Archive of Our Own

Sunlight shining in through the overly large windows gave the pale walls of the master bedroom a golden glow every morning. Louis was constantly begging Harry to get blackout curtains. The man always argued, insisting that morning light was peaceful and set a good mood for the rest of the day. Louis would never see it that way, frankly. The light just hurt his eyes. 

Tan arms wound around Louis’ waist and he relaxed into the mattress a little more, eyes still shut to block out the unwelcome brightness. He hummed contentedly.

“If you play hooky today, I’ll buy you three new records.”

Louis’ eyes snapped open and he wriggled free of the arms in a second, flinging the white comforter away and repressing a shiver as the cool air of early morning hit his skin.

“Heyyy.”

Louis grabbed his white long sleeve off of the floor and shrugged it on, fastening the tiny buttons quickly with nimble fingers. When he was done he pulled a green and brown sweater over his head and made sure the collar of the button-up was laying out properly before looking back at the man still curled up in his massive bed, who appeared to be fast asleep. Louis knew better though, so he started his stern lecture anyway, one he had given before.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, one, I will never play hooky from my job, I love my job, and I’m lucky to have it —”

“Baby, I know —”

Louis bristled at the pet name. He didn’t like Harry using words like that for him unless they were in the middle of having sex. When he was blissed out and loose-limbed it was easy to ignore the tenderness he almost believed he heard in Harry’s words.

“ — and two,” Louis continued, pretending to ignore Harry’s interjection, “I’ve also told you a thousand times to stop trying to spend money on me. You cannot buy me, Harold, I don’t want gifts and trips and extravagance from you. That’s not why I’m here.”

Harry sat up, bare chested and fluffy haired, a vision on his all white bed. “Honey, please, three records is hardly an extravagant gift. And I wasn’t being serious, you know that. I know you won’t stay. I just want you to. And I want you to know how much I want you here with me, even when I know you’re going to leave.”

Louis pulled his jeans on and buttoned them, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. His cheeks were slightly warm from hearing such sentiment, but he’d be damned if he let Harry see it and be pleased with himself.

“Well…that’s…good. Okay. As long as we’re on the same page.”

After fussing with his sleeves and smoothing down his bed head, he looked up to see Harry already gazing at him with a soft look on his face.

“You’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

Louis huffed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, shoving it in his back pocket. He unplugged the phone charger from the wall but left it where it was. It was one that Harry had bought specifically for Louis to use when he stayed over after he’d forgotten to bring his own a couple of times. Harry was always trying to make little things like that easier for Louis. He was a thoughtful man.

That didn’t stop Louis from shooting a glare at him though. “You get too much joy out of making me flustered, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Harry scooted over to the edge of the bed and swung his legs down, feet landing on the hardwood floor. He reached for Louis’ wrists. “That’s the word for it, so that’s what I’ll call it,” he teased.

Harry’s thumbs rubbing at Louis’ skin was instantly soothing. So was his perfect smile brightening up the room even more than the god awful sunlight.

“I’ll admit to nothing,” Louis replied, smiling back a little, helpless to hide his own affection. 

“You’d think that, being a professor who chose to have morning classes as part of his schedule, you’d actually be more of a morning person.”

Louis chose to ignore that comment and leaned down to press a kiss to Harry’s mouth. “Thank you for letting me vent last night. I know that’s probably not what you had in mind when you wanted to make a nice dinner for me and I really appreciate it.”

Harry pulled Louis in, hugging him tightly. “Don’t have to thank me. I want to be here for you when you need someone. It’s not a chore.”

Louis turned his face down into Harry’s curls, smiling and breathing in the flowery scent of his hair. “Thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Louis sighed and stepped back. “I’ll see myself out. Go back to sleep, I’ll text you later.”

“Alright. Take breakfast with you though, please.” 

Louis took in the gorgeous color of Harry’s lips. He was an expert on color, after all, and would describe the shade as ‘tulip pink’. They were irresistible and he had to press his own eager mouth against them again. He mumbled out an “okay” in agreement to whatever Harry had been saying. Louis’ mind was very much elsewhere. He caressed the other man’s jaw, thumb rubbing the light facial hair dotting his skin, contemplating how he could use that color in a future palette, then had to kiss him just one more time before pulling himself away and heading out.

He grabbed an unpeeled orange and a strawberry danish from the kitchen and locked the front door with the house key he’d been presented with months ago as he left.

⋆✶⋆

Being a painting professor was everything Louis had dreamed of when he was a bright eyed college student imagining how it would be to run his own lessons one day. 

Yes, there were students who didn’t put in the effort or were too stubborn to let go of their own ideals. Yes, there were also students who argued vehemently about grading. Yes, the coffee on campus was pitiful and the giant studios were drafty and the money devoted to the arts was merely pennies compared to the money spent elsewhere in the school. It wasn’t that none of that mattered, it did matter, but when he looked at the joy teaching his craft brought to him, there was nothing he’d rather have been doing. His job was his life, his greatest pride, and he loved it with all he had.

That being said, there were still moments when he wanted to tear his hair out a little bit. 

“Is this…Harry Styles?”

His student glowed and practically swooned in her seat, nodding vehemently as she gazed at her pencil sketch of an undeniably familiar face on her canvas. “Yeah. He’s perfect for painting, don’t you think?”

Louis rolled his lips together, begging himself for patience. “I suppose so, but Bethany, the assignment was to paint someone in your life. Your personal life. Like a relative or friend.”

“Harry is very personal to me though!”

Louis’ eye twitched. “You were also supposed to stage the photo yourself with a special component to it. Like dramatic lighting or loud makeup or complex scenery. I was pretty loose with the qualifications, but this doesn’t meet the assignment at all.” 

Bethany shot a glare at him for a moment before grabbing her eraser and harshly rubbing it on the canvas. 

Loui sighed. “If you want to leave the sketch and paint Harry on your own time, we have a few spare canvases in the storage closet.” 

The young woman looked slightly appeased and got up from her seat to grab a new canvas. Louis resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes. Harry was going to be so annoyingly amused when he told him about it later. 

“Alright, I think I’ve looked over everyone’s subject matter! Did I miss anyone?” The classroom was silent. “Good. I’ll let you all just focus on getting started now, I’ll walk around again in thirty minutes. Let me know if you need anything. Don’t forget what we talked about! Turn your drawings upside down to double check proportions. Edit your photos if you need to. Don’t start painting until you’ve shown the final drawing to me…what else? Oh! Make sure your photos’ width and height are similar to that of your canvas! Crop if you need to.”

Louis probably could’ve kept going but he had to stop nagging at some point, so he shuffled off to the desk in the corner of the room and plopped down in the chair. He had a couple students taking the class from home, which he didn’t advise but allowed anyway, and set to work replying to emails from both of them and looking over the photos they had sent. He was pleased with both of their efforts when staging the photos and approved them immediately.

“Professor?”

Louis’ head popped up over the computer screen. “Yes, dear?”

The student in front of him, Mac, brushed their hair away from their face and fiddled with their hands, clearly nervous. “I was wondering…what do you do when you’re struggling with painting? When nothing seems to be going well and you have to keep starting over, and even when you complete a work you’re just not happy with it? How do you get your groove back?”

Louis blinked. 

It wasn’t a question he’d never been asked in his years of teaching, but it was a battle he was currently fighting himself, with little success in overcoming it.

Aside from teaching, Louis also had an art studio in his home that was filled with paintings he was proud of, and paintings he wanted to submit to museums, or sell, or try to have featured in a magazine or two. He hadn’t gotten around to any of that, and on top of that, there was an ever-growing stack of “works in progress” that he wasn’t ready to admit to himself he was going to toss. 

As of late, whenever he’d pick up his sketch pad or a paintbrush he wasn’t confident in what he came up with. The angles of his lines were always off, the perspectives were hard to nail down, and sometimes his hand just wouldn’t cooperate with his brain. Actually applying paint to a canvas had never been so nerve-inducing for him before. He hadn’t gotten anywhere close to finishing a painting in weeks and weeks, and it was getting to him, grating at his artistic soul. 

In the past he always had words of encouragement and gentle advice fly out of his mouth with ease when asked something like that, he’d never had to think about it too hard before, but this time he was fully stuck.

“Well…looking at other people’s work you find inspiring is certainly a place to start,” he uttered weakly. The student nodded slightly. He sighed. “There isn’t really a perfect way to get a groove back, but it will come back. I would say to take a short break from painting and come back to it in a few days or even a couple weeks if you’re truly burnt out, but you can’t do that right now, and I know that’s frustrating. I guess my best advice would be…stick to what you know. You, specifically, are very good at creating colorful paintings full of value and texture. Try to just have fun being creative with those things you’re already good at and don’t worry about making the painting flawless, alright?”

They nodded again. “Alright. Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis watched them return to their seat and frowned to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“That sounded like pretty good advice.”

Louis huffed and swiveled around, meeting the eyes of a coworker who stood in his doorway. “It was shit.”

Helene laughed. “I think that’s a tad harsh. You were right, there is no perfect answer. But he has assignments, so he’ll have to do what he has to do. At least you gave him some direction.”

“They. Mac goes by ‘they,’” Louis corrected her.

“Apologies, I don’t have Mac in any classes, I didn’t know. I suppose I shouldn’t assume though.”

Louis smiled. “S’alright. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Helene Hørlyck unofficially ran the art department of their university. She was patient, supportive, and full of wisdom on how to get students to believe in their art and take risks when developing their skills. No one was as dedicated as she was to helping the art professors be the most successful teachers they could possibly be and everyone was endlessly grateful for her presence in the school.

More than that though, she didn’t get defensive when someone helped her be more mindful in the modern day and age. There were other professors her age at the university who were stubborn and ignorant and chose to remain that way, whereas she was understanding and just wanted to make everyone feel as happy and accepted as possible.

She was an all-around asset to the school and a gem to work with. 

“You thought I wouldn’t notice that you just changed your sweater and are wearing the exact same outfit from yesterday, didn’t you?”

It was just bad luck on Louis’ part that he had a special bond with her, which meant that on top of being so helpful, she was also a huge pain in his ass.

“No, I simply didn’t care if you noticed,” Louis replied coolly.

Helene huffed and smacked his thigh with the folder in her hand as she walked around the desk to sit across from him. “Little shit. Please tell me it’s because you were with your boyfriend and you didn’t fall asleep in your studio and wake up disoriented and running late again.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, but I didn’t fall asleep in the studio either.” Louis held back a grin. He knew how much it annoyed her when he was deliberately difficult.

“You were with Harry, then, yes?” she demanded, not to be thrown off track. 

Louis really didn’t have anything to be doing at his desk anymore with the online students already taken care of, but he decided to pretend he was busy anyway and rifled through a desk drawer. “Yep, I was.”

“And you don’t have a bunch of clothes at his place yet?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Keeping a few changes of clothes at his house is too serious, so coming to class in the same outfit from the day before at least once a week is the more logical move… right ,” she mused.

Louis shut the drawer and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, smiling pleasantly. “How can I help you, Helene?”

“I’ve had a boring day, so I’d like to hear about your rockstar non-boyfriend, please.“

Louis laughed loudly. Helene might’ve been nearing sixty, but she was an unapologetic gossip with her friends, as she probably was in her youth too.

“He’s not a rockstar, he sings mostly pop stuff, I think.”

“You don’t listen to his music?” she quirked a brow at him.

“Of course I do! I just don’t know how the classifications of music work. They seem pretty complex. Did you know there’s over, like, a thousand genres of music? There’s one called math rock, which is funny, though I have no idea if it actually has anything to do with mathematics. I should find out though, I’ve always wondered…”

“Believe it or not, I didn’t stop in here to talk about music,” Helene said impatiently, tapping her fingers on the desk. “What unbearably sweet things did you and your non-boyfriend do last night?”

Louis relented his front of distraction. “Not much. I got there a little late because I was working on a piece I’ve been struggling with. He made us tartiflette, which was exquisite, and then listened to me ramble about my unimportant artistic woes, and then he rubbed my shoulders and back for me and we got into bed and fell asleep watching a movie.”

Helene smiled, the wrinkles by her eyes and mouth flattering her face. “That sounds lovely. And you didn’t even fool around? Isn’t that the whole point of spending the night with a friend with benefits?”

“We’re not that, we’re just…we’re just friends.”

“Who sleep together. Literally and figuratively.”

“Yes.”

“How is that not being friends with benefits?”

Louis huffed. “Keep your voice down, please. I do have a class going on, if you didn’t notice. And I don’t know, but that sounds so…immature and sleazy, and that’s not what we have.”

Helene leaned closer and aggressively whispered at him, “Because you also have romance and meaningful feelings for each other and everything a real relationship has, sans the label.”

Louis got up from his chair and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her into the hallway. He shut the door softly and turned to his nosy colleague.

“Why are you pressing me about this?”

“Let me ask you this, how would you feel if Harry had another ‘friend’ like you? Or ended things with you to actually date someone who will admit they’re dating him?” 

“Trust me, I’m well aware I’d be upset, I’m not in denial about that,” Louis replied, frustrated, but somehow managing to keep from snapping at her. “But what do you want me to do? He’s famous, Helene. Very famous. The kind of famous that has worldwide arena tours and stands in for talk show hosts and has millions and millions of fans. People get tattoos of him! For Christ’s sake, a student is in there making goo-goo eyes at her own drawing of him right now.”

“What’s your point?” Helene asked dully.

“My point is I want a real relationship. I want someone who is going to be here. Here for my problems and here to spend the good days with, to make them even better. I want someone here to build something real with and someone I can rely on to always have time for me. He’s so huge and he’s so busy, I’m not equipped for that kind of relationship.”

Helene surveyed his face for a moment and then sighed lightly. “I suppose you have a point. Just seems like a shame to not even try.”

Louis shrugged. “I know how it would go and I’d lose his friendship in the end. I’m happy the way things are.”

“I guess you are,” Helene resigned. 

Louis spoke with her for a couple more minutes about an upcoming guest speaker who’d be giving a talk on how to have a successful career in art for any students interested, which had been the original reason for her visit to his class before she’d sidetracked herself. When they had finished and he’d accepted a small stack of flyers to hand out, he re-entered his classroom. 

Bethany had her drawing of Harry sitting on the floor, propped up against the leg of the table. Louis made sure no one was looking and then stuck his tongue out at it.

⋆✶⋆

Letting Harry come over had been a mistake. 

They’d discussed it a couple nights before when Louis had been rambling about his aggravation with painting — Harry coming over and just accompanying him while he worked to try to keep the pressure level low. It had been Harry’s idea, of course.

The problem was now that he was here, Louis didn’t want to paint, not that Harry was letting him focus all that much anyway.

“Baby, I can’t believe you did all of these! I mean, I’ve seen your work before, but holy shit!”

Louis couldn’t help it, he had to giggle a little. 

“Thank you, your artistic critique is extremely valuable.”

Harry ignored him and picked up another painting, grinning at it. “These should not just be sitting in this room collecting dust, you need to show these off. Let me make you an Instagram account, please.”

“I already have an Insta,” Louis dismissed.

Harry gave him a look. “You’ve posted three pictures and you’re not even in any of them. Let me make you an Instagram for your art! You won’t even have to run it, I’ll do it for you. You might have to take the pictures for me on occasion, but I’d want you to be sending me pics of your artwork when I’m not around anyway.”

Louis chuckled fondly and returned to his sketch. He was just doodling little details of Harry all over the page — his hand, his rose tattoo, his jawline, his eyebrows, his checkered Vans. 

Fingers on Louis’ scalp made him jump and look up.

“I’m serious,” Harry spoke, looking at him unwaveringly. 

“About what?”

Harry rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, but he was smiling, dimples popping out. “Why is he so frustrating?” He looked back down at Louis and scratched at the nape of his neck. “Let me make an Instagram to show off your art.”

Louis swallowed. “Would people know you’re the one running it?” 

“No, it’d be all for you. Not about me at all.”

Louis cocked his head to the side. “And you wouldn’t ask any friends of yours with big followings to follow the account? Or promote it in any way?”

“Nope,” Harry assured him, popping the ‘p’ sound.

Louis’ lips set into a straight line as he thought it over. Ultimately, he caved, telling the other man, “Fine. But if your captions are too cheesy I’ll report the account and say you were stealing my art.”

Harry laughed and gripped Louis’ chin. “Deal.” He smacked a kiss to Louis’ cheek, then headed over to the futon and laid down to tap away at his phone. Louis pretended he didn’t know what Harry was immediately getting to work on.

A sketch of Harry’s sparrow tattoos somehow ended up being transferred onto a canvas and somehow Harry ended up shirtless and a few reference pictures were taken and two hours later Louis was well on his way to finishing a painting of Harry’s torso and shoulders. He had no idea how it had happened. 

It was just, Harry was so beautiful. His pectorals were shapely and the sparse of hair between them was soft and attractive. His necklace that held two pendants, a weathered cross and a phallic banana, was flattering on him and interesting to look at. His nipples were dark and his skin smooth. His tattoos were literally pieces of art on his flesh and so satisfying for Louis to recreate. The slight curve to his hips and subtle shadow of his abs added to the piece exponentially. He was a lovely subject for a painting.

Louis sat up straight and threw his paintbrush down with a clatter. He put his fists over his eyes and groaned.

Harry looked up from the futon, shirt back on and phone in hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I just realized I’m proving Bethany right,” Louis muttered.

“Who?”

“The girl from class I told you about, the girl who wanted to paint you for her personal portrait assignment,” Louis explained, waving an impatient hand at him. “She said you were perfect for painting and I was so annoyed, but now look at me!”

Harry laughed, loud and joyous, stomach shaking with it. 

“Oh, piss off,” Louis grumbled, crossing his arms. “You’re so vain. You probably think this painting is about you.”

“Don’t you, don’t you?” Harry sang, picking up on the song reference. He laughed a little more and then asked, “So this painting is not about me then?”

“No. It’s about human anatomy and the beauty of simplicity and the irony of painting a tattoo. It’s not about you at all,” Louis insisted.

Harry hummed, one arm thrown behind his head carelessly and the other clutching his phone in front of his face once more. “I see. Well, either way, I was right, my being here was helpful.”

“I suppose so,” Louis drawled. “I really prefer staying at your place though, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

“Tomorrow night then? If you miss it so much?”

“Yes, please."

Louis returned to his painting and enjoyed the peaceful feeling of creating a successful piece of art. Harry stayed put on the futon the whole time and just let him have his bliss. It was a lovely moment to share.

⋆✶⋆

Some nights, on ones he didn’t spend with Harry, Louis went for long drives in his car. He liked the emptier streets and the quiet of the dark. 

It wasn’t uncommon for him to cry a little during these drives. He’d listen to emotional music and let himself feel, get it all out, and then he’d return home feeling loose and calm. 

Tonight, though, tonight he had to pull over. His tears were becoming too much for him to see clearly. One of Harry’s songs was playing, a tender and slow number, and the emotion in his chest was damn near crushing. He let out a ragged breath and wiped his eyes for the dozenth time. 

How could he let Harry go one day? How could he pretend it wouldn’t be like losing a limb to break their connection, whether they stayed friends or not?

Past boyfriends had never treated Louis the way Harry did. They never understood him, or listened to him and showed they cared when they couldn’t understand, the way Harry did. They didn’t make him feel so safe and beloved the way Harry did.

A sob ripped up Louis’ throat and the sound of it was heartbreaking to his own ears. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Why couldn’t he just have Harry? Could he? If he tried…could they be each others’ and have it work out?

He sat and pondered it, going in endless circles of what if’s, and his tears refused to slow. He didn’t want to go home and be alone, and there was only one person whose presence could comfort him at that moment. 

He repeatedly told himself it was stupid to do so, that he was fine and just needed to go sleep it off, but he pressed “call” on the contact he desperately wanted to hear from anyway. 

“Hello?”

Louis let out a slow breath at the sound of Harry’s deep rasp. “Hi.”

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Louis made a distressed sound. Of course Harry could already tell he was upset, just from one word. “Can I come over? I won’t keep you up, I just don’t want to be alone right now…and you make me feel better.”

“Of course you can. And don’t worry about keeping me up, you can keep me up any night of the year.”

“Thank you,” Louis whispered. “You’re so good to me, a-and I don’t take it for granted, I want you to know. Thank you.”

It was quiet for a moment and then Harry said, “Please come now, baby, I need to hold you. Drive safely though.”

Louis sniffed into his sweatshirt sleeve. “Okay. Be there soon.”

He settled enough on the drive over to stop the stream of tears running down his cheeks, but his nose dripped relentlessly, grossly. He was almost surprised when he pulled into Harry’s driveway and parked in front of the house — he’d been operating the car with his brain on autopilot. The front door opened as Louis turned his engine off and as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle he was engulfed in a tight hug.

“Hi,” Louis murmured, tucking his face into Harry’s neck. Harry squeezed him.

“You’re shaking, let’s get inside, okay?” Harry guided him in with an arm around his shoulders. “Do you want to sit in the living room and talk?”

Louis shook his head. “I want to brush my teeth and get into bed.”

“Let’s go then.”

After his teeth were cleaned Louis curled up under the comforter straight away, not bothering to get out of his sweatshirt and track pants. Harry slid in a moment later with just his boxers on and Louis nearly threw himself at the man’s chest.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Louis shook his head. “No. Not yet. I don’t want to get all worked up again. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Harry’s large hand ran soothingly up and down Louis’ back.

“How was your day?” Louis asked, settling into their embrace. 

“It was boring. Just had a meeting with my team and a long talk about what I’ll be doing for the next year or so that was unnecessarily dragged out for ages, without any agreements being made. Mostly I just missed you.”

Tears welled up in Louis’ eyes again and he fought to keep them from slipping out. Another sob was burning in his throat, but he refused to let it out. Eventually he was able to take a quiet, slow breath, and he uttered, “Oh...I missed you too.” His heart ached and throbbed.

“Do you want to talk about other things? Or turn on the TV?” 

Louis loved feeling Harry’s chest move when he spoke, but at that moment it just made him want the man that much more, even though he was already there in his arms. 

“I think I just want to go to sleep. You don’t have to stay with me though, if you’re not tired,” Louis said quietly.

“I’m plenty tired. Besides, I always want to hold you more than anything else.” 

Louis focused on the hand running over him and let it calm his mind for the time being. 

“Want to hold you too,” he sighed before drifting away.

Harry kept rubbing his back long after he had fallen asleep. 

⋆✶⋆

The thing about getting feelings out, for Louis, at least, was that moment of relief afterward. He could only describe it as misleading. 

After crying it out and talking about his problems, or even not talking about them but at least acknowledging them, he always felt better. It was usually the morning after, since most of his deepest feelings were felt at night, and he usually felt much calmer and, a lot of the time, foolish. He’d wake up and remember the things he had said or done or thought in the heat of the moment and he’d feel overdramatic for the tears and would mentally slap himself on the wrist for letting his emotions run away like that. 

That was how he felt the morning after turning up at Harry’s unexpectedly. Harry had woken him up with gentle touches and soft kisses pressed to his cheeks and quietly asked how he was feeling. Louis had answered honestly: good. He felt good. He turned pink at the memory of clinging to Harry and being too upset to get the words out he wanted to say. He apologized for worrying Harry, to which the man had responded with assurances that Louis had not inconvenienced him in the slightest. They spent the rest of the day cuddling and cooking and making each other laugh, and later at night they had sex — the kind of sex that suggested there was nothing in the world to care about more than exchanging mind-melting orgasms. 

It took four days for the sorrow and dread to set back in fully. One moment Louis was thinking about what he had to do the following morning at the college and the next moment his chest felt like an empty cavern, his self doubt and sadness having washed through him and left him bare inside.

The tears wouldn’t come then. Nothing would come. It was almost scary how numb he felt, but that numbness was too great for him to even feel properly concerned. What did it matter anyway if he became empty inside, in the grand scheme of things?

A couple more days passed in a gray haze. Helene noticed, she always noticed, but Louis brushed her off, assuring her that he was fine. In reality though, he went places without really looking at them. He held conversations without thinking much about them. Life simply passed by and he was pulled along with it.

On Friday evening he was pulled along all the way to dinner at his neighbor’s house. The Lightenings had taken a vacation over a month ago and Louis had taken care of their plants and mail for them while they were gone. Mrs. Lightening, Patricia, had insisted they make Louis dinner one night as a thank you, but they were a pretty busy couple and hadn’t scheduled it until recently. Louis considered canceling because of his morose state but figured he might as well get it over with instead. He didn’t want to be rude, and lord knew he could use a little distraction.

The Lightenings’ home was cozy. They had a stone fireplace and a quilt-covered rocking chair that stole the attention away from their mismatched dark green couch and deep blue settee. The walls were decorated with paintings that Louis guessed came from farmer’s markets he knew the couple frequented. They also had shelves up on the walls all over the house that were donned with beautiful art pieces and silly knick knacks alike. The kitchen had fresh flowers in a glass vase on the island countertop and a delicious scent was wafting from the oven. 

“I hope you don’t mind the clutter, we’ve been going through the attic and getting rid of some things,” Patricia said, tugging on her oven mitts.

Louis could only chuckle. If they thought the few dusty boxes stacked in the corner of the living room was clutter they should really visit a family’s home that had young children. Louis grew up with real clutter, and for a moment he missed it. 

They sat at the dining table with wine, water, and full plates of roast, potatoes, and greens. There was a basket of warm rolls between them and a napkin holder in the shape of a chicken. It made Louis smile. 

“When did the two of you meet?” Louis inquired before taking a long sip of his water. He wasn’t one for wine really, he preferred his drinks strong and darkly colored, but he took polite sips every now and then followed by big gulps of water to wash the aftertaste away. 

Patricia grinned. “We went to high school together.”

Louis’ eyebrows raised. “Really? Wow. You’ve known each other for ages then.”

The couple laughed and Patricia swatted lightly at Louis’ arm. “I hope that is not you calling us old, mister.”

Louis giggled. “Of course not.” He couldn’t help but feel comforted in their presence. They were a truly lovely pair, the love and contentment between them was obvious from the sappy looks on their faces and the care they put into their shared home. It made Louis feel settled. “Have you been together all this time then?”

“Oh, no, we had a few bumps along the way,” Patricia replied.

Charlie chuckled. “And by ‘bumps’ she means we broke up twice before.”

That deeply surprised Louis. He was no stranger to rocky relationships, both his own and his loved ones’, but the Lightenings seemed so perfectly matched. He couldn’t imagine them splitting. “Really? How come, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all,” Patricia assured him with a mischievous look in her eye. “I look forward to any opportunity to say what a dumb ass Charlie was.”

“I’m sorry, whose fault was it that we broke up the first time, exactly?” Charlie challenged her, teasing and fond.

“I wasn’t being a dumb ass though,” Patricia denied, turning to look at Louis. “We didn’t start dating until our senior year of high school, and we hadn’t been together long before we were going off to college on opposite ends of the country. It was sensible to break it off.”

Louis nodded. “I mean, yeah, that sounds fair enough.”

“We reconnected during grad school when we wound up on the same campus, amazingly. It didn’t take long for us to start seeing one another again, much more seriously than before,” Patricia continued, reaching out to take her husband’s hand. “We were one of those maddeningly gooey couples, always attached at the hip. And if we weren’t laughing together we were probably making out.”

Louis could just picture a younger Patricia and Charlie in college, oblivious to everyone around them as they whispered sweetly to one another and exchanged lingering kisses. “That doesn’t sound much different from now.”

Patricia giggled happily. “Tell him about breaking my heart then, Charles.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. “I had it in my head that because she ended things so easily the first time that she wasn’t in it for the long haul the second time. So, when we graduated I broke up with her because I already had a job lined up a couple hours away and would be moving for it.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her first? If you were in love, why did you just give up?” Louis demanded in disbelief, appalled by Charlie’s childish behavior.

“I couldn’t tell you,” the man replied, shaking his head. “I ended things and Patricia gave me hell for it. She yelled and threw things and called me names that would’ve made her mother faint.”

“You deserved it,” Louis and Patricia said at the same time, then they fell into laughter together.

“So how did it get fixed then?” he asked.

“Patricia came around the day I was moving out of my apartment,” Charlie replied, setting his wife up to finish the story. 

“I told him that he was an idiot for not talking to me about his new job and for not saying how he really felt. I made sure he knew that I was still very angry with him, but also that I wasn’t going to let him just slip away from me without a fight,” Patricia said proudly. 

“And I am thankful for it every day,” Charlie replied, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. 

Louis swallowed. “Wow.”

“So the second breakup lasted a grand total of eight days,” Patricia said, returning her attention to her plate of food.

“Even though he was the one who broke your heart, you still went to get him back,” Louis stated, expressing his awe more than asking a question.

Patricia smiled at him. “I did. I knew how he felt. I knew he loved me even though he’d never said the words explicitly. He was so attentive and kind to me, always, and the way he looked at me and touched me…there was no doubt in my mind he felt exactly how I did. And I knew he had some dumb ideas in his head that I needed to set straight. So I pushed aside my pride and, somehow, my pettiness, and I got my man back.”

“Thank god I got smarter,” Charlie said, eyes crinkling with his smile. “I haven’t dared to loosen my hold on her since.”

Louis’ throat stung. It was quiet for a moment as they all continued eating. Louis blinked several times to ward off the tears trying to form in his eyes.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Louis looked up toward Patricia. “Yes, I’m fine. You’re just such a lovely couple. It’s…it’s nice.” His cheeks tingled with the rush of blood heating his skin.

“Do you have someone special in your life?” Charlie asked curiously. 

“Yes, but…” Louis sighed, looking down at the table. “I don’t know if we’re going to work out.”

Charlie gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

The couple didn’t pry, and Louis didn’t offer up any information. They moved on, talking of their vacation and recent television shows they’d been watching. Louis had effectively killed his own buzz and was counting down the minutes until he’d be back home. 

An hour and a half later he was at the door with a jacket on, sliding his shoes on his feet. Charlie hugged him and thanked him for coming over, saying they should do it again. Louis smiled and agreed.

Patricia moved in for a hug as well. She rubbed his back and gave him a squeeze. 

“Good luck with your special person, darling. If the right feelings are there, you can make it work. And if not, you can come have dinner with us every night until you find someone new.”

Louis chuckled, smiling sadly into her shoulder before letting go. “I’d like that, thank you. Have a good night, you two.”

Back home, Louis took out a sketch pad and doodled Charlie and Patricia smiling at one another, hands clasped together on the dining table and love in their eyes.

⋆✶⋆

Louis’ painting students were doing marvelously. They were a little over halfway through the semester and almost everyone was showing little improvements, or in some cases, a lot of improvement. He had many students he considered his favorites, for a whole multitude of reasons. 

Donovan was enthusiastic about every lesson, taking notes and listening intently before working on his paintings with gusto. Rachel was quiet and shy, but her paintings were loud and full of movement. Mac continued to struggle with their motivation and satisfaction in their own work, but Louis admired their determination and the effort they put into assignments despite those setbacks. Sam was funny and always trying to make Louis laugh. Even Bethany was doing well; she had stuck to assignment requirements ever since the personal portrait debacle and he liked that she wasn’t afraid of trying new things, like layering paint over and over to make her work textured and three-dimensional.

Nearly all of his students were his favorites, if he was being honest with himself. He loved being a professor, and even though his students would go on and pursue their own passions after finishing college, whether that included painting or not, and they’d forget about him eventually, he loved having them in his classroom dearly and felt immense pride in their work.

Louis’ phone vibrated in his pocket and pulled him away from his sentimental musings as he watched his last class of the day paint their hearts away.

A text from Harry on his screen read: Do you need this? I kinda wanna take it. 

Louis unlocked his phone and saw he had also sent a picture from Louis’ home studio. One of Harry’s fingers was in the shot, pointing at a small canvas on which Louis had depicted a cat sleeping in a bassinet like an infant. He snorted. Of course that was the painting Harry would pick out to claim.

You can have it. Hey, quick question, what’re you doing in my house?

Harry’s reply came not a moment later. I needed more pictures for your instagram account, of course. Keep up.

Louis couldn’t help but smile cheesily at his phone. Why did the most caring man on earth have to be an international superstar? He shook the thought away and focused on his class for the last forty minutes of the work day, then breezed through making sure the room was in order before hurrying home. 

The front door rattled from Louis slamming it too enthusiastically in his haste to get to Harry. He kicked his shoes off and dropped his thermos and keys on a cabinet in the mud room before rushing off to the studio — which was empty.

Louis frowned. Had Harry left? He definitely wasn’t in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom, he would’ve made his presence known as Louis had bypassed them. His car wasn’t in the driveway, but he often got dropped off after work things, which he didn’t usually drive to. There was no sign of the man lingering in his home though. Louis hadn’t thought Harry would just leave without so much as a kiss on the forehead at the very least. 

He headed for his bedroom to change into comfier clothes, feeling disappointed. He really could’ve used the comfort of Harry’s arms after a long day of working, though that was true any day at any time. Louis pushed his bedroom door open and promptly stopped in his tracks. 

Harry was there, standing near a window that overlooked the small garden out back, and he was very naked.

There were times when the sight of Harry’s body made Louis feel nearly deranged with lust. His heart rate spiked as his eyes slid down Harry’s strong arms and torso to his smooth thighs and thick cock hanging impressively below a patch of dark pubic hair. Harry looked like he was glowing goldenly with the dying light of the sunset behind him. His sharp jawline and darkly pink lips, his wide nose and artful brows, his intense gaze coming from a sea of green, all of it, all of him, drove Louis to levels of desire that had him contemplating getting on his hands and knees and crawling across the floor to offer himself up to the man as a meal. Any worries he’d had during the day, any doubts or niggling feelings that had been hurting his mind and heart, they all vanished in a second, replaced with something carnal and demanding. 

“Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to come to daddy?”

Louis blinked out of his lustful trance, then laughed softly. Harry grinned at him. 

“I was expecting to find you poking your nose through my studio still,” Louis said as he approached the nude menace, “Not strutting your naked butt all around my bedroom.”

Harry pulled him into an embrace, humming thoughtfully. “I was going to set up a nice bath with candles and music and oils for you, to decompress after your work day. You got back too fast, I couldn’t find where you keep the tealights.”

“You were going to set up tealights and music and oils and yourself in my tub?”

“Of course. I’m the best thing there is for decompression, don’t you know?” Harry asked in a low timbre. It sent chills through Louis.

Louis ran his fingertips up Harry’s pecs and over his collarbones with a light touch. “Why don’t you decompress me in here, and then when we’re done we’ll take that bath?” 

Harry nodded, leaning in to brush their noses together. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

Louis crushed his lips against Harry’s eagerly. He was practically aching for it already, ready to beg for Harry’s cock if that was what it took to get it inside of him as soon as possible. Harry wasted no time peeling Louis out of his top and pants, casting them aside harshly as if they had personally offended him. Louis stepped away and slipped himself out of his boxers before pushing his comforter onto the floor and sliding onto the mattress, laying on his back and stretching out, all skin and softness and sin.

“Baby, you look so sexy and so cute at the same time, I really can’t stand it,” Harry said, crawling onto the bed and over him. 

It was something he commented on often, Louis’ ability to look both dirty and innocent, or feminine and masculine, or confident and cautious. He always said Louis was an enigma, a complexity of a human being that he loved to learn about and admire.

Louis giggled and hiked a thigh up over Harry’s hip. He loved having the man like this. Nothing was left between them, just skin and tenderness and heat. It was breathtakingly perfect. 

“Are you going to take care of me?” Louis rasped out, brushing a curly lock away from Harry’s eyes. 

Harry playfully nipped at Louis’ fingers, causing him to jerk his hand away and let out a soft squeal. “Yes, kitten. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

Louis’ cheeks warmed at that word. Always. 

Their lips met again, moving together with hunger — deep and wet, drawing gasps from both of them as they devoured each other. Louis had never felt a kiss as intimate and filthy before he met Harry Styles. Kisses between them weren't just kisses. They were passion and ecstasy and care. He wanted to feel devotion in their kisses too, he could only dream of a day that he might. Sometimes he thought he could, but he begged himself not to sway his own mind until he heard the words fall from Harry’s lips with clarity. 

Even without those promises, he felt so delicate in Harry’s hold. He was protected and cherished in this man’s arms, and he didn’t know for how long he’d get to feel such allegiance, so he soaked up every second of it he got and kissed back as fervently as possible, rubbing his body against the stronger one he loved.

When they tangled up together like this it was impossible to tell himself he didn’t love Harry. There were no lies to be told when Louis’ heart was bursting in his chest with emotion, with boundless love. He loved the silly popstar, with his bony feet and bunny teeth and small, soft bum. He had a big heart and a strong soul and Louis loved him so wholly he could just break from it. Harry may not have realized it, but he held every piece of Louis in his hands at all times. He was Harry’s to love or destroy, to keep forever or toss aside like litter. It scared Louis, terrified him to his core, but that hadn’t been enough to make him run. Not yet, at least.

Harry pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheek, then jaw. He kissed down his neck, down his chest, across his ribs and around his belly button. 

“My Louis,” Harry murmured softly, giving his cock a few slow, firm tugs. 

Louis gasped and arched up, partially from the hand on him, and partially from the ownership of Harry’s words. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He wanted that. More than anything, he wanted to be Harry’s, and he wanted Harry to be his in return.

“Please,” Louis whispered breathily. He pulled his legs up so he could roll over onto his tummy without kicking the man and angled his ass up. “Open me up.”

Harry didn’t tease. He grabbed the lube from its place in the nightstand and got two fingers wet before sliding them inside of Louis, closing his eyes to appreciate the heavenly heat of the man he had just claimed to be his own. 

He spread his fingers and moved them back and forth, fucking Louis with his digits while widening his hole. “You are so pretty everywhere. I’m so lucky to be between your thighs.” He moved in to bite Louis’ cheek, just hard enough to mark him.

Louis reached back and added one of his own fingers to his hole, both men groaning quietly, Louis for the stretch and Harry for the sight. 

“Naughty kitten.”

A tear slipped onto Louis’ cheek. He pressed it into the fabric of the bedsheet and let it be soaked away. 

They worked together to spread Louis open. Harry ran his free hand up and down Louis’ thigh, asscheek, and back. He dragged his fingernails lightly up the bottom of one of Louis’ feet and chuckled when he received a gentle kick for his tickling. 

Louis nudged Harry’s fingers out of him and flipped back over, reaching for his lover. They kissed slowly, filling up the room with the slick sounds of their lips and tongues. Louis rutted up against Harry’s cock, earning a hiss in reply

“Come on. Remind your kitten how good you fuck him.” He rutted up against Harry’s cock again.

Louis’ heart was in his throat. He needed Harry to fill him how no one else was allowed to. He needed it to hold him together. 

Harry had Louis’ wrist pressed to his lips and he chuckled against the skin at Louis’ strategic choice of phrase. He touched a kiss there before guiding their hands down to his cock. Louis grasped his length and guided the head to his hole. Harry pushed his hips forward and pressed inside.

Louis’ hole was wet with lube, but not enough to keep Harry’s dry cock from burning a little. He loved to feel a little pain though and they both knew it. Harry sheathed himself fully inside and felt Louis spasm slightly around him. Pretty whines filled the room and Harry just listened for a moment, taking them in before pulling back out. He drizzled lube onto his hand and coated his cock in it, focusing on the beauty below him instead of the pleasurable feeling of his own palm. He tossed the bottle aside and pressed back in. 

Love you so much, Louis thought as Harry began thrusting into him. He moaned and threw his head back, chest inflated with emotion and heaving from the thorough fucking he was receiving. Never leave. Please, Harry, stay and love me.

Harry grunted into Louis’ neck as he snapped his hips, his balls smacking at Louis’ crack. He sucked on Louis’ skin and then bit the bruise, drawing a gasp from the overwhelmed man.

“God, Louis,” Harry groaned. 

Stay with me. Stay. Stay. Stay —

“Ah!” Louis gasped, body flinching from the sharp pleasure working up his spine. “Harder, harder…”

Harry put his palm firmly on the back of Louis’ thigh and pressed it upward, opening Louis up to him more, and obeyed Louis’ request. Sweat dripped down his face and chest as he thrusted roughly, grunting and gasping from his own effort. When Louis was getting close, face screwed up from pleasure and voice rasping with moans, he gripped Louis’ cock and stroked him quickly.

“Come on, baby,” Harry whispered, eyes trained on Louis’ face. 

It wasn’t long until Louis was choking on a gasp and coming over Harry’s fist, body seizing and then jerking. His core was on fire and he clenched around Harry, making him groan and throw his head back, damp curls flying around.

Harry’s gaze returned to Louis and it was so heavy and heated, he couldn’t bear to ask Harry to pull out and finish in his mouth like he’d been planning to. “Fuck, you’re the devil,” he whined, throwing an arm over his face. Harry laughed and began pulling out, but Louis scrabbled for his forearm and clenched tightly again, trying to keep him in. “Don’t. Fill me up. I know you love it when you get to.”

Harry’s eyes practically rolled back in his head as he groaned again. “ You’re the devil, kitten.” He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked on them, licking Louis’ come from his skin, keeping his thrusts hard and rhythmic all the while. He moaned around his digits and then smacked his lips, pupils dilated and mouth shiny. “Could bottle that up and sell it just for the taste alone.”

Louis huffed a laugh, body being shoved up the bed. He opened his mouth to make a smart-mouthed remark, but then Harry was coming and all thoughts fizzled in Louis’ brain as he watched the show. Harry’s jaw was dropped open, eyes squeezed shut, chest flushed and wet, abs tight and quivering. He spilled inside of Louis hotly, riding out his orgasm with a few final thrusts forward. 

When it was done he opened his eyes and they connected with Louis’, who was smiling softly at the man. Harry bit his lip and then leaned in to press kisses to Louis’ pouty mouth.

I love you, Louis thought again. Even the voice inside his head sounded desperate. He sighed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, keeping him close. They only stopped kissing when it got too uncomfortable for Harry to still be inside of Louis, then Harry pulled out and flopped back onto the mattress beside him, chest heaving as he panted. 

“Sex with you is always exhausting.”

Louis made an affronted noise and smacked a hand against Harry’s chest. “Fine, I won’t burden you with such exhausting tasks anymore.”

Harry grabbed Louis’ wrist and pulled him closer, rolling onto his side to tangle their bodies together. “It’s not a bad thing, sweetheart,” he said placatingly. “It’s just…more than just a physical act with you, isn’t it?”

It was a question, but he wasn’t really asking. 

Louis’ eyes shut tightly. “Yeah,” he agreed in a murmur. 

They laid together for a long while before getting up to change the bedsheet and wipe themselves off to finally get into the bath. Louis got out his tealights and set them on the ledge, small flames dancing romantically to the soft music. The oils smelled of vanilla and brown sugar and Harry’s embrace was gentle and kind. 

“You know what’s my favorite thing about being with you?” Harry asked quietly, cheek pressed to Louis’ temple.

Louis had his hands gripping Harry’s forearms, thumbs rubbing his skin in soothing strokes. “What?”

“It’s as easy as breathing.”

Louis blinked, heart rabbiting inside his chest. “It’s ironic that those words took my breath away,” he joked weakly. He didn’t know what else he was allowed to say. 

Harry chuckled and kissed Louis’ hairline. The bath water was hot and the room was serene, and Louis never wanted to leave the moment. 

⋆✶⋆

It was as though Louis’ chest had been carved open once and for all. 

Dua Lipa, Harry Styles, Megan Thee Stallion, and more! — The artists that will take the stage at the Grammy’s revealed at last: 

The headline had been burned into his brain via his phone screen. His brain itself had burned up shortly after. 

Louis didn’t cry. He ran. He’d never liked exercise outside of kicking a ball around or lazily skateboarding into town, but promptly after seeing the headline he had laced up his sneakers and taken off down the empty street.

No one was out so early in the morning. It was strange, disturbing the peace and serenity of morning time by racing down the road, panting like a wild dog, the hole in his chest leaking a trail of blood and mangled up love behind him. No one was there to witness his manic behavior, the look in his eye, or uncoordinated sprint, so he pushed himself harder, letting the pain in his lungs scald his throat. 

So the ending had finally been revealed.

Every unsaid promise, devotion, and longing, they all had added up and created the sum of Harry leaving. Returning to fame and glory. Putting Louis’ heart down on the ground and then trampling it as he waltzed away without a word. 

Louis couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t even blame himself at the moment. He was just Louis Tomlinson, just a failed painter teaching young adults about a skill he was no longer a master of. Of course he had never told the superstar his deepest feelings, they wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t have been able to keep him anyway. There was no one to blame. This was just how it was meant to be. 

Louis ran toward acceptance as hard as he could, but just like the horizon, it stayed impossibly out of reach. 

⋆✶⋆

Harry came into Louis’ apartment the way he always did: loudly. The door was whipped open and then slammed shut quickly, as if the man were being chased. His shoes thudded against the hardwood as he toed and kicked them off and his keys fell into a bowl with a noisy clatter. His steps were hard and his voice rang out in a timid boom, “Lou? Are you in the studio?”

Louis decided to disregard the unusual tone and called back, “Kitchen!” 

He was greeted with a soft peck of lips against his own and a squeeze to his forearm. “Hi, darling. What’re you making?”

Louis slapped a ball of dough down on the counter. “A so-called healthy pizza, because I know you’ll only eat one slice of it otherwise and rant about how delicious it was for a half hour to make up for it.”

Harry’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That’s sweet of you. What’s going on it?”

“Peppers, garlic, oregano, arugula, barely any cheese or sauce, light oil, some other stuff.” Louis shrugged, pretending to be very interested in brushing flour off of his black t-shirt. “You can go sit, it won’t take long for me to have it in the oven.”

Harry stepped past Louis and bumped their hips together as he went. He turned on the faucet and began soaping up his hands. “You hate chopping, love, let me help.”

Louis knew it was pointless to protest, so against his own wishes he let Harry grab a knife and a red pepper and get to work.

Louis pummeled the dough unnecessarily before spreading it out. He had wanted to get the pizza done before Harry got there, because he’d wanted to do something nice for the man. He’d had a hard time getting out of bed that morning though, and a hard time getting in the shower, and then a hard time stopping himself from scrolling aimlessly on various phone apps even though they weren’t entertaining him. Helene had called, but Louis had declined to answer, knowing she’d only try to make him talk about it all, and that wasn’t something he was willing to do. It was a miracle he’d even made the dough before Harry arrived, honestly, and that thought made him feel quite pathetic. 

“So…when are you — ” Louis’ voice came out in a whisper, so he started over at a louder decibel, “ — when are you heading off to Los Angeles?”

The peaceful little smile that had been on Harry’s face dropped off in a second. “Oh. You heard the news then?”

Louis exhaled amusedly. “I don’t know how I possibly couldn’t have, being a person with internet access, a television, and a radio in my car.”

Harry winced. “I figured you’d already heard, but I’d hoped…” 

Louis turned his head just enough to give him a quizzical look. “You hoped what?”

Harry shook his head. “I just hoped you hadn’t heard yet and I’d get to tell you myself. I knew it was a long shot though.”

Louis frowned. “Surely you were informed you would be performing at the Grammy Awards before this and you didn’t find out yesterday morning with the rest of the world,” he said, trying to sound teasing. 

“Of course,” Harry agreed, glancing at him from the corner of his eye while continuing to cut the pepper. “I just didn’t know the announcement was happening yet. Seems pretty early.”

“The award show is at the end of next month,” Louis said quietly. 

Harry was silent for a long moment before he cleared his throat and said, “Right, yeah…I’m leaving in nine days.”

Louis’ hands felt like they were going numb, the feeling spreading up his arms. He nodded. 

“Most of my band’s already out there, it wouldn’t be fair to ask them to come here just for rehearsals, I think,” Harry continued in a diplomatic tone. “And this way I can rehearse in a space the same size and set up as the stage I’ll be on. And I have to meet with the producers and techs and…honey, why're you crying?”

Louis turned his back to Harry, face immediately scrunching up as he stopped trying to hold back his tears. His hands went to his face, hiding himself. He felt far too exposed. 

Harry sat his knife down and placed a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before you heard the news. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I really thought I had more time."

Louis shook his head, a little sob escaping his throat. “You just told me nine days , Harry. You knew you were leaving soon and you hadn’t planned on saying anything.” 

“I did plan on telling you! It…it just snuck up on me,” Harry said quietly, tone full of regret. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Louis, who turned to tuck his wet face into Harry’s collarbones. “I’m sorry.”

Louis shook his head and hugged Harry tightly. “S’okay.”

“You don’t have to say that when it’s not okay. You can be mad,” Harry murmured.

Louis stepped back and sniffed, wiping at his nose with his wrist. “I’m not mad. I just…I wish it wasn’t so soon.”

Harry’s eyes were filled with their own sadness, lips turned down. “Me too.”

“I mean, I-I know you always said that…that once you go back to working you’re going to be busy all the time again. You-you’re gonna take off and I — ” Louis hiccuped another sob, getting worked up again. “I know it…it’ll probably be a long time before I see you again.”

Harry’s eyes turned glassy, the highest points of his cheeks tingeing pink. “After the Grammy’s I’ll have some meetings and things to take care of while I’m in L.A., and then I’m not sure where I’ll be after that. We haven’t nailed down my schedule just yet. But as soon as I can come back, I’ll be here. Hopefully it won’t be too long of a wait.”

Louis nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “You’ll have to wait to get my review of your Grammy performance in person. Better be sure to impress me, hm?” he teased, wanting to hide his still-open wounds as quickly as possible. 

Harry smiled half-heartedly. “Of course, Lou. Gonna get back here as quickly as possible for that review.”

Louis gave him a shaky, watery smile in return. “Good.”

He took another deep breath, determined not to fall apart any more than he already had. His time with Harry was limited, it always had been, but they were getting down to the wire now. He was going to make the most of all the time he had left with the man he loved.

“Enough slacking, Styles. You barely started chopping while I’ve already made the dough. You’re behind.”

Harry rolled his eyes fondly and planted a soft kiss on Louis’ forehead. He gave him one last quick squeeze before saying, “Sorry, sir,” and returning to the peppers.

⋆✶⋆

The first week after Harry left went by relatively smoothly. They texted every day, they made the same kind of dumb jokes with each other they usually did, they shared about what they’d done with their days and how tired they both were, and most of all they pretended everything was normal.

Louis couldn’t stop replaying their goodbye in his head when trying to sleep at night. It popped up at any moment that his mind wasn’t actively focused on something too. It was wearing down his mental state quickly, sucking the life from him. 

Harry had looked at him with sorrowful eyes, lashes wet. He had a hickey on the curve of his neck that Louis had made the night before, and then re-purpled that morning in between desperate moans and wild pants while being guided to bounce harshly on Harry’s cock. His bum and thighs were sore, but they couldn’t compare to the way his heart was tortured by the look on Harry’s face. 

Louis had thrown his arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. “I’m so proud of you, Harry. You’re going to be amazing, I can’t wait to see it.”

Harry had held him for so long he’d almost started to hope he’d never let go. 

He had though, and Louis was left always feeling cold.

⋆✶⋆

“I have this friend, he loves getting acupuncture done and having his feet professionally rubbed. Like, really dug into.”

Not much could pull a strong reaction out of Louis anymore, but at that he did turn and look at Helene with a baffled expression. “Okay?”

She pulled her blonde hair back and clipped it up on top of her head in a messy tousle. “Do you want me to set you up a couple of appointments?”

Louis shook his head quickly, still baffled. “Helene, what in the goddamn hell are you talking about?”

Helene threw her head back and laughed, the boisterous sound startling Louis and making him flinch. “Sorry, sorry, my brain is all la-di-da-di-da today. I’m in my own little world,” she said, chuckling to herself. “What I mean is, my friend gets acupuncture and deep tissue foot rubs because he says they help relieve him of his anxiety and stress and they also just feel really lovely. Would you like to give it a try? I can set up the appointments for you. I bet he could hook you up with a little discount too.”

Louis gave her a weak smile and then returned his focus to the shelves of the storage room they were cleaning up. He’d been avoiding Helene for quite a while, but she’d finally cornered him a few days prior and asked for help cleaning up the art rooms. He couldn’t bear to let her tackle the mess all on her own just because he was afraid that she was going to try to open him up. She did too much for all of them in the department to deserve that. 

Even with the school’s low art budget they had somehow found a way to overcrowd the space. Most likely it was because artists had the bad habit of hanging on to old stuff “just in case I can use it in a piece one day.” He’d found a shoebox of unidentifiable dust earlier that could have easily been in there for a decade. It would’ve been amusing if Louis could have felt that much. 

“No, thanks, Helene,” he replied tonelessly. 

A hand dropped down on his shoulder and he turned to meet Helene’s firm gaze. “You need to do something, Louis.”

Louis shrugged her hand off of him. “Does it really matter? Whatever I do won’t fix it. All I can do is wait. Time heals and all that.”

“Time can’t heal what you don’t deal with,” she retorted. 

“What am I supposed to do? Drink myself into oblivion and sob myself into unconsciousness on the bathroom floor?”

There was a moment of silence and then Helene dryly said, “If you think that is dealing with your broken heart, then that’s giving me great insight about your psyche.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Louis asked irritably. 

“It means you don’t understand how to healthily deal with your emotions. Maybe you know when it comes to other people’s feelings, but when it comes to yourself, you’re clueless.”

Louis gaped at her. “I am not!” 

“From what I’ve seen, yes, my dear, you are. You can’t just be upset about things and wait for them not to matter anymore instead of handling those things. Maybe that works for minor setbacks, but the shit that matters? It’s not going away just because you pretend to ignore it. All it does is weigh you down.”

Louis felt frozen, not used to direct confrontation about his behavior. “And getting needles shoved in my skin and my feet tortured is supposed to make me all better, is it?” he challenged her when he had finally stopped buffering. 

“No, but it’s a start. I’m not a psychologist or a therapist, but I know that doing good things for yourself, healthy things, is a start,” she replied calmly. 

Louis scoffed and took a step away from her. “That’s stupid. I’d just be sad there, same as at home, except I’d be losing a wad of cash while I was at it.”

“It doesn’t have to be that! It can be whatever you want!” She sighed heavily and looked deeper into his eyes, imploring him to listen. “I want you to stop just merely existing, Louis. Do something until you feel something. You’ve got so much inside of you. Sadness, heartbreak, yes, and self-doubt and insecurity too, and under all of that and whatever else is holding you back, there’s this light in you. This shining, brilliant, bright light! You’re so full of love and tenderness and creativity underneath it all. There’s parts of you that you’ve forgotten, long before Harry ever showed up. You can’t hide from part of yourself and expect to be whole. Your past is part of you, your future is part of you, but sometimes it’s like all you see is the present and the emptiness around you.”

Louis stared at her, his esophagus closed up. He’d cried so much lately, but the tears currently on his face felt the heaviest of them all. 

“My sweet, sweet boy, I’ve seen you go through so much in all the years I’ve known you. I saw you when you were a freshman at this school yourself, do you remember?” Louis nodded. “You were this scrawny, shaggy-haired little pistol. You weren’t the best in my class and yet, somehow, you were leading the way. It amazed me. You stopped leading your life, my love. You let life lead you. And I know it’s scary, and I know it hurts, but listen to me. You are so much more than who you are being.”

Louis gasped and wiped his eyes, smearing tears down his cheeks.

“If you can’t make it work with Harry, then fine,” Helene continued, reaching forward to brush a few stray tears off of his cheek with a caring finger. “But if you let that take from who you are, then that would be such a great shame. It’s okay to hurt, but that hurt doesn’t mean you’re lesser than who you were before. You hear me?”

“Yes,” Louis whispered.

She pulled him into her arms and hugged him close. Her cool palm gently pet the back of his head. “We both know Harry’s not your only heartbreak. You’ve lost parts of yourself to past pain over the years. I just want so badly for you to start finding yourself again. I think it’s time.”

Louis squeezed her tight. He kept replaying things she’d said over in his brain, partly wanting to shy away from the truths and partly wanting to boldly shove forward. He squeezed her even tighter. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured. He pulled away to press a kiss to her cheek. “Are you sure you’re not a psychologist or a therapist?” 

She laughed lightly and petted his bangs. “I’m sure. Now, how about I go grab you some water, and then you can tell me about how you’re feeling. I won’t push you to say more than you want to. Okay?”

Louis nodded, grateful for a moment to calm down alone. She cupped his cheek before exiting the room.

He breathed out slowly, looking around at the shelves of art supplies. He couldn’t help but think that it made a good representation of his mind. Packed with old stuff, useless things that were held onto, things no one had wanted to deal with to clean out before that day. 

He vowed to himself that when Helene came back, he would talk. 

⋆✶⋆

Louis decided to watch the Grammy Awards with some friends he hadn’t seen in a while. They made a night of it, each of them chipping in a dish or two to share and drinks of their choice. 

Louis plopped in front of his couch with a plate of chips and dip, a slice of pizza, and a piece of a submarine sandwich. He had a spiked root beer float sat next to him. He and his pals weren’t the healthiest nor the classiest, but they knew how to have a good time.

“Have you heard from him today?” Oli asked, nudging Louis with his leg. “He’s gotta be nervous as fuck.”

“Naw, I’m sure he’s used to this kind of thing by now,” Luke argued. 

“This isn’t some talk show or a fan-voted award show, Lucas, this is the fucking Grammy’s. It’s big time,” Oli shot back.

Louis chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Yes, I heard from him this morning. I wished him luck and said I know he’ll be amazing, and he said if he forgets the words or his voice squeaks to kindly remember that he is capable of making me come four times in one night and not to think too badly of him.”

The boys all groaned and Louis laughed maniacally. It felt amazing to be back in the presence of people he cared so much for. They’d all been friends since youth, and sometimes they drifted out from each other here and there over the years, but when one of them wrestled the others back in, it was always the same: fun, teasing, warm, and meaningful. 

“When’s he coming back?” Matt inquired before spooning macaroni salad into his mouth. 

Louis shrugged. “He’s not sure yet. He’s got some stuff to take care of out in Cali first. He said he’ll let me know.”

The others nodded. Oli nudged Louis again. “Four times, though, Lou? Is that really possible?”

Louis threw his head back and cackled, the other boys laughing loudly with him. Time passed quickly as they continued to joke around. A brief food fight broke out that involved the others throwing chips and olives at one another while Louis screeched that they would be cleaning up before they left, until suddenly it was show time.

The host started the show with a brief monologue Louis didn’t even pretend to listen to. His leg bounced with nerves. It almost slipped his attention that the host was saying, “Harry Styles!” before the camera panned over and — there he was. 

Louis gawped at the T.V. screen, momentarily deaf. Harry was dressed in a black leather suit, jacket open with no shirt underneath, and a Russian green feather boa wrapped around his neck. His hair was styled back like Louis had never seen it before in person, it was shorter too, and his hands were donned with clunky rings and shiny fingernail polish. That was Harry Styles, the perfectly polished popstar. He was practically a stranger to Louis. 

“Fuck, he’s hot,” Oli stated.

“Man, shut up!” Matt laughed. “Louis will start shrieking at you in an even higher pitch than when that olive rolled under his couch if you’re not careful.”

“Shh!” Louis shushed them, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume. 

Harry sang smoothly and smiled at the camera with perfectly gleaming white teeth. He bit his lip at what had to be a pre-planned moment, threw his boa to the back of the stage — which made Oli let out an appreciative cat-call — then danced his way across the stage. He snapped along with his female backup singers while moving rhythmically to the beat and Louis giggled helplessly, hands holding his cheeks.

Harry danced back over to his mic to continue singing, flashing the audience his well defined abs as he went, and ended with a big grin and a small bow when he was finished. The lights behind him were blinding and the live audience was cheering and clapping, but the audience in Louis’ living room was whooping and beating his coffee table much more enthusiastically than anyone there in person. 

Louis instantly scrambled for his phone, knowing Harry probably wouldn’t see it until hours later, but he sent anyway: You were absolutely perfect!!!!! You looked amazing too, I think Oli has a crush. I’ll be watching that a few dozen more times before bed, you smashed it <3 

The rest of the award show paled in comparison to Harry’s opening number, though Megan Thee Stallion had Louis squealing over how good she looked and throwing his own bum around impressively, mimicking her flawless dance moves. He may have been a tad tipsy by that point, and he demanded his friends tip him for his performance. Luke slapped two dollars in his hand to shut him up and Louis tucked them in his sock for safe keeping. 

When Harry won his first ever Grammy, Louis clutched his face again and beamed at the screen, in awe of how reserved and grateful Harry sounded even though his words were a little stumbled over. He wasn’t used to seeing that version of Harry. The famous Harry Styles seemed so untouchable to him, so huge and important and adored, it was beyond intimidating. In the past Harry’s celebrity life had never felt real to Louis, it had always seemed like a whole separate entity’s dealings, but he was surprised to find that if he really paid attention, he could see his Harry present even there at the Grammy Awards. Louis laughed wetly when Harry walked off the stage and forgot to take his award with him. He definitely knew that person on his T.V. screen. 

“He’s such an idiot. I really love him,” he confessed. 

Matt wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Invite us all around to his place sometime, alright? I wanna meet him, and I also want to see how luxurious his toilet is.”

Louis laughed and cuddled into his friend’s side. “You’re ridiculous. Although I will say, all of his toilets do have bidets. That’s very common in other countries though.”

Matt snorted into Louis’ hair. “Well, here it’s rich people shit.”

Louis closed his eyes and leaned further into his friend. “Literally rich people shit,” he mumbled tiredly. 

Matt laughed and it jostled him around. Louis turned the other way and slid all the way down onto the floor, half watching the rest of the show and half dozing off. 

Later on, after everyone had gone home and conveniently forgotten to help straighten up before they had, Louis’ phone started blaring one of Harry’s songs at him while he was tucked cozily in bed. He slapped his hand on his nightstand and grabbed it, accepting the call before holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lou.“

Louis smiled sleepily up at his ceiling. “Is that…no…this can’t be! Grammy Award winner Harry Styles is calling little old me?”

Harry chuckled, making Louis smile even wider. 

“Between you and me, you’re the star, baby. I’m just the one they shine the spotlight on. You are the spotlight all on your own.”

Louis groaned. “Stop it! You just won a fucking Grammy, don’t compare us right now!”

“It’s true, darling.”

Louis decided to let it go, because Harry would never budge. “How was it for you? Worth all the nerves?”

“It was so surreal. I felt half out of it the entire time.”

“My boys were screaming for you.”

Harry laughed. “Thank them for me, will you?”

“No. It would go to their heads.”

Harry laughed some more. “I think it would’ve been more worth it if I could’ve had you there with me,” he said quietly.

Louis’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve missed you like crazy these past weeks, Lou. I’ll tell you as soon as I know when I’m coming home.”

“You better,” Louis whispered, repeating the word home in his mind. It was quiet for a moment and then he blurted out, “I’ve been looking for a therapist.”

Harry was silent, probably stunned by the unexpected change of topic, then said, “That’s great, I’m glad you’re doing that for yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too,” Louis replied. “Always.”

“Me too. I’m always proud of you too.”

They stayed on the line together until morning, though Louis had no idea who had fallen asleep first.

⋆✶⋆

Skateboarding was harder than Louis remembered. Multiple screaming kids and noisy teens spending their afternoon in the park had witnessed him wipe out repeatedly, his scraped up knees and palms showing evidence of his failures. He stayed at it for hours anyway, refusing to feel embarrassed by people he didn’t know. Skateboarding was something he had once loved very much, something fun and carefree for him to do without any pressure on his shoulders. Despite all the falls that resulted in an aching body, he was having a great time. The air felt refreshing, the light noise was relaxing, and it didn’t matter how well he succeeded at a simple hobby. Nothing was at stake, he was simply meant to enjoy himself, worry-free.

He needed a break after a particularly painful fall from another failed trick though. His ankles were getting sore from all the harsh landings.

He walked over to a hickory tree and sat down, leaning against the trunk. He wasn’t surprised to see how even more scuffed his board had become. He’d painted it himself, but the design was hard to make out from all the years of wear and neglect. A silly smiley face with x’s for eyes was still there though, and Louis smiled back at it.

He picked at his fingernails and tried not to let the inactivity allow negative thoughts to start hounding him.

He had a consultation with a possible therapist already scheduled, which made him nervous, but he was hopeful about it. He didn’t know when he’d lost faith in himself so strongly, but the evidence was everywhere: the way he couldn’t paint, the way he doubted advice he gave his students, the way he hid himself from his loved ones, the way he couldn’t bring himself to believe he ever had a real shot with Harry, despite everything Harry said and did that should’ve been making him optimistic… 

He didn’t value himself anymore. Despite all the people that loved him and voiced their admiration and care for him, it had all been going in one ear and out the other. 

He was ready for that to end. He wanted to believe the people who saw his worth. He wanted to be open, and he wanted to give out his heart to them all again. Not in a half-assed way anymore, but wholeheartedly. It was what they deserved from him.

It would take time and work, but the other option was to let Harry leave him without a fight, and to let more pieces of himself slip away, to watch his life become emptier and emptier and pretend he didn’t see it. He’d been sitting back and letting exactly that happen before, but Helene was right. It was time to restore his faith in himself. It was time to let past failure fade behind him and move forward. It was time to believe in himself. It was time.

A breeze rustled the leaves around Louis and he closed his eyes to just listen and feel cool air rush across his face. He breathed out slowly, body untensing. 

The sting in his knees and palms didn’t hurt, his sore body meant good things for him, and he felt like life.

⋆✶⋆

Not every try at doing something just for himself was an instant success. 

Louis sucked at baking — he had already known that but had given it another shot anyway, and he had made some astoundingly charred double fudge bricks. 

Meditating was too much for him. It allowed intrusive thoughts to sound off instead of letting him find a peaceful state of mind. Perhaps he’d try that one again one day when he was doing better mentally. 

Running wasn’t something he enjoyed. He’d tried and given up faster than the time it had taken to pick out his workout clothes. He’d been taking walks instead, even if half of them were on the treadmill instead of outside. Movement was good for the whole body, so even though he wasn’t working up a serious sweat, it was still enough for him. 

He had never given much of a fuss over a routine for his skin, but he’d been making an effort to lotion his body and wash his face more than he had been. It was progress. 

Painting was still a no-go. He wasn’t even willing to risk trying it yet. If he couldn’t do it he knew he’d feel so much worse than his setbacks he’d had elsewhere. Painting wasn’t just a simple hobby for him, he’d come back to it when he was more relaxed.

All the while he challenged himself and stepped out of his comfort zone, he tried to be on his phone less. He still heard from Harry, and he kept in touch with his family and friends a little more than he had been, but otherwise he resisted the urge to distract and distract and distract himself. 

One evening though, he was curled up on his plush sofa with a mug of tea and a truly dull book. He’d already refilled his mug twice because he was far more interested in taking sips of his black tea that had hints of vanilla, licorice, and strawberries in it than finding out what was happening at a lumber mill in 1922. The synopsis had been intriguing, promising a twist on that era of history, but reaching the twist was excruciatingly laborious. After an hour and a half he gave in and tossed the book at his coffee table. He should have picked the one about the pirate captain falling in love with a member of the British navy. That would’ve been a twist on classical history, and it also would’ve been sexy.

Louis sat his mug on the ground and flopped back on the couch. It wasn’t time for bed yet, but he didn’t have anything entertaining to keep him up. He wished he could call Harry but he knew from a few texts they had exchanged earlier that the man would be too busy for a chat. He grumbled to himself and grabbed his phone from his sweatpants pocket anyway. A notification from Instagram caught his eye immediately. He ignored the alert of a new follower, it was just a bot trying to scam him, and went to a profile he hadn’t brought up on his own phone before. 

The account Harry ran in his honor had the username tomlinsoncreations. Harry was a pretty straightforward, no bullshit guy, so the name was unsurprising. The bio was also no surprise, it read: The works of the professional and highly skilled Louis Tomlinson brought to you by his biggest fan (with permission from the artist). It brought a dopey smile to Louis’ face. 

Louis had refrained from looking at the account other than on the day Harry had made it. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t wanted to look at it — he hadn’t even liked to remember it existed at first. His therapist had said something once about acts of affection and care making him somewhat uncomfortable, even though he longed for them, because he just wouldn’t accept that they were genuine. He was working on it. He pulled up the latest post. 

The picture was of a canvas in Louis’ studio Harry must’ve taken himself. It was an abstract piece, one he was quite proud of because it wasn’t often he finished an abstract and liked it enough to keep it. Louis admired it for a moment before letting his eyes drop to the caption instead. He hadn’t been expecting much, maybe just the title of the work and some silly emojis, but what he saw caused his lips to part in shock.

Atomic Balm: by Louis Tomlinson. acrylic on canvas, 18 by 24 inches.

I’m not going to lie to all of you and say I know much about abstract art, I don’t know much about art at all. This painting caught my eye though when I was looking through Louis’ collection and I found myself unable to look away for quite some time. I even bring up the picture on my phone sometimes just to admire it, and be comforted.

Yeah, it’s a pretty painting, the colors are gorgeous, I love the almost violent shade of pink he used. Yeah, the way he applied the paint is interesting. It looks like he used brushes and layering and sponges and good ol’ fashioned splattering some paint around, but it’s not just splotches on a canvas, it almost looks like nature. I digress though.

All of that’s true, but my favorite thing about looking at this piece is the title. The combination of the title and the art and wondering what it meant to Louis. Did creating this feel like a balm to him? Did it feel chaotic and carathatic and messy and good? I can picture him with paint on his forehead and hands and a lil crooked smile on his lips as he looked at this finished work and thinking to himself, “It’s an atomic balm.” I want to know the story of him making this and naming it, I want to know if it has a deep meaning to him, if it brings up any emotions in his chest. I also love not knowing though. I doubt I could understand his genius anyway. 

This painting feels like Louis to me: beautiful and complicated and all around wonderful. 

Louis’ whole face felt hot, like he was burning up. He swallowed hesitantly and glided his thumb up and down the screen, going between the photo of his own work and the dedication to it, in awe. 

Hastily, he flicked down the screen to the next post. The artwork was of a girl on a bed, knees bent and hands pressed to the mattress, cheesing a smile at whoever was viewing the painting. Clothes were in a pile on the floor, a cat sat in the background, as did a large green plant and a full bookcase. Her nightstand had a glass of ice water on it, an old telephone with a curly cord, and all sorts of random knick knacks. Louis had crammed as much tiny detail into the painting as he could. The caption read: 

Manic Pixie Daydream Girl: by Louis Tomlinson. oil on canvas, 24 by 36 inches.

Wow. This one by our lovely Louis is truly something, isn’t it? There’s so much to look at, it’s like a feast for the eyes. I don’t even know what to say other than it’s a masterpiece. I feel like I know this girl, and isn’t that the point? 

The phone and the old stereo on the bookshelf, the girls clothes and posters, everything in this painting screams 90’s. This painting makes me think of a girl everyone liked in school, even the people who hated her deep down liked her. She was bubbly and friendly and her laugh was cute, but maybe everyone was just putting their own idealizations on her? Maybe to the public eye she seemed like a blank canvas herself, one anyone looking at her could write their own story for. 

This painting though, the girl in her bedroom with her things and a carefree smile on her face, it makes me think this is the real her. To everyone else she’s just whatever they want her to be, but here in her own space, with whoever she chooses to let be here with her, is the real her. And no one else’s version of her is as beautiful as the real thing. I never realized how artists could create a whole story in their work until I found Louis. I’m very grateful to experience that now.

A rush of emotions overwhelmed Louis. He couldn’t believe Harry had thought all of that about his work. He couldn’t believe Harry had written all of that about his work, and posted it online for the world to see. He always assumed Harry just thought he was a good painter, but clearly he hadn’t been giving Harry enough credit. Maybe he hadn’t been giving himself enough credit either. 

Louis’ head spun as he realized that Harry was still making the posts from California. He’d stocked up on photos of Louis’ art and was posting them regularly, even though he was busy, even though Louis never mentioned the account to him. Louis shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut in disbelief. He’d never felt more appreciated in his life. 

With hot skin and pink cheeks, Louis hunkered down into the cushions to keep scrolling through the account. He was beginning to think — to realize — that he might not be able to lie to himself about the extent of Harry’s feelings for him for much longer. 

⋆✶⋆

“You seem to be doing very well lately, Louis.”

Louis smiled at the canvas he was currently scrutinizing with a hand tucked under his chin. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Helene chuckled. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve really been enjoying my work lately, when I’m allowed to focus on it,” he replied, turning to shoot his friend a cheeky grin. 

“Hey, if you want me to go, I’ll go!” she threatened.

Louis laughed and gestured to the chair behind his desk. “I already told you to take a seat, this is the last one I have to review.”

When Louis finished deciding a grade for Bethany’s landscape painting he jotted it down and then sat across from Helene. They chatted about recent staffing issues, the school’s parking lot issues, issues with a select few students, and they were both smiling all the while. Louis couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light when talking about troublesome little things he ran into at work. Instead of feeling massively important and like actual roadblocks in his way, they were trivial. Helene would help with what she could, and the rest he would simply live with. He could handle them.

“Tell me what’s been going on that’s got you in such a good mood lately,” Helene insisted eventually, leaning far back in the creaky rolly chair. 

Louis bit his lip as he thought about all the work he’d been doing on himself. There were small changes that had been going far, and ones that hadn’t quite stuck yet. He’d been less likely to shy away from talking about himself lately, but even still, he didn’t feel quite ready to tell his friend about what progress he’d made in the past couple months. Some of it still felt too deeply personal to expose to anyone other than his therapist yet, and he knew that was okay. 

Instead he grinned at Helene and said, “Harry’s coming home next week.”

Helene grinned back at him. “And that’s a good thing, hm? No freaking out?”

Louis shrugged a shoulder and confidently replied, “I’m freaking out, but…I made a decision to talk to him and I’m not going to back out.” Helene was practically glowing with pride as he added, “I’ve got this.”

⋆✶⋆

The Lightenings had hosted twelve get-togethers since Louis had become their neighbor. Every single time he’d made an excuse not to go, or told them he’d get back to them and never had, but this time he was in their backyard with a plate of burgers and hot dogs and wincing at the piercing sound of kids shrieking and running around behind him. 

“Last one,” Charlie said, putting a perfectly browned wiener onto the plate. “If you could just set that on the kitchen counter, near the fridge, thank you, Louis.”

“Not a problem.”

He hurried inside with the large plate of food, eager to get it to its spot on the buffet line so they could all dig in. The only people he knew there were Charlie and Patricia, but he wasn’t minding the strange company that evening. Everyone else’s good moods felt nice to be around, like a warm blanket instead of a heavy, wet one.

“Oh, Louis!” Patricia said, appearing in the archway. She gave him a one armed hug and sat down a little basket of silverware with the other. “I didn’t know you were here! Did you bring that special someone for us to meet? We haven’t heard about them in a while.”

Louis shook his head, a fluttering feeling in his stomach. “No, not yet. He’ll be home in three more days.”

Patricia clapped her hands twice, beaming at him. “That’s exciting! Bring him for dinner one night, won’t you?”

“I’d love to, Trish,” he assured her, feeling welcome and wanted. 

When Louis slipped back outside with a plate loaded down with food and a lemonade, he let himself breathe and enjoy the moment alone. When a stranger sat down at the picnic table next to him he gave them a smile and asked how they were acquainted with the Lightenings. 

When it grew dark and too chilly for everyone to stay outside any longer, despite all the jackets and jeans almost everyone was wearing, the group trudged inside to continue the festivities. Louis said his goodbyes to those he’d talked to, and hugged Charlie and Patricia tightly, and headed back over to his own house. He’d had a nice time, and then he needed to be on his own, and that was perfectly fine. 

Inside his house, he headed for his studio with a jar of water and a wrinkled smock. 

⋆✶⋆

Louis’ breaths were coming out shaky. His hands were shaking too, and his armpits and neck were slick with sweat. He wasn’t freaking out though, he could do this. 

He heard a car coming slowly down the street and held his breath, waiting for it to turn into the driveway. It passed on by and he let his lungs fill with air again, gasping a little. Eyes squeezed shut, he scrabbled to grab his phone from his back pocket. 

Oli picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Tommo, what’s up?”

“Hey, um…could you just…talk to me for a few minutes?”

Oli cleared his throat and Louis imagined him straightening up from his spot on the couch at his home. “Sure, bud. About anything?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“Mmm…well, you know how I was seeing Marta?” 

“No.”

“No? Oh. Well, I’m not anymore.”

“I gathered as much.”

“She didn’t like my dog.” 

Louis opened his eyes, running a hand over the nape of his neck soothingly. It was still damp. “What?”

“Yeah, she was always glaring at him!”

Louis let out a frustrated exhale from his nose. “Oli, start at the beginning for fuck’s sake.”

Oli launched into an explanation of how this woman, Marta, was pretty much perfect in every way until he started bringing her home. Then, apparently, she always looked at Rosco with cold disinterest and said things like, “Can’t you leave him outside when I come over?” 

“I mean, look! I understand not everyone is a dog person, but you could at least respect my pet! That’s man’s best friend right there, I wouldn’t just let it slide if she was telling me to leave you outside when she came over, ya know, if we happened to be hanging out at the time. So why should I treat my Rosco like that? He’s such a good boy too, he didn’t try to hump her leg once.”

Louis snorted into his palm, smiling reluctantly. “You make valid points.”

“Right? God, the disappointment still stings though. She laughed at all of my stupid jokes and one time she literally tossed me on the bed, I hit my head on the headboard and everything. Feisty thing in the bedroom, but, alas…Rosco and I are until the end, I need a gal that can hang.”

Louis laughed lightly. “Yes, you deserve that.”

“Thank you, I think so too.” 

Louis sat down on a stool in the kitchen, where he had paced to while Oli had been rambling about Marta’s pretty smile and deep laugh. He took a slow breath and tried to hang on to the calm his friend had brought him.

“So what’s up, what’s got you wigging out?”

Louis groaned. “You’re supposed to distract me, not ask about it.”

“Okay, alright, I’m not gonna argue with you, let’s see…you know, I met Marta’s cousin once and she was so sunny and cute, I bet — ”

“I’m waiting for Harry to come home,” Louis blurted out. As much as he didn’t want to talk about it, perhaps he also wanted to talk about it. 

Oli immediately shifted gears, always willing to follow Louis’ lead. “Right, haven’t you been waiting for him to come home for months now?”

“No, I meant I am waiting inside of his house right now and he should be here soon. And I can’t stop vibrating and wanting to run, but I’m tired of running. Or hiding. Or whatever I’ve been doing. So I need you to distract me until it’s too late and he’s already here.”

“Okay. I — ”

“God,” Louis groaned suddenly, pulling at a small fistful of his own hair. “I didn’t think I’d be like this. I thought I had it under control now, you know? Like I decided I was going to do this, so I thought I’d just be okay and-and, whatever. But I feel just like I did before in the face of speaking my feelings, all clammy and terrified and gross, I hate this. I haven’t made enough progress, I thought I was doing well.”

“Okay, Lou,” Oli said firmly, which wasn’t a tone Louis had heard from him very often in their decades of friendship. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re saying you’re going to tell Harry how you feel, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve already changed the hardest part, haven’t you? You don’t have to be fearless to tell him how you feel, but deciding to do so was the biggest step and you already did it.”

Louis swallowed, nodding slightly to himself. “You’re right.”

“Jesus, am I? And you’re the one saying so? Mm, I’m not used to this.”

Louis chuckled fondly. “Definitely don’t bother getting used to it.”

“Hey!” came the indigent cry from the other end of the call. 

Louis let Oli crack jokes and tell about his own life in his ridiculous fashion for another forty minutes before he heard the telltale sound of a car door slamming, which caused his spine to straighten instantly. 

“Ol‘, thank you so much, I have to go now,” he said, interrupting whatever babble Oli had been in the middle of. 

“Oh, shit, okay, no problem. Good luck! Let me know how it goes!” 

“I will, yeah,” Louis replied dazedly. “Buh-bye.”

Louis left his phone on the counter and moseyed to the front door, fingers plucking at each other nervously. He heard Harry’s voice, muffled through the walls but unmistakable, probably thanking the driver and refusing help getting his bags into the house. When the front door opened and a slightly confused looking Harry appeared in the doorway, Louis could’ve fainted, but instead he broke into a sheepish grin. 

Harry blinked at him, paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob and a giant luggage bag strapped over his shoulder. “I was so worried I hadn’t locked the door when I left for a second there, oh my god,” he laughed.

Louis grinned wider, easier. “Sorry. Wanted to surprise you.”

Harry fully entered his house and closed the door behind him, locking it with a thoughtless flick of his fingers. He dropped his overstuffed duffle, which undoubtedly cost more than Louis’ nicest piece of clothing, onto the floor with a heavy thud. “You definitely accomplished your goal.” He approached Louis quickly and yanked him into a warm embrace. “I’m so happy you’re here, this is such a nice surprise.”

Louis returned the hug eagerly and tucked his face into Harry’s shoulder. “You sure? I can take off if you need to shower and sleep and all of that before seeing me.”

“Read the room, love,” Harry chuckled, squeezing him tighter. “I slept on the plane, and I would like a shower, but I see no reason why you can’t be here for that.”

Louis pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s jaw and pulled out of the man’s hold. “Okay. Go scrub, I’ll wait.”

Harry grinned hugely, nearly smirking, and ducked down to haul Louis up into his arms. Louis squawked loudly and threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders to steady himself. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

Harry adjusted Louis in his hold and headed for the staircase, luggage forgotten by the door. “Whisking you away to my bathroom. I’m not letting you out of my sight just yet, not after over two months apart, mi amor.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his giddiness at his uninvited presence being received in such a way. “Your plan doesn’t involve me getting in the shower with you, does it? Because I did the works on myself before coming over here.”

Harry leered at him. “The works, huh? I know what that means. I think I’ll have to see the quality of your work for myself.”

Louis had objected profusely, and after being sat on the counter of the sink he had continued to deny he’d be getting in the shower while Harry tampered with the water temperature and undressed himself. From there, his mind got a little foggy and suddenly he found himself planted on the built-in shower bench, wet from the head down, with Harry kneeling on the floor with his face between Louis’ parted thighs. 

Louis stifled a too-eager moan as his back hit the tiled shower wall. “H-Harry.”

Harry’s head popped up, wet curls dancing over his forehead and eyes lit up beautifully. “God, baby, you really did do the works down here. You wanted your pretty taint to get my attention, didn’t you?”

Harry slid his thumbs over Louis’ perineum firmly, pressing into the soft, sensitive skin with purpose. Louis’ thigh shook where he had it tucked up awkwardly on the bench. Harry ducked down and licked a fat stripe up the area and Louis squeaked out an encouraging, “Please.” 

Hastily, Harry grabbed Louis’ calves and threw them over his forearms, supporting his legs by the pit of Louis’ knees, leaving his toes dangling above the ground. Harry wasted no time dragging Louis closer, causing him to fall back more against the bench, then he returned to the area to suck and nip at it with his lips, teeth, and tongue, all while effortlessly holding Louis’ legs open and suspended above the floor.

“Shit, Harry, fuck,” Louis gasped, one hand clenching the edge of the bench in a knuckle-whitening grip and the other thrown behind him, splayed out against the wall. 

Harry was relentless, causing fiery tingles of pleasure to build from between Louis’ balls and hole with his adoring mouth. All too soon, Harry’s head popped up again and he pulled Louis even closer, barely leaving him on the bench at all as he claimed his lips in a kiss.

Louis cupped Harry’s jaw and kissed back urgently, feeling like he was positively overflowing with love and need. 

Harry jerked back and carefully guided Louis to turn sideways on the bench and lay down, making sure his thighs stayed far apart. He got onto the bench himself and hovered over him, fingers finding Louis’ taint once more to stroke rhythmically. 

“My dick is practically raw from how much I was jacking off while thinking of you these past weeks, kitten,” Harry spoke in a deep, smothering tone.

Louis bit his bottom lip, cheekbones turning pink. “I can treat your poor dick real nice, you know, if you stop manhandling me for two seconds.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Harry chuckled lewdly. “I’m getting my mouth on you right now, and I’m going to keep massaging your special spot, and you’re going to come all over that perfect tummy of yours and I’ll be lucky if I don’t blow my load before then.”

Louis barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a moan as Harry sank down and licked up the length of Louis’cock before putting the head between his tulip pink lips. True to his word, Harry’s fingers kneaded Louis’ perineum all the while in the most perfect way he knew he liked. 

Loved, actually — Louis was losing it. His arms were raised above his head, hands pressed against the wall, body straining from the intense pleasure of Harry’s zealous mouth and nonstop fingers. Harry was sucking hard at Louis’ head before sinking slowly down, his hot tongue laving over veins. 

Louis wasn’t experiencing sparks of pleasure, he was experiencing a whole inferno. It was out of control, growing quickly, rendering him speechless and causing him to gently writhe. He found his voice just long enough to get out, “H-Harry, fuck.” He moaned high-pitched in the back of his throat and then gasped out, “Faster! I’m not gonna last, fuck, just make me come. Please.”

Harry obeyed, bobbing faster and making the lightest of gagging sounds each time Louis hit the back of his throat. His hand was still on Louis’ taint, but his thumb slipped down to tug on his rim and Louis moaned, body jerking and tightening. He came hard, eyes squeezed shut and pink, shiny lips dropped open. Harry groaned as Louis orgasmed, watching the show. 

As soon as Louis’ expression softened into relaxed bliss, Harry bolted upright to sit back on his heels and worked his hand over himself quickly, grunting and panting before releasing all over Louis’ softening dick and tummy.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry whispered, head tilted upward and eyes lightly shut.

“You realize you just came from your own hand again, right?” Louis snarked, raising a foot to poke Harry’s bellybutton with his toes.

Harry laughed and caught Louis’ foot, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, but I got the live show this time, and the taste of you in my mouth.”

Louis giggled, trying to pull his foot out of Harry’s grip. “Did you swallow it all like a good boy?”

Harry’s grin was devilish. “Mhm, and now I’m going to clean you up too.” 

Louis shrieked and laughed as Harry started licking up his own come off of Louis with a flat tongue. “Sensitive, I’m sensitive!” 

It wasn’t until hours later, after a rushed shower and another round of orgasms, and a greasy dinner and a lively catching up on each other’s lives the past couple months even though they’d stayed in contact the whole time, that Louis accepted he’d run out of excuses not to do it. It was the right time.

They were sprawled out in Harry’s giant, white bed, limbs tangled and skin pressed against skin. Louis had his chin on Harry’s chest and was practically purring as Harry kept petting through his hair. Louis sighed to himself and sat up, straddling the star he’d fallen for.

“H. I have something I need to say to you,” Louis started, looking down at his own hand on Harry’s moth tattoo. 

“Sounds serious,” Harry said, voice low and deep in the quiet of the dark evening.

“It is.” Louis bit his lip, finally looking up to meet Harry’s gaze. “I’ve been thinking about what I want to say for a long time, so I’d really appreciate it if you just let me get it all out. Okay?”

Harry nodded, reaching out to hold Louis’ wrist. “Okay.”

Louis let out a slow puff of air to settle himself before he began. “I’m sure that you noticed over all of these months, that I’m not the best at…that I haven’t been together , as a person. Like I have a good job and I’m not exactly depressed, per se, but my life has been…colorless. Or not colorless, but the colors have been a little washed out.” Louis squeezed his eyes shut and huffed. “That didn’t even make sense to you, did it? I’m sorry, I know what I want to say but it’s all jumbled in my head, I should’ve written it out.”

“Take your time,” Harry said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Louis’ eyes popped open. “You are though, you’re always going somewhere, that’s part of it.” Louis blushed as Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’m starting over.”

Harry chuckled and rubbed Louis’ thigh encouragingly.

“Okay, so, ever since we met and all this time we’ve been…doing this…doing this, and never talking about it…I’ve known how I felt about you. At first I was pleasantly surprised, and then admiring, which quickly became fond and longing. But you didn’t let me pine for long, did you? And then I was so smitten and swept up in you and just happy. So happy at first.”

Louis’ face warmed. “It was when my feelings kept getting deeper that I stopped being completely happy with how things were between us. I was scared. I was so terrified of you and your celebrity and your big heart that you seemed to share with the world. I’d see you all over the internet and on magazine covers in the grocery store and think that version of you didn’t seem real. I couldn’t associate the you I see with the you the world sees and I couldn’t help but worry that I was just an insignificant pastime in comparison to the whole rest of your life.”

Harry’s nostrils flared slightly at that, but he kept his mouth closed.

“That wasn’t fair to you,” Louis murmured. “My neighbor Patricia, she told me this story about her and her husband. He’d broken up with her after college and she went back and told him how she felt anyway. She said she knew how he felt about her, even though he wasn’t saying it explicitly. He had shown it to her. And said it in other ways.”

“I couldn’t forget that. It made me see that I know how you feel about me. I didn’t before, but I’ve been opening my eyes and I’ve been trying to stop beating myself up all the time and I can see how much you care about me. I know, with certainty, that I mean something to you now. You’re so kind and sweet, to everyone, but especially to me. You gave me your house key and you wanted to talk about things when I was upset, and-and you made me that Instagram account for my art just because you wanted to show my work off.” Louis’ eyes got misty and he sniffed.

“I kept telling myself before that I couldn’t say anything to you because you were just going to go back to your busy life and forget me, or stop having time for me, at least. But it’s still worth me trying. I didn’t see it that way before, but I do now. It’s worth the fear and embarrassment to pour my heart out to you because at least I tried to have it all, even if I don’t get to keep it. I thought never taking the chance and missing out would hurt less, but I was wrong. Taking the chance and seeing what happens at least gives me no regrets, and it means that I tried, for myself, and that is worth everything.”

“I haven’t been trying in so many areas of my life. It took Helene giving me a push to realize how truly stagnate I was. It was like I’d chained boulders to my shoes. So…at least if you don’t want the same thing I do…at least I see now that I can’t keep letting life pass me by. I lost faith in myself a long time ago, and I know part of me still doesn’t feel worthy of you, and not because you’re famous, but because you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, but I’m working on it. It’s worth telling you what I want now and to keep working on myself from here on out, even if I’m not where I want to be just yet.”

Louis swallowed, blinking away the thin layer of tears in his eyes. He sighed and stroked a hand up and down Harry’s chest. “It’s okay if you don’t have a permanent place for me in your life. I’ll be okay, and I’ll keep working on myself and I won’t give up again, but for the sake of taking a chance on myself — I love you. I want to be with you, officially, whatever that takes in your world, and I love you. So, so much.”

Harry’s face was flushed. His eyelashes were wet, and his dimples were pushing into his cheeks from the width of his smile. “Baby.” His tone was thick and adoring and Louis’ heart practically burst in his chest as soon as he heard it. Harry laughed once, breathlessly, and pulled on Louis’ forearm. “Come here.”

Louis sank forward easily, melting into Harry’s arms. They squeezed each other close, pushing their heads toward one another’s necks. 

“God, I — wait. Look at me,” Harry said. He grabbed Louis’ shoulders and pushed him back enough to see his face. “I love you too, Lou, of course I do.”

Louis laughed wetly and threw himself back into Harry’s arms. His heart was beating in his throat as he asked, “And, based on your reaction and this hug, you want to make it official between us too?”

“Yes, baby, please,” Harry confirmed, halfway to moaning the words. “I’m so proud of you for telling me all of that, and for working on yourself how you have been.” He gripped Louis’ back tightly and pressed kisses to Louis’ shoulder. “I want you to be mine, and I’ll be yours, and we’ll take care of each other and make each other laugh and be ridiculously happy, as often as we can be. That is what I want. How about you?”

“That’s what I want too, yes,” Louis giggled. Every breath out felt like stress draining from his very soul. He couldn’t believe his courage had paid off in the best possible way, the relief was making him turn to Jell-O, and yet, he also couldn’t say he was completely surprised. The way Harry had always been so attentive and caring toward him had given him enough hope and strength to go through with his confession in the first place. 

“I have something to share too, something very good.”

Louis pulled back again to brush Harry’s hair away from his eyes. “Tell me.”

“While I was in California, I had all those meetings with my team because I’m taking time off.”

Louis blinked at him with owlish eyes.

“It’s not permanent, I have future goals and plans for my career, but I…” Harry exhaled in amusement, looking sheepish. “I figured if I could be here longer, give us more time, I could convince you to be in a real relationship with me.”

Louis laughed happily. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Harry said, squeezing Louis’ waist. “I knew there were things you weren’t saying to me, and I thought most of it was being turned off by my job. I should’ve just talked to you sooner, I know, but I wanted to show you proof first that I could make space for us in my life. Most of my team is supportive of what I want these days, but I had to put up a fight with some of them, and bargain and compromise, and I might’ve gotten a little melodramatic at times. That’s what took so long, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I just wanted to prove to you that we could make this work."

“Oh, Harry,” Louis whispered, fingers curling at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Thank you. I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

“I want to give you the world, but I’ll have to start with a few more months of freedom and then more gaps in my schedule when I’m working,” Harry continued. 

“That’s amazing,” Louis said in awe. “Kiss me.” He didn’t wait for the other man to move first though, instead he rushed forward and connected their lips in a sweet, firm kiss. He pulled back, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “Kiss me for a while, and then talk to me more. About everything we haven’t been saying.”

“Anything for my Lou,” Harry murmured before pulling him back in for a deep kiss, full of love and promise. 

⋆✶⋆

Louis’ home studio was a sea of brown. Nearly all of his canvases had been carefully packed and sealed in well-padded boxes. Some of them he had sold, mostly thanks to tomlinsoncreation ’s Instagram following. Some of them he was sending to a couple other colleges to be hung up in their art departments. Some of them were stacked in a sizable pile that he had wrapped up to go to an art gallery the following weekend. Those were new pieces, ones he hadn’t started making until he had decided once and for all to have his heart to heart with Harry — his boyfriend. The word sounded so juvenile and silly and it still made Louis’ heart pound inside his chest. 

The day after their talk, not much was different. They had made breakfast together at two in the afternoon, and they both wound up with a fine layer of powdered sugar dusting their torsos. They licked the mess off of one another amidst peals of laughter and corny jokes. By the end of their meal their faces hurt from smiling and their ankles were interlocked, and they were both leaning toward each other with no wall of unspoken desires or fears built up between them. The main difference was that they exchanged quiet I love you’s before meeting in a hot-blooded kiss and then racing back up the stairs to Harry’s tangled up nest of a bed.

Louis looked around at his soon-to-be-much-emptier studio and let himself feel proud. Life wouldn’t be easy forever, but he had someone in his corner who could make him feel weightless, and he had a building strength deep inside his chest. Life was pretty beautiful when doubt wasn’t holding him back. 

Before he left the studio he grabbed a paper off his painting table. Along the top it read: Submitting Your Portfolio to Become a Featured Artist. 

There was a small, exclusive museum back home where he had grown up that had been calling his name for a long time. 

⋆✶⋆

Classes were coming to an end for the semester and summer vacation was practically upon them. Louis didn’t always take time off, but he’d decided to for the next few months, to soak up every ounce of Harry’s remaining freedom that he could.

He stood in front of his final class, who were chattering away before him, mostly on topic for the final art critique, which involved every single art piece that had been made over the semester by each student. Every work had been critiqued before, but the final critique was the most fun. It was about his class giving only positive insights on each other’s works and encouraging one another to continue their craft after the course was finished. Louis knew he was positively beaming at the enthusiasm his students showed for one another’s art. 

“Alright now, I have one last thing to share with you before I let you go and enjoy your time off,” Louis called out over all the noise. Everyone quieted down instantly. “Thank you for giving me your attention.”

“A while back, near the start of this class, a student came to me and asked how to get out of a rut where nothing you paint is working out how you planned, and everything leaves you unsatisfied.”

He let his eyes rest on Mac for a moment and they blushed at the gentle call out.

“I didn’t have an answer for them that I felt confident in. I myself was experiencing such an art rut, and I had been for a long time.”

Louis cleared his throat and adjusted his stance, fidgeting just a little. “I have a better answer now. Not every dry spell when it comes to art is caused by the same thing, and not every dry spell can be cured the same way, even for the same artist. But I wanted to tell you what ended mine.”

“When we create art, no matter what it is, no matter what or who it is for, it means something. It doesn’t have to be a deep meaning, it doesn’t have to be important, but there’s always some meaning in what we make. I was treating art, and my life, like it didn’t matter. My heart was locked up tight and my passion was caged. You can’t block off only certain aspects of yourself. If you mute your own hurt, you mute more than just that, and I had muted my creativity. Hiding from my problems, from my pain, kept me from being able to do what I love.”

Louis smiled at his class, looking at each of their faces with hope. They were looking back at him with so much potential, sometimes that sight could take his breath away.

“All of you have something to offer the world, whether that’s on a big scale or small, art or not. It matters. And you matter. And I would hate to have let you leave my classroom without telling you that believing in yourself is the key to success, and the key to happiness, when it’s all said and done. There’s no one in this room that I do not believe in and I have so much faith in each of you going forward into whatever careers you become a part of. Even if they aren’t creative fields, you need to be your own biggest supporter, for work and for all of life.”

His eyes settled on Mac and he grinned. “Feeling stuck is part of life sometimes, as rough and painful as it may be. When all else fails, lean on someone else, or multiple someones, and then start putting your belief back into yourself. And if you fail, that’s okay. Everything is a process. At the end of the day, it’s all just life, and it can truly be whatever you want it to be.”

Louis chuckled and stepped back. “I think I went off track a bit, but I hope you remember at least one thing that I said when you leave, at least for a little while. That’s all I’ve got. Thank you for taking my course and I hope the very best for each of you.”

Louis gave them one last smile and then walked over to sit at his desk, sighing in contentment. Slowly, his class shuffled out, some of them saying a quick thank you or have a great summer, Professor. 

When the room was empty and he had cleaned up a bit, he turned off the lights and locked the door with giddy butterflies in his stomach. There was a certain special superstar waiting at home for him. 

⋆✶⋆

Harry was sprawled out on the living room floor with an adult coloring book and colored pencils when Louis stepped into his house. He chuckled fondly at the sight and quickly discarded his shoes and keys. 

“Making a masterpiece, H?”

Harry’s head popped up, curls dancing outward. “You’ve been looking so relaxed when you work lately. I wanted to have some of that too.”

“Are you stressed out?”

“No, I could just always stand to be a little more zen,” Harry replied cheekily.

Louis made a small, “mhmm,” sound and nodded as if he felt just as seriously about being zen as Harry did. “Well, if you can take a break for a second, I have a couple surprises for you.”

“Where?” Harry demanded instantly.

Louis smiled, biting into his bottom lip. “The studio.”

“Oh, just my favorite place in the world, where my favorite genius works his magic,” Harry said eagerly, getting to his feet.

Louis held out his hand to him and tugged him into the other room. He had two canvases already propped up on easels, proudly displayed for the other man. “You’re always talking about wanting to own my art, and I thought about it and it is rather appalling that I hadn’t given you any of my paintings myself yet. You have that cat one, but you had to ask for it. So these are for you, from me, with love.”

Harry stepped past Louis, reaching for the first painting. “Atomic Balm!” he cried out excitedly. “I love this painting, Lou, how did you know?”

“Ah, my favorite Instagram account where my favorite mushy boyfriend posts my art gave me a clue,” Louis replied teasingly.

Harry looked thrilled. “You read my posts? That makes me so happy, they’re for you more than anyone else, you know. You deserve to be shown off.” Louis didn’t have anything to say to that incredibly sweet sentiment before Harry turned around and grabbed the other canvas with careful hands. “Although, this painting, whew!” Louis laughed at Harry’s enthusiastic exclamation. “What exactly did I do to deserve this?”

Louis looked at the painting of his own body with slightly bashful eyes. “We don’t send nudes, given your status, so I had no choice but to paint you one instead.”

Harry’s expression was lewd and loving. “I don’t know if I can accept just one,” he teased. “God, this really is such beautiful work though, sweetheart. You always take my breath away.”

Louis stepped closer to snuggle into Harry’s side as they both looked at himself posed lavisciously across a deep red bedspread. He was twisted on the mattress, to show off his round bum and shapely legs as well as the curve of his stomach and waist. His expression had been the hardest part to paint, but he thought he captured something like lust written on human flesh in the end. Close enough, anyway, and Harry had certainly responded positively to his craftsmanship. 

“Thanks, H. I can’t wait to be supporting you just as proudly as you do me when you start performing again.”

Harry rubbed a large hand up and down Louis’ back. “I don’t know…” he said, turning to look down at his boyfriend. “I think I can wait a little longer.”

⋆✶⋆

Later that week, Louis woke up in Harry’s bed, tucked safely in his love’s strong arms. Golden light was streaming in through the grandiose windows. All he could think was what a lovely painting the scene around him would make.