Chapter 3

The last week at home went by in a blur. Harry couldn't decide whether it was flying by or dragging along too slowly. All he did know was that he had an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach that was growing progressively as the week ebbed away. He distracted himself each day meeting friends and writing ideas for new songs – songs which were an odd combination of terribly melancholic and overly romantic.

He also helped Gemma get organised for their life back on tour.

Even in her worst moods Gem had the ability to make Harry laugh and forget for a while. Packing, or the lack thereof, was a prime example. Harry knew that he was disorganised, but Gemma took it to a whole other level.

Where the hell are my snow boots' she grumbled, throwing flip flops and crumpled vest tops in all directions looking for the elusive boots. 'Fucks sake, I know they're here somewhere'.

Harry tried to disguise a burst of laughter into a cough. Either way, it interrupted his sister's ranting, She scowled at him 'What's so funny? Our flight leaves in four hours and I haven't even started packing.'

That much was clear. In fact, the washing machine was still churning away in the kitchen, as she frantically tried to wash and dry nearly her entire wardrobe in one day.

Harry tried to wipe the smirk off of his face, 'Stop for a second. Think about where we're going?'

Gemma looked at him confused, 'Back on tour, obviously.'

'And', Harry carried on, really grinning now, 'what's the date?'

'Why the hell do you need to know what the date is?'

'We're touring the US at the tail end of summer, and you're looking for snow boots! How long are you planning on staying for exactly?' Harry said in mock seriousness.

'Oh, I, um, well I'm just trying to be organised. I'm not assuming...' but before she could finish Harry had tackled Gemma to the floor in a massive bear hug, and she could see he was grinning from ear to ear.

'I'm kidding! Stay with us long as you like! Just calm down with the life or death packing, there are shops where we're going you know!'

Having Gem with him on tour was going to be good fun, Harry knew this for sure. The easy banter was just what he needed in his life right now. He also knew that his sister had a softer, deeper side, and in time, back on the road, Harry would open up to her and let her know about the constant internal battle he was fighting.

Harry's phone buzzed and he scrambled back across the room to retrieve it – disappointed again. He was pretty sure that even back on tour, he wouldn't admit to Gem that every time he had a text or a missed call his pulse would quicken and he'd get goose bumps, willing it to be Louis. He was left disappointed each and every time.

...

Louis paced around his living room like a caged animal. They would be back on tour in two days. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff face – working out how to take the leap into the unknown.

Each time he paced past the mirror in the lounge he caught sight of himself. This time away from each other, to think, had been painful but good. It had made things a little clearer. Looking at himself now, the ashamed, guilty figure from a couple of weeks ago was gone.

Pacing and pacing, thinking and thinking, Louis suddenly realised he needed to stop, stop thinking and starting doing. Grabbing a pen and the battered album sleeve, he started to write.

He was shaking, struggling to make his writing legible. He was shaking so badly he had to stop and take a few deep breaths. Gulping down the last remnants of doubt and fear, he put pen back to paper and knew that those few sentences would be some of the most important written in his life.

…...

The airport was busy with people coming and going. Harry smiled to himself as he realised how different this was to the last time he'd stood in the very same airport just a month ago. He was happy, happy to have Gemma around, and to be going back on tour.

They'd finally finished packing two hours ago; leaving half of Gemma's stuff behind in the end, deciding it could get sent on to them.

The flight was fun; it was the first time Gemma had travelled first class. One of the perks of having a 'celebrity' baby brother, that was for sure. Even though Harry had looked entirely awkward with the upgrade from business to first they'd got.

They settled into their seats and the time drifted past easily, a mixture of movies, music, naps free drinks and chatting about nothing in particular.

As they got nearer the end of the flight Gemma wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but she thought Harry had become quieter, with a slightly strained look in his eyes when he smiled. Trying to ignore it, Gemma moved the conversation back to who Harry was going to introduce her to. She made a mental note though, not to leave it too long before she tried to get Harry to open up to her.

…..

Finding their driver, after a little bit of a struggle, they both slept for most of the journey. Arriving at the hotel they would be based in for a week or two, it was dark and raining by the time they got there.

Dragging their bags to the lift – Harry drew the line at being helped with those, celebrity or not – it took two trips to get all of their stuff up onto the spacious corridor outside their suite. Fumbling for his key card, half asleep, Harry finally opened the door and walked on in, dragging a couple of bags behind him.

'What the...' hearing a crash and clatter behind him Harry turned to see Gemma slumped against the wall in the hallway, bag hanging off her shoulder. 'What happened?' Harry asked, confused. 'I tripped on something, it's over there', Gemma said, pointing to the envelope that she'd kicked into living area.

Walking over and picking it up Harry's stomach dropped to his feet, heart pounding as he recognised the handwriting on the envelope. Hands shaking as he slowly and carefully opened the envelope, not wanting to tear or damage it. He peered in and felt his eyes prick with tears as disappointment washed over him. It was his own copy of Aftermath. He'd left it at Louis' the last time he'd been there, months ago. He hadn't realised that Louis was already at the hotel. Muttering under his breath 'I guess that's his way of drawing a line under everything then.'

He slid the record out of the envelope and frowned at the condition it was in. It was old, but Harry was careful with things that were precious to him. The album sleeve was a mess, crumpled and rippled, as if it had been left out in the rain.

He put it down on a coffee table in the middle of the room, and sadly went to walk away. Turning back to get his phone, he noticed it for the first time. He couldn't believe it at first, but once he saw it he couldn't tear his eyes away, everything around him fading out as the handwriting came into sharp focus...

Written alongside his own writing, in Louis' distinctive handwriting, 'Harry, I don't really know what to say, or what any of this means, but I miss you so much. I need you in my life more than anything. We need to talk. I am not going to lose you. Louis x'

…..

That was all Harry had been waiting for, even if he hadn't known it until now.

Ignoring the overwhelming urge to turn and hide, he ran out of his suite, early hours of the morning be damned, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Gemma's confused shouts left in his wake.

…...

Harry woke with a start, confused for a few minutes, initially not sure of where he was. He realised, as he lay slowly waking up, that he was in a hotel suite that had become his second home not that long ago. Before all the distance had started and then become normal. It was still dark and the suite was silent. Almost scared to move, he looked across the room to the other sofa to see Louis sleeping peacefully.

Harry silently thanked the universe that they were creatures of habit when it came to hotel bookings.

They hadn't really talked last night. It'd been 3am when Harry had arrived, out of breath and severely jet-lagged, banging on Louis hotel room door. But the look on Louis' face as he'd opened the door, told him he was doing the right thing. The fleeting look of worry, followed by surprise, relief and then excitement that had passed across Louis' face spoke volumes. In that moment, though they were confused and scared, both were just as certain they had something there worth fighting for – worth losing things for.

Harry stared at the ceiling thinking for an hour or so, the room getting gradually lighter around him. Louis started to stir and Harry was suddenly not sure if he wanted him to wake up yet.

The time they'd spent together before jet-lag had won out had been so tender. Louis, pulling him into a tight embrace, squeezing him in a way that spoke of regret and longing; and more than anything, something that felt to Harry a lot like love.

When they had eventually pulled apart, the hint of awkwardness and unresolved and unspoken conversations kicked in. Louis had spent a lot of time sat next to him, leg touching him, seemingly deep in thought. Harry, in a haze of jet-lag, realised, but couldn't help, the overly-fond giveaway smile he knew was on his face when he looked in Louis' direction.

He'd missed Louis so much it had physically hurt. He'd only survived at all by closing himself down, locking his heart away. But now, now he was open, as easy to read as before. Wearing his heart vulnerably on his sleeve.

'Morning Hazza did you sleep ok?' and that one line, so normal and innocuous, had Harry's heart beating hard and fast, and that felt good, really, really good.

…

Louis realised he hadn't felt this happy and relaxed in months. And that was saying something considering how unbelievably awkward this had the potential to be.

He wasn't sure exactly why he had spent the last hour pretending to be asleep. He was almost able to convince himself it wasn't because he wanted to hear Harry breathing, that would just be creepy he cringed to himself. He was scared that when they were awake, in the cold light of day, it would be awkward conversation after awkward conversation.

Lying there thinking, he pictured Harry's face when he answered the door last night. He'd looked happy, really happy; he looked more alive than Louis had seen him in months. Trying to fight back the blush he realised was going to give his 'sleeping' away, it made his head spin to know that he had made Harry that happy. Forty-one words, scribbled on a battered, tear-stained album sleeve had done that to him.

Feeling the sunlight through his closed eyes, Louis needed...no, he wanted, to wake up and see Harry, to speak to him, to try and work out what was going on. They needed to figure out what they were. When they'd embraced last night on his doorstep, it had felt wonderful, scary, but wonderful. Having Harry pressed against him, feeling him close, felt a lot like love.

Steeling himself and concentrating on the memory of how Harry had looked at him last night, he pushed away the doubts and fears for now and used every ounce of the performer in him to sound casual and calm.'Morning Hazza, did you sleep ok?'

Harry looked over and smiled a genuine, easy smile, not saying a word.

And more than anything Louis was surprised how natural that sounded, and how good it had felt to say it. How good it would feel to wake up to Harry every morning.

….

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence, alternating between not looking at each other at all and holding each other's gaze, fond, for too long. Both aware that this had the potential to be amazing or go horribly wrong; both worked hard to try to ease the tension that was building.

Louis looked up, and without thinking, heard himself say 'You look like you could sleep for days and it still wouldn't be enough.' Seeing the hurt look flash across Harry's face for just a second, he kicked himself and tried to make up for it, 'Why don't we watch a DVD, we don't need to be anywhere today. You'd be doing me a favour, you know I hate my own company.'

Harry agreed to the stalling tactic. They decided on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang both stating, in all seriousness, that it was a modern great and not appreciated enough.

Can we have snacks? And nothing healthy please', Harry asked. Seconds later, they were settled on the sofa with bowls of popcorn and pretzels between them.

'Oh my god, you're not serious...', Louis was nearly in tears, laughing so hard, '...stop hiding, he's not that scary!'

Harry was wide-eyed and peering through his fingers, whispering 'What are you talking about, he's terrifying! Look at him!'.

Even after years of knowing him, Louis loved finding out random facts about Harry, and knowing that he was outright terrified of the Child Snatcher was just another thing to add to the list of things that made him who he was.

They carried on watching the film, in peaceful silence. Or more precisely, Louis carried on watching the film, humming along quietly to the songs. Harry snored along, having fallen asleep with his hands still hiding his face from the terror that was the Child Snatcher.

Louis found himself watching Harry sleep peacefully, still jet lagged it would seem. And then it was warm, and so comfortable, the sugar rush from the snacks wearing off fast. And he whispered to himself, 'I'll just close my eyes for a minute.'

….

When Louis woke up he couldn't move. There was something heavy on him, and it was squeezing him tight. Taking a few seconds to remember, Louis found himself at peace with the situation, of Harry sleeping and holding him tightly. He remained still, smiling, eyes still closed and soaking the feeling up, savouring it.

Drifting back to sleep, he snuggled in and enjoyed it, cherishing the weight, secretly worried that this might be the last time he'd experience it. Everything was going to be so complicated.

He frowned, trying to push that thought to the back of his mind. Harry shifted and groaned, as Louis felt him exhale warmly, waking up. Harry waking, all they could do was stare into each other's eyes; there was nowhere else to look. Their lips were so close they could feel each other's breath warm against their skin.

Hi', Harry whispered into Louis' mouth. Louis just smiled and enjoyed the feeling of accidental closeness.

Still not moving, and looking at him sleepily, but also sounding worried, Harry whispered, so quietly Louis thought he'd imagined it, 'Can I stay in your suite tonight? Just on the sofa? I just want to be near you.'

'Of course, I'd love it if you stayed.' Louis heard himself saying as they moved closer.

And without really realising it their lips met.