so inferior, so unworthy. But this would have to do. Sucking up all the courage he could muster, he set off towards Harry, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to disguise their shaking. Upon noticing the Adidas trainers approaching, Harry's head snapped up, instantly meeting Louis soft, slightly anxious eyes. His fringe had been swooped us, instead of lying in its normal feathery waves that partially hid his eyes, and it was again that Harry was struck by just how blue they were. Harry grinned at him, eyes lighting up at the small, soft smile Louis offered up in return.
"Hey"
"Hi"
Louis voice. Holy crap, Harry had only heard it a handful of times, and had definitely forgotten how beautiful it was. Soft, but there were traces of something that couldn't quite be pin pointed – a roughness, an edge that only made it more enchanting.
"Want to go inside then?"
Harry reached out for Louis hands, eyes still trained on Louis' for any warning signs. He watched as Louis eyes flicked down to take in the sight of their fingers intertwined, Harrys hands almost engulfing Louis. He took the growing smile as a good sign, and squeezing Louis hand slightly, opened, pulled him towards the coffee shop door.
"It's quiet, I promise. It always is – not many people know about this place, but I come here every day because it's on the way to campus. Best coffee – don't get me wrong, Starbucks is good but I don't think this can be beaten."
"Okay."
Harry glanced over to Louis, noticing the nibbling of the lips, the slight tension in his jaw that would be missed by most. He knew Louis got nervous of these things – the tube had been enough of an indication to gather that – but he was still unsure of the why part. Regardless, he could tell Louis was uneasy.
"Hey – why don't you wait here? There's a bench over there, and I was thinking we could get the coffees to go anyway, walk round the park for a bit." Only the small puff of mist that wisped from Louis mouth indicated the sigh of relief the smaller lad let out.
"Is that okay? I don't want to ruin…"
"Hey. Look at me, Lou."
He watched as Louis cautious, always cautious, eyes looked up from the spot on the floor which they had been focused on.
"I want to be here, with you, right now. If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked you on this date. That I promise you. I really like you, and I don't want to do or make you do anything that will make you uncomfortable."
Seeing the relaxed look in Louis eyes ten minutes later was enough alone to instantly make Harry's day. He looked peaceful, smiling broadly when Harry handed over the steaming cup of coffee.
"Thank you." He said, taking a sip as he rose from the bench, sliding his hand back into Harry's, which in turn instantly made Harry's heart swell.
The autumn colours had really begun to set in now, the park a sea of deep oranges and reds – leaves fluttered down from above, falling only to be crunched underfoot as Harry and Louis walked, hand in hand, along the footpath. At some point, Louis wasn't quite sure when, the hand holding turned into Harry's arm resting across is shoulders, the weight somewhat comforting and grounding. They chatted, laughing at one another, until the coffee was long gone. Louis was hilarious, Harry discovered, when he came out of his shell. When he talked he was just so articulate, and by now, every smile was drawing out a sparkle in his eyes. The way he threw his head back when he laughed, eyes creasing up and smile wide, was a beautiful sight that Harry knew he would never tire of.
A natural lull in the conversation came. Walking along side by side, Harry's arm still drawing the smaller lad ever closer to his side, they stayed in comfortable silence. Comfortable, until Harry voiced what was on his mind.
"Why do you make paper dragons on the tube?"
Instantly Harry knew he'd cocked up. The air between them changed in record speed – instantly Louis stiffened, the cautious, unforgiving anxiety back in his eyes. Harry could feel the rise and fall of his delicate shoulders increasing rapidly, and quickly removed his arm – not realising the loss made Louis feel less connected than ever. Harry was surprised when he felt Louis slip his hand back into his own, although the tension didn't cease.
"'m sorry..." Harry mumbled. The subject was left alone.
They were back at square one.
The weary look didn't leave Louis. No matter what topic of conversation Harry brought up, his walls were back up, and the glimpse of the easy going Louis Harry had begun to witness was gone.
It wasn't his best plan. But it was better than nothing.
Before Louis had time to miss the warmth from Harry's hand when he let go, he was engulfed in a shower of crisp leaves, sticking in his hair and fluttering to his feet. Head snapping round, he saw Harry, a few steps away on the leaf littered grass, already stooped over to seize another handful.
"Leaf fight, Tomlinson?" Louis didn't even have time to reply before his vision was clouded by yet another downpour of leaves. He could feel the mischief tugging at the corners of his mouth, slowly chasing away the shakiness that had been present. By the time a third flurry fell over his head, he was grabbing handfuls of his own, and running back to Harry, who was already scurrying away. It didn't take long for the crisp autumn air to become a tornado of reds and oranges, the colours blurring together in the young boys vision as they ran around, kicking the piles of leaves at each other, laughter ringing clear throughout the park. Harry was just glad to see the light return to Louis.
Minutes later, exhausted after the spontaneous battle, Louis flopped down by the trunk of a great oak, tugging Harry's hand until he joined him amongst the nest of leaves collected at the foot of the tree. Soon, the soft chuckling faded into just the sound of heavy breathing. Smiles remained etched on faces. A squirrel ran through the leaves. Wind rustled the branches up above. A sense of calm fell.
"I've had social anxiety officially seven years." Harry's breath caught in his throat as he turned to look at Louis, who was increasingly focused on his nails, eyes fixed firmly on his hands. Harry remained silent.
"I think it's been longer. I got teased a lot when I was younger. I was always more, feminine, I guess. Liked music, liked to draw and be creative. Girly stuff, the kids at school called it when I was ten. I joined the football team, but the bullying didn't stop 'til I got to high school. By which point id become so cripplingly scared of being who I was that I just locked it all away and didn't speak to anyone. But that was when the panic attacks started." Louis voice began to crack, Harry instinctively clutching one of Louis hands. "It was terrifying, the voices, they just they overwhelm me. I start shaking, hyperventilating, and just panicking in general. It got the point I couldn't even get to school on time because I wouldn't face the corridors. So at fourteen, I was diagnosed. Counselling was tried, but it never worked. I just learnt to live with it. And then I got this job. And suddenly I had to be in a triggering situation twice a day, every day. Liam suggested the origami – it's calming. Immersive, I can ignore everything else. So that's why I make the dragons. And also why I freaked out the first time you talked to me. It really wasn't you. It was more the thing of I couldn't believe you were actually talking to me." Harry watched as Louis eyes grew moist, feeling the tears prick at the back of his own.
"Why couldn't you believe that?"
"Because I'm a freak, Harry."
Harry looked at Louis, saw the broken, small by on the inside. A solitary tear rolled down Louis slightly flushed cheeks, his nose a matching shade of pink, and his lips quivering slightly. The fringe had flopped back down onto his forehead, lying in messy layers, but it couldn't hide the stormy blue of his eyes which remained the same, expressive eyes that had met his that first day on the train. Harry took in how tiny, how broken Louis looked, and without thinking twice, tugged the smaller boy onto his lap, hugging him as close as possible. He felt Louis shoulder sag, and slowly he melted into Harry's warm body, the heat seeping into his bones and ridding himself of some of the loneliness he felt. They stayed, frozen in time, Louis clutching Harry.
Louis broke apart, straddling Harry's outstretched legs and meeting Harry's gaze.
"You are not a freak Louis."
Harry saw Louis eyes begin to shift, and instantly reached out to cup Louis jaw softly with his hand, drawing the vision back up into place.
"No, love, look at me please. You're not a freak."
Leaning forward, their noses nudged, and Harry watched as Louis lashes fluttered shut against his cheeks before closing his own. Gently, he pressed his lips to Louis. The kiss was cautious, nervous, but soon grew more assured. It remained soft and steady, lips moving in sink as Louis brought his own hand up to pull Harry closer by the lapels of his jacket, leeching off the younger lads natural warmth.
Eventually, they broke apart, Harry examining every inch of Louis face.
"You're perfect."

Since that date, the two lads had only grown closer – and Louis had begun to worry about it less and less. Having Harry in his life had brought a freshness, a new release from the iron grip anxiety held on his mind. A relief.
When Louis first learnt Harry had liked singing, an idea had instantly sprung to mind.
It was a dark cloudy night when they pulled up outside Louis recording studios. Louis gave Harry a wide grin to calm his confused face, before leading him inside.
"Obviously, we are normally closed by this point. But I asked my boss if it would be okay to work late, and he gave me the key code." He paused to punch in a series of numbers to the control pad, hearing a small beep confirming the password. "And so we can stay here as long as we like."
The more of the studios Harry saw, the more his jaw dropped. They had talked about Louis job – but Harry had never imagined this. He followed Louis into his studio, watching the older lad settle on a piano stool, before he glanced back up at Harry through his fringe.
"Is this okay? I know it's a bit of an odd date, and probably pretty boring, but you always talk about how you'd love to sing when you're older, and I just thought."
He was cut off by Harry's lips on his, and when he opened his eyes again, he was met with green – the kind of green that reminded you spring was coming after a particularly grim winter. The kind of green that symbolised hope.
"It's amazing. Really, Lou, it couldn't be better."
Louis breathed a sigh of relief, anxiety disappearing again as he leant in for another kiss.
They spent a while just chatting, Harry wandering around the room and playing around with the guitars that hang on the walls, inspecting the recording booth, circuiting back round until he ended up sat next to Louis on the piano stool. Their conversation fell to a comfortable silence.
"You gonna play something then?" a familiar dusting of pink flooded Louis face, as he shook his head.
"C'mon Louis. You can't bring me to your studio then refuse to play me anything." Louis stood his ground, shaking his head more firmly - but a smile began to tug at his lips the second he noticed the pout forming on Harry's lips.
"Please? Pretty Please? Look ill make you a deal – ill even sing for you if you play for me. An even swap."
Temptation too great, Louis rolled his eyes.
"How'd you feel about the Fray?" He asked, noticing Harry's light up in victory.
"How to save a life is a pretty amazing song."
"Righty then. I'll play, you sing."
Harry watched in awe as Louis fingers began to gloss over the glistening keys, the warm melody filling the room and wrapping itself around the pair. Pressing delicately, the keys hummed under his fingers, and Harry had never seen anything as beautiful as Louis concentrated face, feathery hair illuminated from the lamp behind him, fingers pressing the keys just so delicately. Eyes fixated on Louis still, Harry began to sing.
Holy shit. Smooth so smooth, and deep, and rich, and just – comfort. Harry's voice was stunning, just so fricken good, enough to make goose bumps rise like little mountains on Louis skin and send shivers running down his back like cold raindrops on a stormy day. He carried the tune perfectly, and the song may as well have been written for him. They were approaching the chorus, where the harmonies began. Louis took a deep breath, before opening his mouth.
Harry almost stopped singing in shock when he heard Louis join in, because he had never heard anything so unique and special. It was soft, quiet, but there was an edge, a coarseness in texture that was just so Louis in every way. He sang, and played, and every note, every word carried meaning, weighed down with emotion but light enough to float and intertwine with Harry's. They sang together, harmonies wrapping around each other to become one, one prefect, beautiful sound. Something clicked in Harry's head. He sang because he loved to, because he could to a reasonably good standard and just enjoyed to. Louis sang because he needed to – music was his outlet, a place he could pour every weakness and vulnerability into and translate it into something tangible.
The song drew to a close, Louis pressing the last few keys, fingers lingering. The echoes of the last notes hung in the silenced room.
Harry turned to Louis, taking in the image of a boy, hunched at the keys of a piano, eyes still squeezed tightly closed – a boy who had, subconsciously, revealed all his demons in his voice. And Harry did the only thing he could think to do – he kissed him.
He kissed him desperately, wanting, needing to show Louis it was okay, he didn't care if he had weaknesses, that they didn't define him, that he didn't deserve any of this, that he was strong, so strong. He felt Louis melt into the kiss, kissing back with equal desperation. It was messy, noses bumping and foreheads bashing, but it was now less perfect than the soft, careful kiss in the park. They both were breathing heavily when they broke apart from the kiss. Harry pulled Louis closer into his side, tucking his jacket around him.
"I don't sing to people often."
"It was beautiful."
"You're a fine one to talk." The moment, the heaviness had passed in the comment.
"Well, Y'know, don't like to boast."
They only lingered in the studio for a short while longer, Louis trying, in vain, to teach Harry piano – "It's my fingers fault, they're too long, and they just trip over each other!" – before they headed off, Louis driving Harry back to the tall block of student flats. It was late, and even though Louis was a perfectly capable adult, Harry didn't like the idea of him returning to a dark, empty, lonely flat.
"Stay tonight?" Harry could have slapped himself when he noticed the panic draw in across Louis eyes, the lip nibbling starting.
"Your roommate?"
"He'll be out partying. I'm sorry – it was a stupid thing to suggest, were only dating and it's probably…"
"Actually, I was going to say okay, if you're sure."
Definitely unexpected. Harry glanced across at Louis, studying his face.
"You're sure?" eyebrows slightly furrowed, Louis nodded.
"Sure."

The room was small, but nice. The two halves were probably identical at some point; two twin beds, two wardrobes, two desks with shelves above and around it – but whereas one side was perfectly ordered, textbooks stacked neatly on shelves, clothes stashed away inside the wardrobe, not a dirty piece of crockery in sight, the other was the direct opposite: the floor was the bookshelf, wardrobe and washing up bowl.
"Niall's not the best roommate, but he is a laugh, and good mate." Harry said with in an uneasy tone, smiling apologetically at Louis.
"Its fine – it's in fact, a perfect recreation of what my entire flat is like. Don't worry."
They were both tired, and agreed just to head straight to sleep. It was slightly awkward as they both stripped down to their boxers, but soon they were huddled under Harry's duvet, Louis head resting upon Harry's steadily rising chest.
"God, Lou, you're freezing cold." He slid his arm round the smaller boy's shoulders, bringing him closer.
"Yeah, well, it is nearly December Harry. Winter isn't typically known for being warm now is it?"
"Alright, alright feisty one. What's your favourite thing about Christmas then?" there was a small pause in the darkness, whilst Louis thought, before he spoke, all traces of sarcasm lost.
"I like the lights in the streets. They always look so beautiful, but they seem to unite people – everyone enjoys them, stops and stares at them. London doesn't feel like a community often cause there's so many people always in a rush living their own lives. But every time they see the lights, people pause, just stop for a moment to look. They bring a sort of warmth to London. I've always wanted to go to the turning on of the lights on Regent Street."
"Why don't you then?"
"The crowds….it makes me anxious…"
Later that night, long after Louis breathing had turned to soft snuffles, Harry lay awake, clutching the smaller lad tightly, his hair tickling his nose, and formulating a plan. He already knew the feather haired lad meant more to him than anyone he'd met before – and it only left him determined to make his dreams come true.

"Wakey Wakey, lovebirds. Some of us need to get to classes this morning." Louis heard Harry groan, shifting up into a sitting position, before opening his own eyes to take in the blonde haired, goofy smiled lad who had drawn them out of their peaceful sleep.
"This is Niall." His voice was impossibly deep as Louis turned to look at Harry, curls all messed up and eyes heavy from sleep. It was a beautiful sight, that made Louis think unspeakable things, but he was reminded of their company with a cough. He looked back at Niall and awkwardly offering out a hand with a slightly flushed, awkward smile.
"Hi, I'm..."
"The famous Louis Tomlinson – trust me, I've heard enough of Haz's long, painstakingly detailed descriptions of just how perfect your eyes are and how soft your hair is to recognise you. Isn't that right Harry?" The blonde smiled cheekily at a red faced Harry, who looked down at Louis bemused face helplessly.
"Thought you mentioned class Niall?"
"Oh no, trust me, humiliating you is DEFINITEY worth being late for…"
"Out. Now." Cackling, Niall flashed a final smile at Louis.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Louis. See ya."
Louis shifted up so he was sat next to Harry in the bed when the door clocked shut, smiling widely at the embarrassed younger lad.
"You think my eyes are perfect?"
"Oh shut up."
Louis kissed the corner of Harry's mouth softly, still grinning.
"Never, it's adorable Love."

They'd spent the whole day together that Saturday. It had become common in the few weeks that had passed since that night at the studio for Louis to stay at Harry's flat – using the excuse of its close to work, although Harry had his suspicions. This Saturday had become like many others – Louis had woken up in the arms of Harry's, feeling warm, protected, cared for. They'd been dating, so to speak, for a couple of months now – and already, Louis could sense a change in his anxiety. He knew it was superficial to believe that Harry could cure his anxiety – but despite Louis disbelief in happy endings, this was becoming more and more like a fairy-tale. With Harry, Louis didn't feel anxious. He didn't need to – the second he did, Harry just seemed to know, was just there, unconditionally, with a comforting smile or a grounding hand to fight off the drowning panic. And Louis was no longer scared of this kind of dependence. It helped. That was what mattered most.
In many senses, it was a normal Sunday. With Christmas fast approaching, Harry had suggested shopping – a nightmare, in London at this time of year, but the army of Christmas shoppers was unavoidable. Louis knew at least, it would be easier with Harry than it would be alone.
Harry dragged him back to the coffee shop they'd been to on their first date, insisting this time that Louis came inside, so they could sit in the warm and have lunch.
The shop was warm and cosy - book shelves lined the walls, laden with books of every genre. A strong smell of coffee wafted through the mostly empty room – evidently Harry was right about only a few people knowing. Suddenly, Louis was distracted by a purring sound and glanced down to see an extremely fluffy, white cat weaving itself around his ankles.
"Told you it was special." Harry grinned as he went to fetch their orders.
Night begun to draw in as they walked, hands interlocked, through the park.
"I've had a really good day today, Haz." Louis noticed Harry glancing anxiously at his watch, biting his lip before looking back up at Louis, smiling.
"Yeah? It's not over yet. But we need to hurry otherwise we'll miss it."
"What?"
"Just come with me okay."
Louis followed Harry through the darkening streets of London, clutching to his hand tighter as they pushed against the swarm of people moving in the opposite direction to them. Fifteen minutes later, Harry drew to a stop outside a very tall building. The pause only lasted a few seconds before he was pulling Louis forwards once again, towards the fire exit.
"Harry? What are you doing?" Harry sighed.
"I know. This is a bit strange. Just trust me, okay, everything will make sense in a few minutes." Harry noticed the flicker of worry in Louis eyes.
"Isn't this trespassing?"
"Do you trust me?" he heard Louis deep breath, followed by a sow exhale.
"Yes."
"Then follow me."
Seizing Louis hand once again, Harry tugged them both forward, into the building.
"The lifts are shut off at this time of night, so the stairs it is."
Many flights of stairs later, they reached what Louis assumed to be the top floor of the building. A desk sat in the centre of the room, before an entire wall of windows – overlooking the entirety of London. As far as the eye could see, veins of traffic wove between the buildings, headlights glinting up in the veil of darkness that blanketed the city.
"That's a stunning view…"
"Wait for it." Louis shot a quizzical look at Harry, taking in the mischievous smirk.
"Look out there, not at me." Louis cautiously turned back to the window, feeling the taller lad move closer behind him, arms snaking around Louis waist to pull his back flush against Harry's chest. He hooked his head over Louis shoulder, curls tickling Louis throat slightly.
"Five…..four….three…." He began to count in a hushed whisper, only adding to Louis confusion.
"Two….one."
If the view had been beautiful before, it was nothing to how it looked now. Directly below, a sea of twinkling lights blinked up at them – curtains of fairy lights illuminated the crowded streets down below; bright blue branches of mistletoe hovered above the throng of Christmas shoppers, all cheering and smiling at the sight. Further away, more lights flickered into life – glowing stars, leaping reindeer – streets and streets all lit up by the magical sight. And that's just what it was – magic. A moment in time where all of London seemed to have paused, been happy and at peace, al united by these simple lights.
Louis fought out Harry's grip, and turned to face the older lad, furiously blinking away tears, and trying desperately to form a coherent sentence from the mess of thoughts rushing through his mind.
"H...How did…"
"I have a mate who works in these offices as a cleaner to fund his uni course – he was working tonight, and agreed to turn a blind eye to one of the doors if I helped him with part of his music coursework he was struggling with." Louis mouth still hung open, stunned.
"But why, why would you do this, for me?"
"I know how much this meant to you. Hearing you talk about it that night. And you deserved to see it. You've gone through and continue to go through so much crap – crap that you definitely don't deserve, and yet not once do you ever complain or moan about it, you just get on with things. You're so, so strong, and you deserved to have this, this at least. I care about you, Louis, a hell of a lot in fact. And I was actually wondering…."
"I love you." The words were out of Louis mouth before he had a chance to process them. He noticed Harry draw a sharp breath, eyes widening. Louis desperately tried to back track.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry – I was just thinking it, and it just came out I know, it's ridiculous, we've only been dating a couple of months, we aren't even official but I just, it felt right and-"
Once again, Louis rambling was cut off by Harry's lips, pressed firmly against his own, this kiss was different – it was deeper, it was heavy. Harry pulled Louis closer, hand pressed to the small of his back, and Louis brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in the loose curls as he'd wanted to for so long. Time seemed to freeze, as cliché as it sounded, because in that moment, Louis was happier than he'd been for a very long time.
When they broke apart at last, they remained pressed together, foreheads resting together. Harry chuckled softly, watching Louis.
"I love you too." He pecked Louis lips once again.
"I mean, I was actually going to ask you if you would be my boyfriend, before I told you I loved you. But you just had to beat me to the post didn't you?"
He watched Louis face contort in surprise.
"You want me as your boyfriend?"
"As I just said, I love you. Of course I do."

Louis' anxiety never disappeared – he doesn't think it ever will. But three years on, he and Harry are living together, in a small flat on the outskirts of London, and he can honestly say he hasn't had a full on panic attack in a full year.
Every year, they go and see the Christmas lights, from that same office they did. But Louis doesn't know that this year, he will leave that same office with his fiancé, rather than his boyfriend.