chapter 12

Louis drives them to his flat so Harry can nap in the passenger seat, and also because Harry doesn’t know the way. Of course, this means Louis gets to claim complete control over the music, so he sings along to Britney Spears and Katy Perry. Harry pretends to be very musically offended and secretly enjoys it, and Louis loves it.

“You have a very sweet voice,” Harry mumbles while Louis is trying to imitate Bruno Mars. “I love it.”

“Shut up,” Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s average at best.”

“Didn’t you say… weren’t you gonna try out? For X-factor?”

“Yeah. But not out of some delusion of being particularly talented. I just wanted it a lot, and thought that would be enough, y’know. But. I doubt I have that mysterious X-factor or whatever. I’m a lad from Doncaster with a big mouth and four sisters. I’m not special.”

“I think you are.”

Louis glances at Harry, irritated but affectionate. “Okay. Thanks. Whatever.”

“Do you think I’m special?” Harry prompts after a moment.

“Obviously, pop star.”

“Not for that. For me. Don’t you think-“

Louis cuts him off. “I was kidding, darling. You’re special for you, I’ve always thought that. Don’t you remember? On our first date, I said none of that stuff was going to be involved in us.”

“Yeah, but you come to concerts and I take you places and stuff.”

“Right, because that’s what your life is. It’s not like I’d expect to go clubbing in some grungy bar with you or shit. That’s not who you are.”

“Pop star isn’t who I am either,” Harry mumbles.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry, don’t be so damn melodramatic. We date within your lifestyle. I don’t date you because I want that shit. I do it because I want you, alright? Turtle, I do. Your dorky stupid hipster lifestyle and your pretty face and your sweet giant heart. Alright? I could find someone way easier to date than you, believe me. I’m very desirable.”

“You are,” Harry agrees immediately.

“I am. I should really be the one asking you what you see in me. I’m not sure if you’ve done enough in terms of flattery and adoration,” Louis teases.

Harry smiles, but he answers anyways. “I think you’re funny and smart and like, strong. Really strong, and easy to talk to when I need you to be. Like you were mean to me at first, but I think you just take a while to warm up to people and let them in. Since I got to know you, I’ve only ever really liked you and respected you and felt liked and respected right back.”

“Whoa. Cheese overload,” Louis mumbles, feeling curiously like crying.

“It’s true, though. I think that’s what made you different. You respected me as a person from the start. Like, you were mean to me as an equal. I appreciated that, actually. As weird as it sounds. And you smile, like. Well, that’s how I knew from the start, that you liked me. From how you smiled.”

“I smile like that at everyone,” Louis shrugs.

“No.” Harry isn’t fooled. “No you don’t.”

Louis glances over, fighting the smile currently threatening to break out on his face. “No, I don’t,” he says. “And I do. Respect you.”

“I know. Thanks. You don’t have to tell me all the time or anything, though. I mean. I kind of like how you tease all the time. Except like, when I really need you to not. And I like how you can tell when that is, too, by the way.”

“Oh my God, stop.”

“You asked for this!”

“Well, I’m un-asking for it. You’re being too fucking sweet, get out of my car.”

“My car,” Harry points out mildly.

“Dick face.”

Harry giggles and falls asleep about five minutes later, foot sprawled across the gearshift so his toes are brushing Louis’ leg. Louis loves that. He goes all mushy warm when Harry makes sleepy kitten noises. He turns down the music, even though it’s Demi Lovato, and tries to drive steadily.

When they’re outside his flat, Louis parks near the curb and rubs Harry’s foot. “Hey baby, we’re here,” he says softly.

Harry yawns, stretches, and sits up to kiss Louis on the cheek. “Do you want to stay the night here?”

“Are you kidding me? No. It’s embarrassing compared to your palace. And frankly, probably very messy. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to blindfold you or not,” Louis says airily. “Get my bags, will you?”

“Sure,” Harry agrees. It’s all Louis can do to stop him from really carrying all the shit in himself. He’s only on the third floor, so he lets Harry take a good deal of it, just to appease him.

It’s been so long since Louis used his home keys, but he still can unlock his door without looking. He’s too busy examining Harry’s reaction to his less-than-immaculate building with its lack of a working elevator. Luckily, Harry seems charmed so far.

“Don’t laugh,” Louis instructs, and opens the door.

His flat isn’t that messy, considering his usual habits. Louis would usually be proud. But this is Harry, who isn’t neat exactly but who has a little fussy side to him that Louis hates right now. “Um, so this is where I live,” Louis says awkwardly. His voice shakes a bit. “Pretty basic. One floor. Sitting room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. I’m just gonna unpack and repack, should take about an hour. I don’t have any food, but we can go get some after.”

Harry nods but doesn’t answer in any other way. He touches everything, Louis’ worn couch, his dusty bookshelf of odds and ends, his now-embarrassingly small television. Then Harry detours to the kitchen, peeking in but not touching there. Louis’ bathroom is nothing to admire, so Harry only spends a moment there before going into Louis’ bedroom.

Louis thinks of about a million things to say and doesn’t say any of them. He’s panicking, just a little bit. He knows his clothes have never fit into his wardrobe; their habit of spilling out into that whole corner of the room is fine, normally, but now he’s incredibly self-conscious. Of course his bed is unmade – he left in a hurry. The room looks terrible, though, just objectively terrible. Louis feels himself blushing before Harry even looks at him.

So Louis talks first. “Should’ve blindfolded you,” he says, hating how his voice shakes. “Definitely.”

“Can we stay the night here?” Harry asks.

Louis’ brain stumbles. “What?”

“Tonight. Can we stay tonight here?”

“It was just supposed to be a quick… quick stop. Then we’re going to meet Lottie. Why would you want to stay here? We don’t have to do it evenly, just because we stayed at yours,” Louis says, trying to figure out what Harry’s motivation is.

“I know.”

“Your mum is expecting us for dinner.”

“I know. I know we can’t stay here for real. I’m just saying I’d like to.”

“Why?”

“It’s… it’s the type of flat I’d like to have,” Harry says after some fumbling. “It’s… so normal. I dunno. Is it weird to like that there isn’t any fan mail around?”

Louis snorts. “No. I guess not. I could see how that would be irritating.”

“Really,” Harry says. “Honestly. Really.”

“If you say really one more time, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Louis hoists his suitcase up onto his bed and unzips it. All of his laundry he’s leaving here is in a garbage bag. He drops it onto the floor and begins packing new clothes in. “Y’know, you guys have it easy,” he begins. “Wardrobe dresses you for most of your public appearances.”

Harry sits on the edge of Louis’ bed and hugs one of his pillows. “Smells like you,” he says after breathing in deep.

“I’d imagine it would,” Louis says a little sharply.

“Why don’t you believe me? I really like it,” Harry says, soft and sweet. And Louis kind of remembers how annoying being around someone consistently gentle can be.

“Sure you do,” Louis nods. “Okay. Sure. If you had to live here, though-“

“We can switch. Honestly, can we?”

“Just stop,” Louis says with half a smile, but he’s really very serious. “I get it, okay, you’re being sweet and kind and making me feel good. But really, flattery gets too crazy at some point, and this is that point. Please stop.”

“I realize that saying it’s not flattery sounds worse, but look. We like each others’ flats. Okay? We could switch,” Harry suggests.

“God. Whatever. Okay. Thanks. Um, make yourself feel at home then. But I’m done with… this. Okay?”

“Done with what?”

“With you being so weirdly nice.”

“Aren’t I usually nice? Why am I being weirdly nice?”

“I dunno, dick face, you just are. Get out of my room, I’m packing.”

Harry inches towards the door. “You realize you don’t really need a lot though, right? You can just borrow my shirt. Like you did today,” he adds, clearly hoping this will be a moment.

Louis sighs, really deeply sighs from the bottom of his stomach. “Jesus Christ.”

“What?” Harry sounds hurt.

“I’m… I’m trying not to be a total bitch about this, but you’re making me feel even more like shit about my shitty life, however well-intentioned you may be,” Louis huffs out in exasperation. “So could you just let me wallow in this for a while? I hate my flat and I hate that you like it. I wish you could have it, to make you happy, but I hate it.”

Harry looks at him for a long moment. “Oh,” he says hesitantly. “Okay. I’m gonna… I’ll be out there,” he says, turning to go.

“Harry.” Harry turns back immediately. “I like your shirt. The one you’re wearing, and the one I’m wearing, too. Obviously. Okay? I like many things. This shitty flat is not included in the list,” Louis says, exasperated but definitely not angry. He remembers he’s supposed to say that. “I’m not angry with you.”

Harry smiles. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be out there.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Harry leaves him alone while Louis packs up his second round of clothes. It’s really quite ridiculous, how many of his clothes can fit into this suitcase. At least he has some variety.

When he’s done, he calls Harry. “Sorry, it’s just I can’t get them out of the room on my own,” he says, annoyed with himself.

“What did you do before me?” Harry says.

“Cursed a lot. Yelled and cursed,” Louis smiles, and kisses Harry on the cheek. “Thanks for giving me some space.”

“Sure. I really do like your flat,” Harry offers.

“Don’t push it, buddy.”

Harry picks up the suitcases, then puts them down. “Do. Um. Do you have any, like, sex stuff?” he asks.

“As in?” Louis asks, trying not to smile.

“Condoms, and like. More lube. Or anything else, I dunno. But. Um. I’d like us to be prepared. Because I think I’d like to… to try it. Sometime soon. If that’s alright with you. And I can’t exactly go into a shop and buy it for you. And you can’t either now, actually.”

Louis kisses him to stop his over-explaining. “Yeah. I’ve got a bunch of stuff,” he smiles. “I put it in my toiletry bag already, actually. I kinda wanted to be prepared, too.”

“You’re awesome.”

“You too. You’re very… non-stressful,” Louis says thoughtfully. “Thank you. I love that.”

“You’re fine too, when you’re remember to be.”

“Ouch.” Louis makes a face.

“No, I meant that nicely,” Harry says quickly.

“I know you did, love. Let’s get out of here, okay? This shitty flat isn’t going anywhere, I swear. And really, I think that it’s more important who’s in the flat with you. So.” Louis shrugs. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

Harry carries the bags downstairs and Louis organizes them into the car. Harry’s a bit damp when he hugs Louis from behind after, but Louis likes it. He likes Harry’s warm strong arms around him, the smudgy damp kiss Harry plants on his neck. “I love you,” Harry says.

“I love you too. And I hope you don’t love me any less because of my sister after you meet her.”

“Don’t you like her?” Harry frowns. “Why are you being so negative? I’m sure I’ll love her. And we’re getting milkshakes, what could be bad about that?”

“Well. She could tear you apart from the inside out. And I do love that about her; it’s her best quality. I just haven’t ever had somebody that I wouldn’t want her to do that to. So.”

“Is she really that bad?”

Louis gives Harry a look. “Imagine me, with all the interpersonal talent of a girl, fewer inhibitions, dramatic angry mood swings, and six pounds of eyeliner.”

“So a challenge.” Harry looks thoughtful.

“I guess you could say that.”

“I can handle it. As long as you don’t stop loving me.”

“I never will.”

Harry grins. “Okay, then. Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Well. Then let’s go. She’s probably on her second milkshake already.”

“We aren’t due for ten minutes,” Harry protests.

“She really likes milkshakes,” Louis shrugs. “You mind if we walk there?”

Harry shakes his head, then hesitates. “Will… well, someone might notice me. And they barely would let me only take Paul.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really seen him. You sure he didn’t ditch us to go to Nando’s?”

Harry smiles again. “No, that’s what he’s good at. But if we go walking, he’ll be walking in front of us, to make sure nobody tries to kill me or something. Are you okay with that? I just feels bad about… like, being so… pop star-y,” he finishes with a face.

Louis smiles back at him and laces their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

“As long as you don’t mind maybe not holding hands if people start to take pictures. And we’d have to say we’re just friends, yeah? But is that alright?” Harry makes sure, one last time.

“That’s fine, love.”

They start to walk and Paul emerges from around a corner to walk in front of them. “Warn me,” Harry tells him. Paul nods. Harry puts on his dark pair of sunglasses and Louis pops his on too, for continuity, and it’s otherwise very normal. And nice.

Louis talks a little absently. “We should spend your next week out around here. I know all the cool places within ten miles. We have six different coffee shops. They all have their secrets.”

Harry smiles. “That’s cool. Yeah, sure.”

“And then you can live out your dream of staying in a shitty flat for a while. Your mother will be so proud.”

“My mother is already proud of me,” Harry objects, strictly on principle it seems. Louis is starting to know the version of his voice that means that, and that’s terrifying and beautiful.

“I’m sure she is, pop star. Don’t get all indignant on me, that’s what you are and I’m sure she loves that. Didja buy her a house yet?”

“No.” Harry sounds stricken. “Oh my God, should I have?”

“Jesus, no, I’m kidding, sweetheart,” Louis says gently. “Of course I’m kidding. I don’t mean it.”

“Oh. Okay. I could, though.”

“If your mum needs a house, I think she’ll let you know. I know you’ve only taken great care of her, though.” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand. “I mean, you bought me an iPhone. I can’t imagine what your casual gifts to her are.”

“I got her a mixer,” Harry says after a moment. “And a dishwasher. And then a car. For her birthday though,” he adds quickly. “So not casual.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Sure. Okay. Very sweet, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Harry,” Paul says, and Harry drops Louis’ hand to put his own in his pocket.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Louis wants to kiss him. “So. Tell me what they’ll be like,” he says, nodding at the girls whispering.

“Well, they haven’t screamed my name, so they’ll probably be alright,” Harry murmurs back. “Just. Tell them, um. Tell them we’re best mates, yeah?”

“Sure, love.”

“Maybe not call me love,” Harry giggles. “But yeah.”

“Dick face.”

They’re by the girls by then. Harry tries to just walk past, but then one of them says, “Are you Harry Styles?”

Something changes in Harry’s face a little, and he turns towards them. “Yeah,” he says with an easy smile. “Hi.”

“OhmyGod can we get an autograph? And a photo?” one asks.

Harry hesitates. “Well… I’m not allowed to take any photos, I’m sorry. But I can definitely sign something, what do you want me to sign?”

They give him a CD and a receipt and a paper bag. Harry scribbles a signature on everything and makes small talk with them, gracing them with a couple forced smiles. It’s everything Louis can do not to take Harry’s hand and get a little territorial.

Then one of them recognizes him. “You’re Louis, right? The reporter?”

“Um, yeah?” Louis frowns, trying not to smile. It’s the first time someone’s known him just randomly, on the street, and that does feel good.

“What are you guys doing today?” Sounds like the girl’s trying to sound as calm as she can, but she’s not doing a good job.

“Doing a bit of eating and some shopping,” Harry shrugs, distant and kind. “Nice to meet you.”

“So nice to meet you,” the girls insist.

“You too,” Harry nods, and follows Paul further down the street.

Louis wants to be close to him. He wants to hold his hand and tell him all the ways he’s impressed with him for being so good at this. Harry’s just kind and friendly and selfless. Louis loves him.

Harry seems to be on the same wavelength. He puts his arm over Louis’ shoulders while they walk, before they’re out of sight of the girls. “I like you,” he says. “A lot.”

“A lot,” Louis repeats slowly. “How much?”

“Well. Maybe enough so that I actually kinda love you,” Harry teases, grinning and almost head-butting Louis with his happiness.

“Shut up. You have Lottie’s present?”

“I do.”

“You’re still miraculous, by the way. She’ll freak out.”

Harry grins. “Good.”

“Is that your secret?”

“What?”

“Bribing everybody to love you?” Louis says, gently so it doesn’t hurt Harry.

And Harry smiles, taking it exactly the right way. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

They turn the corner and Louis reaches up to take Harry’s hand, linking two of their fingers together and swinging his arm a bit. “One more block,” Louis says, just to say something.

“Okay.” Harry’s so happy to just be near him. Louis loves that.

“I won’t let Lottie hurt you, I promise,” Louis says next. “She’s a bitch but she listens to me.”

“Okay.”

“Also if you don’t get a chocolate milkshake, I’m going to disown you.”

“I want strawberry,” Harry objects, pouting.

“What? Why?”

“It’s a fun color,” Harry insists. “Pink! Better than brown, or white.”

“Oh my God. You’re unbearable. I can’t stand you.” Louis snuggles closer. “Okay. This is it. Does Paul have to scan the building or something?”

“No,” Paul answers, laughing.

“Nope,” Harry smiles. “We can just go in.”

“Can we be holding hands?”

“Yeah.”

So Louis links his hand with Harry and holds him close as they walk in. Lottie’s in the back of the ice cream shop, empty milkshake glass next to the full one she’s sipping. “Toldja,” Louis murmurs to his delighted boyfriend.

Lottie watches them approach her, face betraying nothing. Louis is almost perversely proud of her for her poker face. He matches it. To his horror, Harry’s positively beaming in a way that Louis knows will make his sister absolutely gleeful. Louis squeezes Harry’s hand tighter.

They sit down together, Louis across from Lottie and Harry next to him. They take off their sunglasses. “Look who’s finally found his balls,” Lottie says. “Did you bring me any gifts?”

“I most definitely did,” Louis nods.

Lottie smiles, then, reaches over to bat at the side of Louis’ head. “Go on then,” she says fondly. “How’ve you been?”

“A lot better,” Louis smiles back. “I kind of… met somebody. Y’know.”

“I heard,” Lottie says, eyes suddenly going sharp when she glances at Harry. “Is that for real, then? I knew that Aiden thing was shit, but this isreal?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you’ve never brought anyone to meet me,” Lottie shrugs. “So. Say something, boyfriend. Boy band. Boy toy.” She narrows her eyes at Harry.

“Hi,” Harry begins.

“Hi,” Lottie repeats. “Scintillating conversation. It must be the wit that won my brother over. He always did go for the intellectuals.”

Louis tightens his hand on Harry. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I see that’s really gone well,” Lottie continues. “Your level of conversation has gone straight to the top. Jesus.”

“What’s the top?” Harry asks quietly.

“The top level,” Lottie says, deadpan. “Duh.”

“I’m nowhere near there,” Harry says. “I think it doesn’t matter where Louis is.”

Lottie wrinkles her nose. “Oh God. You wanted this?”

“I did, a lot. I still do. Would you like your present now?” Louis says patiently.

Lottie pretends to consider. “I suppose.”

“You have to ask Harry; he’s holding onto it for me,” Louis says. He designed this, and he knows she knows it.

Very reluctantly, Lottie looks at Harry. “Please,” she says, deadpan again.

Harry’s ability to remain friendly is unparalleled. He throws her another happy smile. “You’re gonna want to be a little more nice to me,” he says mildly. “This is a really awesome present and it’s mostly my fault.”

Louis facepalms, right as Lottie says “Fault? Isn’t that ominous.”

“Just say fucking please,” Louis sighs.

Lottie softens a little. “Please, may I have this present?” she says.

Harry is enchanted. “Yes, you may! Thank you for asking.”

Lottie’s rolling her eyes, but Harry hands over the present so she’s happy. She opens it up and begins to hyperventilate right away. “Oh my God.”

Harry over-explains. “It’s, um, it’s an iPhone. With the case is all signed by the members of Little Mix. And they took a picture to be your lock screen. And they all followed you on twitter.”

“Oh my God.” Lottie’s speechless and Louis is grinning. He knew he could count on Harry.

“So,” Louis says. “Maybe you can keep your snide remarks about my pop star boyfriend to yourself. He’s really quite sweet, when you get to know him.” Harry kisses his cheek, and Louis shoves his shoulder. “Idiot.”

“Oh my God.”

“Can I get a milkshake now?” Harry asks.

“As long as it’s not strawberry, y’poof,” Louis pokes Harry’s cheek.

Harry bats his hand away. “I want strawberry and I’m getting it.”

“There are other fun ice creams that are colored that are less literally fruity.”

“Like what?”

“Mint chocolate chip. Superman. I would imagine they have some kind of blue ice cream,” Louis says patiently.

Harry is immovable. “Strawberry.”

“Jesus,” Louis sighs and kisses Harry hard, holding him by the back of the neck. “I’m getting your fucking strawberry. What size, giant?”

“Yes,” Harry grins. “The biggest they have. Please.” He pulls out his wallet. “Here, and you can get-“

“Oh, no. We’re in my hometown with my sister eating milkshakes at my favorite spot. You’re not paying.” Louis kisses Harry briefly on the lips.

Harry smiles. “Still have to get me strawberry, though,” he says, smirking.

“Dick face.” One more kiss and Louis gets up. He gets them both milkshakes, very large ones, and then comes back and sits next to Harry. “Strawberry for you, love,” Louis kisses him on the cheek.

“Haven’t you gotten domestic,” Lottie observes.

“A little. Maybe.” Louis lets himself be tucked under Harry’s arm and sips on his milkshake. “So. Um. How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” Lottie shrugs. “Mark’s learned to braid the twins’ hair.”

“I can braid,” Harry announces.

“Brilliant,” Lottie says blandly. Louis is busy trying not to feel hurt. He was the one who braided their hair. Lottie knows it. She moves on. “And Fizz tried to wear makeup the other week. Mum wouldn’t let her.” Her face freezes as she realizes what she just said.

“Mum,” Louis repeats.

“Step… mum.”

“So Karen’s really ingratiated herself, hasn’t she.”

“Louis,” Harry says softly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lottie says quickly. “It’s just hard to… I mean, does it really matter? You can have a bunch of aunts or a couple grandfathers. Why can’t I have two mums?”

“Because you just can’t.” Louis is about to cry.

Harry folds both of his huge hands over Louis’ and holds him close. “It’s not the same,” he says in his beautiful deep voice. “I think you know that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lottie snaps. “Just stay out of this.”

“No, he does actually,” Louis snaps right back. “I’ve told him everything. Seems he understands more than you do, at any rate.”

Harry is uncomfortable. “It’s not a competition,” he says uneasily. “Just tell her the truth, though. Like you told me.”

“She knows the truth. She just apparently doesn’t give a fuck.”

“Louis,” Lottie and Harry both say.

Louis ignores Harry. “No really, though,” he says to Lottie. “Tell me what is so fucking great about her. What makes her better than Jay?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean that-“

“No, you fucking did. You and the other three, you’ve just-“

“Louis,” Harry says.

“No, Harry, they’ve just gone and forgotten everything about her, they-“

“Louis,” Harry says loudly, staring at Louis intently. “Stop it. No, just stop talking. For a second. Okay? Shush. Drink some of your milkshake. I’m serious, drink it.” He’s not kidding, so Louis obeys, staring at Harry.

“Okay,” Louis begins when he’s done.

“No,” Harry cuts him off. “Stop. I know you’re really hurt but you’ve gotta stop.”

“This was your brilliant idea, anyway,” Louis mumbles rebelliously. “You don’t just get to shut down the conversation when it isn’t going perfectly.”

“I’m not. I’m just shutting it down before you can push more people away,” Harry says, softly and gently. “Please, Lou.”

“I don’t love her more than Mum,” Lottie says.

“But if you love her the same, then-“

“Please,” Harry repeats. “Please, Lou.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Lottie cuts in, sounding sad and vulnerable. “Lou. I know you think I have but I really haven’t.” Harry nods in agreement.

Louis mentally counts to ten or something. He’s not really sure. He just concentrates on being really calm. He doesn’t want Harry to feel like shit for Lottie and Louis getting pissed at each other. So he tries to be reasonable.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Okay, um. Yeah. Okay. Can we just move on, then? Let’s move on. How are you? And the girls? Don’t tell me about Mark or Karen. I just want to know about my sisters. Okay?”

“Okay,” Lottie says after a moment. “Sure. The twins are losing their teeth.”

Louis feels himself go mushy. “Adorable.”

“Yeah, Daisy’s got a bit of a lisp. What about you guys, though?” Lottie asks, leaning on the table. “You’re together. But nobody can know about it?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “’Cause I was a dumbass and signed a contract for the rest of the year. I have to pretend I’m in love with Aiden, and if they catch this, then I’m pretty much homeless.”

“No,” Harry objects softly. Louis pushes his arm and ignores him.

“Why’d you sign?” Lottie asks.

“Because then they wouldn’t pay me for the writing.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re not doing that anymore, are you.”

“Nope. They’re ghostwriting for me most of the time. I never thought I cared much for the truth, but turns out…” Louis shrugs. “I do.”

“You could live with me,” Harry insists.

“I don’t want to live with you,” Louis says sharply. “Okay? I don’t. I know it’s coming from a great place and it’s only because you love me, but I can’t do it. It’s a lovely flat, but it’s definitely yours, not mine.”

“It could be yours,” Harry murmurs. “I’d let you do whatever you want to it.”

“Ooh,” Lottie says into her drink. “You’ve found his weakness. Interior design.”

She’s not too far from the truth. Louis glares at her and Harry is intrigued. “Really? You can interior design whatever you want, I don’t care,” he says.

“We’ll talk later,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t we have to go meet your mum?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “We’re due in two hours and thirty-seven minutes.”

“Right. So we should get ready to go.” Louis looks at Lottie. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

Lottie shakes her head. “Nope. This was nice, thanks.” She holds up the phone.

“All Harry,” Louis says.

Harry grins and blushes, ducking his head. “It was nothing.”

“It was brilliant,” Lottie insists. “Thank you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. We should do this again sometime,” Harry offers.

From across the shop, some girls squeal. “Oh my god, is that Harry Styles?”

Harry lets out a deep sigh, rubbing the palms of his hands in his eyes. “God. Sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

“It’s okay.” Louis drops his hand and rubs Harry’s back. “It’s okay, babe. This is part of your deal, I know that.”

“But I feel bad about your sister – about you,” he changes to address her directly. “I feel bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I could scare ‘em off. Oh my God, I could pretend to be dating you,” Lottie suggests excitedly.

Harry lifts his head to smile crookedly at her. “Thanks. But I can’t date a fourteen year old.”

“How do you know how – oh. Louis told you. Is there anything he hasn’t confided in you by now?” Lottie asks, a little cross.

“Nope,” Harry says, and then he’s swarmed by three little girls, all under the age of ten. He smiles for them, he exclaims over how delicious their milkshakes look. Still he has to stick to no photos, but he signs their milkshake cups and shirts and whatever else. “Sorry, we’ve got to go,” he says then, looking to Louis. They get up. “Enjoy those milkshakes. Nice to meet you, Lottie.”

“You too, pop star.”

Louis and Harry walk out behind Paul, retracing their steps back to Louis’ flat. “Thanks for doing that for me,” Louis says. He holds Harry’s hand as soon as it’s safe to. “I really enjoyed that.”

“Me too,” Harry smiles back. “She’s lovely.”

“Thanks, love.”