Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Glossary

• Sextet: the six players on the court.
• Front row: the three players positioned at the net.
• Back row: three players positioned behind the attack line.
• Setter: their task is to set the ball so the hitters can attack. There is only one setter in the sextet.
• Outside hitter (left side hitter): the attacker who hits from the left side of the net. There are usually two outside hitters in the sextet, and they are typically the most versatile players.
• Middle blocker: the attacker who hits in the center of the net. There are two middle blockers in the sextet, and they are typically the tallest and strongest players in blocking.
• Opposite hitter (right side hitter): the attacker who hits from the right side of the net. There is only one opposite hitter in the sextet, and they are usually the strongest attacker.
• Libero: the player with a different jersey compared to the rest of the team. They enter and exit the court freely to temporarily substitute weaker players in reception/defense, usually coming in for the middle blocker when the team is in the back row. The libero cannot serve, attack, or block, and is typically the shortest and most agile player.

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Harry had always been a quiet boy. He was shy, but that had never really held back his desire to socialize and make new friends. He was good at it, enjoying the process of meeting new people, and it was rare for anyone to dislike him. Even when it happened, he didn’t let it bother him too much.

His sister Gemma would always tell everyone he was a perfect mummy’s boy – and she meant it as an insult – who only secretly turned into a little devil. Not that they didn’t get along, they would argue from time to time, but never enough for it to be a major concern. Anyway, every time Harry caused a disaster, Gemma knew that almost certainly the blame would fall on her so, to get back at him in advance, she would start tormenting her younger brother until she made him cry, and then she would end up actually getting in trouble.

Their mother would sigh and call it sibling love, but Harry was sure it was jealousy, because he always seemed to get away with everything.

Their last big argument had been at the end of that school year. After achieving top marks and winning the championship, their parents had granted one of his greatest wishes: they enrolled him in the volleyball summer camp he had dreamed of attending for years, the Royal Camp.

Harry knew he deserved it and, deep down, Gemma must have known it too. Still, she hadn’t taken the news well. Not only had she, unlike him, had to wait until she was sixteen to have an experience like that, but on top of that, it would be her last summer at the camp and her fourteen-year-old little brother would only be a burden.

In his defence, Harry had no intention of spoiling his sister’s plans. He wanted to go to camp just to play volleyball, have fun and improve his skills. He’d make friends his own age and probably wouldn’t see Gemma for the whole month, except from a distance. He certainly didn’t plan on getting in the way of her summer romances.

Maybe a small part of him was envious of the way his sister managed to get tangled up in some summer romance every year, which inevitably left her heartbroken at the end of the season, because he also wanted that.

What was a little heartache compared to the thrill of the first kiss? He’d gladly accept a crack in his heart if it meant feeling butterflies in his stomach… the real ones, the kind that could turn his entire life upside down, not the faint annoyance he was used to from admiring his crushes from afar.

Harry knew his time would come, he was sure of it, but he also knew he’d have to wait a little longer than his peers. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, besides being gay, it was that no boy his age would openly show themselves as not-straight in an environment like that. After all, he was the first one who had never come out, except to his sister who, despite everything, was the person he trusted the most in the world.

To his delight – and Gemma’s – everything went according to plan during the first week at camp. Harry was happier than he had ever been. He trained twice a day, went to the beach, made dozens of new friends from all over England and had fun every single moment of the day. But it was when the second week began that things got more complicated.

Everyone was gathered around the main court for the lesson when Walsh, the camp’s technical director, called a few of the boys to demonstrate that day’s topic, and Harry noticed him for the first time.

He was the most beautiful boy Harry had ever seen.

It was enough for him to lay his eyes on him to feel his stomach twist within itself with such force that he feared it was about to actually snap. This boy couldn’t possibly be real. Sharp features, eyes bluer than the sky and a smile brighter than the sun. He wasn't very tall, but he had toned and agile legs that allowed him to jump like a grasshopper, making up for the height he lacked in elevation.

And above all, he was a setter.

Gemma had always teased Harry about this, but he had a soft spot for setters. He couldn’t help it. He was fascinated by the way their minds could process every single detail in a millisecond. A quick glance over the net before jumping to meet the ball and their brain had already processed all the necessary information to decide where to place the set: the shortest player at the net at that moment, the middle blocker’s hands waiting, the opposing setter’s position on the court, the defensive position of the back row. All while they considered their team’s rotation, who the best attacker was that day, who had the most suitable skills to fool that particular opponent, who hadn’t been served much, who shouldn’t be overloaded because they had already jumped too many times during the match, who could make the right fake, who could be trusted when it was time to stay calm under pressure.

Setters were, by definition, the brain of the team. They rarely got the glory they deserved because their job was to put someone else in the best position to score, but the true responsibility for how things went lay in their precise, delicate fingers. They were dominant, often a bit cocky, but always at the service of the team.

A glance beyond the net, a jump and all of this was captured in a simple set.

Harry had always found it exciting, but he never imagined his entire existence could be turned upside down like in that very moment. Every time that boy’s delicate wrists bent to meet the ball, Harry felt like it was his own heart that was being cradled between those graceful fingers. He didn’t mind sounding a little melodramatic, it just felt unfair that the boy was unknowingly setting something so precious and fragile, but he couldn’t stay angry at him, not when the boy would turn toward his attacker with a satisfied smile on his lips as he smoothed his caramel coloured fringe out of his face with his fingers.

Harry was screwed.

It had taken very little for Harry to discover his name, Louis, and that he was seventeen. It seemed like everyone knew him and adored him. He was always surrounded by people. He had a small circle of close friends, the ones he spent most of his time with, but he was always joking around with anyone who approached him. He seemed so kind and friendly when Harry watched him from a distance, dreaming of being one of the lucky few to earn a smile from him. Meanwhile, he didn’t mind admitting to himself that he had memorised the sound of that crystal clear laugh, one he would recognise among a million others.

Gemma would have told him outright that he was whipped, but he hadn't even confessed this little crush to his sister because she was friends with Louis and he knew her too well not to realise that she would try every possible way to introduce him to Louis. A part of Harry wouldn’t have wanted anything more in the world, but the more realistic side of him knew that he’d never be able to speak in front of him.

This was more or less what happened the first time he found himself having to interact with Louis, although fortunately the circumstances didn’t require Harry to even say his own name. That was his only salvation because that morning, when Walsh asked him to stand up for the technical demonstration, Harry thought he was about to die.

He shakily made his way to the centre of the court, desperately trying to focus on the explanation of the exercise rather than the frantic beating of his heart. He kept his gaze lowered, as he had no intention of blushing in front of three hundred other teenagers just because the boy of his dreams had noticed his existence.

"On this side, for the attack in the centre, I only want Matt and Cheryl. Joe, Maya, Rebecca, Paul, and Harry," Walsh said, pointing with his thumb to the other side of the court. "Go to the net over there. Two outside hitters here in zone four, two opposites in zone two and Louis as the setter."

The topic of the day was blocking, Harry's bread and butter, or at least that's what he thought before disastrously messing up his choice during his first round. The biggest challenge – and the main goal of the exercise – was to anticipate the setter's intentions. Harry wasn’t used to facing setters of Louis's level, someone so technically clean and experienced that he was almost unreadable, but he had the advantage of hours of careful observation. Probably for this reason, when it was Harry's turn again and Louis as usual threw a glance over the net before jumping, Harry recognised the sly little curl of his lip and decided to jump straight away, successfully blocking Louis’s attempt to send the ball over with a dump.

When the ball hit the ground everyone applauded, but Harry heard nothing as soon as the surprised eyes of the guy he had an embarrassingly huge crush on met his. Louis smiled at him and, stretching his arm under the net to bump fists in congratulations, said "Nice job, great block."

"Oh- uhm, thanks," Harry chuckled, blushing all the way to his ears and stumbling over his words. "Yours too."

The realisation of his slip hit him when he saw Louis raise an eyebrow, but whatever dignity he had left was saved by the coach, who threw another ball and quickly moved the exercise forward without wasting any more time.

Later that same evening, Harry nearly died again when he found Louis training alone on one of the outdoor courts, usually reserved for casual play during free time. Harry was walking by with his group, heading back to the bungalows after their afternoon practice, and he had been so stunned by the sight that by the time he realised he had stopped he was now all alone.

The rational part of his brain kept telling him to leave before he was caught, but his feet refused to move. Louis was gorgeous, there was something magnetic about him. He was always attractive, but right then it was as if he was glowing with his own light, far more than usual. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was shirtless - even though that little detail contributed quite a bit to Harry's complete lack of saliva - because he had already seen him in swimwear several times, both at the beach and in the pool.

Louis had found his own simple yet brilliant way to train on his own: he had placed a wooden plank near the baseline, propped up on his bag at an angle, and he would launch the ball at it forcefully before sprinting to intercept the unpredictable trajectory and set from anywhere on the court. It didn’t matter where he was or how difficult it made things for himself, every set always ended up in the same spot. It was perfect. And on those rare occasions when he made a mistake, he cursed under his breath as if he had just missed a crucial set in an Olympic final.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him. The seriousness and concentration on Louis’s face were intoxicating. It made him want to tie his shoes tighter and start training with an intensity he’d honestly never put on the court before. In that moment, he realised he would never get anywhere if he didn’t start putting that same level of commitment into every ball. He’d always remain a mediocre player otherwise.

Plus, that focused frown made Louis infinitely sexy.

Harry only realised he had been standing there staring for an embarrassingly long time when, out of the blue, instead of aiming for the wooden target Louis threw a ball straight at him. He was so caught off guard, lost in his thoughts, that he barely had time to raise his hands instinctively to shield himself from the attack.

"I thought you wanted to play," Louis teased, chuckling, and Harry felt his legs tremble again. "Or are you going to stay there staring and bored?"

"I-I... sorry," Harry stammered.

"Hey, I was just kidding," Louis said, his tone almost apologetic as he jogged up to Harry. He bent down to pick up the ball just a few steps away and handed it to him with a friendly smile. "But if you want to help, the offer still stands."

Harry let out a half embarrassed laugh but couldn't hold that intense blue gaze for long. He looked down, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "I- I don't think I can."

"You can't throw?" Louis raised an eyebrow and, with an amused huff, pushed the ball between his hands before turning and running back onto the court. "Come on, just six more balls to finish the cart, then we can go."

Then we can go.

Harry had never come so close to having a heart attack.

Then we can go. Where? But most importantly... together?

He would never be able to turn him down, so he pushed aside his insecurities and followed him onto the court.

"Come here," Louis gestured for Harry to join him in the three-metre zone. His smile was so bright it was contagious. "You’re a middle blocker, right?"

Harry nodded shyly, trying to ignore the flip his heart just did.

"My pride still hasn't gotten over that block from this morning," Louis joked cheerfully. "Do you want to attack?" he asked, searching for Harry's gaze. "What kind of set do you prefer?"

Harry's eyes widened as he instinctively took a step back. "I don’t want to waste your time" he tried to mumble, his heart pounding with anxiety, "Keep practicing, I can throw like you told me."

"I’m a setter," Louis rolled his eyes with a laugh, "This is practice too."

"But-"

"Come on," Louis sighed dramatically, "And stop looking at me like I’m going to bite you."

"I- I..." Harry stammered, trying to pull himself together, "I- I’m sorry. It’s just, uh... you're really good and- and you were practicing, so I don't want to waste your time."

For the first time, Harry saw Louis almost blush. Louis had to be used to receiving compliments, Harry had seen him get them every day during the technical lessons from some of the most important coaches in the country, yet that awkward half compliment had somehow managed to get to him. 

Louis placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, flashing the sweetest smile Harry had ever seen. "Just one, okay?" he tried to negotiate. "And then, if you’re still up for it, you can help me with the last few balls."

"Okay," Harry whispered, blushing even more when Louis smiled again, finally satisfied.

Despite the anxiety of making a fool of himself, Harry found himself mentally thanking Louis, because this was solid ground for him. It was something he could do more easily and automatically than breathing or, even worse, speaking. He passed the ball to Louis and, with the first step of his approach he felt better.

Three steps. Jump. Attack.

It was such a natural move by now that he finally felt like he could breathe again, for the first time since the boy of his dreams had spoken to him.

"Not bad," Louis complimented him, giving him a fist bump just like that morning. "Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I need to get back to training."

Harry took a moment too long to realise he had just been teased, but when he caught the playful spark in Louis's eyes he couldn’t help but laugh.

"Hey" he protested, mimicking Louis’s teasing tone, "I was just trying to be a nice guy."

"Alright, nice guy," Louis chuckled, brushing sweat soaked hair from his forehead. "Now throw the last five balls without mercy. I want the hardest, fastest throws you can come up with."

Not for the first time, Harry found himself thinking how contagious Louis's intensity was. That defiant look, always flickering in his eyes, made him want to be just a little more like him.

He did as he was asked, making it more and more difficult for Louis with each throw, enjoying the sight like he was witnessing a private show. He wasn’t sure whether to be more entranced by the elegance of Louis’s movements or by the satisfied little laughs he managed to coax from him each time he completed a perfect set with the most unexpected trajectories.

He didn’t care if it was pathetic, whipped or melodramatic, Harry probably would have spent his life watching him set. With that smile, too.

When the training session was over, Harry helped Louis gather the scattered balls and, after tying up the bag, Louis affectionately ruffled his hair. "Thanks, you’ve been a perfect assistant."

Harry chuckled awkwardly, simply shrugging because he didn’t trust his voice enough. He feared that if he spoke, he might end up telling him that he was the one who was perfect and he really didn’t want to risk that, he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

They walked down the path towards the bungalows where all the campers were staying. "I’m completely wiped out today," Louis said casually, as if they were old friends heading back from practice.

Harry tried not to look at him while he drank, making an effort to keep his mind busy and away from any thoughts. He really needed to get himself together.

"You’re really good," was all his brain managed to produce, clearly struggling.

"Thanks," Louis smiled, glancing down for a moment, and once again seemed almost embarrassed. "I work really hard," he shrugged, as if downplaying his talent, "I’ve got an important tryout in a few weeks, I hope they pick me. That’s why I do extra training, I’m not some psycho."

"I didn’t think you were," Harry admitted, perhaps a bit too quickly to not sound pathetic.

"So you weren’t staring at me with that shocked look because you thought I was crazy?"

“No!” Harry’s eyes widened, desperately hoping he wouldn’t blush to the point of combusting. “Y-you’re really good, uh, that’s all.”

Louis chuckled again, clearly pleased with the reaction he’d gotten. “I was just messing with you, but thanks... again.”

Harry smiled. “You enjoy teasing me a bit too much.”

“It’s too easy,” Louis defended himself with a playful tone, before clearing his throat. “Can I be brutally honest?”

Harry’s heart stopped in that instant, as he saw the dreaded moment unfold before his eyes, the moment when Louis would kindly reject him, telling Harry to stop pining after him with such a lack of dignity. He nodded, bracing himself for the blow.

“Have you ever thought about changing your role?”

“What?” Harry asked, completely caught off guard.

“What?” Even Louis seemed to be confused by his own question. “I know I’m not a coach and that it’s none of my business, and honestly… you’re good, especially for your age.”

“But?”

“But you’re not a middle blocker.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding what he meant.

“I’ve seen you play a few times, and you’re a good middle blocker but you are not a middle,” Louis tried to explain. “You’ve got the height and the skills to make a real difference in the role you’re in right now, but looking ahead- well, you’ll end up on the bench in a couple of years. It’s a shame because you’ve got potential.”

For some reason that Harry couldn’t quite comprehend, he didn’t take this in a negative way. Maybe because Louis seemed sincere, but hearing him destroy his volleyball career like that didn't hurt as much as he might have thought it would.

“Potential for the bench?” Harry asked, letting out a wry chuckle.

“No. Hey, no,” Louis nudged him lightly. “I’m saying the opposite. It’s a shame to waste your potential just because you’re probably the tall guy on your team and therefore more useful as a middle blocker. In a couple of years they’ll switch you to another role and you’ll have wasted years to get into the starting lineup in some youth league, when you could have been growing seriously as a player and… well, building a career at a higher level, maybe.”

He definitely hadn’t expected this from Louis and he didn’t know whether to feel flattered or start thinking that maybe Louis’s kind way of saying it meant he would never be a top-level player.

“Okay?” Harry blinked several times, trying to keep up with his confusing thoughts. “So what do you suggest I do? I can’t just go home and decide to change my role.”

“I know,” Louis replied with a disappointed grimace. “But... Well, I don’t know. If the opportunity comes up to change role or team, well, I wouldn’t waste any time.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, really. I’ll keep it in mind.”

His heart skipped again embarrassingly when Louis smiled at him once more. “That one’s mine,” he gestured towards bungalow number 28 with a tilt of his head. “See you around.”

“See you around.”

Harry continued down the path, still unable to believe what had just happened but, after a few steps, he stopped and turned back to check if the guy of his dreams had already gone into his room. Luckily, Louis was still opening the door, so Harry took the opportunity to ask the one question he had forgotten to ask earlier.

“Louis” he called out, catching his attention. “What role do you think I should play?”

“Opposite,” Louis replied without a second thought, as if it was completely obvious. “You’d probably make a great outside hitter too, but I think you’d be best as an opposite.”

That conversation remained a magical gem within Harry’s experience at the camp. For a moment, he had hoped - almost feared, in some ways - that his relationship with Louis might develop into something more, but in reality the opportunity for further conversation never arose. They had exchanged a few greetings and occasionally he received smiles that stirred up the butterflies in his stomach, but nothing more than that.

Harry didn’t mind though, he was happy with how things were going. Since that afternoon with Louis, he’d begun training with a newfound focus and even the coaches he’d been working with during those weeks had commented several times on how much progress he had made in such a short time.

Off the court, things were going even better. He had met a couple of guys who lived not far from him and he hoped to keep in touch with them during the winter months. His three roommates, even though they came from the opposite side of England, had become like brothers and, unintentionally, Harry had also found some success in the romantic department.

If only he liked girls.

He wasn’t proud of it, but it was a recurring thought in his mind. If only he liked girls his life would be so much simpler. He had often overlooked the way some girls behaved and failed to realise they were flirting with him. Actually, it was often his friends who pointed it out, teasing him for being so naive. His standard response was an embarrassed laugh, especially since he wouldn’t have known how to explain that it wasn’t naivety, but that he was simply so uninterested in girls in that way that he couldn’t see them as anything more than friends.

There was one girl in particular, Kylie, with whom he spent a lot of his free time. They’d become friends almost immediately and it was clear from the start that she had developed a little crush on him. Harry had tried to handle the situation in a way that made it clear what their relationship was without having to give up being friends. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

Kylie was a beautiful girl, one of those who stood out just because of her natural simplicity. Half the guys Harry knew at the camp had a crush on her, but for some reason her attention had fallen on the only gay guy - at least, as far as Harry knew - among hundreds of boys.

She found every opportunity to flirt with him, but never went too far, and she even seemed a bit jealous of the girls who, according to her, were paying him too much attention. That's why Harry had wanted to make it clear that he wasn't interested in any of the girls on campus and it seemed to have worked because then Kylie had calmed down and, from that moment on, they had started to have a wonderful relationship.

On the last night before heading home, as they often did, they were walking around the campus together, waiting for the final party to start. Kylie seemed unusually nervous, but Harry thought it was just the sadness of the experience coming to an end. He started to worry that it wasn’t just that when, pretending to be nonchalant as if it were completely normal, she took his hand. They continued walking with their fingers intertwined while Harry tried to figure out how to get out of this situation without hurting her, but he hadn’t come up with a solution by the time they stopped and sat down at the bottom of the stairs leading to the pool area.

“I’m not ready to go home,” she sighed, absentmindedly resting their joined hands on her leg.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, uhm... it’s going to be hard getting used to normal life again. I’ll miss everything about this place.”

Kylie’s eyes lit up as if she had been waiting for that. “Even me?”

“Well- uh, of course.”

She slid a little closer to him, giggling. “Can I just say, you’re cute when you get nervous?”

“I don’t think that’s a nice thing to say,” Harry tried to brush it off, while his heart began to race for all the wrong reasons. This wasn’t the type of fluttering he wanted to feel.

“It is, because I’m not used to seeing you like this.”

“Uh,” he tried to cover the awkwardness with a cough. “I wonder why…”

"Maybe because you know it's the last night," she pressed herself even closer against his body, "and that tomorrow you’ll miss me."

"I- I… uh, I- I think we should go or we’ll get into trouble."

"We’re not even late," she lifted her free hand to stroke Harry's face, "I just want to spend a bit more time alone with you."

It was clear what was about to happen. It was clear from the way Kylie kept staring at his lips, from how she kept getting closer to his face and from the tightening knot in Harry’s stomach, once again for all the wrong reasons. This wasn’t how he imagined his first kiss would feel.

In those few seconds before their lips could meet, a million thoughts raced through Harry’s mind. He even considered not pulling away, just so he wouldn’t hurt her. After all, it was just a kiss. It wasn’t that important for his first kiss to be special. He knew it would be awkward no matter what, nothing like the magical moment everyone dreams of. A part of him was almost curious to find out, because something in the back of his mind kept telling him that maybe, unexpectedly, he would enjoy it. And what if it helped him realise that, actually, he might like girls even just a little? Wouldn’t everything be easier?

He would have done it, really. He wanted to, sooner or later, but the closer Kylie got, the more Harry panicked. He desperately wanted to have his first kiss, but not with her.

He jumped to his feet, stepping back a few paces. "Sorry," he hurriedly said, noticing Kylie’s confused look slowly becoming more aware and hurt. "I’m sorry, I- I can’t."

"You can’t?" Her voice was more an accusation than a question. She stood up quickly, adjusting her dress with a coldness betrayed only by her eyes, now filled with tears. "You realise that now? After using me for nearly a month?"

"What?" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "I never used you, we’re friends."

He could never forget the look Kylie gave him just before she slapped him and stormed off, crying. She had broken something inside him.

Once he was alone, Harry suddenly felt like crying too because everything seemed so unfair. For her, but also for him. Why couldn’t he just be a normal guy? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Before he could let himself spiral, almost without realising it, he called his sister, asking her to come to him. He told her everything about Kylie, his fears and even about Louis.

"I kind of guessed, you know?" she teased, hugging him affectionately as they walked between the bungalows, away from the party. "I saw how you look at him."

Harry hid his face in his hands. "That means he must have noticed too."

"Not necessarily. He’s a guy," she chuckled, rolling her eyes. "And besides, I know you. You’re an open book to me."

"Do you think I did the wrong thing?"

"Drooling over him for a month?"

"I’m serious," Harry sighed, because he’d never admit that even being teased by his sister made him feel a little better. "Maybe I should’ve kissed her."

"Did you want to?"

"No, but… I don’t know, I feel like a loser. My friends would give me a hard time if they found out."

"You’d be a loser if you did it just to avoid people talking."

"It’s easy to say that when you’ve never had these issues."

"What issues?" Gemma stopped to look at him closely. "Has anyone given you a hard time?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck, as if struggling to find the right words. "No, I mean- that’s not what I meant."

"I’m listening."

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes showed how determined she was to protect her brother from any possible harm.

"Gems, relax. Seriously, no one’s ever given me a hard time," Harry explained. "But it’s normal for my friends to ask questions when they see me ignoring all the girls who come near me."

"Can’t you just tell them you’re not interested?"

"That’s what I do, but… uh, I’m afraid at some point they might wonder why no one ever interests me. They’re already making jokes."

"What kind of jokes?"

"Nothing mean, actually," he kicked a small stone distractedly, his gaze lowered. "They always joke that I aim too picky, that no girl’s good enough for me. I don’t like coming across like that, but- but I’m afraid that if I contradict them, they’ll figure out the real reason."

"So you wanted to kiss Kylie to avoid problems."

"I thought about it," he bit his lip, unsure whether to tell her the rest. "And then- and then I thought maybe it would help me clear things up. Maybe I’m not gay-gay , but I can’t know until I try."

"You have every right to try and figure out who you are," Gemma comforted him, gently stroking his arm. "It’s not even sure that you won’t change your mind along the way."

"But I didn’t want to risk ruining my first kiss like that," he ran a hand over his face. "God, how stupid does that sound?"

"It’s not stupid to be romantic."

"I don’t want to be romantic," Harry sighed in frustration. "Maybe I don’t even want to be gay. I just want to be a normal guy who meets someone he likes and can kiss them without overthinking it. I don’t want to be faced with a friend who has a crush on me and- and run away just because when I close my eyes and imagine my first kiss, it’s not her I see."

"And who do you see?"

"Louis" he answered so quickly that, when he realised, he instinctively covered his mouth with both hands. "No- I didn’t- I mean, yes, but no."

"Relax, Harry, there’s nothing wrong with that," his sister chuckled, amused by his sudden embarrassment.

Harry took a deep breath before continuing. "I mean, if I close my eyes, I imagine my first kiss being with a guy. I’d want it to be like that. And if that guy was Louis, even better, because I’ve never met anyone as beautiful, brilliant and kind as him."

"Well," Gemma’s smile was meant to be encouraging, but Harry could tell she was dying to call him a whipped at least once. "I’d say we’ve reached the definitive answer: you don’t regret not kissing her and you know you did the right thing."

"She was crying, though."

Gemma shrugged. "She’ll get over it. Everyone gets rejected at some point, believe it or not, even straight guys do it."

For the first time in what felt like hours, Harry laughed and finally relaxed. "So, she won’t hate me?"

"Probably, but that’s not your problem."

Harry made a face of disapproval but got distracted before he could reply, because a cat - or maybe a hare, he often saw them around campus - had rustled some leaves in a hedge.

"What do you think about going back to the party and having fun with your friends since it’s the last night?"

"You’re right," Harry nodded. "You go ahead, I’ll just pop back to my room for a hoodie, it’s starting to get chilly."

"You’re an old man inside," Gemma rolled her eyes theatrically before heading towards the area of the campus where the party was, calling out with a "My little brother goes around breaking hearts" that earned her a middle finger in response.

Harry wasn’t exactly eager to see Kylie again so soon, especially since he knew her well enough to realise she had probably spent the entire night crying on her friends’ shoulders. This meant there was a good chance everyone already knew what had happened between them. However, Gemma was right: he couldn’t afford to ruin his last night with his friends just because he had stayed true to himself.

He reached bungalow 369, which was almost on the opposite side of campus from where he had been walking with his sister and, after a quick stop in the bathroom, he grabbed his hoodie and went out again.

As he locked the door, he heard voices at the end of the alley, so he turned to see who it was. His heart flipped when he recognised Louis with two of his friends, but he forced himself to stay calm and headed towards the party as though he hadn’t noticed them.

“Hey."

He turned after a few steps, unsure if the call was meant for him.

“Hey,” said one of the guys whose name he didn’t remember. Rich? Roger? Robert? “Louis, isn’t that one of your friends?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush as Louis raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend. “Did you smoke a joint without me?” he asked, clearly confused, before turning to look at Harry, still standing a few feet away. Then Louis smiled, “Hey, sorry about him. I’d say he’s usually normal, but that wouldn’t be true.”

Harry chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, uhm… hey guys.”

“Louis, stop it,” the other guy gave him a playful shove. “Can’t you see he’s about to shit himself?”

Harry’s heart stopped and he suddenly felt completely surrounded, utterly vulnerable and uncomfortable.

Louis brushed off his friend’s hand with a half-laugh, though his furrowed brow showed he was getting more and more confused, clearly less amused by the second. “What the fuck is wrong with you guys today?”

“I’m Rob,” the first guy introduced himself, offering Harry his hand. Harry shook it but didn’t even have time to say his name before Rob kept talking. “And this is Alan. You up for a walk with us?”

“I- uh, actually my friends are waiting for me.”

“They won’t die if they wait ten more minutes.”

“Stop it, Rob,” Louis intervened, helping Harry break free from the handshake that was starting to feel more like a trap than a friendly gesture.

“Alright, alright,” Rob raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll pretend I’m not offended. I was just trying to help.”

“What the fuck…?”

Alan interrupted him, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulders, and then did the same to Harry, who was becoming increasingly nervous. “I mean, it seems a bit rude on his part to treat us like this when we’re helping him confess.”

“Let go of me,” Harry mumbled, trying to free himself from Alan’s grip. He feared his heart might literally jump out of his chest with how fast it was beating, praying that all of this wasn’t really happening.

“Come on, Harry, don’t be a baby.”

“How- how do you know my name?” Harry finally managed to pull free from Alan, but Rob was quick to put his hands on his shoulders, blocking him from leaving. “What do you want from me?”

“Your sister must have said it earlier,” Alan shrugged casually.

“Guys, this isn’t funny,” Louis said seriously. “Stop messing around and leave him alone.”

“What a gentleman,” Alan placed a hand on his chest theatrically. “I’d have a crush on you too if you defended me like that.”

“I- I don’t have a crush on him,” Harry rushed to clarify, panic rising in his chest. His eyes filled with tears as he mustered the courage to look at Louis. “Louis, I swear it’s not true.”

Louis seemed stunned. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze darted between his friends’ faces, resting for just a moment on Harry.

“What do you mean it’s not true?” Alan replied, feigning surprise. “Rob, what the hell are you making me look like? Did you film the wrong guy?”

“Shit, wait, let’s check,” Rob said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Harry was on the verge of throwing up. He had never felt so sick in his life. He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and, once again, he tried to break free from their grip that, one way or another, kept him stuck there.

This seemed to snap Louis out of it. “Enough, guys, stop it. What the fuck are you doing?” He shoved Rob aside, catching him off guard enough to make him release Harry, who didn’t waste any time running away.

As he distanced himself, Harry distinctly heard the words from the video Rob and Alan were showing to Louis.

"Relax, Harry, there’s nothing wrong with that." 

"I mean, if I close my eyes, I imagine my first kiss being with a guy. I’d want it to be like that. And if that guy was Louis, even better, because I’ve never met anyone as beautiful, brilliant and kind as him."

He ran as fast as he could, crying without knowing where to hide. He just wanted to go home.

He couldn’t keep wandering aimlessly because, sooner or later, he would cross paths with some coach doing rounds. He couldn’t go back to his room and risk his friends finding him like this. He couldn’t even call his sister again because she’d make such a fuss defending him that in the end the whole campus would know the truth about him. If they didn’t already.

Eventually, he returned to bungalow 369 but instead of going into his room he sat on the step of the back door, which was rarely used. There was only a small path leading to the secondary parking lot entrance and no one would pass by that way at that hour. He pulled the hood up, hugged his knees to his chest and continued to cry.

He was hurt, disappointed, angry. He was mainly angry at himself because if he hadn’t been so selfish that evening, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t clung to that stupid romantic idea, he wouldn’t have hurt his friend, he wouldn’t have ruined part of the night for his sister, his own big mouth wouldn’t have gotten him in trouble and he wouldn’t have been humiliated in front of the guy he had a crush on. And most importantly, his secret would still be safe. No one would have revealed his truth without his consent, the truth he wasn’t yet ready to face… at least not publicly.

He hadn’t even told his mother and the thought of her finding out from a stupid video posted on Instagram twisted his stomach, making him nauseous again. If that video made it online, everyone would know the truth.

When he heard the sounds signaling the end of the party - the chatter, the footsteps of hundreds of people moving around the campus, the slamming of doors - he feared being found, but fortunately no one passed by that side of the street. He hugged his knees tighter when he saw the light of his bungalow flick on behind him and he couldn’t relax until it went off again.

He didn’t even care about the cold, he just wanted to stay hidden for as long as possible.

“Harry?”

His blood ran cold when, in the stillness that had settled over the campus now that everyone was asleep, he recognised Louis’s voice. He even considered staying perfectly still and pretending he wasn’t there but, soon enough, he heard footsteps approaching. He sniffed, trying to sound authoritative, “Go away.”

The footsteps stopped right in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

Harry stayed silent, his face buried in his knees, hoping to hear him walk away, but it didn’t happen.

“I mean it, I’m really sorry for what happened.”

"It’s not your fault," Harry shrugged, lifting his head so he could look at him. Louis was standing in front of him, looking uneasy as he nervously fiddled with the string of the water bottle he was holding.

"I was just going to fill it up," Louis explained, noticing Harry's gaze lingering on his hands. "I couldn’t sleep, I ran out of water and it seemed like the perfect excuse to take a walk. I didn’t expect to find you here."

Harry didn’t answer, he just nodded and stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the string he was pulling tighter and tighter from the sleeve of his hoodie. He hoped the message was clear, he didn’t want to have to ask him to leave again. Harry didn’t blame him, not directly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, especially with Louis continuing to look at him that way. After what felt like an eternity of quiet, Louis walked away.

Harry sighed with relief, though there was an unpleasant feeling spreading in his stomach, alongside all the other negative emotions still piled up after that disastrous night. He let his head fall back against the wall of the bungalow and closed his eyes, hoping the night would pass quickly so he could go home. Safe.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed when he heard footsteps again, but he didn’t even bother checking because he assumed it was just Louis coming back to his room after filling the bottle. He held his breath as the footsteps drew closer, hoping he wouldn’t stop again.

For a moment he heard nothing, but stayed still, resisting the urge to look at what was happening. Then, Louis sat down next to him. Harry’s eyes widened as he turned to look at him with confusion and fear. His heart started beating so fast that he couldn’t tell if the agitation was from fear, embarrassment or just Louis’s presence.

"Want some?" Louis offered him the bottle casually, as if nothing strange was happening.

Harry was dying of thirst but shook his head, diverting his gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Louis was studying him closely, but was still surprised when he pushed the bottle into his hands. "Drink," Louis insisted. "It’ll make you feel better."

Harry wanted to laugh because, even if it were true, no amount of water would make him feel better. But he didn’t, because Louis was just trying to help. Sighing, he opened the bottle and took a long sip. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the sensation of the cold water sliding down his throat after crying for so long was a real relief.

"Thanks," he murmured after closing it again. He turned back to Louis, for some reason feeling less afraid than a moment ago, nervously fiddling with the strap of the bottle, and asked "Why are you here?"

"I told you, I needed water," Louis shrugged with a shy smile, "I’ve been looking for you all night, but I was being honest when I said I didn’t expect to find you here."

Harry didn’t want to seem harsh with him but let out a half-sarcastic laugh. "You could have found something better to do, it’s the last night."

"Let’s just say this wasn’t exactly my initial plan," Louis scratched the back of his neck as if he, too, felt a bit awkward. "But it’s not easy to ignore what happened."

Harry blushed and once again his heart raced, sensing the danger. "I’m sorry," he mumbled, looking down. "I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I- I swear that... uh, what you heard in the video..."

Louis stopped him with a gesture of his hand, waiting for Harry’s gaze to meet his before speaking. "I don’t care about what was in the video. I don’t care about anything, really, unless you want to tell me yourself."

"But now you know."

"So what?"

Harry tried to analyze Louis’s expression, but it didn’t waver even for a second. "I- I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable" he admitted.

"Stop apologizing for something that’s not your fault."

"But it’s true."

Louis huffed, but his lip curled into a slight smile. "I was uncomfortable, but because my friends were being idiots, not because you have a crush on me."

"Don’t say it like that," Harry scrunched his nose in a pure grimace of discomfort.

"How should I say it?" Louis chuckled, holding his hand over his mouth.

That giggle seemed to wake up the butterflies in Harry’s stomach, the ones he thought had died from embarrassment hours ago. "It’s embarrassing."

"That’s not very nice to say. I’m not Brad Pitt, but I’m not so lame that you should feel embarrassed just because you like me," Louis retorted theatrically, "I mean, could you aim higher? Do you have bad taste? Okay, but I don’t see why that should affect my self-esteem."

Harry burst out laughing and suddenly felt lighter. "You know what I mean," he looked down, blushing all the way to his ears, but still showing a tiny smile.

"It’s embarrassing like any other crush confessed against your will."

"With the small detail that I’m a guy," Harry pointed out, "And so are you."

"Shit, I didn’t even notice," Louis exclaimed in a mock-surprised tone, placing a hand on his arm. "That’s why I felt like I was missing something."

Harry shot him a glare, but it was clear he understood the affectionate undertone of the teasing.

"I’m just saying that you’re the only one making a drama out of it because a guy has a crush on me," Louis added, "Why do you want it to be a problem for me?"

"Your friends are going to start teasing you about it."

"My friends can go fuck themselves after what they did tonight. I’ve never liked bullies."

"What if they tell someone?"

"I don’t care," Louis shrugged, "But I hope they don’t- uh, for you. Because they have no right to share such private things."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, despite a pleasant warmth filling his heart, not only because for the first time that evening he felt safe but also because Louis made everything seem so normal.

"You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… uh, besides your sister, had you told anyone else?" Louis asked in a somewhat uncertain tone, "Not about me. I mean, uh, about being... queer?"

Harry simply shook his head, trying to decipher the emotions that alternated across Louis' face in a matter of seconds.

"I’m sorry," Louis placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to emphasize the sentiment. "This isn’t how these things should happen. I can’t even imagine how it’s been for you."

"Uh," Harry tried to mask his feelings with a smile but his eyes filled with tears just from remembering, "A bit terrifying."

When Louis’s hand slid behind his neck, Harry couldn’t hold back anymore. He felt stupid because crying didn’t change anything, it surely wouldn’t undo what had happened, but still, he couldn’t stop. He felt as though something incredibly precious and delicate had been stolen from him. Louis pulled him into his arms, allowing him to cry in the comfort of his embrace.

"Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to cry again."

"Why do you keep apologizing when you’re the only one who hasn’t done anything wrong?"

"I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here and- and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable again."

“God damn it, I can't believe I'm saying this," Louis muttered under his breath, squeezing him a little tighter in his arms in a playful manner. "But can we stop worrying about my discomfort?"

A laugh escaped Harry as he wiped his eyes with the cuff of his hoodie.

Louis took the opportunity to slide both hands onto his shoulders, looking for his gaze with a serious expression. "I understand that I'm incredibly charming, but I'm not a delicate doll that will break if someone touches me the wrong way. If something makes me uncomfortable, I can handle it, and if I didn’t want to be here I would’ve taken advantage of the thousand times you’ve more or less directly tried to send me away. Okay?"

Once again, Harry nodded, surprised by the determination in his tone.

"Now, I’m asking you again. Why do you insist on making this a problem for me?"

Harry was about to give the same answer as a few minutes ago, but he could see in Louis's eyes that if he dared do so, he might lose his temper, so he took a moment to think about it. "Because it’s what I expected."

"And since your mind imagined the worst, it has to be the same in reality, right?"

Harry furrowed his brows, confused by that observation not because it wasn't true, but because he hadn't expected Louis to explain such a tangled concept in such a simple way.

"I have a lot of sisters," Louis added, shrugging, as if that explained everything. "And I’m right."

"Yeah, you’re right."

"Why when you imagine something negative, it has to be true, but when you imagine something that could make you happy, you don’t believe it the same way?"

"Because usually that’s how things go?" His answer came out more like a question.

"That’s not an answer."

"I feel like I’m being psychoanalyzed," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know, okay?"

"So, let’s admit there’s no clear answer," Louis allowed, "If - hypothetically - I were to go to sleep now, you wouldn’t start agonizing over negative things that only exist in your head, right? Because we’ve already said there’s no logic behind those thoughts."

Harry blushed, seeing a hint of concern in Louis's eyes, but he smiled. "Right, I probably wouldn’t."

"Good," Louis let his head fall back against the bungalow wall, barely stifling a yawn. "Because now that I'm more relaxed, I’m really dying of sleep."

Harry almost didn’t realize it, but he yawned too.

"Now you go back inside and sleep," Louis added before standing up and offering him a hand to help him do the same.

"So, good night?" Louis smiled at him, checking to make sure he was really feeling better.

"Good night," Harry messed up his hair to hide his embarrassment about the moment. "And thanks."

"For causing something that could potentially traumatize you for life?" Louis replied, raising an eyebrow with an ironic tone.

Harry laughed, even though there was some truth to it, and gave him a little slap on the arm, mentally cursing himself immediately after because it wasn’t exactly the right moment to flirt. "Thanks for being kind and for the psychoanalysis," he chuckled, his cheeks turning red, only to suddenly realise he still had his water bottle in his hand. It had been his stress reliever during that complicated conversation; in a way, it had given him the strength to react. It had made him a little braver. He raised it to emphasize the point before he had to give it back. "And for the water."

"Wow, that’s a lot of thanks," Louis chuckled adorably. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night," Harry replied with a smile, maybe a little too dreamy.

Louis stepped forward, grabbing the base of Harry’s hoodie with both hands and kissed him on the lips.

Harry flinched, but the hesitation from the surprise didn’t last long. He kissed back - his first kiss - hoping his heart wouldn’t decide to jump out of his chest.

He had never felt such an emotion in his life. Those lips pressed against his had turned his entire existence upside down, more than he had ever dared imagine in his thousand daydreams.

"See you next summer," Louis whispered against his lips before pulling away and walking off, leaving Harry motionless with the water bottle still in his hand.

Chapter Text

"Harry, for fuck's sake! You're twenty!" Nick huffed, on the brink of exasperation. "Live, enjoy yourself, fuck as much as you can."

"Thanks for your concern," Harry chuckled, amused by his friend's melodrama. "I'm already doing that, but with who I choose."

Translated it meant not with a girl, but Nick couldn't know that, since Niall was the only one who knew the truth about his sexuality.

"But did you see her? Can't you just take her number and see how it goes?"

"If you like her so much, you should go for it," Harry tried to deflect, throwing in a wink.

"Do you think that if she were even remotely interested in me, I'd be here offering her to you?" Nick snapped, tossing a knee pad at him and missing by at least ten inches. "I'd have already fucked her."

"How romantic," Harry teased, throwing the same knee pad back at him.

"I'll accept comments from you about romance when you introduce us to at least one of your mysterious girlfriends."

"I want to meet the one who left those scratches on your back," Matt chimed in.

Joshua burst out laughing, remembering how much they had teased him that time. "Do we want to forget Dracula?" he added, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder. "Damn, I was afraid you'd grow fangs until all those hickeys disappeared."

"Fangs," Isaac repeated, rolling his eyes, emphasizing the disapproval in his voice. "Vampires don’t have fangs, they're not mammoths."

"But you're a nerd," Mitch pointed out, making the entire locker room laugh.

There were few things Harry loved as much as volleyball and one of them was the locker room atmosphere. Those four walls, definitely too small for fourteen twenty-year-olds, had seen them grow. Many of them had been playing together since their first sets, but even those who had joined later quickly became an integral part of that strange family where privacy didn't exist and your brothers came before anyone else.

The previous season had its ups and downs which, besides causing the assistant coach to quit mid-season, had put them to the test. The few weeks of summer break were crucial for the entire team, but Harry was happy to finally be back in the gym.

He had missed everything, from the chaos in the locker room to the smell of the empty gym, from the thrill of the game to the nights spent together on the parking lot wall with sandwiches and beers.

Those guys were his second family. He had shared all the major milestones of his growth with them, and every year he promised himself he would be a little braver and share with them that one thing he had always kept secret.

He had tried so many times that he had lost count, but every time he was about to do it, he always froze. The problem wasn't just the fear of not being accepted, but mostly that his confession could change the atmosphere he loved so much.

Would they still be willing to share the locker room with someone who, according to them, might get turned on by seeing them naked? Would they keep teasing him about the marks left by some of his conquests or would they be disgusted by noticing them? Would they understand that he was the same person they had in front of them before his coming out? The same person they said they envied for his active sex life and who could never see any of them as more than brothers?

Every time he talked about it with Niall, he would point out that when he had discovered him with his tongue in the throat of his guitar teacher, nothing had changed between them. Rationally, Harry knew his best friend was right, but this didn't stop all the what ifs from invading his head until they paralyzed him.

He had never been good at managing his thoughts and the effect they had on him so, if he had to listen to that part of his brain, he might never have seriously considered the idea of coming out to his team. But at the same time, he wondered how many times he could be so lucky to be discovered by chance without facing the consequences.

He had gotten lucky that first time at the summer camp, many years ago, and he had gotten lucky with Niall, but he couldn’t count on luck forever.

Until then, it had been easy to keep his secret because he had never had a serious relationship, someone who became such a part of his life that he couldn’t keep it hidden anymore. It wasn’t his fault, it just hadn't happened.

When he was younger, especially during his first years of high school, he idealised the thought of a possible relationship so much that he didn’t see anything else around him. He dreamed of flowers, romance and chocolates without realizing he was surrounded by many guys like him who couldn’t wait to live their lives. He had held onto his first kiss for so long, taking years to look at it objectively and see it for what it really was: an act of pity.

He was a kid who desperately wanted his first kiss to be magical and the guy who was the object of his dreams, after witnessing his public humiliation, had given it to him.

The first time he saw pity behind that gesture, which had made his heart race for an embarrassingly long time, he cried. He couldn't forgive himself for being so naive, for having sewn the story he wanted onto something completely different. Maybe that was the moment he stopped looking for magic at all costs and opened his eyes.

He had always been careful to keep his two worlds separate, rarely accepting advances from other volleyball players. He had been surprised when he discovered how many people in that environment were just like him, but the first time - after that discovery - that he heard his father’s colleague call volleyball players the sports ladies, as he always did, Harry realised he had had the solution in front of his eyes all along.

Even though that was a stupid and inaccurate oversimplification related to the strict discipline imposed by the rules of his sport, Harry had found a parallel universe within the world he had grown up in. He had learned that a relationship with a woman was often just a cover, only to end up sneaking into a storage room with a referee or an opponent, that in that world everyone would always cover for each other for fear of being exposed themselves and that setters were usually the best in bed. But he had never had doubts about that.

Over time and with various explorations, he had realised that these rules applied across the entire sports world, regardless of the discipline. So, despite the general code of silence that would always protect him, in most cases he preferred to avoid sleeping with volleyball players.

If he had to make a ranking of other sports, he would definitely put water polo, basketball and fencing on the podium, while his biggest disappointment had been football. Too full of themselves.

Since he started university, his horizons had broadened even further because there he felt freer to be himself. He didn’t know anyone so he only had to show himself for who he was, without the fear of disappointing or losing anyone. That was where he met Niall’s guitar teacher, although that had been a story as quick - in every way - as it was unfortunate.

Sometimes he found himself laughing when his teammates started teasing him about his sex life because he tried to imagine their faces if he revealed that the girl of the scratches on his back was actually a rugby player twice their size or that the vampire girl was the waiter who worked at the library bar.

Even at that moment he had been tempted to do it, just for the fun of getting a laugh, but of course he didn’t have the courage. How could he risk ruining his first day back at the gym after the summer break?

"Now, if you're done being idiots," Mitch checked the time one last time before putting his phone back in his gym bag, "We're starting in three minutes."

"At your service, captain," Niall exclaimed, standing at attention and saluting.

Mitch responded by flipping him off, without even looking at him, before leaving the locker room followed by Liam, Stan and Isaac.

"I'm coming," Harry mumbled distractedly as he made sure his shoelaces were tight enough, even though he knew Niall would wait for him anyway. They left the locker room shortly after with the last few members of the team and the wave of relief Harry always felt when stepping onto the court was swept away by pure shock the moment he saw him.

Louis was talking calmly with the coach and was so focused on what he was saying that he wouldn't have noticed anything happening around him. Harry, on the other hand, instantly felt like a fourteen-year-old dealing with his first crush.

He was still the most beautiful guy Harry had ever seen.

Panicking, Harry grabbed Niall by the arm and dragged him back into the locker room, making sure to close the door tightly.

"Niall!" He wanted to shout but forced himself to speak quietly.

"What's going on?" Niall's bewildered expression would have been comical if Harry wasn't about to throw up. "Why are you looking at me like you've seen a ghost?"

"Worse," Harry exclaimed, pulling his hands through his hair. "Fuck, Niall. Fuck!"

Niall seemed on the verge of having a heart attack, not even knowing why. "What?"

"Louis."

"Louis?" Niall repeated, growing even more confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Niall, listen to me carefully." Harry put a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes with an expression far too serious for the situation. He knew it, but that’s how he was. "The guy talking to the coach is Louis."

"Tomlinson?" Niall asked, still not grasping the gravity of the situation. "The new assistant?"

"What do you mean, the new assistant?"

"I told you I met him yesterday when I helped the Coach with the kids."

"No, you didn't tell me that."

"I did, you're the one who's freaking out for no reason."

"No, Niall," Harry took a deep breath to avoid yelling. "You told me you met our new assistant coach, not that our fucking new assistant coach is my Louis."

"Your- wait." Niall's eyes widened. "Your Louis? That Louis?"

"That Louis!"

"Are you telling me that the Louis you've been jerking off to for six years is Louis Tomlinson?"

"I didn’t-"

"Please, Harry. You should look at yourself right now," Niall interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Do you get it now?"

"I can't believe you never told me that your Louis was that Louis Tomlinson," Niall said again, giving him a playful slap on the back of the head. "That Louis Tomlinson!"

"You can ask him for an autograph if you want, but can we focus on the real problem?"

"He played in Italy, he was- he was so close to the Olympics."

"Do you think I don’t know that?" Harry rubbed his face, more anxious by the second. "Our new assistant coach, besides knowing I'm gay, also knows I have a crush on him."

Niall raised an eyebrow. "You have?"

"I had. God, it’s been six years."

"The first love is never forgotten," Niall teased, dramatically batting his eyelashes to emphasize the point, earning a punch in the arm.

"Fuck off."

The sound of a hand knocking repeatedly on the door made them both jump. "Ladies, if you're done doing your nails, we should start the practice."

"We're coming," they both replied in unison, hurrying out of the locker room.

Harry was terrified at the thought of facing Louis. He knew how irrational his reaction was, but his stomach didn't seem to care. Not only didn’t he know if Louis would remember him, but he also didn't know if he even hoped for that. Louis had been part of a delicate and incredibly embarrassing moment in his life and Harry didn’t want to awaken those feelings. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he’d be a little hurt if Louis didn’t recognize him.

He could see how Niall was snickering under his breath, noticing how much Harry was doing everything to avoid even accidentally looking at Louis as, along with the rest of the team, he started doing warm-up exercises while waiting for instructions from the two coaches, who were still deep in conversation. Harry tried to act normal, smiling whenever he distractedly heard a teammate’s joke or concentrating on the movements he was doing, but in his mind, there was only one fixed thought.

"Alright, guys," Coach Haynes began as he entered the circle of athletes, emphasizing the moment with a clap of his hands. Louis followed him, looking both confident and curious. "Welcome back, I hope you're all fired up because this year we're aiming high."

"Liam, I think the Coach is gently letting you know you're off the team," Zayn joked, elbowing the guy in question and making everyone laugh.

"Not yet," the Coach replied with a laugh before continuing. "As you’ve seen, we've strengthened the staff with a prominent assistant coach," he gave Louis a pat on the back, looking at him proudly. "Tomlinson has taken a year off from playing and, when we contacted him, he was happy to lend a hand."

Louis smiled and Harry’s legs went weak. He had no hope of surviving this.

"You’re used to real volleyball, so at first it might feel strange dealing with this bunch of incompetents," Haynes joked before turning to the team again. "I hope you're ready to give two hundred percent every day, because I’m not settling for less and we’ll prove it right away because this year the UK Royal Cup will be ours."

That was still an open wound for the entire team, as demonstrated by the murmuring comments that spread through the gym at the mere mention of last year’s semifinal loss.

Attention quickly shifted back to the two coaches when Louis cleared his throat before speaking. "Guys, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he smiled as his gaze swept over the faces of his new players. Harry’s heart sped up uncontrollably and, when he saw that those beautiful blue eyes didn’t linger on him for even a second, his stomach twisted slightly with disappointment.

"I don’t like to play hard to get, so I have no problem admitting that when I got the call asking me to join this project, I didn’t hesitate for a moment. I couldn’t wait to get started. I’ll tell you right away that one of my biggest flaws - or strengths, depending on the case - is that I love to be honest and direct," he fixed his fringe with his fingers, "I’m not a coach, I’m a player, so probably my contribution to the team won’t be what you’d expect from a typical assistant. I’ve always considered myself lucky because, while hard work is crucial for results, if there’s no high-quality coaching staff behind it the risk is wasting time and potential. I’ve been lucky enough to always work in a high-quality environment, so I hope to pass on everything I’ve learned."

He turned to the Coach, perhaps seeking a look of approval from him.

"Thomas and I agreed that I’ll manage this first phase of physical reactivation, just so you can get a taste of what it’s like to prepare for a top-level team," he nodded toward Haynes. "So there’s a high probability that by the end of this week most of you will hate me, but I hope not too much."

Harry would have liked to slap himself because he realised he was being ridiculous, melting in front of the adorable giggle Louis let out at the end of that introduction, which sounded very much like a threat.

“Objection,” Oli raised his hand, but his tone was clearly joking. “Why do we have to suffer like top-level players even though we’re – quote – a bunch of incompetents?”

Louis started laughing. “What’s your name?”

“Oli.”

“Well, Oli, being in good physical shape has nothing to do with your technical skills.”

“So we have to suffer.”

“So you have to suffer,” he licked his lips to hide his amused grin. “A former coach of mine used to say that if he couldn’t turn us into good players, he’d take us to the Olympic Games for athletics.”

A murmur of protests spread across the gym before Coach Haynes blew his whistle to restore order.

“I’d say we shouldn’t waste any more time,” Louis rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go outside.”

“Outside?” Isaac exclaimed, quickening his pace to follow Louis to the courtyard.

Michael also joined him in a desperate attempt. “Coach, come on. Nothing good ever happens when we go outside.”

“Don’t call me Coach,” Louis rolled his eyes. “I’m Louis.”

“Louis, let’s reason together,” Isaac tried to insist.

Harry couldn’t hear the answer because just then, Niall decided to pinch him behind the arm. “That guy’s about to kill us and you’re looking at him like the sun is coming out of his ass,” he grimaced as soon as he realised the little smile Harry was about to give him. “Don’t say it, please. At least spare me the ode to his ass.”

“It’s a beautiful evening, this will help you keep good breathing,” Louis announced, raising his voice so everyone could hear. “We’ll start with twenty minutes of slow running, very slow. We don’t have to be heroes or win a prize, we just need to remind our muscles how to move properly and our lungs how to breathe under effort. We’ll start by running around the gym, to the gate over there, then up that hill to reach the back entrance, around the parking lot and then start again. Twenty minutes starting now,” he glanced at his watch, pressing a button just above the dial. “Go.”

He stood still, watching carefully as the boys ran past him. “You two latecomers,” he pointed at Harry and Niall, joining them in their little jog. “Names?”

“Niall.”

Harry nearly tripped over his own heart, which had dropped to the floor, struck by the realization that Louis really hadn’t recognized him. He didn’t remember him. He cleared his throat. “Harry.”

“And we weren’t late, we arrived early,” his friend added.

“I was about to give you five extra minutes of running for the delay, but you’ve just earned two more for the answer.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t speak.”

“Should we go from seven to eight?”

“No,” they both muttered in unison.

Louis didn’t add anything more, he just nodded before leaving them to themselves and turning back.

“Can I say that I already hate him?” Niall commented quietly, causing a few chuckles among the nearby players.

The first few minutes were easy, almost pleasant even for Harry who hated running. Every summer, he promised himself to do a bit of jogging in the mornings to keep in shape, but after the first two or three days he couldn’t find the necessary willpower to continue. That day, however, running was helping him keep away the thoughts, both the inappropriate ones and the ones that kept him anxious.

“Gotcha!” Louis yelled, startling everyone as he suddenly appeared on a bike behind a small group. Harry turned around to figure out what happened, seeing Stan and Michael stopped with their hands on their hips.

“I can’t breathe anymore,” Stan whined.

“In these cases you slow down, you don’t stop,” Louis blew his whistle, then raised his voice to be heard by the more distant boys. “Two extra minutes of running for everyone. Every time someone stops, the whole team gets one extra minute.” He pedaled faster to pass the whole group. “Harry and Niall, for you, it’s now nine.”

Niall waited until Louis disappeared from view before shooting Harry a look. “Your friend’s a real charmer.”

“He’s not my friend,” Harry rolled his eyes, blushing. “He didn’t even recognize me.”

“You think?”

“He asked for my name.”

“What was he supposed to do? Say ‘Oh, I remember you. We made out ten years ago’?”

“Will you shut up?” Harry snapped, nervously looking around to make sure no one else was close enough to hear. “Six years ago, and we didn’t make out.”

“I know, I know the whole story by heart. How your handsome knight in shining armor helped you, then gave you a true love’s kiss, promising you a wonderful future together.”

“Remind me why we’re friends,” Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Niall ignored him, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “Then broke your heart when the next summer he didn’t return to campus.”

“He didn’t break my heart.”

His friend shot him another glare and Harry couldn’t help but blush, recalling the heartache of a teenager who believed a little too much in love. Louis had been a beautiful daydream and, after that kiss, Harry had truly believed that the next year they would meet again and get to know each other, spend a magical summer together which, in the best-case scenario, would be the beginning of something important.

He had daydreamed about the moment he’d see him again for months, imagining every possible scenario from the worst, in which Louis wouldn’t even speak to him, to the fairytale one where he’d run toward him, kissing him and confessing that he hadn’t stopped thinking about him. He was ready for his heart to be shattered or to explode like when Louis kissed him, the only thing he hadn’t expected was not to see him at all. He had promised him.

Years later, Harry still felt embarrassed thinking about how betrayed he felt in that moment. He was disappointed and angry, not just with Louis but mostly with himself, because he had believed with all his heart in a stupid promise made by a boy he didn’t even know.

In reality the fault lay with neither of them, that’s what Harry discovered a couple of days after the campus started. Louis had passed the important tryout he told him about the summer before. He had moved to Leeds, played for one of the most important clubs in all of England – he had even made his debut in the Super League – and after a flawless season, he was called up to the Junior National Team. From that moment on his career took off and Louis quickly became the prodigy of an entire generation of English volleyball players.

“He didn’t break my heart, not on purpose,” Harry clarified because over the years he had never wanted to reveal too many details about who that mysterious Louis was. “It was the summer he was called up to the national team.”

“How come every time you drunkenly started talking about him, you always forgot to mention that little detail?”

“Everyone knows who Louis Tomlinson is,” Harry shrugged to justify himself. “I didn’t want rumors spreading about him being… well, you get it. Uh, it’s not my place to do that.”

“Instead, you thought it was appropriate to tell me that our assistant coach would gladly slip into your underwear.”

"It’s not true," Harry shoved him, laughing. "It’s not even certain that he really likes men."

"Let’s not start with that story again. You’re my best friend and I’d do anything for you, but I wouldn’t kiss you even if you were on your deathbed."

Louis' bike zipped past them again, stopping at the top of the hill the team was still climbing, turning around so he could get a full view. He blew the whistle before speaking. "Five extra minutes for everyone. Thank Harry and Niall, who still have enough breath to talk."

"Come on, guys, what the fuck," Zayn grumbled, clearly out of breath and looking like he was on the verge of collapsing.

Harry and Niall tried to ignore their teammates' complaints - if they were in their shoes, they probably wouldn't have reacted differently - but mostly they made an effort to stay impassive when passing Louis, who kept his eyes fixed on them as if waiting for the perfect moment to punish them further.

In the end he didn’t and thankfully there were no more incidents. As soon as Harry and Niall returned to the gym, after finishing the extra minutes, they collapsed onto the floor as if they were a step away from death.

Louis approached them, while the Coach followed one of the three groups the boys had been split into.

"You have thirty seconds of rest, thirty seconds to drink and sixty seconds of stretching," he announced, starting the timer on his watch. "In the meantime, I’ll explain the circuit your teammates are already doing."

Despite the lack of oxygen and the pain spreading through his body, Harry tried to pay full attention to his words. Beneath that seriousness, he could still see traces of the boy who was so hard on himself that he wouldn't accept anything less than perfection.

For the rest of the training, Harry gave his best. A small part of him - the part linked to the fourteen-year-old who had a crush on the most beautiful boy he had ever seen - probably still didn’t want to disappoint Louis, while a much larger part just wanted to avoid any more penalties for himself and the rest of the team. Even when there was nothing to punish them for, it was annoying how Louis always found something to nitpick.

After what seemed like the longest two hours of his life, Harry reached a double conclusion: either none of them knew how to train properly or Louis was a huge pain in the ass. There were no other alternatives.

"And we still haven’t even touched a ball," Isaac commented with a sigh as he closed his water bottle, heading toward the center of the court for the final stretching. "He’s going to tear us apart when he sees us play."

"For your information, I can hear you," Louis chuckled, crossing his arms. "Before stretching, put your water bottles on the ground, take off your shoes and do three minutes of cooldown jog around the court."

"Without shoes?" Mitch asked, for the first time questioning the new assistant coach’s instructions.

"It’ll help relieve tension in your feet and knees."

"The next step will be making us run on hot coals," Liam grumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Zayn gave him a slap on the back of his head. "Don’t give him ideas."

The whole team, including both coaches, started laughing before beginning those last minutes of running.

"Cooldown, my ass," Niall whined when he could finally collapse to the floor, taking advantage of the moment of freedom while Louis was across the gym with Haynes. "He’s so nice. Pleasant as a finger up the ass."

The comment was so unexpected and out of place that Harry nearly choked on his water when he burst into laughter. Niall took a second longer than expected to realise what he had said, and to whom.

"Harry," he sighed, pretending to be exasperated but unable to hide his laughter.

"What do you want? It’s all a matter of perspective."

They both tried to compose themselves as quickly as possible to avoid drawing more attention to a problem that definitely shouldn’t be under the spotlight. When the coaches approached again to speak to the team, they just exchanged puzzled glances without pressing further.

"Guys, I know today has been tough and it’s going to be a long week, but you know how important physical preparation is to prevent injuries during the season," the Coach said. "Let’s keep going."

"Tomorrow we’ll train in the pool," Louis announced with a smile that Harry couldn’t tell if it was a threat or just kindness.

"In the pool?" Harry asked, immediately regretting it because every time he spoke to Louis, it always seemed to backfire.

Louis turned to him, raising an eyebrow with a playful expression. "Are you on your period?"

Everyone burst out laughing and Harry blushed, wondering how he ever found him even remotely charming. "No," he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. "I was just surprised because we’ve never gone before."

"You can wear floaties, no one will make fun of you," Louis chuckled, winking at him. "Do you want me to teach you how to swim?"

Harry forced himself not to answer. He didn’t even know if Louis was flirting or just being a jerk, but either way, he wasn’t falling for his trap.

Chapter Text

GLOSSARY

• Scoutman: Responsible for creating video content and statistical data about both their own team and potential opponents. This role supports the coach and athletes in studying gameplay systems, analyzing strengths and weaknesses, and evaluating individual athlete performance.
• Friendly match: A training match that does not count toward any official league or championship.
• Fundamental: A basic skill that is part of every player's technical repertoire (e.g., setting, bump, attack, serve and block).
• 1st Division: In the UK there are only four divisions. The hierarchy from bottom to top is: 3rd Division → 2nd Division → 1st Division → National Super League (which is top-level).

๑

Harry hated him.

He had been dealing with Louis for just a few weeks, but he had already figured out how irritating, unfair and obnoxious he could be. A complete asshole.

At first, he thought he just needed to get used to it, like with all the coaches he had to work with, but there was something about Louis that prevented him from finding any mental stability.

Harry wasn’t a kid, he knew how to take criticism and wasn’t offended by jokes, but he had also gotten past the stage where he believed that a coach only tormented the people they truly cared about. It was a bit like the story of kids pulling the hair of the girls they had a crush on, that excuse couldn’t hold forever.

Harry had been coached by Haynes for almost his entire life, except for the year he started playing and a brief two-year stint when the coach went abroad for work, but he had changed an endless number of assistants, so he could quickly get a read on any coach.

There were those who shouted all the time because they didn’t know any other way to earn respect, those who changed personalities depending on their mood, those who didn’t really understand volleyball but still thought they were experts, those who acted more like psychologists than coaches and those who were just ball boys paid a little too much.

Harry had his ups and downs with almost all of them, including Haynes, but in the end they always found a way to communicate and appreciate each other, often both professionally and personally.

Louis had been nicknamed General Tomlinson by the team.

He had never raised his voice to anyone, but one look from him was enough to get the entire team back in line. Discipline was of vital importance to him, far more than technique. He suggested and got several changes to the team’s rules, ranging from banning nail-biting or cutting nails on match days to behavior rules both on and off the court. He was a control freak who sent PDFs with suggested foods to add to their diet depending on the day - rest day, practice day or match day - and imposed a dress code even for practice.

As he had repeatedly stated, being an athlete was about more than performance on the court, it was a lifestyle. For this reason following most of the rules, at least off the court, depended entirely on the choice to follow them or not - “No one will ever check if you had sex on game day or if you managed to keep it in your pants for twenty-four hours” - while any proven violation of a rule came with a fine. At the end of the year, half of the proceeds would go to charity and the rest would fund a dinner for the entire team.

He had also introduced the 100% Award, whatever that was, but no one dared ask if it was just a joke. It was hard to say when it came to him.

Louis himself gave much more than one hundred percent every day. He wasn’t just an assistant coach, he was also a fitness coach, scoutman and mental coach. He didn’t just go to the gym and share his technical knowledge; he filmed the practices to analyze them at home and then delivered detailed individual reports the next day, documenting everything from the number of jumps to the percentage performance of each skill.

He gave his all and, at the same time, expected the same from his athletes. But, as demanding as it was to keep up with his pace, every single guy on the team adored him, including Coach Haynes.

One of his many talents was his ability to bring out the best in each athlete. He knew when to be more lenient with those who needed it and more stern with those who needed to be pushed, and he always had the right words to say. With everyone, except for Harry.

Part of Harry loved being coached by him; he had never felt so fulfilled as an athlete, but at the same time, there was this wall between them that only led to clashes.

Louis would have been his all-time favorite coach if he hadn’t been a total asshole.

He wasn’t one of those coaches who believed they were always right and refused to listen to any feedback or engage in a discussion. He was always willing to sit down with anyone of them, but one way or another he always came out the winner. Always.

Harry knew this well because, by nature, sometimes it was impossible for him to keep his opinions to himself and this led to endless arguments, always ending with Harry being mentally cornered by Louis’ logic and sharp tongue.

It had become one of those habits that, every time it happened, made all the guys on the team roll their eyes because - besides the wasted practice minutes for their bickering - it led to a series of inevitable consequences.

The script was pretty much always the same. Louis, after winning the argument, would continue to poke Harry about that same issue for the rest of the evening until Harry reached his limit and fell into Louis’ trap, doing something stupid that resulted in him having to pay a fine. As a result, Harry would become a sulking, unapproachable grump or make things worse by starting to respond to Louis’ constant pressure. The evening would usually end with Harry slamming doors and Louis outside smoking one cigarette after another.

That evening, Harry had arrived at the gym expecting the worst, because Haynes had organized the first friendly match of the year to test the team for their seasonal debut in the Royal Cup, which was the following day. Not even the thought of having to endure Louis on the bench could dampen Harry’s excitement at the idea of getting back on the court after months, facing an opponent. He didn’t even care that it was just a practice match with no value, because he literally felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

They played against a solid team they would likely meet again in the league, but they managed to hold their own without any issues and, strangely enough, Louis didn’t have anything to complain about. As the perfect assistant coach, always sticking to his role, he mostly interacted with Haynes and, during timeouts, added some technical advice or spoke privately with Mitch, the starting setter, to give him tips on managing ball distribution.

As tradition dictated, after the match, the whole team had planned to go grab a bite together, so after showering they began leaving in small groups to head to their usual pub just a few minutes from the gym.

Harry was crossing the courtyard with Zayn when he noticed that Louis was still there, leaning against the wall next to the main door, with his phone in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He was texting, so maybe they could sneak by without being noticed and wouldn’t have to greet him.

As they walked past him, Louis obviously lifted his gaze from his phone, offering a half-smile as a greeting.

"Hey, Louis," Zayn said without even turning around, also busy replying to texts.

"Hey," Harry muttered.

"Have a good night, guys," Louis went back to focusing on his phone, but after just a couple of seconds he added "Oh, Harry."

"What?" Harry sighed, stopping to turn towards him. He took his wallet out of the pocket of his sweatpants, ready to pay yet another fine. "What did I do this time?"

Louis raised an eyebrow in an amused expression that Harry knew all too well and which, most of the time, didn’t bode well.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I just wanted to compliment you on how you played today."

Harry rubbed his face, trying to hide the frustrated sigh he couldn't quite suppress. "Can we get to the point?"

"What point?" Louis asked, pretending to be confused.

"The point where we get to the but."

Louis shrugged again, with an almost innocent look. "No buts."

"Alright," Harry cut him off, "Then if it was just a way to criticize me, I'm sorry to say but you need to work more on your sarcastic tone, because you weren't convincing at all."

Louis' eyes widened, and it was clear he was about to laugh. He looked at Zayn, who seemed just as confused as he was. "Did he get hit in the head with a ball or is it normal for him to be like this?"

"I know as much as you do," Zayn replied, raising both hands.

"Sure, like I don't know you," Harry snorted a half-laugh, "You always do this. As soon as I let my guard down, you attack."

"The fact that you feel the need to keep your guard up means you've got a chip on your shoulder, not that I'm attacking you."

His tone was always so calm that it only irritated Harry even more, as if Louis felt superior or rather knew for sure that he was.

"Okay, whatever."

He was almost ready to walk away when Louis added, "I was serious, though. You played a great game."

Harry studied him for a moment before relaxing, not seeing any hint of sarcasm in his eyes. "Thanks," he cleared his throat to hide the sudden embarrassment, "I hope it's the same tomorrow."

"Let's hope so."

Louis' smile, so kind, threw him off. It wasn’t what he was used to and he didn’t know how to handle it. He began to wonder if maybe even Louis was capable of loosening up a little, of showing that side of his character Harry knew was hidden somewhere. He remembered it all too well.

If this was Louis' way of signaling he was finally ready to lower his barriers, then Harry wanted to take a step toward him, for the sake of his own mental health, because otherwise he wouldn’t survive a whole season like this.

"Uhm, we’re- we're going to You Booze You Lose," Harry tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, "The whole team, I mean. Not just us, uh… so if you want to join us- well, we’ll be there."

"Thanks," Louis gave what seemed like a sincere smile, "But I don’t think I’ll come."

"We'll accept a no just today because you didn't know before," Zayn intervened, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders, "Next time, you won’t have any excuses."

Louis let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, as if he was uncomfortable. "I’m afraid I’ll turn you down next time too. It’s better if this stays between you guys."

"We’ll see," Zayn replied before nodding at him and pulling Harry away, who stood there speechless at that reaction.

Harry was more annoyed than anything else because, once again, he’d tried to be kind and instead he found himself facing a wall. He could understand that Louis didn’t want to go out with them every week, but at least he could have made an effort to get to know them outside the court. If not because he really wanted to, at least out of basic courtesy, since he’d been invited.

Once again, Louis had emphasized how superior he felt to them and if on the court no one could argue that it was true, outside the four walls of the gym it was an attitude that was completely unacceptable.

After just a few steps Harry stopped, slipping out of Zayn’s hold to turn around and march confidently back to Louis, who was looking at him with wide eyes. He pulled out his wallet again and slapped a five-pound note into his assistant coach's hands.

"I’m about to disrespect a team member."

Louis sighed, reaching out to try to give him the money back. "It’s late, Harry. Let’s not start."

"I’m not starting anything."

"It’s not the time to throw a diva tantrum."

"A diva tantrum?" Harry repeated, stunned. He couldn’t believe it was Louis accusing him of that. "What a hypocrite," he let out a half-laugh, "My mistake for trying to be kind."

Louis sighed again. "Harry."

"If you decide to come down from your pedestal, let me know," Harry retorted before turning his back on him to catch up with Zayn and walk away.

"And what was that?" Zayn asked once they were past the parking lot gate.

"What?"

"Why are you mad at him?"

"I- what?" Harry exclaimed, his voice a pitch higher than usual. "Zayn, you’re there in the gym every day too. It’s not me who has a problem with him, it’s Louis who has a problem with me."

"I don’t think he has a problem with you."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I didn’t say he doesn’t torment you," Zayn raised his hands as if to defend himself from Harry’s glare, "I’m just saying I don’t think it’s because he dislikes you."

"Don’t start with the usual crap about he does it because he expects a lot from you."

"Nah, I think that’s crap too," Zayn chuckled, giving him a playful shove. "I think he just doesn’t know how to approach you."

"If he used kindness, it wouldn’t be a bad idea," Harry rolled his eyes, "He seems smart enough to figure that out himself."

"He was kind just now, didn’t seem to work."

"He was kind enough to tell us we’re not good enough for a beer."

"I wasn’t referring to that and, anyway, that’s not what he said."

Harry shrugged, sticking to his position. "That’s what it seemed like, though."

"God, you’re really an Aquarius," Zayn muttered in an exasperated tone, and they both burst into laughter.

They entered the pub, where almost the entire team was already there, along with some of the guys they had played against that evening, all sitting at the same table. David Brick, an old intimate acquaintance, was there too and, as always when they met, he hadn’t taken his eyes off Harry since he walked into the gym. Isaac and Niall were the only ones missing, but they joined a few minutes later.

They knew they couldn’t overdo it, since both teams had their season debut the next day, so they stuck to ordering lots of food but not too much alcohol. They talked about the friendly match they had just played, joked around and chatted about last season and the one about to start, ex-coaches and teammates and, of course, they ended up talking about the latest gossip from the volleyball world. After the summer, there was always so much new material to fuel gossip for the whole winter.

Harry was focused on listening to Isaac talk about how the Red Rocks middle blocker had cheated on his girlfriend with one of her teammates when Zayn nudged him to get his attention."Look who's here," he whispered almost smugly, nodding toward the pub's door.

Harry turned and for a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Louis walking through the entrance and stopping at the bar. He said something to the bartender, probably ordering a drink, then scanned the room until he found their table. The moment Harry's eyes met his, Louis' expression lit up with a shade of amusement and satisfaction that made Harry's stomach twist.

Harry quickly looked away, taking a sip of beer just to do something. "What the fuck is he doing here?" he whispered to Zayn, careful not to turn back in the direction of the bar.

"Ask him."

"You're so funny."

"Coach!" Niall exclaimed, making everyone turn to face the newcomer who, of course, had just joined them at the table with his beer in hand. "Guys, make some space," he gestured animatedly, "Louis, take a seat. Stay with us for a while."

Harry felt almost betrayed by his best friend's enthusiasm. Whose side was he on?

"What are you doing here?" Niall added, before Louis could say anything.

His friend's exuberance had kept him from even saying hello, but Harry mentally thanked him for asking that question. He lifted his gaze from his beer to look at Louis who, just then, pointed at him with a nod of his head.

"Harry was kind enough to invite me," Louis smiled, sitting between Niall and Liam.

Almost the entire table turned to look at Harry, who barely managed to hold back a sigh.

Oli leaned toward him, as if carefully examining him. "Where'd you hide the weapon?"

Everyone laughed and Mitch, pretending to be concerned, added "H, with all these witnesses? I thought you were smarter."

"Between the two of us, I'm not the one who uses traps to trick the other," Harry defended himself, unable to hold back a small laugh, then turned his gaze to Louis, who was already looking at him. "And he said he wouldn't hang out with us."

"That's not what I said."

"You did say that."

"Not in those words," Louis clarified, never taking his eyes off Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a half-laugh. "Well, that's a game changer."

Louis shook his head, chuckling, before turning to the rest of the team. "Now you understand why I tried to throw him off by telling him I wouldn't come, right?"

Again, everyone laughed, but Harry wasn't fooled by those bright eyes and that kind smile because he knew their assistant coach was just playing a role. He was trying to change the story to make it look like poor crazy Harry was so upset with him that he made up nasty things about him.

"I don't know, you're the expert when it comes to being fake," Harry muttered almost to himself, but from the way Louis looked at him, he knew he had heard it.

Louis didn't get a chance to respond because David Brick, another traitor on his blacklist, reached out to shake his hand. "It was an honor playing against you, I'm David."

It wasn't the first time Harry had noticed how much this kind of flattery pleased Louis but at the same time embarrassed him, as if suddenly he didn't feel so comfortable being on a pedestal. It was one of the many contradictions of Louis that he just couldn't understand.

"If we'd played against him, we wouldn't have come out alive," Hamed, one of his teammates, corrected him before shaking Louis' hand and introducing himself.

"Okay, but don't drool too much," Zayn teased, making everyone laugh.

"Sorry, I'm not used to all these compliments," Louis chuckled after shaking both their hands, then vaguely gestured toward Harry. "I'm used to him."

Harry opened his mouth, unsure whether to be offended or laugh at the gratuitous jab.

"With what nerve?" he asked, shaking his head with a half-laugh, determined not to stoop to his level because he could already see the amused look in his eyes.

"Can we make a toast before husband and wife start arguing again?" Niall interrupted, ignoring Harry's middle finger while raising his beer mug, "To the start of this new season."

Oli followed suit, but directed his gaze toward the guys from the other team. "May you always be at least three points below us."

"Oli!" Isaac scolded him with indignation, giving him a light slap on the forehead. "That's not nice."

Once again, the table was filled with laughter and Harry couldn't help but think how much he loved these nights with his favorite idiots.

Michael leaned forward to grab Isaac's head - who started wriggling, knowing what was about to happen - and planted a kiss on the center of his forehead, making sure to pinch his cheeks tightly.

"You're adorable," Michael said in a high-pitched voice, "Someone give him a candy."

"Go fuck yourselves," Isaac muttered through the general laughter, shoving his friend away before starting to rub his forehead as if he feared he'd just caught an infection.

"We're gonna win the championship so, in the end, Oli wished you second place," Louis winked at David, who Harry thought was about to have a stroke from the excitement.

He understood, of course, but could he at least try to maintain a little dignity?

"You're quite a smartass, at least on this Harry's right," Niall commented, earning a kick from his best friend.

"See?" Louis pointed out, laughing, "Only compliments for me."

Harry bit his lip to keep from giving in to the temptation to laugh, he wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. He took a long sip of beer and for the next few minutes, while listening to Liam tell the latest gossip, he made an effort to ignore those stupidly blue eyes that kept staring at him as if waiting for him to slip up.

When Louis wasn't too busy staring at him, he chatted amiably with David and some of his friends, who seemed about to wet themselves just being in the presence of the English prodigy, the great Louis Tomlinson.

After the third time David's exaggerated flirtatious laugh had caught his attention, Harry decided the situation had become too ridiculous. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and sent him a message.

Harry: When you're done sucking Louis' dick, you can suck mine too ;)

David spat half the beer he was drinking when he read what Harry had written, continuing to apologise for the mess he’d made while coughing and gasping for air.

"All right?" Louis asked, patting him on the back, unaware that the contact was only making things worse for poor David.

Niall, the only one aware of their past, shot an instinctive glare at Harry, who responded with his most innocent expression while trying not to burst into laughter.

David’s reply, once his vital functions had been restored, came without delay.

David : Is this an invitation?

Harry hid his victorious grin behind another sip of beer. He hadn’t doubted for a second what the response would be, but he was pleased that the balance of the situation had been restored. 

There had never been anything serious between them. They’d gone out a couple of times years ago, but it was clear from the start that there was nothing beyond sex. And every time they bumped into each other for a match, if neither was involved in a relationship, they’d always end up sneaking off for a quickie in the bathroom or the car.

Harry had never been jealous of anyone - not more than usual - but he liked the attention of a handsome guy if he knew he could get it, so he couldn’t say he’d particularly enjoyed David’s obsessive attachment to Louis. The fact that it was Louis of all people, well, that was just a detail.

Harry : Did you drive here?

David’s interested gaze immediately met his after reading the message, but Harry’s eyes instinctively shifted to Louis when he heard him clear his throat.

“Guys, I think I’d better go,” Louis smiled politely, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.

“Already?” Liam asked, his disappointment echoing the general murmurs of protest.

“I’d really like to stay with you, honestly, but I came here for two main reasons,” he adjusted his fringe as if it wasn’t already perfectly in place. “The first is that I wanted to explain why I can’t hang out with you guys and I didn’t want any misunderstandings.” He pulled the cuffs of his hoodie down to cover his hands. “I misspoke earlier with Harry and Zayn and, uh, I don’t want to come off as the guy who thinks he’s too good for anyone or that he’s on a pedestal.”

His gaze lingered on Harry for just a moment before turning back to the others. Louis wrinkled his nose in a way that made him look so vulnerable it was almost endearing. Harry stared at him, feeling like his brain was about to explode, because the desire to hug him was battling with all the annoyance he felt towards him.

“Okay, listen,” Louis continued, resting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers in front of him, “Believe me when I say I’d really like to be your friend because you’re all decent guys and - honestly? - I don’t know many people in London, so I think I’d want to be your friend even if you were all idiots.”

“My ego is a little hurt,” Oli joked, massaging his chest as if he’d just been struck.

Harry chuckled absentmindedly, never taking his eyes off Louis. He couldn’t understand him. The shy little laugh, the sleeves pulled over his knuckles, the way he kept smoothing his fringe with his fingers, the vulnerability in his words at that moment were all signals that clashed with the person he showed himself to be every day.

“It’s a bit harsh to say, but I’m here for work. My job right now is to be one of your coaches and so, as much as I’d like to, I can’t be your friend,” Louis smiled as if to apologise for his own words. “As a friend I’d offer you a second round of beers, but as your coach I should tell you to go home and rest for tomorrow’s match or remind Niall - who just made plans to meet a girl at his place in an hour - that according to the rules his cock should stay in his pants tonight.”

Niall covered his face with both hands as everyone laughed. "I forgot I was sitting next to General Tomlinson."

"Exactly," Louis chuckled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Moments between teammates are sacred. You should be free to arrange your little escapades without me having to pretend I didn’t hear - especially since I can’t ignore the rules I set for you - or complain about me or Haynes."

"So, you're leaving us?" Oli asked, pretending to sniffle as if he were about to cry.

Louis reached out and placed a hand on his arm to comfort him, then, furrowing his brows in a dramatically anguished expression, replied "Yes, but the problem isn't you guys, it's me."

Laughter filled the table again, lightening the mood after the heartfelt speech.

"And now seems like the perfect time for you to talk badly about me," Louis joked as he stood up and once again Harry got the impression that Louis' gaze lingered a moment too long on him.

"We'll miss you" Oli whined, continuing his act.

Louis winked at him. "Don't worry, you won't miss me for long, since we'll be spending the next two days together on the road."

Oli flinched, perhaps a bit exaggeratedly to avoid seeming even remotely sincere. "You're right, maybe it's time for you to go."

"What a bunch of ingrates" Louis muttered amused, before setting his chair back in place and pushing it closer to the table. "Have a good night, guys, and don’t stay out too late."

He was about to leave when Liam called him again. "What was the second reason?"

Louis tilted his head slightly. "Uh?"

"You said you came for two reasons."

"Oh, right" he let out an adorable laugh which, for some strange reason, perfectly complemented the mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Harry insisted on buying me a beer."

"I- what?" Harry asked, before he even had a chance to stop himself.

"Don’t be shy now, you insisted so much," Louis pulled the five-pound note Harry had given him in the gym’s courtyard out of his hoodie pocket and placed it on the table. "I just couldn’t let you down."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Zayn biting his lip to keep from laughing and he realised that this battle was already lost.

"You’re exasperating" Harry sighed, squinting his eyes a bit too melodramatically.

"From you, of all people," Louis shot back without even trying to hide his smug expression. "My mistake for trying to be nice."

Harry hated him so much.

He had the audacity to turn his own words against him, as he always did, and while Harry should have expected it, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. And Louis knew exactly what he was doing, it was written all over his beautiful infuriating face.

"Weren’t you leaving?" Harry hissed, glaring at him and hating him just a tiny bit more than before as Louis, laughing, actually walked away. He couldn’t help but stare at the hypnotic way his hips swayed as he walked.

It took him a moment longer than it should’ve to return to reality and get those damn seductive curves out of his mind - after all, he was only human - but he remembered that he had been ignoring David’s last text all this time only when a second notification appeared on his phone.

David : I parked down the alley behind the gym

David : So? Shall we go?

Harry : Perfect

Harry : I think we should wait a little longer

David : ?

Harry : If we leave now it’ll look like we’re about to have a threesome with Tomlinson

David : That wouldn’t be a problem ;)

Harry : Sorry to disappoint you but you’re not his type

Harry : He’s straight

As far as Harry knew, that could very well be the truth. There was a slim chance that the kiss from six years ago meant something, but it wasn’t certain. In those weeks he’d seen Louis leave the gym several times wrapped in the arms of a beautiful blonde girl so, technically, Harry hadn’t lied. Louis could be bisexual, pansexual or anything else, even straight.

The only thing Harry knew for sure was that it wasn’t David’s business.

David : What a waste :(

"Harry, do you know anything about this?"

His head snapped up to find Mitch staring at him, waiting for a reply. "Sorry, I wasn’t listening."

"We were talking about Louis" Mitch explained and Harry barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "There are rumours about the real reason for his gap year, do you know anything?"

"Why should I?"

"You’re usually in the loop about these things."

"I don’t spend my days stalking our coach" Harry replied, making a disgusted face, then returned to looking at his phone.

Harry : Go in 10 minutes

Harry : I’ll wait a bit longer then I’ll join you

Harry : As usual

"Come on, you know what I mean" Mitch huffed, and Harry looked up just in time to see him roll his eyes.

"It also seems crazy to me that a player with his record would decide to take a break at twenty-three," Matt added.

"Maybe he’s injured" Hamed suggested.

"He’s not, we can guarantee that" Niall huffed, almost with frustration. "During practice he kills us, sometimes it feels like he’s working harder than we are."

Michael nodded. "He never stops."

"Doping?" David asked, earning a glare from everyone present. He raised his hands in defence. "Just a theory."

“Don’t joke about doping,” Mitch added seriously. “A few rumours are enough to ruin a career for no reason.”

Harry shrugged as if the very idea was so ridiculous that it couldn’t possibly be true. “Louis isn’t the type,” he would bet his life on it.

“If I were at the peak of my career I wouldn’t waste a year like that” Stan commented.

Niall started laughing before even landing a punch on his teammate. “The real problem here is that you’re already at the peak of your career and still suck.”

“Here comes the phenomenon" Stan retorted, flipping him.

“On Twitter, The Reckless Locker Room said no team wanted Tomlinson because his talent didn’t match his massive ego” Harry explained. “I don’t think I’ve read anything else on the subject.”

David, who seemed quite intrigued by the topic, thought for a few seconds. “He doesn’t seem like someone who’d act like a diva.”

Harry let out a half-laugh. “Because you don’t know him.”

“I don’t think the behaviours you’re referring to are bad enough to cause a disaster of that magnitude” Zayn pointed out. “He works harder than anyone else, has never disrespected anyone and doesn’t use his career to make others feel inferior.”

Harry wanted to argue his point, but Zayn’s objections were spot on. “He’s still a dickhead, though.”

“Only because he gets under your skin.”

David yawned loudly, grabbing both of their attention. “Guys, sorry but I’m exhausted” he said, standing up and shooting Harry a discreet last look of understanding. “See you next time.”

A few other guys, including Nick and Stan, followed his lead taking the opportunity to leave. Meanwhile Harry – as agreed – stayed just long enough to not make the situation look suspicious. He probably stayed longer than David expected, but he was sure David would still be waiting for him in the car with that familiar impatience. When he turned into the narrow street behind the gym, in fact, he was greeted by flashing headlights signaling the car’s position.

Harry opened the car door without hesitation but, before he could say a word, David’s hands grabbed him by the hoodie and hauled him inside the car. He removed Harry’s gym bag from his shoulder, tossing it carelessly onto the front seat, before leaning in for a kiss, charged with all the sexual tension that had been building up over the past hours.

David had never been much of a kisser, too rough for Harry’s taste - or at least, not in the right way - so Harry didn’t wait long before tilting his head, subtly guiding David’s attention to his neck. Harry slid slightly down the seat, leaning back, and David followed that subtle suggestion by moving back as well until his face was on Harry’s groin. 

He lifted his hips just enough to allow David to pull down his sweatpants and boxers in one motion and let his head fall against the window when he felt David’s lips around him. That was an activity where his mouth was definitely more skilled.

๑

“Pick one.”

Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to focus on the figure in front of him.

“Pick one” Louis repeated, waving a cap with folded notes inside right in front of his face.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes in the hope that the gesture would help him open them more successfully. He was wrong. “What the fuck- umph, I was sleeping.”

“Preferably today, shall we manage it?”

Harry swore to himself that if Louis waved that damn cap in front of his face one more time, he would throw it out of the minibus window. He reached out to grab the fucking note, not even knowing why, but Louis moved the hat to stop him while studying his face intently.

“What time did you go to bed last night?”

“Whatever time I say, it’ll still be too late for your taste.”

“It’s not about taste, it’s about written rules, black on white.”

Harry sighed, because this trip would force them to spend two days together and he didn’t want to start arguing already on the minibus.

“Have you asked the others too?” he asked, unable to hold back, “If you keep this up, you’ll make me feel special.”

The smile Louis gave him almost looked like a grimace. “Of course you are” he tilted his head, looking at him as if he were feeling sorry for him, “You’re so special that I’ll suggest to Haynes to keep you by my side on the bench for the whole match.”

Harry knew he wasn’t serious, especially since he was the strongest attacker on the team and the Coach would never allow that, but that veiled threat was still hard to swallow.

“Since when is it a crime to sleep on the bus?” Harry asked, incredulous. “It wasn’t in your precious rules.”

Louis remained silent for a few seconds, staring him in the eye as though waiting for something. “You’re still not answering the question.”

“And I won’t” Harry replied firmly. “I don’t think I was the only one to fall asleep and, even if I was, what should I do in three and a half hours of travel? I’m resting, you should be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when you show some seriousness off the court too.”

Harry shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “This situation is ridiculous.”

“At least we agree on something,” Louis brought the cap back in front of his face. “Since you were the only one who didn’t wake up even when I spoke into the microphone, the name you pick will be your roommate for all the away games this year. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, could you pick one?”

Harry turned towards the window, still keeping his arms crossed over his chest. “You can pick it yourself.”

He ignored Mitch’s elbow jab, not caring about acting like a child because he wasn’t the only one doing it.

Louis remained silent for a few seconds again, probably waiting for Harry to change his mind or at least look at him. He saw his cold expression reflected in the window glass, but he wasn’t going to be intimidated. When Louis finally understood, he drew a note from the cap on his own.

“Niall” he read aloud, quickly passing by the row of seats where Harry sat, “Have fun babysitting him.”

“You’ve gone too far” Mitch said quietly, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry turned to his captain, sitting in the seat next to him, but didn’t let that reproachful look get to him.

“I don’t think I was the only one.”

“Try putting yourself in his shoes.”

Harry furrowed his brow, because he knew how well those two got along but he hadn’t expected his friend to actually turn his back on him. “Mitch, don’t even try.”

“It’s the first match of the season and you - our strongest player - turn up shattered with the look of someone who hasn’t closed an eye all night” he explained, his tone calm but serious. “I’ve known you forever, I know you could crawl into the gym but still be a lion on the court. He doesn’t know that about you, though.”

Harry lowered his gaze, biting his lip as he silently pondered those words.

"All he can see is a prick who thinks he’s a genius and couldn’t care less about his responsibilities, putting the whole team’s result at risk."

"Alright, let’s pretend that’s really the case" Harry replied, trying to fight the guilt that was about to surface against his will. "I made a mistake, gave a wrong impression of myself - whatever you want - but it's not a player who can make or break a game."

"But a player can still make things really difficult for the rest of the team."

"Luke’s a good opposite hitter, if he played for once the world wouldn’t end."

"H, do you hear yourself?" Mitch looked at him as though he were struggling to recognise him. "Just to avoid admitting he’s right, you’re even willing to not play?"

"I didn’t say that" Harry immediately clarified. "I want to play and I know I’m better than Luke, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for the team if I messed up a game for once."

"Hope the coach never hears you say that or he might bench you for life."

Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes. "As if that’s anything new."

"Exactly, after all the trouble you’ve caused, I’d say it’s not worth starting up again."

"Yeah, I’d rather avoid that too" he muttered, thinking back to the two hardest years of his volleyball career.

"If we had Stan playing as first-choice libero instead of Niall, how do you think that would go?"

Harry’s eyes widened in terror at the mere thought. "Please, don’t even joke about it" he started laughing. "I’d rather play libero myself."

From the seat in front of them, a middle finger was raised. "Don’t worry guys, keep talking like I can’t hear you."

Both of them burst into laughter, leaning forward so they could see Stan pretending to be offended.

"Come on, Stan, you know we keep you on the team just because your mum cooks like a goddess," Harry teased, earning him another middle finger.

Stan wasn’t exactly known for his agility or technical skills - and not even for his charm, in Harry’s opinion - but he had the rare quality of being aware of his own worth and, most importantly, accepting it. Many would’ve quit or taken the easier route, content to be a big fish in a smaller pond. Stan knew he had enough skill to belong in First Division but not enough to truly compete at that level. The fact that he was on a team with the best libero in their category, too, had certainly been a humbling experience.

Niall wasn’t just good, he was from another universe. Harry had thought for a couple of years now that he was ready to make the big leap and play in the National Super League, but that call still hadn’t come.

"Mitch" Louis called, stopping next to their row of seats as he returned to his place after pairing up the guys for the room assignments.

When both turned to him, the grin on his face instantly wiped any trace of guilt from Harry’s stomach.

"Don’t disturb our princess during his beauty sleep."

He didn’t even wait for a response, simply basking in the laugh he’d gotten from Mitch as he continued on his way.

"There’s nothing funny about that" Harry mumbled, playfully shoving his captain’s shoulder.

"Come on, he’s a pain but he’s funny."

Harry shrugged as if he’d just had a chill, "I’ll pretend you didn’t actually say that."

Mitch let out a genuine laugh that time. "You two are more alike than you think" he added, "When you stop bickering all the time, you’ll be great friends."

When, not if.

It was a rather bold prediction, if not completely unrealistic. Harry would have liked to believe it, not because he wanted to be friends with Louis - he’d gotten past that phase years ago - but to avoid a nervous breakdown.

The rest of the journey passed peacefully and, by the time they finally reached Shropshire, Harry began to feel the familiar, pleasant tingle of adrenaline in his body. Suddenly, all the tiredness had vanished, leaving only the desire to play.

The Royal Cup, even though it wasn’t part of the official federal championship, had always been the most coveted tournament in their category. Only the top six teams from the previous year’s rankings could participate, so the level was high and it allowed teams to get a taste of the most formidable opponents right away, warming up before the official league started.

They had been moderately lucky because, in their group of three, they had the reigning champions as well as Shrewsbury, who were ranked sixth last year. They would face each other for three consecutive weekends, each week at one of the three clubs, and at the end the two best teams would meet in the semifinals against the top two from the other group.

On paper, it seemed like a done deal because, if they didn’t make the mistake of underestimating the least threatening opponent, at worst they would finish second and easily make it to the next phase. That’s why winning the first match was so crucial to putting a strong claim on a semifinal spot.

The minibus took them directly to the Shrewsbury sports hall, where they found the home team’s management already waiting to greet them. The third team, however, arrived about ten minutes after them.

The first game of the Royal Cup weekends, usually played on Saturday afternoon, was typically between the home team and the geographically closest opponent, so that the team with the longer journey could rest. However in this case Harry’s team - the London Blue Bees - and the Cambridge Rockies were almost equidistant from Shrewsbury, so the rule was that the first challenger would be drawn by the referees half an hour before the official warm up began.

Cambridge were drawn to play the first match, so Harry and the rest of the team went to sit in the bleachers. They weren’t required by the rules to stay there, they could have gone to the dorms to rest or taken a walk around the town, but they’d never pass up the opportunity to study the teams they’d face the next day.

Coach Haynes and Louis, who had stayed in the parking lot talking during warm-ups, joined them just before the first whistle blew. Louis sat next to Mitch, one row below Harry, and asked Liam to sit with them. For the entire match he stayed there, sitting between his two setters, trying to better understand their mindset and guiding them in analysing the different game situations.

It wasn’t a monologue or a lesson where the teacher explained what he would do, presuming to always have the right answer. Louis was interested in understanding the mechanisms behind his setters’ choices, continuously challenging their analytical abilities, putting them to the test and encouraging them to improve with each response.

Maybe for the first time, Harry found himself truly envying his teammates. He could see in their expressions how much they were learning, literally hanging on his every word while watching the game through the eyes of one of the best setters of their generation.

The entire team had the chance to absorb everything from him and his immense talent, everything that could turn each of them into a great player. Harry himself, despite their clashes - or perhaps because of them - had probably learned more in those few weeks with Louis than in the last few years. However, the bond Louis had with his setters was another matter. It made sense after all, it was his role, so he had years of top-level experience to share with them and if there was one thing Harry had learned about Louis, it was that he never held back when it came to giving.

Louis gave everything he could, always, and often Harry found himself questioning how much their constant tension was affecting his potential growth. And the only person he could blame in that case was himself. Harry could complain about many things when it came to Louis’s personality, but when it came to volleyball Louis could always set everything else aside. He might change the way he related with one person or another, as was normal, but he gave himself to everyone the same way.

If Harry, at that exact moment, had moved to the row below to sit next to them, Louis wouldn’t have hesitated to take him under his wing, just like he had done with Niall or Isaac during some phases of the match. And Harry would have wanted to join them, he wanted it with all his heart, but he didn’t.

Throughout the game he kept glancing in their direction, trying to catch every word amidst the noise of the home crowd, while his stomach twisted with the urge to go down those damn steps, and his pride kept him glued to his seat.

“You’re an idiot” Niall commented that evening when he finished listening to his best friend’s rant.

Harry rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. “I know.”

“That’s a step forward.”

He turned his head to glare at him. “You’re not helping.”

“What can I say?” Niall shrugged, not even looking up from his phone. “You were a dick.”

“You know I couldn’t, especially after what happened on the bus.”

“An even better reason you should have” Niall pointed out. “It would have shown him you’re mature enough to put aside your dislike when necessary and that he was wrong to see you as a reckless idiot.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows to see his friend better. “Was it really that bad today?”

Niall snickered. “You looked like a rebellious teenager whose parents took away their phone.”

“Don’t say what you’re about to say” Harry muttered, hiding his face with both hands.

“Why don’t you try talking to him?”

He knew. He knew because Niall always ended up at the same conclusion, talking would solve any problem between the two of them.

“Okay.”

Niall turned quickly to him, an expression of utter shock on his face. “Okay?”

“Okay” Harry nodded. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Now?” Niall exclaimed.

Harry sat up, leaning toward his bag to grab a random shirt to put over the shorts he’d gone to bed in. “Before I regret it.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s your idea.”

“I never said you should go to his room at night when he’s probably already sleeping” Niall tried to clarify, though Harry was already on his feet, heading for the door of their room. “Especially since you should be in bed at this hour and this is exactly why you two fought.”

“He’s not my mom, and I’m not three years old.”

Niall jumped out of bed, standing between him and the door in an attempt to make him think twice. “How do you plan on having a civil conversation with him when you’re giving me shit responses?”

“I- I don’t know, okay?” Harry sighed, throwing his arms up. “But I don’t want to feel like an idiot. Between the two of us he’s the idiot, not me.”

“If you use those words to apologize, he might even get emotional.”

They both burst out laughing and Niall finally stepped aside, though not without showing his worried look.

“Don’t make it worse.”

“You’re so encouraging,” Harry chuckled before walking out and closing the door behind him.

He crossed the hallway to the last door, but as he was about to knock all his courage seemed to vanish. He took the hair tie out of his hair, messing it up before tying it back neatly into his usual bun. He took a deep breath, then knocked.

The wait felt endless. Harry had time to consider several escape routes, double-check his socks for holes, smooth out his shirt with his hands and bite his lip repeatedly. When Louis finally opened the door, Harry’s mind went completely blank.

Total emptiness.

Louis was standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his hair disheveled as if he had tossed and turned in bed. He saw Louis raise an eyebrow, clearly confused by the unexpected visit, but all Harry could really focus on was the tattoo on his chest.

“Do you need something?” Louis asked after several awkward seconds of silence.

“I- I’m sorry,” Harry cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at his face which, illuminated only by the dim light, looked even more handsome than usual. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“If you can,” Harry noticed the sound of a TV on inside the room so he hoped that, despite the tiredness in his eyes, Louis wasn’t already asleep. “If you want,” he quickly added, “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Louis sighed, rubbing his face, “I was watching a movie. What’s so urgent that you needed to come tell me now?”

Harry thanked God that Louis hadn’t invited him inside, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to string two words together. Trying to ignore how attractive Louis was, was already difficult enough without being locked in his bedroom with him, half-naked, staring at him like that.

“I left the pub less than an hour after you last night. I didn’t go straight home - I admit that - and I had sex, even though I shouldn’t have, but by one I was already in bed. Uh, my bed, I mean. I didn’t sleep much or well, it’s true, but that’s because I couldn’t fall asleep.”

Louis studied him in silence for a few seconds and Harry would have given anything to know what he was thinking behind that intense gaze.

“So after spending a sleepless night, instead of recovering and going to bed early, you thought it was a good idea to come to me at this hour just to let me know you fucked someone?” Louis raised an eyebrow in a theatrically puzzled expression. “Why? I mean, according to what logic?”

Harry forced himself to ignore Louis’ attitude. He had known from the beginning that this wasn’t a good idea, so he just needed to try not to make things worse. That would already be a big success.

“Because you asked me and I wanted to be honest.”

“I asked you - what - ten hours ago?” Louis shook his head as if the whole situation was ridiculous. “If you wanted to be honest, you would have answered when I asked you. Instead, you chose to put on one of your tantrums.”

“My answer would’ve been the same anyway.”

“I don’t care about your answer anymore,” Louis shrugged indifferently. “Or did you expect me to applaud you for figuring out on your own that you were wrong?”

“I didn’t expect anything, but I thought at least you’d appreciate the fact that I’m apologizing.”

Louis tilted his head slightly as if concentrating on a particular thought. “I don’t think I heard an apology.”

Harry opened his mouth, but he bit his tongue before saying something he would regret. He wasn’t there to argue. “I just apologized.”

“It’s a little complicated to apologize without actually saying ‘sorry,’ don’t you think?”

“Okay,” Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head and took a step back. “This is pointless. Pretend I never came.”

It was Louis who took a step outside the room at that point. “I appreciate the attempt or… I don’t know, whatever it was.”

"Go to hell, Louis," Harry hissed as he turned his back to leave.

"I’d appreciate it even more if, instead of apologizing with words, you actually thought about changing your behavior."

Harry made sure to slam the door when he re-entered the room, ensuring his message came through loud and clear.

"Don’t say anything" he muttered before dropping onto the bed, hugging the pillow in search of comfort.

The next morning Harry was the first to go down for breakfast, the first to show up for the bus, and the first to be ready for pre-match warm-ups. He avoided any kind of contact with Louis, didn’t even look at him when he literally walked right by him and, to keep ignoring his existence, he knew he needed to be flawless. He just had to make it to the court without incident and then he could finally show what he was made of.

He carefully adjusted the elastic band he used to keep stray hair from his bun out of his eyes during the game, made sure his shoes were properly tied and took a long sip of water from his bottle. He closed his eyes for only a moment, trying to clear his mind of any thoughts not related to the match and all the information they had studied to prepare for it. Then he put the bottle back in his bag and grabbed the blue one with bees that one of the sponsors had given to the entire team.

"What?" he asked Niall, noticing the way his friend was looking at him.

Niall hesitated just a moment before shrugging. "Nothing."

Harry frowned, not understanding what was going through his mind, but decided not to press further because it probably wouldn't be worth it. At that moment, the only priority was the match.

He left the locker room with the other guys to start warming up and, as always, as soon as he stepped onto the court he felt all the tension melt away from his shoulders.

Harry was placed in the starting six, as always as opposite hitter in a diagonal with Mitch. On the court with them were Zayn and Matt as outside hitters, while the middle blockers were Isaac and Oli, with Niall ready to substitute for them in the back row.

The first set slipped away smoothly, ending with the Blue Bees winning in just over fifteen minutes. The second set began with a bit more struggle because, to test the team by taking advantage of a relatively easy match, Haynes had put Michael on the court instead of Matt and Liam as the setter, giving a completely different approach to the game compared to before. They struggled a bit to recover from the initial deficit but eventually, especially thanks to Isaac's blocking and Zayn's attacking, they secured the second set as well.

Harry was satisfied with his performance; he was maintaining a very low error rate and even Louis hadn’t criticized him yet. He hadn’t received any positive feedback either, but he still considered it a win.

After the match, which they won three to zero, they returned to the dorm to have an early lunch and take advantage of a couple of hours of rest before the final game. The atmosphere was relaxed, but Harry couldn't help but notice how unusually quiet Louis was. He didn’t seem angry or nervous, he was thoughtful, as if his mind was engaged in a long and complicated internal debate.

He began to worry only when, at the end of lunch, Louis stood up and walked over to him.

"Hey," he offered a half-hearted smile, "When you’re done eating, can we talk?"

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, surprised - and a little scared - by that unusual request. "Sure," he nodded, swallowing a bite of chicken, "I’m almost done."

"Don’t worry, no rush," his expression seemed ever so slightly more relaxed than a few seconds before. "I’ll be outside for a smoke."

Liam waited for Louis to leave the room before commenting. "This doesn’t sound good."

"Thanks," Harry shot him a glare as he pushed his plate away, his stomach now tightly knotted.

"Eat," Mitch nudged the plate back toward him, "You have to play today, you can’t go on an empty stomach."

"He didn’t seem to be on the warpath to me" Oli added, giving him an encouraging wink.

Harry didn’t respond, reluctantly taking another bite of chicken. He was torn between the urge to eat slowly to delay the meeting as much as possible and the need to go to him immediately to understand what he wanted to say. Nothing good, he was sure, but the sooner they started, the sooner it would be over.

When he joined him in the courtyard about ten minutes later, Louis was sitting on a low wall with a cigarette between his fingers.

"You smoke way too much for a professional athlete" Harry said with a hint of a shy smile, approaching slowly.

"You’re right" Louis admitted with a half-laugh, licking his lips before blowing the smoke upward, away from Harry’s direction.

As he watched him extinguish the cigarette against the wall, Harry wondered when smoking had become so damn sexy. He shook off those inappropriate thoughts - especially in that moment - and sat down as well, keeping a safe distance that couldn’t be interpreted as hostility.

"I come in peace" Louis began with a chuckle, perhaps sensing his anxiety.

Harry also let out a nervous laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "That’s new," he bit his tongue, quickly adding, "No, sorry. It’s a habit. I come in peace, too."

"Good, for once I was hoping I could really talk to you."

Harry was about to tell him that, unlike him, he had already tried several times, but he held back. He simply nodded.

Louis watched him for a few seconds before sighing. "I don’t understand you."

That, certainly, was an entirely unexpected approach.

"What- huh?" Harry asked, caught off guard by that vulnerability. "What’s there to understand?"

"Everything?" Louis shrugged slightly as if it were obvious. "I realise I’m doing something wrong with you, but I don’t know what because I can’t figure you out."

Harry’s heart did a little somersault allowing himself, for the first time, to believe they could salvage a relationship that had started off on the wrong foot.

"How can I help you?" he lowered his gaze, fiddling with the spare hair tie on his wrist. "I mean- I’m here, right? Ask away."

"How do you think you played today?"

"Good, but if you’re asking me, it’s obviously not the right answer."

"You didn’t play badly because you made very few mistakes, but you didn’t play well either because you scored far fewer points than you could have."

"Okay?" He raised an eyebrow, not really understanding the reason for that conversation. "I’ll try to improve my attacking efficiency."

"It’s not about that." Louis hesitated just a moment, then licked his lips before speaking. "Why do you play volleyball?"

For the umpteenth time, Harry’s hopes went up in smoke. "Excuse me?"

"I’m not trying to attack you" Louis clarified quickly, "But- really, why do you play? What’s your goal? Are you at least having fun?"

"You’re not trying to attack me?" Harry repeated in disbelief before standing up. "I can’t believe this. I’m leaving."

Louis' eyes widened and he jumped to his feet as well. "Where- what? What did I do?"

"Do you really not realise what you say?" Harry let his arms drop against his sides as he shook his head. "I’m just an idiot who keeps believing I can have a civil conversation with you without being constantly humiliated."

“Humiliated? I just asked you a question.” 

“It’s never just a question when it comes to you.” 

“Okay, wait. Just wait a second.” Louis ran a hand over his face, as if trying to think. “I didn’t mean to humiliate you. I never wanted that, so I’m sorry if I did.”

Harry waited in silence, determined not to settle for those half-hearted apologies. He couldn’t bring himself to trust his words.

“Can we sit down and clear this up?” Louis extended a hand as if he wanted to touch Harry’s arm, but shoved it back into his pocket before doing so. “Please.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“To do my job, I need to understand who I’m dealing with. And I can’t figure you out. Help me, it’ll benefit both of us.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you judge me.”

“Then- then I’ll talk, okay?” he suggested, looking almost pleading. “I’ll tell you what I think of you, the good and the bad, and then you can tell me where I’m wrong.”

The last thing Harry wanted at that moment was to hear Louis’s opinion of him, but a part of his brain kept telling him to stay, if only for the satisfaction of proving how wrong he was.

Louis noticed that brief hesitation because he added, “Please.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes to mentally curse his own weakness, then sat back down. Louis followed, sitting a bit closer than before.

“I think you have the physical and technical skills to be a great player. I’m not talking about becoming one, uh… like, in the future. You are one. Actually, you could be.” He huffed, almost exasperated by his own words. “God, why does it make no sense when I say it out loud?”

Harry frowned, unable to grasp the point of his speech.

“Okay, listen. You have everything it takes to play at a high level, not just here but also abroad. I could name several teams that would go to great lengths to have you, even in Italy. Since the first week of practice I’ve been wondering why you’re still here and every time I think I’ve found the answer, you prove me wrong. But at the same time, whenever I convince myself that you lack nothing, you show me that you’re missing that something extra.”

Harry listened intently, trying to understand where he was going. “So, in your opinion, what’s the problem?”

Louis shrugged, as if he felt defeated. “You tell me.”

“I’m not in your head.”

“Don’t you think I’d like to be in yours?” He let out a half-laugh. “Believe me, it would make everything easier.”

“Maybe the answer is simpler than expected. Not everyone can reach the top.”

“No doubt about that, but you could if you wanted to.”

“What do you mean?” For the first time since Louis started talking, Harry looked him in the eyes. “You think I don’t want to?”

“You tell me” he repeated again. “That’s why I asked you those questions earlier.”

Harry tried to take long, deep breaths to avoid being overwhelmed by his emotions. He could accept any technical criticism, but after dedicating his entire life to volleyball he refused to be seen as someone who didn’t want to do well enough.

“I work harder than anyone else in the gym.”

“I know.” Louis’s tone was annoyingly gentle. “I see that. That’s why I can’t figure out how to do my job with you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why you push yourself so hard. What’s your goal?”

Harry lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Goal or dream?”

“Who says they can’t be the same thing?”

“Reality?” he answered with a small shrug.

“Then let’s do this, I don’t care about your goals. Tell me what your biggest dream would be.”

“Come on, Louis. That’s ridiculous.”

“No dream is ridiculous. At most, it can be unachievable. Let me be the judge of that” he kept insisting. “I want to hear you say it out loud,” he leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze, “and look me in the eyes, so I can tell whether to believe you or not.”

Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. For a moment, he felt like a teenager again, being psychoanalyzed by the smart and kind boy he had a crush on. But he couldn’t tell whether that was a good or bad feeling. It couldn’t be a good sign if, in six years, nothing had changed and he was still the troubled kid needing guidance from someone more mature.

Louis got his attention by placing a hand on his arm, seeking contact with him for the first time. “Well?”

He tried to push away all the deafening thoughts warning him, reminding him that every time he had trusted Louis, things had gone wrong. For once, he decided to listen to the fourteen-year-old buried in the back of his mind, hoping Louis too somewhere still had the boy he had been fortunate enough to know years before, the one who seemed completely gone now.

He lifted his head, looking him in the eyes. “I’d like to play in Italy.”

“Okay, you can do it.”

“No, I can’t. It’s the best league in the world.”

“If I did it, you can do it too.”

“I’m not you.”

“Exactly, you can be even more.”

The fact that Louis seemed so sincere only confused Harry further. Why was he saying these things if he still believed Harry was lacking something to make it?

"What I'm trying to tell you" Louis explained without beating around the bush, "is that I saw more determination in you when you were a kid playing the wrong role than I do now, when you've got everything you need to make your dreams come true." He paused, as if waiting for a response, "And I wonder why."

Harry allowed the information to settle in his mind for a moment before truly processing what he had just heard. "Do you remember me?"

Louis looked at him with a confused expression. "Why are you surprised?"

"Shouldn't I be?" Harry replied sarcastically, "You never said you remembered me, you-" he hesitated, "You asked me my name."

"You never told me, too" Louis responded, his voice pitched higher. Had the situation not been so awkward, Harry might have found it almost funny.

"You knew I would recognise you since- since... well, you know" Harry stammered, blushing as if he were still fourteen years old.

"Harry, I thought it was obvious that I remembered you."

"It wasn't, not at all."

"Even if I hadn't recognised you, I would have known who you were when your sister came to the gym for the first time" Louis explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You know we’ve always been friends."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath, "God, this is embarrassing."

Louis sighed. "Please, don't make things even more complicated."

Harry stood open-mouthed, unable to believe he was trying to put the situation on him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you" Louis said, gesturing towards him, "It's already complicated enough dealing with you without you having a meltdown even over something that happened six years ago."

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to complicate your life just by existing."

"That’s not what I said."

"Seems like it to me," Harry crossed his arms. 

"Yeah, because you always do this" Louis burst out, finally losing his patience. "You seem calm and collected, we talk just fine, but then suddenly you start freaking out and I can never understand why." He ran a hand through his hair. "You’re moody, inconsistent and not even honest with yourself. You do it on the court too. You train like you're getting ready for the Olympics, but then you act like an idiot as soon as you step off the court. You play like a star in practice and then spend the entire game doing the bare minimum compared to what you're capable of. You don’t play to attack, to be aggressive, to score points… you play just to avoid making mistakes. You play it safe. You let Zayn be the top scorer, and he’d trade a leg to be half as good as you are. But then you tell me your dream is to play in Italy."

"I also told you I know my limits. I know it’s impossible."

"Is that all you heard?" Louis shook his head, looking frustrated. "You don’t know your limits, what a load of crap. You decided which limits suit you best so you wouldn’t have to take risks. It’s different. You do everything you can to fit into the mediocre standards you've set for yourself. I don’t know why no one's ever told you this before, but you’re not a good actor."

Harry let out a half-laugh, biting his lip to stop himself from getting to the point where he might cry. He wouldn’t, not in front of Louis.

"So now, besides being moody and inconsistent, I’m also fake" he said, counting on his fingers. "And mediocre. Almost forgot that one."

"Every time someone tries to make you face the truth, instead of proving them wrong, you build a wall and it’s impossible to talk to you."

"Sorry, I’ve never been good at accepting compliments" Harry joked, knowing it would only fuel the fire.

"You think you’re clever but, honestly, it’s just sad how you shut down your talent so no one notices" Louis added, ignoring Harry's comment.

Louis was like a flood, unable to stop himself. Harry wanted to respond, to stand up for himself, but he didn’t trust his voice in that moment. Louis had said he didn’t want to humiliate him, yet he kept pressing on the same wounds without mercy.

"Prove me wrong" Louis said, trying to meet his gaze but failing, "Mitch told me about the strategy you discussed with him for this afternoon's game. Did you talk to Haynes about it?"

Harry merely shook his head.

"Why?"

Louis continued, as though it were obvious. "Because you knew you’d be exposed. You should’ve convinced him your idea was solid and, to do that, you couldn’t hide behind the mask of a mediocre First Division player."

"You’re wrong" Harry muttered so quietly that he almost hoped Louis hadn’t heard him.

"Prove it."

"It’s pointless, you’ve already made up your mind."

"And since when has that ever stopped you? You spend your days arguing against everything I say, for once do it for yourself and not just to make noise."

"I don’t have to prove anything to anyone," Harry begged internally that Louis wouldn’t notice the slight crack in his voice.

"I’ve tried everything to motivate you" Louis admitted, almost defeated, "I even asked the other guys for advice, since they know you better than I do. The truth is, this isn’t my battle."

Harry turned to him, confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means I’m stopping fighting your battles for you" Louis explained, never breaking eye contact. The blue of his eyes seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his words. "From now on, I’ll just do my job: teach you everything you're willing to learn. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped."

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Louis stood up and walked away without saying anything else. It wasn’t until he was alone that Harry let the tears fall, tears that had been teetering on his eyelids for what felt like minutes. He wiped them quickly with his sleeve before heading towards the building’s entrance, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone on his way back to his room.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke with his teammates about yet another fight with Louis and, most of all, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to hide under the covers and cling to his pillow.

Fortunately, Niall was asleep, so Harry climbed into bed as well and pretended to sleep, even when he heard his friend getting up and preparing to leave.

"H, wake up," Niall gently pressed his hand to Harry’s shoulder, "We’ve got to leave in ten minutes."

Harry nodded with his eyes closed, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation.

"Did it go that badly?"

He nodded again. He heard Niall sigh before he embraced him, leaving a kiss on his temple.

"I’d love to stay in bed with you all day - my guitar teacher says you’ve got a certain charm, you know - but we’ve got to go and beat those Cambridge wankers."

Harry managed to force a laugh and, reluctantly, he eventually got up. For the first time in his life he didn’t want to play volleyball. He almost wished he wouldn’t be selected for the starting six because he knew his head wasn’t in the game and he could only see disaster looming.

He got his wish towards the end of the first set when Coach Haynes put him on the bench before giving him another chance at the start of the second. After getting blocked for the third time in a row, Harry felt almost trapped. Mitch continued to show faith in him, trying to pull him out of the mental tunnel he’d fallen into, but wherever he looked Harry only saw hands blocking every attempt.

"Explain to me what the fuck is going on in your head today?" Haynes shouted at him during a timeout that seemed designed just to berate him. "Is this the fucking face you should have on the court?"

Harry stayed silent, not lowering his gaze, knowing that any response would only make things worse.

"Do you need a nappy or can you stay on the fucking court without shitting yourself?" Haynes continued, poking him in the chest. "One more mistake and you're out for good."

Harry’s match effectively ended minutes later when he reacted too late, letting a ball drop in his zone.

Louis didn’t say a word, probably not wanting to rub it in. His silence, however, served as a reminder of everything he had poured onto Harry just hours earlier and as he watched from the bench, helpless, while his team was getting massacred, Harry felt like he was dying inside.

He hated Louis for so many reasons, but he hated him even more because deep down Louis was right.

Chapter Text

GLOSSARY

• Court Zones: Each half of the court is ideally divided into six zones, with numbering starting from the bottom right corner (zone 1 or serving zone) and continuing counterclockwise. The three front-row attack zones, which are close to the net, are zones 2, 3, and 4, while the back-row defense zones are 5, 6, and 1.
• Zone 2 - Zone 4: Regardless of the team's rotation on the court, after every serve the setter always moves to zone 2 and the outside hitter who is in the front row (i.e., at the net) goes to zone 4.
• Shadow Cone: When a player jumps to block, they create a "shadow cone," which is an area of the court where the ball cannot land. If the attacker were to hit the ball in that direction, the ball's path would be obstructed and blocked by the hands of the blocker. This means that players not involved in blocking only need to focus on defending the areas of the court outside the shadow cones.
• Rotation 1: Players rotate clockwise on the court (1-6-5-4-3-2). Since the positioning of each role is always the same relative to the setter, the rotation can be quickly identified by the setter's position. Rotation 1 means that, in that rotation, the setter is in zone 1 and the other roles will take their positions accordingly (the same logic applies to rotation 2, 3, and so on).
• Suicide Drill: This is an extremely demanding exercise (as the name suggests) where, starting from the baseline, players must sprint at full speed to touch each line on the court and return to the starting point before running to the next line.
• Ace: A point scored directly from a serve.
  
  

๑

"Styles, I hope this isn’t another one of your temper tantrums, because I’ve had enough."

"I was right then, just like I am now."

"Right?" Haynes shouted, his face turning beet red. "You're just a bloody arrogant prick!"

Harry wanted to punch the wall in frustration or roll his eyes at how ridiculous it was that, after all these years – especially after the facts had clearly proven him right – the Coach was still so wounded in his pride that he couldn’t let it go.

Louis, standing next to Haynes, silently watched their argument unfold. Harry had arrived at the gym well ahead of time specifically to get a chance to speak with the Coach in private, but their conversation had dragged on, and Louis had walked in right at the peak of what had become one of the worst arguments Harry had ever had with his coach. He had tried to slip away to leave them alone but Haynes had asked him to stay, so Louis had stepped closer, still doing his best to remain in the background.

Harry couldn’t say he expected any support from him, especially since they’d barely exchanged more than a few words over the past couple of days, but he hoped Louis wouldn’t end up siding with the Coach. After all, if he found himself in that situation, it was partly his fault too.

"Why can’t we at least give it a try?" Harry tried to insist.

"I’m not wasting my time just because you dreamt up what you think is the solution to all our problems."

"I didn’t dream up anything. I even showed you videos of teams that’ve used this tactic."

Haynes scoffed, "And you think those are good examples?"

"Isn’t Orduna in Modena enough?" Harry mimicked the Coach’s cold laugh. "We’re talking about just the very best of volleyball here. I wonder why in Modena they are so stupid and arrogant to use these tactics."

"When did you start playing in Italy?" Haynes raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. "I didn’t notice it in the last ten years you’ve been with this team."

Harry pretended not to hear how that jab stung, reminding him of how mediocre – using Louis's words – the reality actually was.

"Even kids could use this scheme," he barely managed to keep from stomping his foot.

"Some things need to be trained, and we don’t have the time."

"We’ve got almost a whole week."

"A week where we need to train to avoid embarrassing ourselves like we did last Sunday" Haynes shouted, throwing his arms wide.

"Do you really think it will go better if we don’t use these days to figure out how to stop their best hitter?"

"I don’t need some arrogant kid explaining how to do my job."

"But if we just tried-"

"I’m done listening to your bloody ideas!" Haynes swore, losing his temper and banging his hand on his office desk. "I should’ve kicked you off the team years ago" he accused, pointing his finger at Harry, before turning to Louis. "He was my bloody starting middle blocker and suddenly he refused to keep training in that role."

Only then did Harry realise what was happening and, for the second time in his life, he felt completely exposed under those damn blue eyes that immediately shifted onto him.

Harry did everything he could to ignore that gaze, which felt like it was piercing right through him.

"And now who’s your best hitter?" he retorted, holding his head high. "You gonna complain?"

"Watch your tone or I swear to God this will be the last time you step foot in this gym" Haynes threatened, almost growling. "Your arrogance kept you on the bench for two years when you could’ve been an undroppable starter."

Harry straightened his back, as determined as ever to defend the one decision in all these years he had never regretted, not even in the worst moments. "Better two seasons on the bench building myself a future, than acting tough at fifteen playing in the wrong role."

"Get out of my gym."

Harry sighed, "How do you think-"

The Coach didn’t even let him finish his sentence, shouting, "Out!"

Harry held Haynes' furious gaze for a moment, then left the office with his head held high. He ignored the way his teammates' chatter quieted as he crossed the gym with everyone’s eyes on him, walking quickly toward the locker room.

He took off his shoes and threw them against the wall in frustration, then started pacing back and forth, trying to take deep breaths but failing to calm down. Only when he heard a knock did he force himself to compose himself, picking up the shoes from the floor and carelessly tossing them into his gym bag.

After a few seconds, despite Harry's silence, the handle turned and Louis stepped into the locker room.

Harry sighed when he saw him shut the door behind him, immediately putting him on guard. "I'm not in the mood."

"Can I talk to you?"

"I don’t have time to waste" Harry replied, hurriedly grabbing his white Vans from under the bench and putting them on without bothering to tie them. "I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I got kicked out."

Louis shrugged nonchalantly, always annoyingly calm. "You’re talking to me, he’ll understand."

Harry zipped up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Not necessary."

He tried to walk past Louis as if he didn’t exist but, as he feared, Louis had no intention of letting him go that easily. He stopped him with a hand on his chest, forcing him to step back and sit on the nearest bench.

"You need to understand that this attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere."

"I know, alright?" Harry sighed, meeting the hard gaze of his assistant coach. "I don’t need you to tell me. I’m arrogant, I don’t know shit about volleyball and it’d be better for everyone if I just quit playing."

Louis waited in silence for a few seconds then, with the most unreadable expression Harry had ever seen on his face, he asked "Are you done?"

"Louis, what do you want from me? I don’t need another lecture."

"I’m not trying to lecture you" Louis said calmly, "I just want you to try thinking it through with me." He paused, making eye contact. "Do you really think this attitude is helping you?"

"No, but I’m tired of being treated like the lowest of the low when I know I’m worth more... and I prove it every day."

"You’re right."

His voice didn’t hang as if Louis was ready to add a but and even the relaxed position of his shoulders didn’t suggest he was preparing for another fight, but Harry furrowed his brow anyway, expecting a catch at any moment.

"I’m serious," Louis emphasized, probably reading the doubt in Harry's eyes. "You’re right to want to prove your worth and you’re right technically, because the idea you suggested is brilliant," he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "I’m one hundred percent behind you on this and I’ll tell Haynes as soon as we’re out of this locker room."

Harry nodded slightly, hoping no one would notice how much he appreciated the support. It was strange, because he wasn’t used to it, but it was nice, despite the various shades of uncertainty he couldn’t shake off.

"So let me ask you again: what does fighting with the coach actually get you?"

Harry stayed silent. He was aware he'd made a mistake in how he'd handled things; frustration had blinded him, especially since he never felt taken seriously, but he wasn't planning on apologising, as he wasn’t the only one who had gone too far.

"What do you think you’ll achieve by acting like that with him?" Louis continued to press. "Because if it’s just about venting your frustration, then find someone to fuck and stop making your life more complicated than it needs to be."

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. He shrugged his shoulders to shake off Louis’s touch, throwing him a look full of all the disappointment he felt towards him.

"Your advice is to go get laid?"

"Is that all you got from that?"

"From someone with your résumé I expected more than advice on my sex life," Harry stood up, determined to get out of that gym as fast as possible. "Where – by the way – there’s no problem," he shook his head, never taking his eyes off Louis' face.  "I thought you might be helpful after all, I guess I was wrong."

Louis held his gaze without wavering for a single moment. "I thought you were smarter than this after all, I guess I was wrong."

"Fine. We’re done," Harry said, walking past him toward the door.

For the first time, from the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed a hint of hesitation on his assistant coach’s face. But it wasn’t until Harry was about to leave the locker room that Louis finally spoke.

"You trusted my advice when I was just a kid and you didn’t know me, why can’t you do it now?"

"Maybe because now I know you."

๑

Harry wasn’t proud of how he had behaved the day before. He knew he was right, but at the same time he realized he had crossed the line with his actions.

He had spent the entire evening crouched against the headboard of his bed, brooding over every word of that argument, wondering how he could have handled the situation better to avoid reaching a crisis point with Haynes, especially since Louis had insisted so much on pointing out how much of an idiot Harry had been. However, every option always ended the same way, because Harry was certain the Coach would never give in to such a bold suggestion, not because it wasn't valid but simply on principle.

He had known him for too long not to realise how much he still blamed him for that stance he had taken years ago. That was one of the main reasons why, at first, he had hoped that by casually mentioning his idea to Mitch, it would be the captain who would bring it directly to their coach. In any other situation, if that attempt through a third party hadn’t worked, Harry would have given up. He hadn't considered that Louis, with that way of his that drove him crazy for a million different reasons, would convince him that taking the leap was a good idea.

And Harry had jumped in, but recklessly, without assessing the real risks or how to avoid the crash. The result could only be one: an evening of self-pity in the darkness of his room. He had stayed there, thinking and licking his wounds, at least until Niall called him to find out what had happened and why - as he put it  - Haynes had spent the entire practice acting like he had a cat firmly attached to his balls. That had made him laugh for the first time in hours of tension.

When it came time to prepare for practice that afternoon, Harry moved through every action automatically, not even thinking about what he was doing. He packed a clean shirt in his gym bag, double-checking that the unused shorts from the day before and his volleyball shoes were already inside, along with spare underwear and the essentials for a shower. He made sure his water bottle was full and brought a backup one, because he felt like he’d need all the help he could get that day.

Just before leaving, he tied his hair in his usual bun, choosing an old and slightly broken elastic that perfectly matched the shirt he would wear for practice. Then he put on his inseparable Vans and left the house.

Ironically, he was more worried about seeing Louis than about facing a possible second round with Haynes, because at least that was familiar territory.

He didn’t even know why he found it so embarrassing that Louis had discovered that, years ago, he had taken his words at face value and returned from summer camp determined to get that role change, which would eventually happen anyway. He had argued long and hard with the Coach and even some teammates hadn’t agreed with that decision, which had initially weakened the whole team.

Harry had trained harder than anyone, facing the criticisms and especially the bench, until even Haynes couldn’t deny how much stronger he had become compared to Luke, who at the time had been the starting opposite.

If he could only point a finger at himself for the disaster with the Coach the day before, the fault for that unwarranted display of trust — which had unlocked a new level of embarrassment with Louis — lay with that stupid fourteen-year-old Harry. He didn’t regret it, but he would have preferred to shave his head clean than let Louis know that annoying truth.

When he arrived at the gym, he was immediately swarmed with questions because, even though he was sure Niall had already spilled everything, the guys were eager to hear the story directly from him.

"Is it true that you were about to scrap?"

"Did the coach really threaten to kick you out of the team?"

"But what exactly did you two fight about?"

"Do you think Haynes and Louis are fighting about this now?"

That last question, asked by Isaac in the midst of the chaotic chatter where everyone was talking over each other, caught Harry’s attention.

"Are they fighting?"

"I don’t know," Isaac shrugged innocently. "Yesterday when we left they were talking and, uh, they seemed pretty tense, although it didn’t look like they were arguing."

"Yeah, it’s true," Michael confirmed.

"And now they’ve been locked in the office for... what? Twenty minutes?" Isaac continued.

"Well, there you go. Time to start with mobility," Mitch cut in. "If they come out and find us like this, they’ll become a pain in the arse for everyone."

Harry didn’t need to turn around to know that Niall, next to him, was already laughing under his breath.

"Hey," Niall chuckled, nudging him, then lowered his voice so no one could hear. "At least you’re in luck."

Harry shoved him away but couldn’t stop himself from laughing. "Fuck you, Ni’."

They had just started their warm-up jog when, finally, the Coach and his assistant emerged from the office and joined them on the court. They didn’t say anything, simply sitting on the lowest step of the bleachers, waiting for the team to finish the sequence of exercises that marked the daily start of practice. Haynes pulled out his phone, staring at the display with a bored expression, while Louis, as usual during these dead times, was focused on reviewing some notes regarding the day’s activities or the latest analyzed data.

Only when it was time to grab the balls to start the warm-up tosses did Haynes clear his throat to get everyone’s attention and ask the team to gather around.

Harry preferred to stay a little further back from the other guys; he didn’t want to feel too exposed because he knew, in some way, the Coach would bring up what had happened between them. His gaze never stopped darting between Haynes’s stern features and Louis’s calm concentration.

"As most of you already know, Styles wasn’t with us yesterday because we had a little disagreement," Haynes began.

Harry instinctively opened his mouth to clarify that if he hadn’t been sent home, Styles would have been with them despite how he had been treated, but Louis seemed to read his mind because he shot him a look that made Harry immediately close his lips.

"I admit I have some difficulty accepting his proposals," Haynes raised both hands almost in a gesture of apology, but his sarcastic grin was too at odds with the gesture to be believable. "Some would call it prejudice while others, perhaps less disillusioned, would say... well, they know who they're dealing witht."

Harry couldn’t miss the almost imperceptible way Louis’s eyebrow twitched, as if he was trying to resist the urge to scoff and roll his eyes.

"Anyway," the Coach continued, pausing for effect in a way that sounded almost like a sigh, before gesturing towards Louis. "Louis has... let’s say, been intrigued by the idea suggested by your teammate, so I thought about it last night and I said to myself, ‘why not?’" He slapped Louis on the shoulder. "If he believes so much in this brilliant mind, who am I to say no?"

Harry's stomach twisted so tightly that he instinctively placed a hand on his abdomen, trying to meet Louis's gaze to figure out if he had really said those words about him. But it was all in vain, as Louis didn’t look his way even for a second.

"We’ve come to an agreement that we’ll give this alternative tactic a chance. According to Harry and Louis this could help us beat Cambridge," the Coach continued. "I could never take credit for such an important victory when it’s not truly mine, so for the rest of the week Coach Tomlinson will handle all the preparation for the second weekend of the Cup."

He’d never called him that before and the way he emphasized the word ‘coach’ carried a hint of mockery that didn’t go unnoticed by either Harry or, judging by the confused expressions, the rest of the team.

"Right, I think it’s time to get started, because we’ve got a lot of work to do and not much time," Louis cut in, addressing the players and letting the series of jabs slide off him with enviable indifference.

"All yours," Haynes took a step back, suppressing a half-laugh. "To make things more fun" he extended a hand toward his assistant, "if we lose on Saturday, you and Styles will be washing the minibus on Sunday."

Louis let out a surprised laugh, which quickly spread through the team, but he didn’t hesitate for a moment to shake Haynes's hand to seal the deal.

"What?" Harry exclaimed amid the general laughter, unable to hold back.

Louis finally turned toward him, winking with an amused look. "Get your arse to work, Styles, because I’m not washing anything."

Niall burst out laughing without any shame, even ignoring the elbow Harry gave him when he realised where his best friend's thoughts had slipped.

"I hate you" Harry muttered, rubbing his face in an attempt to hide how red he was.

"Come on" Niall cheered, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders and dragging him toward the centre of the court to join the rest of the team. "You'd like to put your arse to work with him."

"I really, really hate you."

Louis cleared his throat loudly, glancing in their direction, signalling for silence as he reached the net to begin the training session.

"I’ll keep this brief" he began, giving Oli a warning but amused look when he heard him scoff. The whole team knew well that this usually meant one of Louis’s infamous never-ending speeches. "Last Sunday, Murray and Fraser hammered you."

"Literally" Stan commented, scratching the back of his neck, probably remembering the hit he took full in the chest when Haynes had subbed him in for Niall as a last-ditch attempt.

"They’re strong, especially Murray, but the main issue is that they’re much taller than you, which means most of the time their attacks go over the top of your blocks. You can’t afford to face hitters like them relying only on defence because, as good as Niall is, at this level it’s impossible to cover the whole court if there’s no shadow cone from the block."

The whole team nodded, well aware of the issue.

"This is where Harry’s idea comes in," Louis flipped over the folder in his hand, showing everyone a sheet of paper on which he had scribbled what, at a glance, looked like a volleyball court with two teams marked on it. "Cambridge almost always starts the set in Rotation 1, which means every time Murray attacks, Mitch faces him… and Mitch is our weak spot when it comes to blocking," he circled the ‘S’ indicating their setter’s position on the paper.

"Can’t we just start the set in Rotation 4?" Nick asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "This way, Harry would be there to block Murray."

"That’s what we did the other day, Nick. Thanks for the suggestion, but as you probably noticed it didn’t solve the problem" Louis replied, visibly frustrated by the lack of attention from one of his middles. "Not only would this alternative mean sacrificing our best attacker- because Harry would always have Murray to block him - but we’d still struggle when our setter is at the net and on the other side of the court there would be three attackers instead of two, including Fraser right in front of Mitch" Louis explained, describing the exact situation they had faced in the last match. "Also, this is a temporary solution because any clever coach would adjust their formation in the next set to get their strongest attacker back against the opponent’s weakest blocker."

"Like a game of chess," Liam observed.

Louis nodded, "Exactly, and we can’t afford that."

"So?" Nick asked.

Louis pointed with a marker to where he had circled the setter and drew an arrow from zone 2 to zone 4, then highlighted the ‘OH’ for the outside hitter and added a second opposite arrow, from zone 4 to zone 2. "We’ll swap Zayn and Mitch."

For a few seconds, there was silence and Harry suddenly felt nervous, as if he was the one being examined and not Louis.

"Is that it?" Oli asked, once it was clear that no one would add anything further.

Mitch let out a laugh, "Tell me, Oli, when was the last time you saw a middle attack a ball coming from the left?"

"Oh shit!" Oli exclaimed, running his hands through his hair, "It’s all going to be mirrored."

The whole team burst into laughter at his reaction, but Harry just glanced around and noticed how the realisation was hitting them one by one, as the implications of that simple switch sank in.

"We won’t always play like this, of course, but every time Mitch calls for this play, as Oli said, you’ll be playing mirrored to how you’ve been used to all your lives," Louis explained, scanning the faces of each player. "This way, Mitch will face their setter and Zayn, who’s not only taller but also has a significantly higher jump, will handle Murray."

Liam turned to Harry and, completely catching him off guard, grabbed his face and planted a loud kiss on his forehead. "Fuck, you’re a genius."

Once again, everyone burst into laughter, even Louis, and Harry was secretly grateful not only for Louis betting on him but also for not ruining the moment with one of his usual uncalled-for jokes.

That training session was one of the toughest ever, at least mentally, because it wasn’t easy to go against movements so automatic they had become instinctive. Or rather, to do so, they had to activate their brains even for the most obvious things. Haynes didn’t intervene once, he simply watched everything from the bleachers.

That evening, when Harry left the gym, he was emotionally and physically drained from everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but he also felt a sense of pride coursing through his veins. As he crossed the courtyard, he saw the unmistakable figure of Louis a few metres from the gate. He had a black backpack on his shoulders, the hood of his grey hoodie pulled up over his head, and was swaying slightly as if he felt cold.

At that moment, while watching him from a distance, Louis tilted his head slightly back and blew the smoke from his cigarette upwards. Harry took a deep breath because, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found him incredibly sexy when he smoked and he hated himself for it, cause it was something he had never tolerated in anyone else.

For once, he was the one who approached his coach, without waiting for Louis to call him over to make one of his usual silly remarks before letting him go. It had almost become a habit.

"Coach Tomlinson" he greeted him with a slight grin when he was a few steps away.

Louis turned towards Harry, shaking his head in an attempt to hide his amused expression, before dramatically rolling his eyes. "Stop it."

"Well, how do you want me to call you?" Harry pretended to think about it, but he noticed the way Louis bit his lip, lowering his gaze and scrunching his nose as if he were trying to stifle a laugh.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, his voice slightly higher than usual.

"I didn't say anything," Louis chuckled, raising his hands in defence. "But that's not very professional of you, is it? I mean, what do you expect me to say?"

It took Harry a second longer than it should have, but when he understood the double meaning, he blushed right up to the tips of his ears and Louis let out another burst of laughter.

"Stop it" Harry muttered, embarrassed, giving Louis a slight shove on the shoulder. "You wouldn’t make jokes like that to the others."

"Of course not" Louis replied simply, blowing the smoke upwards again.

Harry's mind was in turmoil, torn between the part of him that found it unbearable that Louis teased him because he knew about the awkward crush Harry had had on him in the past, the part that found those delicate chuckles illegally cute and the part that found him fucking sexy.

Almost without realising it, he found himself mesmerised as he watched Louis reply to a text that had just come through. His mind wandered back to their conversation from the day before, the latest of many, and how Louis had helped him despite Harry having mentally slammed the door in his face. He had stood up to Haynes for him, taken a risk because he believed in his idea, yet Harry could still hear the echo of his own voice telling him he didn’t trust Louis.

Louis raised an eyebrow and glanced up from his phone, perhaps feeling Harry's gaze on him. "You need to say something?"

"Uhm, no… actually, yes," Harry improvised, deciding to take the opportunity to let him know how much he had actually appreciated his gesture. "I- thanks."

Louis tilted his head slightly, looking at him confused. "Uh, you're welcome?"

Harry felt like stomping his feet in frustration. Why did it have to be so difficult?

"For today- well, for yesterday too. For standing by me."

And also because if you hadn’t pissed me off so much the other day, I would never have found the courage to come out of my shell. And it’s not true that I don’t trust you.

But he didn't say that.

Louis shrugged but gave him a kind smile. "You’ve shown me I was wrong," he extended his clenched fist towards him, "Truce?"

Harry nodded, bumping his knuckles against Louis’s, but when he tried to pull his arm back, Louis pursued the contact until Harry stopped.

"I’m serious, I need you this week," Louis emphasised, looking him in the eye. "This is our bet."

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, though he wasn’t sure whether it was because of those words or the prolonged contact between their fingers.

"I promise."

Louis’s face lit up with a brand new smile, one that reminded him so much of the seventeen-year-old boy he had once had a crush on.

"Now go" Louis joked, pulling the edge of Harry's hood down over his face until it almost covered half of it. "See you tomorrow."

Harry flipped him off, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious from the outside how pleasantly surprised he was by that side of him - the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde side - and the next day he prayed with all his might that his face wouldn't betray the guilt he couldn't shake since the night before he had jerked off thinking about Louis.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened and certainly wouldn’t be the last - Harry was honest with himself - but somehow it had felt different, even though he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was because of that truce, because day by day he felt those thoughts becoming harder to keep in check. Stopping the constant fighting had allowed him to put aside that irritation he had felt towards Louis and made him notice other aspects that until then he had refused to see.

Things weren’t always smooth between them. In fact, they spent most of the time bickering as usual, but even that was different .

Harry had always struggled with the effect that power dynamics had on his mental clarity and the fact that, in this case, Louis was genuinely in a position of power over him and didn’t miss an opportunity to remind him of it – just in the right way – often left his mind completely scrambled.

While his head sometimes struggled to focus on who Louis actually was and why those thoughts were completely unwelcome and inappropriate, other parts of his body were always focused, constantly reminding him that Louis was still the most handsome and sexy guy he’d ever seen.

Despite those significant difficulties, Harry loved every single moment of that week because he adored the way Louis always pushed them to give their best, alternating less serious moments with those when he became General Tomlinson, always with the determination coursing through his veins.

The night before the match the tension in the air was palpable so, after finishing the planned technical drills, Louis suggested ending the training with a kind of official rehearsal. He put the first-team players against the bench players and explained the special rules he had decided to apply to this match.

"You’ll only play in the three rotations we’ve worked on during the week. I won’t give any instructions, Mitch will decide when to call the play: if the first team scores using the play, they’ll earn an extra bonus point; if they lose it, then the bench will get double points," he scanned the faces of his players to make sure everyone understood, "The losing team will do the suicide."

The protests that filled the gym only made Louis chuckle and judging by his satisfied expression he seemed perfectly aware of how he was pulling a mini-volleyball trick. Eventually, though, it was a huge success. Not only did everyone play as if their lives depended on it but, more importantly, they were distracted from the pointless tension and had more fun than they had in a long time.

Harry thanked God when the first team won because he was way too tired to face a suicide drill. The winners spread out across the court, cheering on their teammates and making sure no one on the losing team was cheating by not touching the lines with their hands or feet. Fortunately for them, Louis decided to spare them from the unwritten suicide rule, where the slowest person in the group would have had to repeat the exercise alone.

That evening in the locker room, while talking to his teammates, Harry realised how much that week had been stimulating, different and at times even fun.

On one hand, Harry wished it would never end but on the other he couldn't wait for the next day to take to the court and show what his team was made of. He burned with the desire to play that match.

A coach Harry had been lucky to meet during one of his summers at Royal Campus once said that volleyball was the most challenging team sport in the world for two reasons.

The first was that even the most unreachable champion was always forced to pass the ball. Not even the greatest star could take the ball and show their superiority over everyone else by scoring on their own for their team. Nobody could win without the others, and even the best could be dragged down by the others and lose.

Cambridge had the two strongest spikers in their category but, beyond that, there wasn’t much else. If they hadn’t been able to rely on their two stars, they would still have been a top-class team but would never have been able to aim for a second championship win.

That was the point Louis kept emphasizing during that week of training: target the weakest elements of the team to trigger a chain reaction that would put the two outside hitters in difficulty, leading in the best-case scenario to a set that forced them into a limited choice, easily intercepted by the block.

The second reason volleyball was considered the most challenging team sport in the world was that no one had the luxury of stopping the ball, assessing the situation and then deciding how to act.

How many factors came into play in what might seem like a simple attack? For every spike, one had to consider potential gaps in the defense, the height and positioning of the opposing block’s hands - with all the occasional variations due to their jump timing or any openings resulting from a mistake - and also the height and speed of the set, which had to be intercepted at the exact point of contact with the attacker’s approach.

It all happened in the blink of an eye and, to make things even harder, while jumping.

For this very reason, any unexpected variation from the block or defense could destabilize the attacking player for a moment forcing them, play after play, to never take anything for granted. This was, in fact, the main goal of the strategy Harry had suggested.

It would be Mitch’s decision, before each play, whether or not to call that tactic. In this way, if the opposing setter received an easy ball to play, allowing him to give his hitters the opportunity to choose their best shot, the Blue Bees would know whether to have Mitch and Zayn switch positions, quickly changing the entire team's formation without warning.

That weekend, they were playing at home, and even during the warm-up familiar faces were already starting to fill the bleachers. As always when they played in London, Gemma had come to watch the game and just as Harry noticed her, he saw she was talking to Louis.

He shook his head, determined not to let anything distract him. He gave in only once when, while running to retrieve a ball towards the bleachers, he noticed his sister sitting next to the girl he had often seen with Louis. Again, he forced himself to focus just on the match.

"Alright, guys, listen up" Coach Haynes said just before the teams took the court. "Use your heads and don’t mess around. We’re not giving away any points."

Louis approached Harry, who was taking the last sip of water. "You with me?" he asked, searching for Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded as he set his water bottle down.

"You remember everything we discussed, right?"

Harry simply muttered a yes. He could feel the intensity of those blue eyes on him, but it wasn’t a negative feeling. It was a gaze full of expectation, but also of… hope? Trust? He couldn’t say for sure, but whatever it was, it was working because it was only fueling the fire inside him. He felt so charged up that he was afraid he might explode once he got on the court.

Louis took a step closer. "Harry, the moment I see one of those fucking half-assed spike, I swear your arse won’t leave the bench until the end of the season" he said with such determination that Harry almost forgot Louis, being only an assistant coach, couldn’t actually do anything about it. "Get in there and hit with all you've got" Louis pushed a finger lightly against Harry’s forehead, "I want to see my bloody reckless opposite out there."

Harry nodded, using all his willpower to ignore the voice in his head telling him to let Louis fuck him right then and there, and bumped his knuckles against those of his assistant coach when he saw Louis offering a fist bump.

When the referee blew the whistle, Harry stepped onto the court determined to give everything he had.

During the first set they didn’t use the strategy they’d prepared even once, because Murray seemed strangely off-form, still not fully in the game mentally. Nevertheless, they fought point by point as the rest of the Cambridge team compensated for their best attacker’s lack of form by displaying an unexpected team cohesion. Though it wasn’t enough to win the set.

After that slow start, Murray began to find his rhythm. When the Blue Bees were three points behind midway through the second set and Fraser was preparing to serve, Mitch slid his hand behind his back and flipped the middle finger to his teammates. That was the signal they’d agreed upon, their personal fuck you.

Fraser’s serve was as tricky as ever, but Niall’s reception came in high and accurate to Mitch’s hands, setting up Matt for an attack from the back row. Cambridge’s defense rebuilt without much trouble and in that moment Mitch and Zayn swapped positions at the net. As expected, the opposing setter sent the ball to Murray, who realised just a fraction of a second too late about the switch and couldn’t adjust his attack in time to avoid the block.

The ball hit the ground on the opponents' side and Zayn turned to his team shouting with his fists in the air, just before being engulfed by the overwhelming embrace of the entire group.

Harry instinctively searched for Louis with his eyes, spotting him standing and celebrating as though they had just won the match. He broke free from the rest of the team and sprinted towards him, ready to high-five him. They had done it, it had worked!

Louis smiled at him as their hands met and quickly sent him back onto the court with a pat on the arse with his ever-present clipboard in hand. "Stay focused, the game’s not over" he told him, before raising his voice to get the attention of the rest of the team. "Next ball, guys" he shouted. "Now!"

The referee blew the whistle to call him out because, although sometimes a blind eye was turned, the rules stated that an assistant coach couldn’t leave the bench or talk to the team during play.

They pulled back the deficit and overcame Cambridge thanks to a long serving run from Isaac who, in addition to two aces, put the opposing reception under severe pressure, forcing their setter and attackers to hold back and not overplay.

The Blue Bees took the second set too, but perhaps they got too comfortable thinking the win was in the bag. With the desire for redemption, their opponents found the grit to put the pedal to the metal from the very first point of the next set and the Blue Bees found themselves unable to keep up with the pace of the game. The gap wasn’t large, but they were always chasing Cambridge, who eventually claimed the set.

The start of the fourth set was a disaster. The recent slip-up had left a bad taste in the team’s mouth and they didn’t seem ready to respond and finish the match. With Cambridge ahead six-nil, Haynes finally called a timeout.

"What the fuck are those faces?" shouted the Coach, while Louis was speaking privately with Mitch. "I swear, if you don’t pull yourselves fucking together I’ll bring on the entire bench. At least they’ve got the bloody desire to be on the court."

Harry took the opportunity to drink a bit and try to regain the concentration needed to turn the game around. He knew Haynes’ timeout speeches by heart and knew that, in situations like this, he often let his nerves take over.

"You’ve worked too hard to go home with your tails between your legs" Haynes continued, before starting to give out orders. "Reception in twos. Niall and Harry, cover Matt until he decides to get back with us."

The referee blew the whistle to end the timeout, so Harry set his bottle down and nervously adjusted the blue headband around his forehead, then stretched his arm towards the center of the group to join in the team’s rallying cry.

Louis placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing to get his attention. "You’re better than this, remember that."

Once back on the court, the opponents missed their serve and Mitch, who was up to serve, took full responsibility for that critical moment without showing any fear. He trusted his opposite, calling on him more than anyone else and Harry was ready, fighting tooth and nail with his team for every point of their comeback.

Cambridge was playing at the top of their game but the Blue Bees, once they had found their fighting spirit, were also putting more into the game than they ever thought they could. Harry had believed from the very beginning in the validity of his idea, but he never imagined that the tactic could actually influence the course of the match so much. Even in the worst moments, they had always managed to withstand Murray's attacks.

They managed to completely close the gap just before it was too late, forcing Cambridge to go to extra points in that fourth set, which for too long had seemed lost from the start. Neither team wanted to give up; it was clear in everyone's eyes and could be heard in the cheers for every point won.

In the end, with the score at thirty-three to thirty-two for Cambridge, it was luck that decided: their setter's serve hit the top of the net and hung there for an agonizing second before falling into the Blue Bees’ side of the court. Niall, Zayn and Mitch dove in a desperate attempt to save the uncatchable ball.

They won the coin toss for the fifth set, choosing to start with the serve and go all-in, as that had been one of their main strengths throughout the match.

The first serve went straight into the net, but Harry didn’t take it as a bad omen and kept encouraging his teammates, determined not to give up. Cambridge made an error too, returning the favor. In those first points of the final set, everyone made a few too many mistakes, from both sides.

They sighed with relief when Murray finally went to the back row without having created a decisive lead between the teams, but the Blue Bees particularly struggled during his serve. Murray targeted the weak spot between Niall and Matt, managing to score an ace and forcing them twice to send the ball back over the net without being able to attack.

Harry forced himself not to be distracted by what seemed like the inevitable end of the match; he had no time or energy to waste on negative thoughts. When Louis - ignoring the referee's glares - shouted at Matt to leave the reception to make space for Harry, he felt both the weight of that responsibility and a sense of relief. He knew he could do it.

His best - their best, because they had all given their all - wasn’t enough though and a few minutes later Cambridge’s three-man block marked the second consecutive loss for the Blue Bees in the Royal Cup. They hugged in the middle of the court before shaking hands with the opponents in the final gesture of sportsmanship.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he only heard the crowd and his teammates’ chatter in the background as they did stretches sitting on the floor. He kept replaying in his mind the moments where he could have done more or where a different choice could have been more effective. He couldn’t stomach the fact that they had let a match they could have won slip away like that.

“Guys, it was a good match” said Haynes with a sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. “We could have done more, it’s a shame.”

Louis nodded, standing next to him. “Now clear your heads, we’ll have plenty of time to analyze tonight’s game when we’re all calm, okay?” His eyes landed on Harry just at the end of his question, but the opposite player looked away, lowering his head, pretending to focus on the red writing on the water bottle he was holding. “Now go rest, because tomorrow morning at nine, you’ll already be in the gym for the match against Shrewsbury.”

Niall fell backward, pretending to be dead.

“You all are not the only ones who need to rest,” Haynes chuckled and slapped Louis on the back. “I admit that your and Styles’ idea was a success, but a bet is a bet.”

Harry closed his eyes with a sigh, tilting his head back, because he had been so sure they would win that he’d forgotten about the stupid bet. At that moment, he didn’t have the mental energy to think about that, not when the defeat still burned so much. So, he stood up and headed to the locker room.

“Leave him alone” he heard the Coach say as he walked away. “He’s more touchy than usual when we lose.”

Luckily, no one paid attention to the 'fuck off' Harry mumbled to himself.

The shower helped him relax and calm his nerves, so much so that he even managed to exchange a few jokes with the guys while getting dressed.

“Is this yours?” Niall suddenly asked, as if he had just remembered, showing him what was indeed his water bottle. “It was on the floor in the gym, but we couldn’t remember who it belonged to.”

Harry nodded, taking it. “Thanks, I must’ve forgotten it,” he put it in his bag, “I lose my head when we get beaten like this.”

“Good thing it’s attached to the neck then,” Liam teased, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder and making the other guys laugh.

“Poor Harry,” Niall shook his head with a chuckle. “He loses everything: his head, the match, the bet, the water bottle – wait, but did you lose the one from last week too?” he asked, still amused. “Wasn’t it that blue one from the sponsor?”

Harry threw a rolled-up sock at him. “Ni, don’t you have something better to do than check how and when I drink?”

“So you really lost it,” Niall burst out laughing.

“I didn’t lose it,” Harry crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look threatening, “I don’t like that one.”

Niall raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “And the old one?”

“It was too old,” Harry shrugged indifferently. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe that’s why we keep losing,” observed Michael while tying his shoes. “By changing the bottle, you messed up the team’s balance.”

“Of course,” Harry sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You know what they say?” Isaac chimed in with a sly grin on his face. “When you lose everything, maybe it’s because you’ve lost your head for someone.”

For a moment, there was silence in the locker room, then the whole team started throwing their dirty, sweaty jerseys at Isaac. A comment like that couldn’t go unpunished.

When he left the gym, with his heart a little lighter thanks to those idiots on his team, he found Gemma waiting for him in the courtyard.

“You were amazing” she squeaked, ruffling his hair before hugging him.

Harry couldn’t hold back a sound that was very close to a grunt. “Gems,” he rolled his eyes, “We lost.”

“So what?” she raised an eyebrow with an almost threatening look. “I said you were amazing, not that you won.”

He shook his head, chuckling, resigned to the fact that it wouldn’t make sense to contradict his sister. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they walked through the courtyard together. He looked around, searching for that familiar figure he had learned to recognize even in the dark.

“Looking for someone?” Gemma asked, her voice perhaps a bit too curious.

“No.”

“Mh,” she pretended to believe him for less than a second before adding, “Louis already left with Lottie.”

“Good to know, but I wasn’t interested.”

Lottie.

Chapter Text

"Who picks the playlist?"

"No one," Harry replied as he screwed the pump onto the faucet half-hidden behind the caretaker's shed.

"I warn you, I'm pretty picky when it comes to music, so if you're planning to propose something, be aware of the consequences you might face."

Harry tried to give him a stern look, but it was pointless because Louis was so focused on browsing his Spotify that he didn’t even notice.

"Good thing we won't play music then."

That sentence seemed to finally catch his attention. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No," Harry grabbed a sponge from the bucket full of soapy water and handed it to him, "You better put down your phone unless you want it to get wet."

"So you're serious?" Louis gestured toward the minibus behind him, "I mean- you really want to do this without even playing a little music?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide how amusing he found Louis' genuinely outraged expression. "Yep."

"But- but why?" His voice went up an octave, "Do you also want to schedule a meditation and prayer break so we can reflect on our sins and repent?"

Harry bit his lip, almost about to laugh. "Are you done?" he asked flatly.

Louis placed a hand on his chest, dramatically hurt. "This is unacceptable."

"Look, we're not playing music," Harry declared firmly because if there was one thing he had sworn to himself before arriving at the gym that afternoon, it was that. "It's already embarrassing enough without turning it into a- a kind of sexy carwash."

Louis burst into laughter, clearly caught off guard by that phrase, and Harry felt his cheeks flush.

"Okay, I- okay," Louis placed his phone next to Harry’s on the low wall and raised his hands in surrender. "I wasn’t expecting to imagine this- uh, your Miss Wet T-shirt version, but okay," he shook his head as if he really wanted to erase something from his mind, "No music."

If possible, Harry blushed even harder, so he threw the sponge he was still holding at Louis' face. "Stop it."

Louis instinctively caught it when it slid down his face. "You did it all," he accused with an amused grin, "My mind was as clean and innocent as a child's before you started talking about sexy carwashes."

Harry - really - would have preferred to lie down in the middle of the road waiting to be hit by a car just to change the subject, especially since he had already had a lot of trouble imposing any discipline on his own mind.

The night before, as the disappointment and anger from the loss had started to fade, the realisation of what was going to happen the next day had started to hit Harry more and more. He had tried to ignore the little voice that kept repeating how this seemed like the beginning of a porn movie because he couldn't afford to explore such a delicate territory even in his fantasies, but he couldn't help feeling anxious about spending time alone with Louis. He didn't know what to expect.

He didn't even know who to expect.

Would it be the usual Louis, the serious and efficient coach? Maybe he’d come with his focused expression and a printed copy of the plan where he'd already established not only the task assignments but also the order and speed at which they would do each activity to finish in the shortest time possible and with a perfect result.

Would it be the Louis he had seen just over a week ago at the pub? Sarcastic, funny and unbearable at the same time, kind but cool enough to remain professional and never make the mistake of getting too friendly.

Or would it be a Louis Harry had never met before?

He had never seen him in a non-work context, not since they were both adults, and he wasn't stupid enough to imagine that the real Louis hadn't changed a bit from the one he'd known. Harry knew he himself was a completely different person in many ways. So who was the real Louis, the one reserved for people in his private life?

Harry was sure he would never really find out - not that he cared that much, it was just curiosity - because if there was one thing he had figured out about Louis, it was how good he was at compartmentalizing his life. Maybe over time he’d allow the team to catch glimpses of who the guy behind the coach's facade was, but nothing more than that.

After all, Harry’s thoughts always got stuck at the same point: why was he so convinced that the time they were supposed to spend together was going to fall outside the work context?

It was still work, even if in different circumstances than usual, but that was it. As far as Harry knew, he could be dealing with the worst version of Louis, the nervous coach forced to humiliate himself in front of his own team because he had made the mistake of trusting Harry.

Eventually, before going to bed, he had convinced himself that this was the most likely scenario and he couldn’t get that belief out of his head.

That morning, he had woken up almost feeling guilty toward Louis for dragging him down with him and, at the same time, nervous about Louis because he didn’t want to spend the afternoon being insulted.

It didn’t matter that Louis had arrived at the gym with a smile that could outshine the sun and hadn’t shown any signs of taking Haynes’ or the boys’ jokes about the lost bet badly, because in Harry’s mind, it was already clear that the afternoon would be nothing but another disaster.

Fortunately, at least they had won easily against Shrewsbury and after the match Louis had given the team the rest of the day off because, since he and Harry would still have to go to the gym to wash the minibus, they would also take care of hosting the final match of that second weekend of the Cup in the early afternoon. Harry hadn’t protested about not being consulted beforehand because he knew the game between Shrewsbury and Cambridge would barely last an hour.

Of all the scenarios his mind had imagined in the last few hours, though, Harry certainly wouldn’t have bet a penny on the idea of finding a Louis so relaxed that he almost seemed like a different person. Clearly, Harry wasn’t cut out for betting.

"What do you think you're doing?" Louis asked in a high-pitched voice, looking at him as if he had just started walking on his head.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Washing the bus?"

"Have you ever washed a car in your life?"

"We've been here for ages and we haven’t even started," Harry sighed, "What's wrong? What did I do wrong if I haven't done anything yet?"

Louis pressed his lips together as if to hold back a laugh. "The princess has never washed a car" and this time it wasn’t a question.

Harry hated it when Louis called him that, but he hated even more the fact that, if they had a different relationship, he might have liked it. His head was just a mess.

"Can we just move on?"

"We have to rinse the bus with the pump first, hoping there's decent pressure" Louis explained, taking the end of the hose and moving to the front bumper.  "If you start soaping it straight away, you’ll just end up with more mud."

Harry knew this, of course he knew it. He may have never washed a car, but that was a universal rule for any washable surface. He was just distracted and, most of all, he wanted to finish as soon as possible. That's why he ignored Louis' condescending tone and headed toward the faucet.

"Tell me when to open it." Louis gently pulled the hose to make sure it wasn't tangled, then nodded at him. At first, the water flow seemed too weak, but Louis almost completely blocked the pump's slit with his thumb to increase the pressure.

There was no reason in the world why that scene should have seemed so sexy, but Harry just couldn’t take his eyes off him and his toned, sinuous body surrounded by a mist of steam and tiny rainbows.

He was so absorbed in that vision that he hadn’t even realised that someone had arrived and crossed the entire courtyard to reach them, until he spotted someone standing just a few steps away from him.

"You’ve got visitors," Harry announced, turning off the faucet and trying to ignore the slight irritation in his stomach. At this rate, they’d never finish.

"Lottie?" Louis asked, surprised when he noticed the girl. "What are you- oh," his eyes suddenly widened. "Did I forget to tell you?"

"I thought you weren’t answering because you hadn’t finished working, not because- what exactly are you doing?" Her expression at that moment was so similar to the one Louis would have made if he had been in her place, it made Harry think that these two had been together for so long that they had almost become mirrors of each other. "And especially why?"

Louis scratched his neck, chuckling, before setting the hose down and walking toward them. "Long story," he said, wiping his hands on his white shirt.

"It’s not that long," Harry couldn’t help but comment. "You made a bet and lost."

Louis shrugged indifferently. "It was worth it."

Lottie muttered something in a voice so low it was inaudible, but Louis seemed to catch its meaning, judging by the sharp look he shot her.

"I’m Lottie," the girl flashed a beautiful smile and Harry found himself thinking that if he weren’t undeniably gay, he might have had a crush on her. "And you’re Harry," she shook his hand. "Finally, I get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

"From Gemma," Louis immediately clarified. "Apparently, our sisters are very good friends. I just found that out too."

That information traveled slowly through Harry’s brain, but when it finally reached its destination, his gaze shot between the two faces in front of him. How had he not noticed before?

"Sister," he cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. "Right- uhm, if you need to go, it’s no problem. I can continue alone."

Louis rubbed his face with one hand, dramatically sighing. "Now you see who I deal with every day?"

"With a kind, polite and handsome guy?" Lottie shot back, rolling her eyes. "Poor you, they should give you a medal of valor."

Harry chuckled, embarrassed but amused. "I like you way more than your brother," he winked. "Are you sure you don’t want to be our coach?"

"Are you sure you want to keep having this conversation?" Louis interjected, raising an eyebrow in a tone that was almost threatening. "Just remember that from tomorrow the proper hierarchy will be restored."

Harry couldn’t help but laugh because, even though the sentence could sound like something from a total jerk, it was clear from his tone that he was just joking.

"You’re ridiculous" his sister huffed, officially earning first place in Harry’s personal ranking of the Tomlinson family.

"Lots, we’d like to avoid staying too late," Louis tried to cut things short. "I’ll call you tonight, okay?"

"You'd better do that" she responded in an almost threatening tone before giving him a kiss on the cheek, turning to wave goodbye to Harry and leaving them alone again.

"You really look alike" Harry said, reflecting out loud while starting to lather the side of the van.

"Why does that surprise you so much?"

He bit his lip, not wanting to admit the truth. "I don’t know."

"That’s not the face of someone who doesn’t know" Louis teased in an amused tone.

"It’s the face of someone who’s doing all the work alone."

"Touché," Louis chuckled, delicately fixing his hair with his fingers.

Harry looked away because he refused to find him cute, but out of the corner of his eye he saw him getting to work.

"So, since you don’t want music, what are we talking about?"

Harry bit his lip, struggling to suppress a smile. "We can also just stay quiet, you know?"

"Boring," Louis whined, puffing his cheeks.

"I’m doing it for you."

"Come on, you can’t really be this annoying" Louis replied, then chuckled when Harry glared at him.

He still tried to appear indifferent. "Better not find out, right?"

"Kind of like how you don’t want to find out how annoying I can get when I’m bored."

"I know exactly how annoying you can be, trust me."

Louis stopped, leaning towards him to make sure Harry could see the mischievous expression on his face. "You have no idea, trust me."

Obviously, Harry didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, so he decided to counterattack. "As I already said, I’m doing it for you."

"Let’s hear it," Louis said while scrubbing the window with the sponge, "Why?"

"It would be unprofessional."

Louis let out a half laugh. "Sorry, but- when I think of the concept of 'unprofessional', talking isn't usually the first thing that comes to mind." He suddenly widened his eyes. "Oh my- well…"

"Louis," Harry exclaimed in a sharp voice, making him laugh.

"You started it," Louis defended himself, trying to get serious again. "It’s not my fault, you should see your face when you blush like that. Irresistible."

He suddenly seemed to realise how his words could be interpreted so, laughing, he lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair to fix the fringe on his forehead. For some absurd reason, his reaction made Harry blush even more than his words had.

Louis cleared his throat. "So- uh, what were you saying?"

Harry wasn’t stupid and if it had been anyone else not only would he have thought Louis was flirting, but he also would have played along without thinking twice. That was his bread and butter, he was good at flirting and he found it quite exciting.

But it was Louis, so that changed everything.

"Talking isn’t a bit too… uh, friend-like?" he pretended to reflect. "I’d never want to put you in a position where you’d have to remind me to stay in my place because, just so you know, you can’t be friends with your athletes."

"Someone here is a bit touchy?"

Harry turned toward him to give him yet another glare that afternoon, but he couldn’t stay serious when he found Louis already looking at him with that smug little grin of someone who expected - and probably wanted - that exact reaction.

"I don’t think so" Harry answered indifferently. "What you said at the pub the other night was a very touching speech, really. I even believed you for the first ten seconds."

"I’m increasingly moved by the opinion you have of me."

Harry shrugged, not even sure if Louis was looking at him at that moment. "You reap what you sow, right?"

"Well, let’s put it this way then," Louis chuckled quietly to himself, as he always did before saying something only he would find funny. Harry had long since learned to recognize that almost hidden little laugh.

"Let’s analyze the situation here" he paused for dramatic effect, waiting for a laugh that Harry refused to give him, rolling his eyes instead. "If I were acting as a coach, I’d be sitting comfortably right now telling you what to do."

"No, if you were sitting - since technically you were the only one who placed the bet - that would make you an asshole, not a coach."

"We’re hypothesizing here," Louis huffed in an amused tone, "Let’s not get stuck on the details."

"Oops, sorry," Harry glanced at him, offering an ironic smile. "I must’ve learned that from my coach."

Louis mirrored his expression. "If your coach was as focused on the details as you say, I assure you that by now at least half of you would be in a top-level league," he scrunched his nose, probably realising what he'd just said, "I shouldn’t have said that, you didn’t hear anything."

Harry considered it a small personal victory. "The perfect Coach Tomlinson is human" he exclaimed dramatically, "This lack of professionalism is unforgivable."

"Very funny" Louis commented flatly. "As I was saying, it’s clear right now that I’m not acting as a coach, otherwise I wouldn’t have said anything about Haynes."

"So talking bad about your boss makes you less of a coach?"

"Point one, he’s not my boss, we just have different roles" Louis emphasized, "Second, I didn’t talk bad about anyone. I was correcting you, reminding you that you were targeting the wrong person."

"You knew perfectly well I was talking about you."

"But that’s not what you said."

Harry threw his head back, letting out a frustrated groan. "You’re exasperating," then, hearing him chuckle, he turned towards him and added, "Do you find that so funny?"

"Enough," Louis nodded with satisfaction. "It’s always interesting to provoke you, although I still haven’t figured out what logic makes you lose your mind sometimes and other t-"

He suddenly stopped and with a squeak that almost sounded like a squeal, took a few steps back from the minibus.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked, confused by the reaction.

"Harry" he called quietly, signaling to join him without taking his eyes off the same spot on the bus.

"Why are we whispering?" Harry asked, imitating his tone of voice as he approached him.

Louis ignored him, shifting slightly behind his back. "Look," he pointed to a spot that had to be somewhere near the driver’s window, "Do something."

Harry tried to follow the direction of his finger but didn’t see anything strange. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, more and more confused, "Is it something like- I don’t know, like The Picture of Dorian Gray?"

"What the hell does The Picture of Dorian Gray have to do with this?" he replied in an almost hysterical tone.

"I don’t know, maybe you saw the reflection of your soul on the window and realised you should behave better with people- Ow!" He turned toward Louis when he gave him a little slap on the forehead. "That wasn’t necessary."

"Focus!"

"But on what?" Harry exclaimed. "What am I supposed to see? Is there some giant spider?"

Louis’s fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, gripping the center of Harry’s back as he pushed him a couple of steps forward. He almost seemed to be using his body as a shield.

"Bottom left corner of the window" he explained in a panicked voice.

Harry’s brain was torn between finding it extremely cute and wanting to get caught up in the panic because if there was actually a giant spider, he wouldn’t have the strength to look brave just to make a good impression. He nervously let his gaze wander around searching for the indicated point until, finally, he spotted the source of all that fuss and burst into laughter.

He was overwhelmed by such a wave of laughter that he couldn’t even react when Louis gave him another little slap on the forehead and the more he thought he really should calm down, the more he couldn’t stop.

"Sorry" he mumbled, struggling to breathe, aware of Louis’s hand still gripping his shirt. "Sorry but-"

"There’s nothing funny about this," Louis tried to sound angry, but it was clear he was about to crack too and get caught up in it.

"I know," Harry tried to clear his throat, but when he tried to speak again, he started laughing again. "B-but it’s a snail!"

Harry really wanted to stop, not only because he would hate if anyone laughed at his fears just because they were totally absurd and irrational, but especially because his laughter always made him feel embarrassed. It got too high-pitched and awkward when he lost control like that and, predictably, he ended up making a fool of himself by letting out some strange sound.

The moment it happened - because it was inevitable - Louis couldn’t hold back anymore either.

"I don’t care how cute you are when you laugh, stop it right now," he pressed his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, his fingers still firmly holding onto the fabric of his shirt, and started laughing too.

Louis’s laughter was full and crystalline, so bright that Harry found himself wishing he could hear it more often. He also wanted to scream because Louis had just called him cute like it was nothing.

Only when they were both breathless and doubled over from stomach cramps were they able to regain composure.

"I’ll never forgive you for this, just so you know," Louis tried to threaten him between whines, wiping tears from his eyes with one hand and clutching his side with the other. "This is borderline bullying."

"You’re right," Harry also rubbed his eyes, sniffling. "I’ll go regret my behavior in the corner."

As soon as he moved, even though he was only joking, Louis grabbed his arm. "You’re not moving from here until you remove that thing."

"Are you afraid it’ll chase you?"

Harry bit his lip, barely holding back another laugh as he watched the different shades that alternated on Louis’s face before, sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You wanted me to stay professional, right?" The way he stuck his hip out almost drove Harry crazy. "I’m your coach and I’m telling you to get rid of that fucking snail."

Harry looked at him in silence for a moment, but then exploded in another fit of laughter.

"Okay, coach," he pretended to do a military salute but couldn’t stay serious. "It’s just that you’re not very believable with that threatening attitude while talking about snails."

"Why am I here with you and not with - I don’t know - Zayn?"

"You’re really lucky, huh?" Harry smiled proudly. "Can I at least avoid killing it? Is it okay if I move it?"

"Do whatever you want, just keep that fucking thing away from me if it stays alive."

"Sure," Harry nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder and using a dramatically serious tone. "In case it kills me and runs away, promise me you’ll run as fast as you can without looking back. At least you have to save yourself, don’t let it catch you."

"Fuck you," Louis rolled his eyes, but it was clear from the way he looked at him afterward that he wasn’t really mad at him. "Every time I hoped you wouldn’t always be an hysterical grouch, I didn’t know your funny side would be even more unbearable."

Harry placed a hand on his heart. "I’m touched. Louis Tomlinson thinks I’m funny."

He didn’t linger to be struck by Louis’s murderous glare, deciding it was time to end the psychological torture. He approached the minibus window, where the poor innocent snail had barely moved a few inches.

"Hey," he whispered low enough in the hope that Louis wouldn’t hear him, "Wanna go for a walk with me?"

He placed his finger in front of her – because in his mind, it was definitely a 'she' – and hoped that would be an effective way to convince her to climb on, because otherwise he wouldn’t know how to do it.

He let out a disgusted sound when the snail's cold slimy skin touched his finger, immediately regretting not using a paper or something like that.

"You won’t be offended if I tell you I’m about to puke, right? You’re cute but- okay, Harry, don’t think about it," he took a deep breath, focusing on completing the mission and not on the disgusting sensation. "Look what I have to do for that idiot."

"Do you want some tea?" Louis yelled from several steps back, probably to keep a safe distance from the threat. "Who are you talking to?"

"I’m convincing her to come with me" Harry replied, raising his voice to be heard. "Sorry if I’m not fast enough while I save your life."

"Okay, let’s go," he looked around, addressing the snail again while keeping it on his finger. "Where can I let you go without giving Louis a heart attack?"

He started walking toward the opposite side of the yard, moving as far as possible. He knew he might be overdoing it with the precautions, but as fun as it was to tease Louis, he would never underestimate the anxiety caused by a phobia.

He knelt on the sidewalk just outside the yard gate, placing his finger on the ground to let his little slimy friend go on her way. He had gone far enough to be sure that even if the snail decided to turn back, she’d probably arrive in time for the end of the season.

Louis was safe.

He walked back triumphantly, while Louis nervously watched him from the same spot where he had left him a couple of minutes earlier.

"Threat neutralized," Harry announced with a victorious smile, showing his hands to reassure him it wasn’t some stupid prank, maybe to surprise him by throwing the snail at him. He would never do that but Louis might expect such a trick, after all their relationship wasn’t exactly ideal.

"God, thank you," Louis sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.

Harry couldn’t help but notice how small he seemed in that moment, in the best possible way. He didn’t like seeing him that way, but he was glad to have seen a more human side of the invincible Louis Tomlinson.

"I mean, you’re welcome, but 'God' seems a bit much," he snorted lightly, enjoying the laugh he earned with that joke.

"Don’t overdo it, Styles," Louis rolled his eyes with a smile. "Now go wash your hands with acid before even thinking about entering my personal space."

"I’m afraid we’re out of acid in the gym," Harry scrunched his nose, pretending to be sorry. "Can I use soap?"

"Don’t touch anything" Louis warned him, running to grab the soap they had used to wash the minibus before Harry could even think about touching it. "I’ll help you, come here" he added, taking the end of the pump and gesturing for him to follow toward the caretaker’s hut.

"Hands," Louis ordered as if Harry were a three-year-old and then dropped a generous amount of soap onto his open palms. He twisted the faucet with the pump still attached, aiming the end of the tube at Harry’s hands but miscalculated the pressure, spraying water onto Harry’s legs and shoes.

"You did that on purpose" Harry complained, jumping back slightly.

"I wish I could say I did," Louis chuckled, adjusting the stream.

"Ungrateful," Harry mumbled to himself as he lathered his hands. "Is this good or will you still have a panic attack if I get too close?" he asked with a sigh and when Louis nodded, Harry couldn’t resist the temptation to rub his foamy hands on Louis’s face.

"Serves you right" he chuckled, enjoying the outraged expression, but his victory didn’t last long as Louis quickly redirected the hose, soaking Harry from head to toe and even making him squeal in surprise.

"You really didn’t think you’d get away with it," Louis teased after turning off the faucet and wiping his face with the edge of his t-shirt.

Harry forced himself not to look at the strip of skin exposed just above the waistband of Louis’s shorts. His defenses were too low at that moment to let him come out unscathed.

He cleared his throat, trying to get his brain back on safe ground. "What a shame you’ve specified so many times today that you’re not my coach right now," he took a step toward Louis, arms wide to make his intentions clear.

Louis raised a finger with a threatening look, backing away. "Don’t even try it."

Harry bit his lip, laughing at the way Louis looked at him. "I just want to make sure you’re okay after such a trauma," he explained. "It’s just a hug."

"Thanks, but no need."

"Well, let’s put it this way," Harry pretended to think it over while they continued moving cautiously, like a hunter with his prey. "Don’t I deserve a hug for helping you?"

"I don’t think that’s appropriate," even Louis let out a laugh. "Thanks, Harry, I’ll be grateful to you for life for what you did today."

It was a split second. Louis turned and started running and Harry didn’t think twice before chasing him at full speed. He played smart because, unlike Louis, he knew that place like the back of his hand, so he led him to get stuck with no way out in the recess behind the gym’s storage room.

He tackled him not very gently, braking his run with maybe just a second too much delay, and hugged him from behind making sure to soak him as much as possible.

"Shit, it’s fucking cold!" Louis yelled, squirming to get free.

Harry waited just a few more seconds before letting him go, for the sake of his sanity.

At first, caught up in the fun of the moment, he hadn’t thought about the effects such a simple gesture like hugging Louis might have on his mind, even if it was just for fun. The fact that he was moving against him only worsened the situation.

"Truce" he hastily said, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender when Louis turned toward him with a fiery look of revenge in his eyes.

"You’ll pay for this" Louis threatened, but barely holding back an amused smile.

Harry cursed himself when he felt his cheeks flush without knowing exactly why, but sensing it was a mix of things between that look, the feeling still on his skin from the contact and the way Louis’s white t-shirt had become clingy and almost see-through in some spots from the wetness.

"I said truce" he flashed his most innocent expression. "And besides, we should really finish washing that minibus before it gets dark."

Louis sighed, surrendering to the fact that Harry was right. "Let’s go."

As they walked back toward the minibus, Harry caught out of the corner of his eye the way Louis was twisting his torso to wring out the back of his t-shirt. He immediately turned the other way, swallowing hard because he didn’t need to see how every movement of his accentuated the curves of his body.

They started working faster, picking up from where they had left off, alternating between moments of casual chatting and stretches of silence, during which Louis would sometimes hum absentmindedly to himself.

Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, probably since the season had started. If this was the beginning of a new chapter with Louis, then he was glad he had lost that damn match.

What was a victory compared to his mental well-being?

He knew that this afternoon would just be a special interlude in a relationship that, without a doubt, would return to being professional - and probably stormy - as soon as the next day. He didn’t kid himself into thinking everything would change from that moment on or that Louis would stop tormenting him in practice, but the fact that he had seen a different side to his character might already be allowing him to reevaluate all the things he usually found unbearable.

Louis could be funny, entertaining, cheerful and most importantly Harry had realised he hadn’t targeted him because he disliked him, something Harry had believed for a while. He just had to make sure to keep that in mind when it became hard to remember that beneath that jerk attitude there was a decent person.

On the other hand, he would give anything to be able to erase from his mind how physically attractive he found him as well. Usually, it was just a thought in the back of his mind, except during certain moments when it became so insistent it couldn’t be ignored. But this afternoon, Harry felt like he was on the brink of insanity.

He didn’t know if it was because of the way Louis kept looking at him when they talked or the curve of his smile that seemed a little sweeter than usual, but he only knew that his face was more beautiful with his features relaxed and until just hours before he had never thought that was possible.

Even now, Harry couldn’t help but be entranced by the sight of him. Louis had stopped and was staring at the sky with a focused expression.

“A lightning bolt isn’t going to save you from this chore” Harry said, wiping the sweat off with the fabric of his shirt.

Louis chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked at him. Harry tried to ignore the completely inappropriate way his stomach twisted.

“I admit I wouldn’t mind” he tossed the rag he was using to clean the dashboard onto the hood, “but I’ve got a less painful solution.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his shoulder against the side of the bus. “Let’s hear it.”

“I think it’s going to rain in about an hour.”

Harry glanced up at the sky, noticing for the first time how gray it had become. He would’ve sworn there had been sun just a few seconds before.

“It better not after all this work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Harry,” Louis snickered, moving closer to him and leaning his back against the minibus. "We’ve already done the bulk of the work. It’s not our fault if the rain leaves water spots everywhere."

Harry rolled his eyes. “Everyone will know we cheated.”

“Amateur,” Louis snorted. “Come on, help me out. I’ll show you how a pro works.”

Following Louis’s lead, they both focused on the same part of the minibus, polishing it until it shone within minutes.

“Hold on” Louis told him, before running over to the wall to grab his phone and returning to Harry. He opened the front camera, stretching his arm out to widen the shot and then, when he probably realized Harry wasn’t going to approach, he pulled him by the shirt.

In his defense, Harry hadn’t realized he was in the shot and for some reason the idea of having a memory of this unexpectedly pleasant afternoon made his heart beat a little faster than usual.

Louis, with his eyebrows raised and a closed-lip smile that almost seemed like a smirk, pointed at the freshly cleaned minibus behind him. Harry, knowing the mischievousness behind that look, couldn’t help but laugh. Louis snapped the picture just then.

“Do it again, I wasn’t even looking at the phone” Harry protested.

Louis shrugged, sliding the phone into his pocket. “Already sent it to the group.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. “Who takes a single selfie and sends it without even double-checking?”

“I think I just did,” Louis winked smugly. “One shot, one kill.”

“You didn’t even warn me before you took it.”

“God, Styles, if you want a picture with me, just ask,” Louis chuckled, leaning against the side of the minibus. “I’ll even sign it for you if you want.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, not making a sound, then huffed in frustration. “Why do I keep forgetting how insufferable you are?”

Louis shrugged in a way that made him seem almost innocent. “Because you know I’m not.”

Harry would never admit it aloud, not that. Technically, it wasn’t even true, because Louis was really insufferable, but he didn’t need to know that he wasn’t always like that.

He decided not to play along with his game and changed the subject. “Let’s gather everything up so we can leave.”

“Right,” Louis cleared his throat, quickly checking the time. “We really ended up staying late.”

“And we didn’t even finish the job,” Harry scrunched his nose, feeling guilty. “I can’t believe you are the one making me cheat.”

“If you knew me better, you wouldn’t be so surprised” Louis replied almost proudly, emptying the half-full bucket of soapy water onto the ground.

“Last week, you made me pay a fine because I didn’t have the right socks,” Harry accused as he tossed all the sponges and rags they’d used into the bucket. “And now you’re making me do this.”

“Because I’m not your coach right now.”

“You keep repeating that as if it actually makes sense.”

They brought the hose back near the caretaker’s shed, leaving it coiled on the ground, and finally headed toward the gym.

“It makes sense because this was a game within a game” Louis explained, as if the reasoning was so obvious to him that further clarification was unnecessary. “In this game-within-a-game, it was you and me as the team. Us against the others,” he ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting the fringe over his forehead. So, as your current teammate who - mind you - is getting punished along with you, it’s only fair that I share a few tricks of the trade before going back to being the pain-in-the-arse coach."

Us against the others.

Harry swallowed hard at those words, which weighed far more than the others. He scrunched his nose in the hope of hiding just how much they affected him, then asked “So, you know you are?”

Louis smiled smugly, then admitted “Proudly.”

Harry just rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a resigned laugh.

They stored everything in the storage room under the stairs, right next to Haynes’ office, and as they walked through the gym toward the locker rooms, the realization of what was about to happen hit Harry suddenly.

He quickly evaluated the various options, not ashamed of having considered running away because there was no way in hell - especially not that evening - Harry would survive being in the same room as Louis Tomlinson naked in the shower next to his. The very thought seemed to shut down the blood flow to his brain, rerouting it to other parts of his body that he absolutely could not afford to pay attention to at that moment.

"Did you count the balls after the match?" Louis asked, pulling him out of that vortex of sinful thoughts.

"Huh?" Harry shook his head, registering the question with a few seconds of delay, "Uh, yeah, sure."

Louis stretched out his arm, pointing toward the corner of the gym. "So what's that over there?"

Harry could've taken advantage of the situation for once, but instinct was faster than his blood-deprived brain, so he ran over to grab the abandoned ball.

"It’s from Cambridge, it’s not ours" he announced, coming back, "Like I said, I counted the balls before putting them down."

"Give it to me, I’ll take it home so we don’t lose it and we can return it on Saturday."

Harry was about to pass it to him when he froze, struck by an idea.

"Fancy a game?"

Louis widened his eyes, caught off guard by the suggestion. "What?"

"One-on-one, three meters."

Louis laughed as Harry began to step back slowly, as if inviting him to follow him onto the court.

"Harry, it’s late."

"Just a few passes then" Harry insisted, "Five minutes and then we go, I swear."

Louis nodded with a sigh, giving in to his request.

For the umpteenth time in just a few hours, Harry felt conflicted.

On one hand, he was glad he’d postponed the inevitable moment they’d have to shower and he was finally getting the chance to exchange some passes with Louis. It was a simple wish, but one that had become his unattainable obsession since the first day of training that season.

On the other side, he immediately realised he had underestimated the effect it would have on him to see Louis play, that spark of joy lighting up his eyes with every pass.

And those hands.

Harry was completely screwed and he could only blame himself.

When he felt he’d reached his limit, he blocked the ball without warning. "Time’s up."

"It’s not true, it’s been maybe two minutes" Louis protested.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh because this was the same guy who didn’t even want to start. "We've been playing for at least fifteen minutes!"

"That’s a flat-out lie."

Harry raised his arm, holding the ball menacingly. "Say that again if you have the guts."

"You wouldn’t" Louis said firmly, though instinctively he shielded himself behind both arms.

"You always do" Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

"Because you deserve it."

Without a second thought, Harry hit him, throwing the ball at his leg.

Louis’s shocked expression was so exaggerated it was almost comical. "You didn’t really do that."

"Oh, yes, I did," Harry replied with a triumphant smile before catching Louis’s gaze and starting to run just a second ahead of him.

He reached the ball first, only because it was still rolling toward his side of the court, pulling it away from Louis, who would have been faster otherwise.

"Harry, I swear, if you hit me again I’ll make your life impossible."

"As if you don’t already," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Harry," Louis warned again, taking a few steps back.

"That’s how it feels to get hit with a ball for no reason," Harry threw the ball again, but this time Louis managed to block it against his own body before it could drop, so Harry took off running.

Louis chased him, but the gym was small and soon Harry literally had his back against the wall.

"I always have a valid reason" Louis said before hitting him on the side.

Harry wasn’t lucky because the rebound went straight to Louis’s feet, who immediately picked it up and prepared for another shot. He tried to get closer but Harry was quick to slide sideways against the wall, though he realized he’d made a mistake, trapping himself in the corner of the gym.

Louis licked his lips, slowly advancing like a predator, but in that moment Harry’s world rocked because, following the path of Louis’s tongue, all he could think about was the uncontrollable urge to screw it all and kiss him.

There was a moment, just a fleeting second, when Louis’s gaze fell on Harry’s lips and time seemed to freeze. Harry wanted to give in to that temptation, he wanted it more than anything, but he steeled himself and took advantage of that brief distraction to slip past Louis’s figure and run to the opposite side of the gym.

Louis reacted a little too late, but recovered quickly, hitting him on the back with the ball before he could reach the net. Harry grabbed the ball from the floor while running, but then he stopped so suddenly that, when he turned around, Louis was so close he almost bumped into him.

Louis took advantage of that to grab both his wrists in mid-air, preventing Harry from attacking again. The moment those damn blue eyes fell on his lips again, it was the last straw.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him, with all the desire he’d been desperately trying to suppress for weeks.

When Louis didn’t push him away but kissed him back, Harry’s heart did a flip inside his chest.

He let go of the ball, which he couldn’t care less about, and used both hands to leverage against Louis’s shoulders, flipping their positions. He shoved him with his back against the net and, with Louis’s fingers still gripping his wrists, Harry slid his hands from his shoulders to his face.

That kiss had nothing to do with the sweet and innocent one they shared six years ago, but somehow Harry found himself feeling the same emotions.

Louis flinched when Harry ran the tip of his tongue along the contour of his lower lip and that shiver ran down Harry’s spine too, but when Louis finally opened his mouth it wasn’t for what Harry had hoped for.

"This is wrong."

Harry stopped, but stayed so close he could still feel Louis’s breath on his lips. "I know."

"Harry, w-we can’t."

"Then tell me to stop."

Louis pulled his face back just a few inches, enough to look him directly in the eyes. There was a mix of desire and uncertainty in his gaze, perfectly mirroring what Harry was feeling too.

"We can’t," Louis repeated almost in a whisper, contradicting himself as his eyes inevitably fell back on Harry’s lips.

"If you don’t want-"

Harry couldn’t finish the sentence because Louis kissed him again, with such passion that it drew a moan from Harry’s lips. When Louis pulled him close, freeing his wrists to wrap both arms around his waist, Harry slid his fingers down the outline of that beautiful face and tangled them in his hair, while his other hand wouldn’t let go of the privileged position that allowed him to caress Louis’s cheek. There was no sweetness in that kiss, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

There were so many things Harry should have been thinking about in that moment and a small part of his brain knew that they would both regret what they were allowing to happen, but all he could focus on was the way Louis' tongue kept moving against his.

He was so lost in that kiss that he didn’t realise he was hard until Louis’ leg slipped between his, suddenly stealing his breath away. Instinctively, he tilted his head to let the broken sigh escape his lips, which remained parted in ecstasy as Louis’ seemingly insatiable mouth descended upon his neck. Harry gripped the net with the hand that had previously caressed his face, because he was certain that if Louis continued like this, his legs wouldn’t hold.

Louis seemed to understand - or perhaps he was in that state himself, even if he didn't show it – and moved back along the net, pulling Harry with him until they were both against the pole, offering them a somewhat more stable support. Not for a second did he stop devouring Harry’s neck with kisses and bites. Harry felt as though he was a breath away from self-combustion, so with the hand still tangled in Louis’ hair, he tilted his head to dive back into those forbidden lips.

He smiled into the kiss when, to his immense satisfaction, he realised Louis was just as excited. Knowing he had caused that reaction made him feel less like a loser and a bit bolder, unable to hold back the need to press his hips against Louis’.

"God," Louis sighed against his lips, his breath broken.

One of his hands gripped Harry’s side tightly, while the other ran up the wet shirt to weave into his hair, slipping beneath what was left of his bun. He tugged slightly and perhaps he didn’t even realise what he was doing, but that simple action shattered every last shred of Harry’s self-control.

He pulled away from that sinful mouth, which instinctively followed him before Louis opened his eyes, furrowing his brows in confusion.

For a moment, licking his lips, Harry watched the masterpiece that was Louis’ face in that state then, slowly and without ever breaking eye contact, he kneeled. He saw every emotion, every subtle shift, pass through those blue eyes as the meaning of the gesture hit Louis. Harry probably could have come right then and there.

"Tell me if I should stop" Harry said, hoping with all his heart that Louis wouldn’t ask him to.

Louis closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the pole. Part of Harry wanted to laugh because, judging by the sound, Louis must have hurt himself, but he just couldn’t focus on any thought that wasn’t the overwhelming desire to take in his mouth Louis’ cock, which twitched under his gaze as if to answer that the feeling was mutual.

"No, fuck" Louis replied, giving the pole another much gentler tap with his head, perhaps hoping to snap himself out of it somehow.

That really managed to get a laugh out of Harry, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame him, as he too had this irrational urge to headbutt the nearest wall until all the thoughts that kept tormenting him were gone.

He placed his hands on Louis’ hips, lifting his shirt just enough to place his lips below his navel. He had been dreaming of doing this for weeks. Every time during training when Louis made moves that exposed that tempting strip of skin, Harry just wanted to bite it and so he did.

"God," Louis sighed again, clearly struggling.

Harry loved seeing him in that state; it made him even more excited, so he kept provoking him, running the tip of his nose down the entire length of Louis’ cock, over his shorts. Louis placed a hand on Harry’s face, brushing away a few stray locks from his forehead before sliding his fingers through Harry’s tied-up hair.

Harry wrapped his lips around the erection still covered by the shorts just to feel Louis' hand contract, making him groan.

"Harry, it’s- it’s been hours that I've been quietly putting up with your stuff about how you 'don’t want to put me in a position' or - fuck - or about how I need to remind you to stay in your place," Louis stuttered as he endured the sweet torture, "Either do something now or you let me go into the shower to think about it on my own before I lose cont-"

Harry wasn’t about to let this slip away, not after waiting so long to realise what had once been a fantasy even for his fourteen-year-old self. So, with a swift expert motion, he pulled down both Louis’ shorts and boxers and using one hand he took the cock in his mouth before Louis could finish the sentence.

"Fuck" Louis cursed, letting out a moan when Harry began alternating between licking along the length of his erection – as if it were his favourite ice cream – and focusing all his attention on the tip. Harry wanted to drive him crazy and knew he was on the right track when Louis, with the hand not tangled in his hair, clung to the side of the net.

"All good?" Harry teased, enjoying the sight of Louis looking so wonderfully wrecked.

Despite his laboured breath and the satisfied edge of his smile, Louis’ voice didn’t tremble at all when he answered, "Shut up."

And Harry didn’t need to be told twice, taking him in all the way.

"Fuck, oh my God," Louis whispered, caught off guard.

Harry would've smiled with pride if he wasn’t so focused on making sure his throat didn’t betray him especially when he needed to put years of experience into practice. He wanted this to be the best blowjob Louis had ever received, he wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. He was so hard that he feared he might lose his mind at any moment, but he simply placed a hand on the crotch of his shorts to give himself a bit of relief.

He pulled Louis' cock out of his mouth, making sure to hollow his cheeks even more around the tip, lingering a bit longer than necessary and teasing it with his tongue while he caught his breath before starting all over again.

Harry couldn’t hold back a particularly intense moan when, after a few minutes, he tried to swallow but couldn’t because the tip of Louis’ cock was pressed against his throat.

Louis completely lost it.

"Harry- fuck," he gripped Harry’s hair, pulling hard, "Fuck, I’m about to come."

But Harry didn’t move. Mainly because, honestly, at that moment he didn’t have the strength or the clarity to even remember his own name and because he didn’t want to move.

Louis came into his mouth and then, when Harry finally let go, he slid down the pole of the net, collapsing onto the floor completely wrecked.

"What the fuck-?" Louis chuckled, breathless, covering his mouth with his hand in a way that was way too cute and innocent compared to what they had just done. "What the fuck do you have in that mouth?" he repeated, taking advantage of the fact that Harry was almost trapped between his legs to pull him a bit closer. "You’ve killed me- God, come closer please because I don’t think I’ll be able to move from here for the next forty years."

Harry, who wasn’t feeling much better himself, was so focused on trying not to blush that he didn’t even notice Louis’ hand reaching towards the crotch of his shorts, at least not in time to stop him and avoid the embarrassment of letting him know that all it took was a bit of friction through the clothes to make him come in his underwear like a teenager.

He grabbed Louis' wrist the moment his fingers touched him, mostly because he knew it would only take a little for him to feel hard again and he didn’t want to risk it.

Louis looked up at him, alarmed, and immediately pulled his hand away. "Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to…"

"No problem," Harry hurried to reassure him before he could get the wrong idea. "It's just that I've- uhm, that I've already done it. There's no need."

"Oh," Louis' cheeks flushed a shade of pink. "Oh, okay."

It was ridiculous how both of them seemed so embarrassed they were practically spinning on their toes. At that moment, Harry just wanted to find the best way to escape that awkward situation and he was sure that Louis was also trying to figure out how to do the same without coming off as a jerk.

"I really need a shower" Harry commented with a fake - super fake - casualness, using his shirt to wipe his face.

Louis nodded, briefly closing his eyes before composing himself and looking back at Harry. "After this, I don’t think I could go into that locker room with you and come out sane," he admitted with much more courage and honesty than Harry would ever have been able to. "Go ahead, I’ll try to find where the ball went and then I’ll shower in the other locker room."

Harry gave him a small smile as he stood up, then walked away. He only began to breathe normally again once he closed the locker room door behind him.

"What the fuck was I thinking?" he whispered to himself, quickly undressing and hoping the shower’s spray would wash away most of the useless thoughts crowding his mind.

It didn’t work.

He dried off and dressed even faster, then opened the door glancing around like a thief. He sighed in relief when he heard the water still running in the shower of the other locker room and silently snuck away from the gym.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure he didn’t drug you without you knowing?”

Harry burst out laughing, because only Niall could come up with something like that after looking at a photo. If he knew the whole truth about the previous night, well, who knows what he would have thought.

“Ni, for the millionth time” he pretended to be exasperated, “it’s just a photo.”

“It’s not just a photo.”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t comment, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. He was already anxious enough without his best friend adding to it.

For a while it seemed to work as Niall stayed quiet, looking at his phone while they walked towards the bookstore where Harry had offered to go with him before practice, since neither of them had class that afternoon. His conscience kept reminding him that he should use those hours to study, but it wasn’t the right day to be alone with his thoughts. The previous night had been enough for that and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

“You wouldn’t have let him send that photo if you had been sober” Niall said after a few minutes.

“Oh my God, again?” Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t actually, he sent it before I could say anything.”

“So you’re admitting you didn’t agree with it?”

“It’s not exactly my best photo,” Harry shrugged, “You can see that for yourself.”

“I like it” Niall replied seriously, turning the phone around to show him.

Harry forced himself not to flinch, even though it was the last thing he wanted to see. He’d already looked at it too much the night before and wasn’t proud of it.

“Can you explain why you’re still looking at it?” he asked, wrinkling his nose in disapproval. “Ni, you know you can tell me anything, if you’ve got a crush on Louis I won’t judge you but- well, a little dignity?” he teased, chuckling, “Do it for yourself.”

Niall looked at him, raising both eyebrows with an unbothered expression. “You of all people should be the last one to make fun of someone for having a crush on Louis,” he then slightly tilted his head as if he was genuinely thinking about it. “Anyway, if I were gay I wouldn’t mind, though I don’t know if he’s exactly my type.”

Harry tilted his head to show how much he cared about the topic. “Oh, you have a type?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice your attempts to change the subject” Niall said, showing him that cursed photo again. “And this, apart from confirming you’re a terrible friend, also tells me you don’t want to talk about how pathetically smitten you are.”

“Niall,” Harry sighed, regretting not staying home to study. This was karma. “I’m not fourteen anymore.”

There was a look in his best friend’s eyes that seemed to scream who are you trying to fool? so Harry sighed again, this time with a bit more frustration.

“He’s a gorgeous guy, okay?” Harry confessed, even though Niall probably already knew that’s what he thought. “If you’re asking me if I still find him physically attractive, well- you’ve seen him? That’s a fact. He’s handsome, he’s- he’s sexy, he’s a lot of things I’m not going to list here. But other than that, I promise you, there’s nothing. I repeat, I’m not fourteen anymore.”

“Okay” Niall replied in a way that was a bit too resigned to sound truly convinced. “I’m not saying it’s not true, actually I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who believes this speech, but you’re my best mate and I know you,” again he showed Harry the photo but zooming in on his face, “And you don’t look at someone like that just because they’re good-looking. I’ve seen you check out his ass- actually, I see you checking out his ass for at least two hours a day, so I recognise that ‘I wanna jump on him’ look.”

Harry covered his face with one hand, while with the other he stretched his t-shirt’s neck because he was starting to sweat from the nervousness. “I don’t look at his ass all the time” he muttered, embarrassed, thinking he’d been discreet.

“Not all the time,” Niall conceded. “When he’s facing you, you usually stare at him with that- that creepy look you have,” he pretended to shiver and Harry laughed while punching him on the shoulder. “Sometimes I wonder how you don’t blink for that long.”

Harry started laughing. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re smitten.”

Harry knew he wasn’t smitten. He had some trouble controlling his hormones when Louis was around, that was true, but it was normal in front of a guy like Louis. He was twenty, he was allowed to get excited about the most beautiful guy he’d ever seen. It wasn’t his fault.

“Niall” he repeated, exasperated.

Niall almost slammed the phone in his face. “Your eyes are sparkling” he exclaimed, “And not in a figurative way, you’ve literally got little stars in your eyes like in cartoons.”

Harry furrowed his brows, looking at the photo for the first time since this exhausting conversation started. Then he pushed Niall’s hand away and for a moment thought about what to say.

“If I told you that was just a fun moment, because Louis can be funny when he’s not our coach, you wouldn’t believe me,” he said. “So what’s the point of this conversation?”

“I don’t know, but don’t do anything stupid.”

Harry’s stomach tightened even more, as if it wasn’t already in knots just thinking about going to the gym. He had already done something stupid.

“I won’t,” he promised his best friend and deep down it wasn’t a lie, because he didn’t want to do anything stupid anymore.

“I mean- if you want to shag him, shag him,” Niall added, “God knows how much you two need a good shag, we’d all be a lot happier.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“But- be careful, okay? ‘Cause you’re both idiots and the face I see in the photo is the face of someone who's going to end up getting hurt.”

“Okay” Harry responded uncertainly, not knowing exactly how to take that advice. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good, now buy me a snack and screw the bookstore.”

Harry burst out laughing, finally recognising his best friend. “Stop making excuses, that book is for studying. Let’s go, then I’ll buy you a snack.”

When they arrived at the gym just over an hour later, Harry was on the verge of full-blown panic. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a great idea to have run off the night before. Maybe, if he’d acted mature and stayed, he would’ve only had to worry about how to face life after giving a blowjob to his assistant coach and not also be afraid of his possible reactions after the escape.

Luckily Louis hadn’t arrived yet, so Harry breathed a sigh of relief, realising he would have at least another fifteen minutes of safety in the locker room. He didn’t care about the teasing from his teammates about how many of them had bet on a tragic ending to that forced collaboration between Louis and Harry; actually, it helped him remember what the normality of their training should be. That’s exactly what Harry was aiming for, normality.

He only started to get truly paranoid when, during the warm-up, he realised Louis still hadn’t shown up.

“Styles, what did you do to Tomlinson?” Haynes asked with a laugh, strolling around inside the circle formed by the boys in one half of the court.

Harry took a breath and continued counting silently in his head, making use of the fact that he was finishing the second set of push-ups to stay quiet and buy himself some time. He wanted to avoid answering 'a blowjob' just out of sheer anxiety.

"I swear I still have a clean criminal record" Harry replied after a few seconds, forcing himself to sound calm and collected.

"He’s never been late" Oli commented, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

Of course Harry knew that, just like everyone else, and he was trying in every possible way to stem the flood of thoughts rushing through his head, because he couldn't stop wondering if it was his fault.

And what if Louis had decided to pay him back in the same coin and that was a punishment for the way Harry had disappeared?

What if Louis had decided not to show up because he didn’t want to see him?

What if Louis had decided to quit because of what happened with Harry?

When Louis finally entered the gym, out of breath and in a hurry, Harry thought he’d never been so happy to see him.

"Sorry, I had an unexpected issue" Louis announced, throwing his bag on the first step of the bleachers and changing into his volleyball shoes as quickly as possible.

No one in the gym seemed to care about his apology, as a chorus of "Fine! Fine! Fine!" rang out from the team.

Louis chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand, before giving in to their more than justified request. "Alright, alright," he huffed, "Give me a minute."

"Was this ‘unexpected issue’ comfortable?" Haynes asked, eyeing him with a clearly amused expression. "You’ve still got the pillow marks on your face."

Instinctively, Louis rubbed his cheek with his hand as if that would really help erase the evidence of his sin, while the whole team laughed. Harry found himself torn between wanting to join in the laughter or burst into tears at how cute Louis looked.

He shook his head the moment that thought fully formed in his mind, trying to shake it off as quickly as possible, because Louis was not cute.

"Guilty," Louis smiled, surrendering. "I didn’t sleep well last night and the sofa didn’t forgive me this afternoon."

Harry pretended to be busy checking that his shoes were properly tied, because he feared someone – especially Louis – would read his thoughts from his face, as he couldn’t help but wonder if they both had slept badly for the same reason.

Louis quickly rummaged through his backpack, pulling out his wallet and handing Haynes his fine. "Here you go, debt settled. Five pounds for being late and five for not giving notice."

Harry hurriedly looked away when he realised Louis was about to turn to the team. He was dying to know if and how he would look at him, but he forced himself to resist because he felt it was better not to know.

Suddenly he began to feel restless, as if being there with Louis in front of his teammates made him feel exposed. He knew it was irrational but he couldn’t help but think that, seeing them together, everyone would understand what had happened. He didn’t want to be seen as the guy who had jumped at the first chance to kneel before his coach and give him a blowjob.

Even though that’s exactly what had happened, it wasn’t entirely the truth.

It was different.

He hadn’t planned it, actually he’d never imagined being in that situation outside of his daydreams. The previous evening had been the result of a series of things building up together, things that had become unbearable, the release of an instinct he could no longer contain, the fulfilment of a small desire he’d been carrying longer than he would have liked to admit.

His brain had shut down, there was no other way to describe what had happened. After having experienced what it felt like to have Louis, he was afraid he might never be able to forget it.

Even at that moment, while listening to Haynes explain the drill they were about to do, if he looked at the net all Harry could see in his mind was the kiss with Louis. He bit his lip, clearly remembering the sensation. He was on the verge of losing his mind.

"Harry," the Coach called, pulling him out of his daydreams, "Give me a summary of what I’ve said in the last five minutes."

"Uh," Harry looked around for any clue that might help him, but when he realised he had no idea what to respond, he sighed. "I don’t know, sorry. I was distracted."

"Fifteen laps," the Coach ordered. "Since there’s no hope for your head, we’ll at least work on your body."

Harry would've liked to snap back with something sarcastic and usually he would’ve, but today he realised it was better to keep a low profile. So, without saying anything more, he walked to the sidelines and started running. He hoped at least that would serve as a moral slap for letting his hormones take over again. He tried to focus while running, so he could jump right back into the drill once his punishment was over.

By the end of the fifteenth lap he only wanted some water, but he knew it wasn’t yet break time, so he didn’t ask for permission. He approached the Coach, who was standing next to the net pole, and tried to catch his breath.

"I’m done" he announced, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Louis," Haynes said absentmindedly, not taking his eyes off the court, "You handle it."

Harry turned to Louis, who was just a few feet away, and noticed he was already looking at him, though his attention seemed focused on his exposed abs. Harry quickly pulled down his shirt, blushing. He didn’t want to risk losing the last bit of clarity because of that intense gaze fixed on him.

Louis stepped closer, clearing his throat, but Harry interrupted before he could speak.

"I already know what needs to be done."

"Okay," Louis replied hesitantly, caught off guard. "Uh, then it’s all clear?"

Harry took a moment too long to nod, because his mind had frozen when he realised they were both standing just a few steps away from the same pole where the night before Louis had come in his mouth.

Louis seemed to notice his distraction as he instinctively followed Harry’s gaze but, as soon as he realised where they were, he turned so quickly that Harry feared he might break his neck.

"Okay, uhm… you need to– sorry," Louis coughed, nervously adjusting his shirt. "The drill, uh, you go on the plyo box once Luke finishes his set."

Harry forced himself to look away, focusing on the court, because seeing Louis so nervous only made him more anxious.

As soon as Harry moved towards zone 2, Louis placed a hand on his arm to get his attention but then quickly pulled it back, as if he’d been shocked.

"If you need to drink- well, you can." 

Harry probably looked confused or surprised, because Louis quickly added, "If you want."

If possible, that made Harry even more perplexed. It was as if Louis was trying to be kind but not too much. It was weird.

“I’m fine” he replied, managing a faint smile as he stepped back to put some distance between them, hoping to give his mind a moment of relief. He bumped into Niall, who had been walking behind him to retrieve a ball, and nearly stumbled. “Thanks” he remembered to add before turning to apologise to Niall.

"Go help while you wait for your turn," he heard Louis say, just as Niall muttered “What the hell?”

Harry only needed a quick glance at his best friend's face to know he wasn’t talking about their collision. So he decided to flash the most convincing smile he could muster and, without saying anything more, ran to the other side of the court to collect the scattered balls from Luke's group.

As always, volleyball was his answer to everything. The moment he stood on the plyo box, he felt all the tension slip from his shoulders. The ball was once again the centre of his world and nothing else mattered.

While they trained Louis was just a background presence, a familiar voice offering corrections and advice, so he almost forgot about him at least until they completed all the rotations and the Coach blew the whistle for a break.

“Collect the balls and go drink some water,” Haynes ordered.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, he felt like he’d been thirsty for hours. They all made their way to the lowest row of bleachers, on the opposite side of the court from where Haynes and Louis usually stood. There wasn’t any specific reason why the team and coaches used different areas of the gym as their base, but it had always been that way.

Harry spotted the yellow water bottle he had brought that day among the others and his heart leapt with joy, thinking that if he could he would drink a couple of pints of water right then and there.

“What the fuck was that?” Niall asked in a low voice once he was at his side.

Harry simply raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner, not stopping his drinking.

“You really want me to say it here and now?” Niall challenged, before taking a long sip himself. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t” Harry lied.

“That’s a nice one,” Liam interrupted, pointing at Harry’s water bottle. “You need sunglasses to look at it, but I like it. Is it new?”

Harry took the opportunity to change the subject. He smiled at Liam, swallowing the water, and then held up the bottle moving it close to his hair to show him that it matched the colour of his hair tie. “It’s not one of my favourites because it’s not very big, but I couldn’t resist when I saw it was the exact same shade of yellow.”

Haynes blew his whistle again, signalling the end of the short break and moving to the centre of the court, waiting for the players to gather around him.

“I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore,” Niall muttered once they were a little more isolated. “First, this crisis over water bottles, then you and Louis suddenly become best mates and now- I don’t know, you two are being nice but in a weird way,” he pretended to shiver for emphasis, “The scene earlier was creepy. I felt personally violated by what I saw, and I don’t even know what I saw.”

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. “Ni’, you’re overreacting, you know that?”

“Much less than you think.”

This time when Haynes began speaking, Harry was fully focused on listening carefully, determined to put an end to that conversation Niall couldn’t seem to get over.

The rest of the training went by without further incident. There was only a small mishap that almost set Harry off again, a brief moment that luckily went unnoticed by the others. Harry was running to collect a ball rolling towards Louis when his assistant coach noticed him and, with a sudden movement, stepped a few paces away from the net pole where he had been leaning. Harry understood, because seeing him in that position triggered a series of images in his mind probably very similar to those that had caused Louis’ reaction. In fact, even though he was blushing, Harry decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything. And he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all or shout because Louis, aside from that almost non-existent moment where he seemed more uncomfortable than Harry, behaved normally for the rest of the time.

Once training was over, Harry finally sighed in relief. He had survived.

“Harry, uhm… sorry,” Louis called out just before he entered the locker room.

Harry turned to face him, his hand still on the door and his heart in his throat.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” Harry murmured, throwing one last glance at the safe haven he had been waiting to retreat to throughout the training, before following Louis outside.

They moved only a few steps from the gym entrance and as soon as they stopped, facing each other, Louis scanned him from head to toe.

“Fuck, I forgot you’re sweaty,” Louis said, wrinkling his nose in a grimace. “If you’re cold we can go back inside.”

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” Harry forced a nervous smile, despite having goosebumps. “Unless this is going to take a while.”

“No,” Louis replied. “No, I- uh, I just wanted to ask if you want to grab a drink together tonight.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected request and his reaction seemed to trigger an alarm in Louis’ head as well.

“Not in that way,” Louis quickly clarified, speaking so fast he almost slurred the words. “Not- not like a date. I just need to talk to you and I don’t think this is the right place.”

Harry was increasingly puzzled. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“What?”

“Talking?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to talk now just to ask me to talk later?”

“Should I have asked you to grab a drink in front of the whole team?” Louis took a deep breath and raised both hands, signalling for Harry not to respond. “That’s not the point. Let’s start over, okay?”

Harry nodded, too confused to say anything.

“I wish it wasn’t necessary, and- I won’t expect you to feel the same but I can’t work like this,” Louis sighed before continuing. “I can’t be in there when the last memory I have of you is- you know,” he gestured vaguely, not wanting to say it out loud, “I can’t focus on work with that in my head. I need to spend a quiet moment with you to talk about anything you want, just to get yesterday out of my head.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Louis silenced him with a gesture before he could say anything.

“Not in that way,” he clarified again, more agitated than Harry had ever seen him. “I’m not saying I regret it, I just expressed myself poorly,” he sighed, clearly stressed by the situation. “It was a mistake, it was inappropriate of me, I promise it won’t happen again, but I don’t regret it.”

“I- I… uh, I was going to say you’re right, but okay,” Harry stammered, feeling more and more uncomfortable. He couldn’t understand why Louis felt so responsible for what had happened when it had been Harry who kissed him and took things further.

“Okay” Louis repeated, almost in a whisper.

“So,” Harry cleared his throat, biting his lip. “So, are you telling me where we’re meeting or should I start a treasure hunt?”

He mentally cursed himself because it wasn’t the time to flirt.

Louis hesitated for a moment before shaking his head slightly, licking his lips, and – luckily for Harry – choosing to ignore him.

“I’d avoid the Booze since that’s where the guys usually go” he replied, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “There’s a place, uhm – the Night Changes – it’s not too far from here.”

Harry nodded. “I know it.”

“Shall we meet there when you're done?”

Inside, Harry was fully aware that this was far from a date - not even something he would want, that hypothetical date - but he still couldn’t help but smile shyly.

“Only if you don’t keep me waiting too long.”

A half-laugh escaped Louis, which Harry found far too cute for his own good. “I’m not staying to close up,” he explained. “I promised my sister I’d give her a lift home after work and I can’t bail on her two times in a row.”

“No, you can't,” Harry smiled again.

“So, it’s highly likely I’ll be the one waiting for you,” Louis shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets. “Don’t take advantage of it.”

Harry scrunched his nose in an attempt to hide the smile he couldn’t quite suppress. “I can’t make any promises.”

Louis scoffed almost affectionately, gesturing towards the gym entrance with his palm. “Go on.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. Between the cold and the embarrassment, he didn’t want to stay out there much longer, but despite everything he felt somewhat relieved after their conversation. Maybe it was the fact that Louis seemed almost more nervous than him or maybe it was the realization that their relationship hadn’t taken steps back after the slip-up the night before. They hadn’t started fighting about everything again, they could still talk.

“What happened to you?” Mitch asked as soon as Harry entered the locker room.

“Uh, I was-  uh, I was talking to Louis.”

Half the guys turned towards him, staring as though he’d just said he’d seen a UFO.

“Everything alright?” Mitch tried to probe. “You two were both acting weird today.”

Instinctively Harry’s gaze flew to Niall, who was already looking at him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but even though we haven’t fought in a couple of days, he still hasn’t decided to tell me his secrets while we braid each other’s hair,” he joked, quickly stripping off his clothes in a bid to get to the shower as soon as possible. “It didn’t seem weird to me, he’s probably just tired.”

“You’d look good with braids, though” Isaac pondered, perhaps a second too late, but giving Harry the perfect chance to change the subject.

“Maybe I’ll give it a go,” he chuckled before heading to the shower.

Part of him wanted to stay under that stream of water for hours, because the thought of meeting Louis was making him nervous. But another part of him wanted to wash up as fast as possible, both to get out of the locker room quickly and avoid a second round of questions, and because in reality the nervousness at the thought of seeing Louis wasn’t entirely negative.

He didn’t want to arrive too early either and give the impression that he rushed just to avoid keeping him waiting too long. He’d let Louis stew for a bit.

When he finished, he tied the towel around his waist and, with a smaller one, dried his hair as he made his way back to the common area of the locker room. Matt was telling a story about how badly his last date with the girl who came to watch him play had gone that Sunday, so Harry just focused on getting dressed while listening with amusement. Zayn, sitting on the bench next to him, was laughing almost to the point of tears at how Oli and Niall were teasing Matt about his misadventures.

“You’re a loser” Liam commented, giving Matt a pat on the chest. “I’ll buy you a beer tonight.”

“I’ll pass,” Mitch replied. “I’ve got a class at eight tomorrow.”

The whole locker room started protesting, but everyone knew it was pointless to argue with him.

“It’s Monday,” Isaac whined. “Can’t we do another day?”

“No and hurry up, we’re starting to leave,” Michael replied decisively, heading for the door with Nick and Luke.

“I’ll wait for you” Zayn said, looking at Harry.

“Oh- uh, I’m not coming,” Harry stammered, making sure not to meet his gaze. “I already have plans for tonight.”

Liam leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he observed him with interest. “What’s the name of these plans?”

The guys laughed, including Harry who replied “Just like all my other plans,” winking. “None of your business.”

Liam flipped him off and they both started laughing, as that had always been their way of joking around and Harry took advantage of it to avoid revealing too many details about his love life.

“I feel betrayed, next time you’re buying me a drink,” Zayn commented before getting up and dragging Liam away with him.

Harry placed his volleyball shoes in his bag, zipped it up and threw it over his shoulder. He slid the hair tie off his wrist and used it to tie his hair, even though it was still damp because he’d forgotten to remove it while showering.

He didn’t want to be the last one out of the locker room, nor did he want to be alone with two of his most inquisitive friends – Niall and Mitch – so he made sure to be ready as quickly as possible.

“See you tomorrow,” he called as he headed for the door.

“Have a good fuck” Niall shouted, earning a middle finger just before Harry left the locker room.

If only Niall had known who Harry was meeting he’d have wished him good luck, definitely not a good fuck, as that was the one thing off the table that evening.

He drove to the Night Changes, finding parking in a side street just ahead, but didn’t get out of the car right away. He stayed for a couple of minutes, biting his lip, wondering how things would go once inside.

If there was one thing about Louis that made him particularly nervous, aside from his always intense gaze, it was the fact that unlike him, Louis always had a quick comeback. He found it both frustrating and exciting, but since they were meeting that evening to talk, Harry felt like he was at a disadvantage and that made him anxious. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It’s just a bloody chat with a guy, get a grip” he told himself. “It’s never been a problem, move your ass and talk to him.”

He got out of the car, leaving the bag in the trunk, taking only his wallet and phone. When he entered the Night Changes, his heart was beating so fast he feared it might jump out of his chest any moment. All it took was a glance around to spot Louis sitting at a table in the back of the room, typing on his phone with a half-drunk beer in front of him.

He looked beautiful. Harry couldn’t help but notice every time he saw him, as if he was secretly surprised at how wonderfully perfect Louis could always be, even when he wore simple black sweatpants and a dark green hoodie. As he approached the table, he felt incredibly out of place because he knew he wasn’t at his best and even though they were dressed the same - his hoodie was yellow, that was the only difference - Harry felt almost inadequate.

Louis looked up when Harry was a few steps from the table and smiled, immediately putting away his phone. That one gesture earned him a thousand points in Harry’s eyes but, as soon as he thought it, Harry mentally slapped himself because this was definitely not the moment to forget that he wasn’t there for a date.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long” Harry said with a slight smile as he sat down across from Louis.

Louis pressed his lips into a sharp smile. “That’s not true.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more relaxed because, after all, this was just Louis. “You’re right.”

“I should mark this day on the calendar. It’s the first time you’ve agreed with me since I’ve known you.”

“That’s not true,” Harry rolled his eyes, though he found Louis’s teasing amusing. “I always agree with you when you agree with me.”

“Obviously.” Laughing, Louis lowered his gaze to his beer for a moment, then raised his arm to catch the waitress’s attention. He turned back to Harry as she approached. “What are you having?”

“It depends,” Harry hesitated, thinking about how far he could push things. “Who are you tonight? Coach Tomlinson or Louis?”

“Louis,” Louis replied immediately. “If Coach Tomlinson were here, he’d probably be about to resign.”

“Then I’ll have a Vodka Lemon.”

Louis raised an eyebrow in surprise and Harry shrugged with an embarrassed laugh.

“What?” Harry mirrored his expression, “It’s been a complicated day, I deserve something strong.”

“Fair enough,” Louis conceded.

At that moment the waitress arrived, a beautiful girl who seemed to have set her sights on Louis. “Hi guys, what can I get you?”

Louis spoke before Harry could even attempt to open his mouth. “A Vodka Lemon and a Vodka Redbull.”

Once again, Harry had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date. It was important to keep that in mind.

“Were you serious before when you said you’d resign because of what happened?” Harry asked as soon as they were alone again.

“I know you’d like that, but no,” Louis finished the rest of his beer before continuing, “But I’ll admit that breaking one of my main rules really messes with me.”

Harry scrunched his nose in a guilty grimace. “I’m sorry.”

“You know, I’m pretty convinced that certain things take two,” Louis reassured him in his own way. “We’re both equally responsible.”

“Well- uh, yeah. I guess so,” Harry responded, nervously shredding the corner of the napkin in his hands.

“As for him, I’m sure he’s got no blame,” Louis teased, pointing at the napkin Harry was fiddling with.

The fact that Louis was always so attentive to details and body language made Harry feel both incredibly understood and exposed.

“I think he’ll have to make a sacrifice for the greater good until the alcohol arrives.”

The small smile Louis gave him was so kind that for a moment, Harry felt a concerning flutter in his chest.

“Too embarrassing?” Louis’s tone wasn’t sarcastic, he seemed sincere.

“I was expecting worse, to be honest,” Harry admitted, lowering his gaze to his hands.

Fortunately their drinks arrived quickly, as it was a Monday night and the place was almost empty. Harry immediately took a long sip of vodka, ignoring the little voice in his head that reminded him how poorly he handled alcohol.

“Anyway, it’s not true that I’d like that,” Harry confessed.

Louis furrowed his brows, taking a sip of his drink. “What?”

“If you resigned.”

Louis let out a half-laugh, adjusting his fringe with his fingers. “You don’t have to say that just to be nice.”

“You should know by now that’s not my style.”

“That’s not true, actually. It’s one of the most you things there are,” Louis replied with such confidence that Harry wondered how much he actually understood about him. “You always do that with everyone. Maybe the only exception is me, but I don’t mind. I like direct people.”

Harry bit his lip, trying to hide a smile. “Even when they make your life impossible?”

Louis sighed dramatically before confirming, “Even when they make my life impossible.”

“Well, me too,” Harry took another sip in search of liquid courage, “You’re insufferable and you get on my nerves most of the time, especially when you pick on me for no reason or throw balls at me, but I wouldn’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t know whether to feel honored or offended,” Louis laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Why can’t anything be easy when it comes to you?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Harry joked, hiding his smile behind the edge of his glass as he drank.

Once again, Harry found himself thinking how easy it was to talk to Louis when they weren’t waging war on each other unnecessarily, and everything became even easier after the third drink.

“Should we talk about yesterday?” Harry suddenly asked, not even knowing where he found the courage.

Louis scrunched his nose in complaint. “Do we have to?”

“Tell me,” Harry chuckled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, “Otherwise, why are we here?”

“I've had a few drinks, but I’m pretty sure I told you we could talk about anything,” Louis shrugged casually. “The goal of this evening wasn’t to be mature and responsible people.”

Harry raised an eyebrow while sipping through his straw. “Oh, really?”

Louis dropped his head back with a frustrated sigh. “Why do you never listen when I talk?”

“That’s not true,” Harry jokingly kicked him.

When he saw Louis’s theatrically offended expression he started laughing and maybe, just for a moment, alcohol helped him forget that this wasn’t a date and that he shouldn’t be flirting. Instead of moving his foot away, he let it fall right next to Louis’s, leaving it there, barely brushing against his as if it were all very casual.

“You didn’t really do that,” Louis said, pretending to still be offended.

“If you want, I’ll do it again.”

Louis licked his lips, never taking his eyes off Harry, and Harry’s mind was a moment away from telling him to kneel again just like the previous evening.

“I won’t comment,” Louis replied with a half-laugh. “Honestly, I prefer dealing with the irritating version of you that’s always ready to provoke me. I know that all too well,” he took another sip of his drink, moving the straw aside to drink from the glass, “I’m fine with anything, really, as long as we don’t go back to that… uh, embarrassing thing from today at the gym.”

He pretended to be shivering, pulling his best disgusted face, which made Harry laugh because he loved how expressive Louis’s face could be.

“It was a nightmare,” Harry agreed with a grimace. “You have no idea how many times Niall asked me if I was okay.”

Fortunately he wasn’t drunk enough to have no filter or else he wouldn’t have been able to leave out everything else Niall had said to him that day, as he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Harry didn’t have a crush on him, not again.

"Here," Louis laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. "So I guarantee you the last thing I want to do is talk about yesterday."

Harry didn't have a crush on Louis, but when he laughed like that it became way too hard to remember. Not being able to take his eyes off him, he raised his glass as if to make a toast. "What’s done is done."

"Fuck the embarrassment," Louis replied, clinking his glass against his.

"So, uh, you like men," Harry mused aloud.

Louis burst out laughing, almost choking on his vodka. "Sorry," he coughed, still laughing, "I thought this part was already clear, like- six years ago?"

Harry blushed. "I- I didn't think it was that obvious."

"I thought it was, since I kissed you."

"Well, that doesn't mean anything," Harry defended himself, his voice a full octave higher.

Louis raised an eyebrow, as if something was missing in his reasoning, before repeating "But I kissed you."

"Stop repeating it," Harry whined, covering his face with his hand to hide how much, even just hearing it, made him blush more and more. "The two things didn’t necessarily have to be connected and- and anyway, we’re not here to talk about six years ago."

"Of course," Louis arched both eyebrows, clearly teasing him. "Your reasoning makes perfect sense."

"Come on, until yesterday you had a girlfriend," Harry scoffed, chuckling, before realizing what he'd said. "I mean, no- or rather, yes, but not really."

Louis looked at him with a confused expression, then leaned forward and took the glass from his hands.

"Hey!" Harry protested, lifting slightly from his seat to chase him.

"No," Louis gently pushed him back into his seat with a hand on his shoulder. "You're starting to ramble, I'm doing this for you."

Harry couldn’t stop laughing because Louis looked so serious that if he didn’t know him, he wouldn’t even notice the hint of amusement in his eyes. "I’m not drunk."

"Then someone must’ve tried to poison you."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Harry replied, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "I don't know if you noticed how the waitress was looking at you."

"The waitress?" Louis tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

"She must have thought we were on a date and got jealous, that’s why she’s poisoning me."

"She got jealous?" Louis chuckled almost shyly before emphasizing, " She."

"Don't even try," Harry warned him. "I know exactly what you're trying to imply and the answer is no."

Louis relaxed against the backrest of his chair, still holding Harry's glass. "Well then, talk to me about my girlfriend. I’m curious- I mean, since we broke up yesterday I guess my heart is shattered."

"You’re unbearable," Harry muttered, shaking his head, but not managing to hold back a smile that revealed both of his dimples. "I just misunderstood the situation. I thought Lottie was your girlfriend."

"My- what?" Louis widened his eyes before bursting out laughing. "How did you come up with that?"

"It’s not that absurd. She’s a beautiful girl, she comes to the gym a lot after training and you leave together and… it’s obvious you really care about each other."

"Maybe because she’s my sister."

"It didn’t have to be that way," Harry defended himself. "You looked like one of those couples that’s been together forever. You often make the same expressions and gestures."

"Maybe because she’s my sister," Louis repeated, earning another small kick.

"I couldn’t know that, it’s something couples do too."

"I don’t know what experiences you’ve had, but that’s not the case for me," Louis commented with a half-smile of irony before handing Harry his glass back. "You can take it back. The problem here is much bigger and it comes from your head, so I guess the poor waitress is off the hook."

Harry rolled his eyes again but accepted the glass and gulped down what was left of his drink.

"I’ve never had a long relationship," he confessed casually. "But when you’re together for a long time, it happens, you know? You start to mirror each other a bit."

"My ex wouldn’t agree with you," Louis replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Harry couldn’t understand why he was so surprised, considering it was only natural that Louis had been in relationships that deserved to be called that. He was stunning, it would have been ridiculous to think otherwise. Maybe what surprised him more was the way he talked about it, as if it had been so important that he hadn’t fully gotten over it yet.

Harry was curious, he wanted to know more but he was afraid of crossing some invisible line. "Too different?"

"At first no, actually maybe we were so similar it was almost creepy," he smiled with what seemed like affection. "Andrea was always such a sunny and open person... uh, I don’t know, it was easy to be around him."

So not only was there an ex, but he was also Italian. Great, just getting better and better.

"And then he wasn’t anymore?"

"I don’t think he could ever change in that way, thankfully," Louis fiddled with the straw, moving the ice around in his glass. "It’s absurd to say out loud, but maybe sometimes it’s easier to get along with people who are completely different from you. Everyone argues, that’s normal, but at least when you’re facing off with different ideas it doesn’t seem as silly as arguing about nothing just to- honestly, I don’t even know what," he shook his head as if trying to shake off some thoughts. "I don’t even know if it makes sense."

Harry wanted to hug him. He didn’t sound sad, he wasn’t speaking with anger or regret, but it was clear he had suffered a lot over that guy.

"It makes perfect sense," Harry shrugged, as if it were obvious to think that way. "Isn't it said that opposites attract?"

Louis scrunched up his nose in an exaggerated grimace that was too overdone to be real and slapped his hand on the table as if he had just figured something out that had been in front of his eyes the whole time. "That’s where I went wrong," he sighed. "Andrea was a middle blocker."

He shouldn’t have found that joke so funny, but Harry’s sense of humor was pretty weird and he knew it, so he wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

"You- you can’t be real," Louis commented with a laugh. "I can’t believe the only two times I’ve seen you laugh like that were because of my near panic attack and the worst joke I’ve ever made."

If anything, that made him laugh even harder. "It was really awful," Harry confirmed, biting his lip to stop himself from continuing to laugh.

"I noticed how much you didn’t appreciate it," Louis teased him with that bright look in his eyes. "Should I be offended?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway - Mr. Perfectionist - that joke doesn’t apply to you, you’re not an opposite."

Louis widened his eyes, as if Harry had just said the greatest heresy in history. "Tell me you’re joking and that you won’t make me work at this hour after three drinks and a beer."

"No, please," Harry sighed, letting his head fall back before looking at him again.

"Who are the opposites?" Louis asked.

Harry decided not to play along. "Brilliant and fun guys, usually really handsome too."

"On that, I can’t argue with you," Louis admitted with a shy smile, sending butterflies into Harry’s stomach, which were already having a hard time that night. "And why are they called that?"

"Because in the rotation, on the court, they are opposites to the setter" Harry sang out, emphasizing how unnecessary Louis's insistence was.

Louis pointed at him with a satisfied expression on his face. "See? Those are the opposites that attract."

Probably the alcohol wasn’t helping either of them at that moment, but Harry in particular took longer than was acceptable to understand what that statement implied. Harry was an opposite and he was undeniably attracted to a setter.

His eyes widened when the realisation of what Louis had just said between the lines hit him right in the stomach. He cleared his throat, trying to prevent himself from spiraling into thoughts he wouldn’t be able to face even sober.

"So, uh... going back to Andrea, the middle blocker," he paused, furrowing his brows, and only then did his brain put two and two together. "Wait, but- Andrea is that middle blocker? That Andrea?"

"I suppose so?" Louis answered, somewhat confused.

"Oh my God," Harry covered his mouth with both hands. "I can't believe you made me gossip about one of the best middle blockers in the world."

"Now, I think you're overestimating him a bit because I don’t even think he’s in the top ten, maybe in the top fifteen," Louis started laughing when he saw the look on Harry’s face. "But I get the feeling you're a fan of him, so maybe I should just keep quiet."

Harry crossed his arms on the table, trying to regain his composure. "I’m not a fan, but I really admire him as a player," he explained. "It's just that I thought- uh, I thought he was with... never mind."

"You thought correctly."

"So, you were the lover?" Then, suddenly, Harry realised. "Shit, did he cheat on you?"

Louis shook his head and even though Harry felt embarrassed for asking such a direct and personal question, he was somewhat relieved.

"No, I was the boyfriend who was called paranoid when I said the inseparable best friend wasn’t so straight after all and, in the end, I was dumped for him."

Harry felt bad for him. It must have been tough dealing with that relationship and, especially, its end. He couldn’t do much for him except order another round, so he leaned forward to signal the waitress.

"Harry, I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"If you don’t want it, you can pass; I’d never force you," he immediately clarified. "But I think we deserve it."

"It’s the last one though," Louis smiled and suddenly Harry regretted suggesting another round.

"Trust me, I have no intention of getting drunk tonight."

"Says the sober one," Louis teased, his eyes a little more sparkly than usual, though he still seemed entirely in control.

Harry’s head was spinning a little, but he knew his limits. "I’m sober," he pouted. "If I weren’t, you’d notice because when I’m drunk I tend to talk too much, with no filter between my brain and my mouth and then- well, I might get a bit clingy. At least that’s what they say."

At that moment the waitress arrived, smiling at Louis and placing the two drinks on the table, picking up the empty glasses.

"Thanks," Harry flashed her the brightest smile, catching her attention. "If you’re wondering - I know you are - this is not a date but, anyway, he’s not interested in you either."

"Harry," Louis exclaimed, covering his face with one hand before addressing the waitress. It was impossible to tell who was more embarrassed between the two of them. "Sorry, he's had a few too many drinks and doesn’t know what he’s saying."

She smiled - of course - and began nervously twirling a strand of hair. "D-don’t worry."

"I know exactly what I’m saying," Harry protested, before Louis leaned forward to cover his mouth with both hands.

"I’d leave if I were you," he suggested with another polite smile. "Before this idiot starts up again."

As soon as the waitress left them alone, Louis freed Harry and sat back comfortably. "Have you lost your mind?" he exclaimed, starting to laugh. "Did you want to make her cry?"

Harry widened his eyes comically, shaking his head. "But- but I was just trying to spare her the disappointment."

"Such a fake," Louis laughed heartily. "You were marking your territory, you couldn’t stand her from the first moment."

Harry felt caught in the act. If he had been clearer-headed, he would have easily gotten out of that situation but he wasn’t, so he decided to change the subject. He grabbed his glass, lifting it toward the center of the table.

"This is to celebrate freedom from toxic relationships."

Louis mimicked him, clinking his glass with Harry’s and pressing his lips into that particular smile Harry saw when Louis didn’t want to show too much emotion, failing miserably.

"Can I ask you another question?" Harry said, nervously biting his lower lip. "If you don’t want to answer, I won’t be offended."

"Go ahead," Louis encouraged him before taking a sip from his drink. "Just to point out how sober you are, I’ll mention that you haven’t been silent for at least half an hour."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "If it bothers you that much, I can leave."

"I don’t think I’ve complained. When will I get the chance to have a Harry Styles who’s so eager to talk? With me, no less." Louis gestured for him to continue. "What do you want to ask?"

"In the team, did they know about you two?"

"I think everyone in the environment knew - you know, rumors spread - but yeah, in the team I think everyone knew, even those we hadn’t told they still figured it out," Louis shrugged, as if it were a normal thing and not one of Harry’s greatest fears. "We were together for a little over two years, I guess it was inevitable for others to find out."

Two years. Harry’s record was probably two months, six at most, and the worst part was that he wasn't even sure because he couldn’t remember. They were all such trivial stories that all the details had gone straight into oblivion.

"And, uh, how did the other guys take it?"

"When we broke up there were still two months left in the season, so I admit it wasn’t easy for me or for them" he said, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down to cover his knuckles. "We never involved them, of course, but it was inevitable that some tension would build up."

"I- uh... actually, I meant to ask about- uh, the beginning," Harry stammered, unsure how to phrase the question. "When they found out you were gay, uhm, how did they react?"

Louis raised an eyebrow, perhaps not fully understanding the weight of the question. "I imagine they reacted the same way your teammates did when you told them."

Harry took a long sip of vodka before admitting, his cheeks red from embarrassment, "I never told them."

The news seemed to completely surprise Louis. "No one?"

"Niall knows, but because he found out, so maybe it doesn’t count," Harry bit his lip in discomfort. "I never had the courage."

"If you don’t want to or don’t think it’s the right time, no one’s forcing you to do it," Louis reassured him. "You don’t even have to tell them ever and it would be fine, as long as you’re okay."

Harry sighed. "I can’t deny that I’d want to because they’re my best friends but at the same time, precisely because of that, I’m afraid of losing them or that the relationships might change."

"What about Niall? How did he react when he found out?"

"Aside from the initial shock – but I think that was due to the situation – he didn’t really dwell on it," Harry smiled affectionately at the thought of how important Niall had been to him. "But it’s Niall, you know how he is, I doubt there’s anything in the world that could make him any less… Niall."

Louis paused for a few seconds, thinking. "I can't promise you everything will be fine and that there won’t be any issues, because you know how it is, unfortunately. But I can tell you that when I came out to my team, I found out that half of them had already suspected and the other half didn’t care."

"Nobody singled you out?"

"Nobody," Louis shook his head to reinforce the point. "There are always a few assholes, I won’t say I’ve never come across them, especially since rumors spread really fast in that world so you don’t have control over who knows what, but nothing that was worth paying attention to."

Harry knew he was being intrusive with all these questions, but he couldn’t help it because he’d never had the chance to talk to a volleyball player who had openly come out and these were things he’d been wondering about for almost his entire life.

"Did they ever cause you trouble in the locker room?" Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to phrase the question better. "You know, like… someone who didn’t want to change in front of you or didn’t want you to shower in the same place?"

Louis immediately shook his head. "Never," he answered. "Doesn’t mean there wasn’t anyone who might have secretly thought that way, but that’s also the beauty of a team, right? Even the biggest asshole in the situation wasn’t stupid enough to go against an entire team that, without a doubt, would have had my back."

That was something Harry had never thought about and, although it didn’t erase his fears, it certainly gave him a small bit of hope that he’d never been able to find among all his anxieties on the subject.

Maybe Louis noticed that Harry was struck by this reasoning or maybe he just felt like adding more. "Try to imagine the scene," he continued with a sweet but amused look. "If one or more people on the team tried to pull something like that, do you think Niall wouldn’t decapitate them one by one?"

Harry let out a laugh but nodded without hesitation.

"And I mentioned Niall only because you’re already sure of him, but I could swear on Zayn, Liam, Mitch or Isaac too, and I - unlike you - have only known them for a few weeks."

"I think so," Harry murmured, still unsure but with his heart a little lighter.

"Sorry guys, but we’re closing soon," the colleague of the waitress who had served them all evening interrupted.

Harry looked around, only now realizing that it was just the two of them and another group of four people on the other side of the room.

"Of course, sorry about that," Louis replied with a kind smile. "Two more minutes and we’re out."

If there was one thing Harry hadn’t expected from the night just hours ago, it was that he didn’t want it to end. He downed the half-drink left in one go, knowing he’d probably regret it the next morning when he woke up with a headache.

As soon as they stood up, Harry felt his head spinning and for a moment he lost his balance, but Louis put an arm around his waist and the room spun a little less than before.

"I’m fine," Harry spoke firmly but he didn't fool anyone.

"Now we’re calling a cab to get you home," Louis said, chuckling as he tightened his grip to help him move.

Harry could’ve walked on his own, he was almost sure of it, but he couldn’t think of a single good reason to pull away from Louis.

They made their way to the counter and Louis, ignoring Harry’s protests, insisted on paying the entire bill.

"It’s not fair, we were supposed to split it," Harry repeated for the third time, resting his head on Louis' shoulder and turning slightly in his half-embrace so he could comfortably slip a hand into the pocket of his soft green hoodie.

He wondered if the waitress was watching them, and hoped so.

"Are you sure you didn’t forget anything on the table?" Louis made sure just before leading him to the pub's door.

Honestly, at that moment Harry didn’t care about checking. "If you’ve drunk more than me, why are you the one holding me up?"

Louis turned to look at him, chuckling, and suddenly Harry realised how close their faces were in that position.

"Because I don’t have the same alcohol tolerance as a goldfish."

"But goldfish don’t drink alcohol, how do you know how much vodka it takes to get them drunk?"

Louis burst out laughing. "You’re right, we should try it."

Harry had always found Louis’ laugh wonderful, even when they were younger and it happened much more often that he got to hear it.

"No," Harry replied, pouting as they closed the pub door behind them. "I think they’d suffer."

"Kind of like how we’ll suffer tomorrow morning when we wake up."

"Probably," Harry chuckled, pulling himself a little closer as they stopped on the sidewalk. "I wouldn’t wish a hungover wake-up on the worst of fish."

When Louis lifted his hand - almost hidden by the too long sleeve of his hoodie - to cover his mouth, Harry felt that adorable delicate giggle vibrating right under his skin.

"You smell good," Harry whispered almost without realising, brushing Louis' neck lightly with the tip of his nose.

"But I haven’t showered yet," Louis replied, taking a deep breath as Harry brought his face even closer to shamelessly inhale his scent.

"No, I confirm," Harry smiled and inhaled again, closing his eyes. "I like your smell."

Louis cleared his throat softly but didn’t pull away from the contact. "We should go," he said quietly, as if he hadn’t really wanted to interrupt the intimacy of that moment.

Harry nodded absentmindedly but didn’t move an inch.

They stayed still in silence for a few seconds, until Louis rested his cheek on his hair and Harry left a kiss on his neck, to show him how much he appreciated the cuddles at that moment. He could feel the goosebumps forming just beneath his lips, so he decided to continue, leaving a trail of small kisses.

"Harry," Louis sighed, tightening his grip around his waist. "We better go, I- I don’t think I’ll be able to say this again."

Instead of responding, Harry gave him a soft bite on the base of his jaw and began sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there, continuing that sweet torture in the hope of breaking down every barrier. He’d been thinking about him since the night before and he couldn’t take it anymore.

Louis grabbed his face by the chin and maneuvered it so he could look him in the eyes. The way he touched him was so delicate that it made Harry feel butterflies in his stomach, as if he held the most precious of treasures in his hands. For the endless seconds they stared into each other’s eyes Harry prayed with every beat of his heart that he wasn’t about to tell him to stop.

When Louis finally kissed him, it felt as if Harry were flying.

He clung to his chest, gripping the fabric of the hoodie between his fingers because he felt he needed something to anchor him to the ground.

What had started sweetly soon turned into a fiery kiss. They both staggered, moving clumsily until Harry found his back pressed against a car door. He could feel his lungs burning, but the need for air was secondary to the desire to keep kissing Louis.

The only thing he could think about was how much he wanted him. It was almost embarrassing how intensely he longed for Louis' mouth on every inch of his body, his hands exploring his skin and his weight pinning him beneath him.

"I want you" he whispered, letting the words escape onto Louis' lips.

Louis hesitated for just a moment and Harry took the chance to go all in, praying not to be rejected.

"My car is nearby," Harry suggested, diving into another kiss. "Shall we go?"

When Louis pulled away from his face, even if it was just a few inches to look him in the eyes, Harry felt like screaming from the frustration, especially since Louis didn’t seem to be responding.

"What did you say?" Louis finally asked.

"I said my car isn’t far, we could take advantage of it," Harry noticed the hesitation in his eyes and with his heart in his throat he added, "Only if you want."

"It would be so easy if I didn’t want to," Louis replied before closing the distance between them again, biting Harry’s lower lip with desire. "If only" he sighed, licking the contours of Harry's lips, "I’ve wanted you since I saw you."

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis' neck burying one hand in his soft hair while Louis, pulling him closer, slid his hands under Harry’s hoodie. It seemed like he couldn’t find peace until he touched every inch of skin he could reach. They kissed for a long time, so overwhelmed by passion that neither of them had the strength to stop.

Not even the beep of the car alarm being deactivated could distract them. It was only when a girl cleared her throat that Harry became aware of her presence just a few steps away from them. Taken by surprise, he pushed Louis away and jerked back from the car door.

"Sorry," the waitress from the Night Changes said in a mortified tone. "I- I should go home."

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Louis’ worried expression relax as he understood what had happened. After a brief awkward silence, he burst out laughing.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled between laughs, hiding his face against Louis' shoulder, who was quickly caught up in the laughter.

"Sorry," Louis repeated on both of their behalf. "We- uh, we got carried away, you know?"

Fortunately Harry didn’t see the expression on the girl’s face as she got in the car, but he was sure he heard her muttering, "Good thing it wasn’t a date."

"Admit it, you knew from the start it was her car," Louis teased, pinching him playfully on the side.

"No," Harry chuckled, trying not very convincingly to push his hands away. "I think the universe wanted to send her a sign."

As soon as the car drove away Harry, with still some laughs on his lips, lifted his face from Louis’ shoulder and bit his earlobe.

"Is this a sign from the universe too?" Louis asked with a sigh that almost sounded like a broken moan.

"A reminder."

"Mh?"

Harry wanted to laugh at the way Louis was reacting to such a simple gesture, but the fact that he had discovered one of his weak spots only excited him even more.

He placed his lips on Louis’ ear, whispering. "The universe is reminding you that we were looking for a more comfortable place."

Louis turned, seeking his lips as if he couldn’t help it, but Harry only allowed him to brush them before pulling away.

"I live in the building across the street," Louis finally offered. "Do you want to come up?"

Harry placed a hand on the front of Louis’ sweatpants, taking his breath away when his palm brushed against an almost fully formed erection. "I want to as much as he does," he replied, tightening his fingers just slightly.

"You’re going to be the death of me," Louis arched his head back with a sigh before grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him across the street.

Harry was beside himself with anticipation as he watched Louis insert the key into the door and impatiently followed him up the stairs to the second-floor landing. When Louis opened the door, Harry didn’t even have time to look around to get an idea of what the apartment was like, because the moment Louis stepped inside he turned, cupped Harry’s face in his hands and kissed him, pulling him closer.

Harry only heard the door slam, probably kicked shut, and then he found himself pressed between the entrance wall and Louis' body. He couldn’t suppress a moan, pleasantly surprised that it was finally him taking the initiative. He thought he might die when he felt for the first time what it was like to be touched by Louis, by those skilled and gentle hands that were beginning to explore the most sensitive part of his body.

Harry gripped his hoodie with both hands, both for support and to pull it upwards, signalling Louis to take it off. Louis caught on after a few attempts, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to remove the hoodie from his head but Harry wasn’t willing to accept any more layers between their skin. He hastily stripped off Louis's t-shirt himself.

Louis’s hands returned to him immediately, as did his lips. He caressed Harry’s back before slipping his hands beneath the waistband of his trousers, pulling him closer by his bum. When he teased his entrance with a finger over the top of his boxers, Harry tilted his head back against the wall. Louis seized the opportunity to kiss and nibble at his neck, as if he had never tasted anything so delicious.

Their hips collided, brushing together repeatedly, but it still wasn’t enough. Harry wasn’t sure anymore whether to seek pleasure by grinding against Louis or to give in to the way his hands continued to provoke him, massaging his bum. In frustration, Harry bit down on his lip and Louis seemed to understand. Without ever breaking their kiss, he desperately sought Harry’s mouth again and began guiding him through the house.

They nearly stumbled over a sofa and Harry would have been fine with leaning against it – he would have accepted literally anything at that point – but Louis continued down the corridor, guiding him into his bedroom and stopping just a few steps from the bed.

In a swift motion, Louis removed both Harry's hoodie and t-shirt in one go, then paused to look at him as if he were admiring him. Harry was confident enough in his body not to feel self-conscious, but he still flushed under the intensity of that gaze. To redirect Louis’s attention, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled him closer.

Louis caught him off guard, gently pushing him by the shoulders so he fell backwards onto the bed. Before reaching him Louis stripped him off his sweatpants. Harry grabbed his arm, then his shoulders, pulling him exactly where he needed to feel him, on top of him. Louis’s hunger seemed insatiable and his mouth moved repeatedly from Harry’s lips to his neck, his chest and even his soft hips. Only when he was about to melt under all that attention did Louis finally lower Harry's underwear and take his erection into his mouth, which had never been so hard in his life.

“Fuck,” Harry sighed with a particularly intense moan, unable to hold back a thrust of his hips.

Louis looked up at him placing his hands on his hips, tightening his grip just enough to signal that Harry should stay still. That was enough to make Harry almost come on the spot. He was forced to close his eyes because he knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain a shred of dignity if he kept watching Louis with his erection in his mouth. It was beyond anything he’d ever imagined, not even in his wildest dreams. The fact that Louis was also fucking good at it certainly didn’t help him one bit.

Was there anything in the world that Louis Tomlinson wasn’t fucking great at?

When he realised he was at the point of no return, he tried to find the strength to stop him. He wrapped his fingers around Louis’ wrists to get his attention and, when Louis looked up at him, he tugged him slightly. “Come here,” he said breathlessly, as if he had just run a marathon.

Louis moved up his body, almost seeming surprised when Harry cupped his face in his hands and made him lie next to him, initiating a kiss that was anything but innocent.

His boxers had ended up God knows where and he was too focused on trying not to die to care about it, but Louis was still half-dressed. If he had enough hands to touch him, caress him, tease him and even strip him - all at the same time - his life at that moment would have been much simpler. But somehow, he still managed to get Louis's clothes off.

He wrapped a leg around Louis’s waist, needing every inch of his skin to be in contact with Louis’s. He saw stars when their groins collided, continuing to chase each other with every desperate movement of their fiery bodies. Harry took Louis’s free arm over his waist - the other still tightly around his shoulders - and guided his hand to his bum, because he didn’t think he could hold out much longer without having him inside.

Louis slid a finger between his cheeks, teasing his rim without offering anything more satisfying.

"Louis," Harry said, somewhere between a moan and a frustrated sigh, "Stop teasing me."

When he felt Louis’s laughter against his lips, he genuinely thought his heart might leap out of his chest at any moment.

He was ready to protest when Louis completely removed his hand, but as soon as he saw him twist his torso to lean towards the nightstand, Harry nearly cried out in relief. He grabbed the lube and a condom and Harry hoped he had left the drawer open simply because he was too eager to get his hands back on him.

Without any hesitation, Harry took hold of the condom while Louis slicked his fingers and then returned to embrace him in the same position as before. He tore open the packet with his teeth, never once breaking eye contact with those stunning blue eyes, but his boldness ended the moment Louis’s first finger slid into him

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the constant waves of pleasure, unable to do anything but focus on the fingers moving skillfully. Louis began kissing his face, perhaps fearing he had done something that might have hurt him or maybe just because he wanted to. Harry didn’t care about the reason, he just wanted him to keep cuddling him and destroying him at the same time. When Louis’s lips met his, they couldn’t pull away.

Straining to focus his attention for a few seconds on the condom still between his fingers, he slid his hand between them. He massaged Louis’s cock several times, managing to pull out moans that he would probably remember for the rest of his life, before unrolling the condom over it.

"Are you sure?" Louis asked, looking into his eyes seriously.

Harry nodded quickly and tried to resume the kiss from where it had left off, but Louis gently pulled his head back.

"What?" Harry asked, confused, furrowing his brow.

"You're beautiful."

Harry's cheeks immediately flushed with a shade of pink far too innocent for the situation they were in at that moment. He kissed him, because there was nothing else he could do and he didn't trust himself. He knew that if he said anything, he probably wouldn't be able to hold back anymore.

Louis turned him onto his back and, after settling between his legs, entered slowly in him. He started with small circular movements, driving him to the edge of madness with the desire for something more. Harry wrapped his legs around his waist, making him slide even deeper inside him, and dug his fingertips into his back as Louis increased the pace.

Their kiss turned into a stealing of breaths, moaning into each other's mouths.

Harry reached his limit early – he was at his breaking point for hours actually – and when Louis wrapped a hand around his cock he came within minutes, staining both of their bellies. He tried to hold on, ignoring the growing sensitivity in order to allow Louis to reach his orgasm in that way.

Louis looked stunning with his sweat-soaked tousled hair, furrowed brows and slightly parted lips. His eyes gazed at him with a shade of blue he'd never seen before and when he came with one final deep thrust his moan shattered against Harry's lips.

Harry wasn’t sure if it was normal or if touching the heights of heaven in such a way was too much for an ordinary twenty-year-old, but even as the adrenaline began to fade and the drowsiness from both alcohol and sex started clouding his mind, his heart continued to race so fast that it made him feel like he wanted to escape.

He turned to look at Louis, who was lying beside him with his eyes closed as he caught his breath. He probably felt observed because, moments later, Louis opened his eyes and turned his head towards him, smiling.

That smile was the last thing Harry registered before falling asleep.

The next morning Harry jolted awake when a car started honking repeatedly as it passed under the window. At first he didn’t even realise where he was, all he knew was that his head was pounding.

“Fuck’s sake,” Louis mumbled with a hoarse sleepy voice, muffled by the fact that his face was pressed against the pillow.

Harry sat up abruptly, immediately regretting it as a sharp pain hit his head. “Shit” he whispered to himself, feeling panic rise in his chest.

Part of him wished he’d drunk less so he wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of the hangover, but another part of him wished he’d drunk more so he wouldn’t remember the night before.

He had slept with Louis.

He had slept with Louis, liked it beyond measure and there was nothing he could do to undo the consequences of that epic mess.

“Uh?” Louis asked, emerging from the pillow.

The fact that Louis looked even more beautiful than usual when he woke up in Harry’s opinion was just another injustice. It was definitely part of his punishment for being a complete idiot.

He rubbed his eyes with one hand before attempting to speak again. “Did you say something?”

Harry shook his head, managing a half-smile in the hope of appearing calm, at least on the outside.

“I- uh, sorry,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

Louis looked at him, still naked and covered by the sheet only halfway, his eyes swollen from sleep. Harry thought he might pass out at any moment for a thousand different reasons, all of which involved him.

Louis shook his head. “I would never have let you leave in that state.”

Harry placed a hand over his face, pressing his eyes to ease the pain. “My head is about to explode,” he complained. “How about you?”

“Shit, I feel awful too.”

It was only then that Harry noticed the clock on the wall showing ten o’clock. “Fuck, I had a class at nine this morning,” he exclaimed. “I need to go.”

But before he could move Louis sat up and placed a hand on his arm. Harry looked at him, waiting, anxiety growing in his chest with every passing second, but it seemed Louis couldn’t find the right words because he kept opening and closing his mouth.

“This thing- uh, what happened…” Louis sighed heavily. “You know it won’t change anything, right?”

Harry knew that. Of course, he knew it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel at least a little hurt by it.

“I’m not fourteen anymore, we only had sex because we wanted to,” Harry shrugged, all the indifference he could muster in his posture. “I know it won’t change anything.”

“I- I mean at work,” Louis muttered.

“What do you mean?” Harry narrowed his eyes, hoping with all his might that Louis wouldn’t say what he feared he was about to say.

“In the gym, none of this matters,” Louis explained. “I’m me and you’re you. There will never be any favours, it- it doesn’t matter what kind of relationship we have outside the court.”

“You're fucking kidding, right?,” Harry replied, feeling more humiliated than he ever had in his life. “You think that I - God! - you think I slept with you to try to… to do what exactly? To bribe you?”

Louis tried to protest, probably attempting to explain that wasn’t what he meant, but Harry was already out of bed, scrambling to pick his clothes up off the floor. He quickly put on his boxers, and when Louis stood up and approached him to try to get him to listen, Harry lost it.

“I don’t fucking need you!” he nearly yelled, pointing a finger at Louis while holding the sweatpants from the previous night. “I don’t fucking need to buy my place on the court with sex because I earned it years before you showed up with your fucking attitude and I don’t need to bribe you for your approval because I couldn’t care less.”

“Harry, listen to me,” Louis pleaded.

But Harry had no intention of staying in that apartment for another second. He pulled on his sweatpants and, in a rage, stormed through the hallway, stopping only to grab his hoodie from the floor and slip it on before slamming the door behind him with a “Fuck you!”

He rushed down the stairs and as soon as his feet hit the pavement his eyes filled with tears. He sniffed, telling himself he wouldn’t cry over a prick like Louis and headed for the car.

His headache begged him to go home, but Harry knew himself too well to fall into that trap and end up spending the day wallowing in how humiliated he felt. So, he decided to go to class. He splashed some water on his face in the university bathroom, taking the opportunity to clean off the dried remnants of cum from his stomach with a damp tissue while everyone was in class.

No one had ever made him feel like a whore the way Louis had that morning.

He waited outside for the next class to start, hoping the fresh air would help calm the rage that seemed to keep building inside him. He couldn’t think about anything else and it was the same during class and lunch, when even his colleagues gave up trying to involve him in conversation.

He kept replaying everything in his head, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess. With every hour that passed his anger, disappointment and humiliation grew. By the time it was about to go to the gym, he was on the verge of exploding.

He knew it was coming, it was inevitable. He would see Louis’s face and… boom. It was a story with a prewritten ending.

He entered the gym with the spirit of someone ready for war and he saw Louis right away, talking to Mitch and Zayn just below the bleachers with his usual impassive expression on his face. The moment Louis’s gaze shifted to the entrance and locked with his, Harry’s feet moved automatically towards him.

Louis looked confused, but Harry just pulled out his wallet and slammed ten pounds against his chest before walking past him towards the changing rooms.

“Harry,” Louis called out.

“Harry,” he tried again, this time visibly frustrated. “Will you stop giving me money like I’m a fucking slut?”

Harry couldn’t believe he actually had the guts to say something like that, not after everything Louis had done to him.

He turned around just to respond. “You’re right, I forgot that I am the slut” he said in the coldest tone he could muster, just before disappearing into the locker room.

Chapter Text

Unlike what would normally have happened, after that argument Louis made no attempt to confront him. He didn’t follow him to the locker rooms, didn’t ask to talk after training, didn’t reach out with a text or a phone call. Nothing.

Up until that point, Harry had never realised how often their reconciliations had been initiated by Louis, but even though Harry acknowledged that in other cases he could have taken a step towards him, this time he had no intention of doing so. He hadn’t been the one at fault and, in fact, the complete indifference from the other side only served to annoy him more and more.

Who did he think he was?

Harry refused to let himself be hurt by someone like him, but he couldn’t shake off the irritating knot in the pit of his stomach. Louis had humiliated him once again, made him feel like the worst of the sluts and Harry had no intention of either forgiving him or watching Louis ignore him with his cheeky audacity.

The day they’d argued, to be honest, Harry had been fine with his attitude because the last thing he wanted was to deal with him during training. It was enough to endure the looks from his teammates, though no one had been reckless enough to ask for explanations.

The questions came the following day, when Harry’s face no longer resembled a ticking time bomb. Naturally, he stuck to the classic he’s just the usual asshole routine and similar comments, without going into details or telling anyone the truth, not even Niall. His best friend kept giving him that odd look, but Harry kept telling himself that he was only letting his conscience influence him, trying to make him feel guilty for keeping secrets even from him. He knew he could trust Niall and deep down he knew that his friend probably understood more than he was willing to admit, but he wasn’t ready to face the consequences of talking about it with anyone.

It would make his problem too… real.

Hadn’t he been punished enough for breaking every moral rule he had? He had slept with his coach – his assistant coach, as much as that mattered – and he had learned the lesson instantly. What would be the point of making it an even bigger issue by talking about it to someone?

Harry just wanted to forget it all and stop feeling that bitter taste of humiliation every time he caught Louis’ eye.

Not that it happened very often anyway.

Louis had somehow turned into the coach Harry had always hoped for. Technically nothing had changed of course, that was the only thing that hadn’t changed in the slightest. The difference was all in his extremely professional demeanour.

There were no more constant jabs, no more teasing with that irritating tone, no more tormenting him until he snapped. At the same time, he wasn’t cold either. He simply treated Harry as though, for better or for worse, he was just anyone.

And Harry hated it.

For weeks he had prayed for a little breathing space from that annoying way of Louis’, he had dreamed of nothing else since the first practice of the season. He had always thought that if only Louis left him alone, he would have been the best coach he could have asked for, but the moment his prayers were answered Harry felt on the verge of losing his mind.

He realised that the one thing he hated more than being unfairly targeted, was being just anyone.

Along with the anger from the humiliation, came anger towards his own selfishness. He couldn’t believe he was struggling to suppress the need for attention from the very person he would have chosen to erase from his life in an instant, if he could.

With every passing practice, Harry felt closer and closer to going mad.

During Tuesday’s session, the day after their argument, Harry hadn’t even realised how subconsciously he was trying to attract Louis’ attention indirectly. He didn’t even look at him unless it was strictly necessary but still found excuses to provoke a reaction, like leaving his purple water bottle out of place - normally Louis would have unleashed the obsessive-compulsive neat freak inside him - or accidentally hitting the backpack where Louis surely kept his laptop with the ball.

By Wednesday, this had almost become a personal challenge. He arrived at the gym loudly chewing gum because he knew how much it irritated Louis. He had to fight the urge to stick it in Louis’ hair when, just before practice began, Louis calmly and politely asked him to throw it away to avoid the risk of it getting stuck in his throat during the session. He even added a please . No cursing at the grazing animals while throwing one or more balls at him, no lectures on how annoying and rude it was to make all those chewing noises, no empty threats just to make the rest of the team laugh.

During the practice Harry managed – once again, accidentally – to open his pink polka-dotted water bottle in such a way that he spilled water all over the floor and a little onto the performance analysis sheets for the matches of the first two weekends of the Royal Cup, which Louis had just handed out. He worked hard to look convincing, not raising any suspicions, not even from the Coach, when by accident a pass he made ended up hitting Louis right when he had his back to him and couldn’t see the ball coming. They had been working on defence that day, so no one could accuse him of doing it on purpose. Not even when it happened a couple of times too many.

By Thursday, Harry couldn’t pretend he hadn’t realised what was going on. He had reached the point of being consciously and desperately frustrated, as well as angry.

When he entered the gym he forced himself to keep it together, knowing that if he followed his instincts he would end up overdoing it just to get some kind of reaction from Louis.

His self-restraint started to falter halfway through the warm-up, when his attention was caught by a scene unfolding at the far end of the court.

Louis and Niall were standing face to face, just a few paces apart, in the most spacious part of the gym, between the end of the court and the wall. Louis was holding a ball in each hand, tossing them non-stop in all directions to Niall, who was trying his best to return them before they hit the ground. They looked like jugglers.

After five or six quick exchanges, Louis threw the ball to the far end of the gym and Niall sprinted at full speed to try to save it. He dived in a last-ditch attempt, ignoring the fact that he was inevitably going to crash into the wall, shouting “Fuck!”

Louis burst out laughing, covering his mouth with one hand. “You were almost there.”

“Piss off,” Niall cursed as he got back to his feet with a laugh. “Let’s do it again.”

“That was the last set, swap with Stan.”

But Niall wasn’t about to finish with a failure so, with a defiant grin plastered across his face, he positioned himself once more in front of Louis. “Let’s do it again.”

It was impossible to say who was having more fun between the two and Harry tried to push down the twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he refused to acknowledge.

Louis resumed testing Niall and when it came to the final part of the drill he tried to catch him off guard by making him dive for a particularly low and short ball, just before throwing the final high and long one.

“Bastard,” Niall exclaimed as he sprang to his feet to chase after that last ball. This time, he managed to reach it, making a daring dive just in time to tap it before the ball hit the ground.

Zayn, who had stepped away to retrieve the ball they’d been using when it flew across the gym, called Harry’s attention just as Louis approached Niall to give him a congratulatory fist bump and help him up.

"Harry?" 

"Mh?" 

"Should I bring you popcorn or are we training?" 

"Sorry," Harry sighed, shaking his head as if to clear away any lingering thoughts. 

"I’m here." 

"Can you tell me what happened with Louis?" Zayn asked suddenly. 

"He’s just the same old jerk." 

"Staring at him like that won’t – I don’t know – set him on fire with the power of your mind." 

Harry chuckled, secretly thinking he wouldn’t mind if that were actually possible. "I wasn’t looking at him," he lied without really knowing why, "I was watching Niall." 

"Yeah, right," Zayn rolled his eyes. 

"I mean it," Harry defended himself, "He’s always been good, but he’s improved loads over the past few weeks." 

"Ladies, should I bring you some tea?" Coach Haynes shouted from a few steps away. 

They both laughed, caught red-handed, but quickly refocused on the drill they’d been working on before getting distracted. Harry had been feeling particularly fit lately, so despite his mind occasionally wandering, his performance on the court only kept improving. He was pumped for that final Royal Cup weekend because, even though the result wouldn’t affect the standings, he desperately wanted to secure their first win against Cambridge. They had nothing to lose. They were already mathematically qualified for the next stage and in the semi-finals they’d face the winner of the other group, a team they knew well and that while strong was certainly beatable. 

Cambridge, on the other hand, would have a much easier path in their semi-final, facing a provincial team that, despite finishing second in their group, was far weaker even than Harry’s team. So, if everything went according to plan, the final would likely see the Blue Bees facing Cambridge. 

The match that weekend technically meant nothing but a win - especially their first ever against Cambridge - would be a significant psychological boost ahead of a potential final. Throughout the week they’d worked hard on building plays from defence, hoping to find that breakthrough that combined with Harry’s tactical setup might finally lead them to victory. And their efforts were paying off because the whole team was performing brilliantly, getting better every single day. Even that evening, during the final challenging full-team exercise, everyone was giving it their all. 

Matt, standing on the plyo box, had just delivered a spike that would probably leave bruises on Harry’s forearms, but it didn’t matter. The only important thing was keeping the ball in play to allow his teammates to rebuild the action. Niall stepped in, setting the ball to zone 4 for Zayn to attack, but Oli blocked him. 

Coach Haynes briefly corrected Zayn before blowing his whistle to start a new play. This time, Matt aimed at Niall, who shuffled left and defended the ball with ease. He regained his balance quickly, avoiding a fall, and immediately darted in the opposite direction to cover Harry’s back-row attack. Something seemed to go wrong in that abrupt change of direction, though, as Niall crumpled to the floor after his first step. 

Harry caught sight of him falling as he jumped to meet the ball and for a moment thought he’d just tripped, at least until he heard him scream. 

Louis was the first to reach him, but Harry and the rest of the team rushed over an instant later. Niall was clutching his knee with both hands, his face pressed against the floor as he panted heavily. 

"Everyone step back, give him some space to breathe" ordered Louis in a commanding tone, making enough room between them. Haynes arrived at a run, kneeling on Niall’s other side and pressing an ice pack to the injured knee. 

"Niall, where exactly does it hurt?" Louis asked, trying to catch his eye. 

"At the back," he struggled to speak, "Everywhere- fucking hell!" 

When Niall started crying, Harry couldn’t stay away any longer. He knelt by his shoulder, squeezing it gently to show he was there, even if he couldn’t do anything to help. Harry would have cut off his own leg and handed it to him if it meant not seeing his best friend like this. 

"I heard it," Niall sobbed, "It cracked and- fuck, I heard it." 

Louis cupped his face, gently guiding him to meet his gaze. "That doesn’t mean anything," he tried to reassure him. "Listen to me." 

"I heard it," Niall repeated softly, his voice laced with growing despair. 

"Alright, now let's go to the hospital and try to figure out what happened" Louis said with the calmest tone Harry had ever heard from him. "But first, you need to calm down, otherwise we can’t help you." 

Niall took a deep breath, releasing one hand from his knee to grab onto Harry’s, clutching him tightly. 

"I’m right here," Harry whispered, feeling useless but unsure what else he could do to help his friend. 

Louis straightened up, quickly scanning the room. "Zayn, get him some water. Liam, go to the locker room and grab a hoodie and his documents," he instructed without hesitation before turning back to Niall. "Right, now I’m going to get my car and bring it round to the door, okay?" 

Niall nodded silently, sniffling, and Louis offered him a small encouraging smile before getting to his feet.

"Carry him to the car as soon as I get here," Louis said to the rest of the team, then looked down at Harry and told him, "Stay with him."

Harry ignored him, keeping his focus just on Niall. Beyond the pain, he could see all the fear on his friend's face triggered by such an injury. Making a diagnosis just by appearance was wrong, but it was impossible not to think of a possible cruciate ligament tear, a potentially huge blow to Niall’s promising sports career. He tried to keep Niall as distracted as possible, with the help of the other guys, while they threw in jokes to keep the mood up and meticulously followed Louis’s orders. They made him drink water and forced him to put on his hoodie so he wouldn’t leave the gym drenched in sweat. When they saw Louis’s car lights approaching the door, Harry and Liam lifted Niall who, despite his continued grimaces of pain, seemed visibly calmer. They sat him in the back seat so he could keep his leg stretched out. 

"I’m coming too," Harry announced, not bothering to ask for permission. 

He froze with his fingers on the car’s door handle, on the passenger side, when he heard through the half-open window Louis’s firm "No." 

«What?» he asked, incredulous. 

"You stay here and finish practice like everyone else," Louis’s tone was calm but authoritative. "They might not even let me in with him at the ER, there’s no point in you coming too."

"Don’t be an idiot, Harry. I’m fine," Niall said from inside the car and before Harry could respond, Louis started the engine and drove off. 

The rational part of Harry, buried under layers of worry and nerves, knew Louis was right, but it didn’t stop him from being even angrier at his assistant coach. 

None of them had the focus or the will to keep practicing but they had no choice, so they went back to the court with morale in the dirt and their minds on their friend. There was barely half an hour of work left, but to Harry those were the longest thirty minutes of his life. 

As soon as he entered the locker room, he pulled his phone out of his bag, hoping for some updates. Louis had sent a picture to the team group chat of Niall talking to a young and pretty nurse, probably snapped during triage, with a caption that read Looks like he’s in good hands.

A relieved laugh spread through the locker room as the other guys saw the text and the atmosphere immediately became a bit lighter.

"He should be at St. Thomas’s," Harry commented as he got undressed. "If anyone wants to come, I’ll shower and go."

Liam and Zayn were quick to join him in the first shower round and the rest of the team organized themselves to make sure everyone would be there for their friend. 

About half an hour later, when Harry parked near the hospital, he didn’t think twice before calling Niall. 

"Hello?" Louis’s voice answered. 

"Uh- hi," Harry nearly stuttered, caught off guard. "Niall?"

"No, it’s Louis."

Harry sighed, "I know. I meant, where is Niall? Can you put him on?"

"They took him away about ten minutes ago. He’s in line for an X-ray."

"Okay."

"He’s in pain, but he seems calm."

"Okay," Harry repeated, out of words. "We- uh, we’re out here."

"I’ll let him know."

Harry hesitated, not quite sure how to end the conversation. "Keep us posted" he said quickly, almost under his breath, before hanging up. 

"So you can actually talk to him civilly when you want to" Liam teased him, chuckling, earning a glare that only made him and Zayn laugh even more. Harry seriously considered reevaluating his friendships. 

"What did he say?" Zayn asked, perhaps sensing it wasn’t the time to push that topic.

"He’s about to get an X-ray."

They found a spot to sit on the low wall surrounding part of the square in front of the emergency room entrance, making sure not to get in the way of those who really needed to be inside the waiting room. Within about twenty minutes, the rest of the team arrived, along with Coach Haynes, who brought three pizzas and some sandwiches - all he could find at that hour - to share with the team. For some reason, Stan looked more and more like he was about to throw up with every minute that passed. 

Harry’s phone rang more than an hour after the boys had arrived.

"Louis?" he answered uncertainly, after seeing his name on the display. Suddenly, silence fell around him. 

"Hey," Louis cleared his throat weakly, "Niall just got back. Now we have to wait for them to call him for the orthopedic consultation."

"Did they say anything?"

"He said his favorite nurse told him while bringing him back that there shouldn't be any bone fractures," he chuckled softly, "But they gave him pretty strong painkillers, so I don't know how reliable he is."

"Tomlinson, you're such an asshole," he heard Niall slur in the background, "I love you and you treat me like this. Hug me."

Harry couldn't hold back his first genuine laugh of the evening, while Louis promised Niall he'd hug him as soon as he ended the call. 

"Do you think they'll keep you in there much longer?" Harry asked, prompted by Mitch. 

"Yeah, probably," Louis sighed. "There's too many people here and we've got a fucking green code, so of course we're the lowest priority."

"Sorry for not dying to get you to the front of the line," Niall protested before both burst into laughter. 

When Niall’s ongoing requests for attention made any kind of communication impossible, Harry and Louis gave up and ended the call.

"So?" Haynes asked, who had been watching him with a confused expression the whole time. "It sounds like good news, right?"

"No real news yet. He just had the X-ray, but still needs to be seen by the doctor" Harry explained, "On the bright side, he's high as a kite from the painkillers."

The whole team laughed, knowing their friend well enough to picture the situation. 

"It'll still be a while, though" Harry added. 

Haynes sighed, checking his watch. "Guys, I'm sorry but in five hours my alarm goes off for work."

"No problem, Coach" Isaac reassured him, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"As soon as you know something, update the group chat" Haynes advised, standing up from the wall. 

Stan stood up too, clearing his throat with visible discomfort. "Can you- uh, can you wait just five minutes?"

Everyone’s attention turned to him, but it was the Coach who responded. "Lucas, are you okay?"

Stan shook his head. "I- guys, I don't think I can do this."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oli asked, voicing the confusion written on everyone's faces.

"Let's not kid ourselves. We all know Niall's injury is serious. He'll be out for months." 

Stan was the only one, until that moment, who had the courage to say out loud what everyone was thinking. "I can't take his place" he continued, looking increasingly pale. "Guys, I can't do it. One or two games? Okay. But for the whole season? I just can't, I- I've been on the verge of a panic attack since I realised how bad it was."

The expression on Haynes' face immediately became serious. "We've just lost a libero, you can't abandon the team now that you're all we've got."

"I would never," Stan clarified, "even if it costs me my sanity."

"So what do you plan to do?" the Coach snapped, beginning to lose his patience. "Apart from crushing the team's morale as if what's happened already wasn't enough?"

"It's not my fault Niall got injured."

"Nobody’s saying that," Mitch interjected, as always trying to mediate, "It’s no one's fault, obviously. Stan, what's the point?"

"I've been thinking about it all evening," he nearly stuttered. "I would never back down unless there was no other option, and- well, I obviously won’t if you don’t agree with my proposal."

"What proposal?" Mitch encouraged him to continue.

"We ask Louis to play with us- as a libero, I mean."

A chorus of 'what?' rang out, with Harry’s sharp 'no' standing out clearly.

When everyone turned to him, Harry exclaimed, "Come on, that's madness."

"Why?" Stan asked.

"First of all, because he's a setter- like, he’s always been a setter" Harry explained, as if it weren't already obvious. "The last time he received a ball was probably when he was twelve."

"He played in the A League in Italy," his teammate retorted, astonished. "Our league is like- well, I don't know, it's like mini-volleyball for him."

"I know, but-"

Harry’s response was interrupted by Stan. "But what? Do you really think Louis bloody Tomlinson can’t handle the libero role in our team or that I’d be better than him?"

"What’s that got to do with it?" Harry asked, defensive.

Rationally there were a thousand good reasons why this was a terrible idea, but if he had to answer that specific question, he’d have to agree with Stan. There was no doubt that Louis would be up to the task, even in a position so far from his usual role.

"It matters because if there's even the slightest chance it could benefit the team, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try."

"Oh, please," Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. "This isn’t about helping the team, you’re just looking for a shortcut- or rather, an escape route to avoid taking responsibility and doing what you’ve been training for all these years."

Harry immediately regretted saying those words and the cold silence that fell around them made him realise he’d truly gone too far.

"Maybe I’m looking for an escape because I’m a coward, but at least I’m not selfish enough to sacrifice an entire season for the whole team just because I have personal issues with Louis," Stan’s reply came back sharp, like a slap to his face. "And can I just say that this never-ending saga between you two is ridiculous?" he continued, shaking his head almost in resignation. "You’re clearly his favourite, it’s obvious from a mile away, but you always act like the misunderstood mistreated diva."

Harry took the blow. For a few seconds, he stood there with his mouth open, trying to find words to defend himself because what Stan said wasn’t true but, just as he was about to respond, Haynes stepped in.

"Guys, enough" he said firmly, before addressing the rest of the team. "Does anyone else have anything to add?"

When everyone remained silent, the Coach turned back to Stan. "Talk to Louis. If you're convinced and he agrees, I’ve got no problem with it" he said, pausing briefly before adding, "Let’s make it clear from the start, though, that he won’t be paid a penny more than he already is, so if he wants to be both coach and player, he needs to understand the cost on all levels."

The notification of a text in the group chat immediately grabbed the team's attention. They all hurried to check the news, but it was just a selfie from Louis, with Niall asleep on a stretcher behind him. The message that accompanied the photo read Eventually they decided to put him down to make him shut up.

Louis of course couldn’t have known it, but he had managed to bring a laugh to the team right at the peak of tension, probably preventing the situation from escalating.

After ensuring things had calmed down, Coach Haynes left. No one brought up the subject again and it was clear that everyone was just ignoring the big elephant in the room to avoid starting another argument about something that had already been decided. It didn’t matter if Harry was completely against it, Louis would be asked to play with them.

Harry wasn’t overly worried, to be honest, because he was almost certain that Louis would say no. Maybe he couldn’t, given that they didn’t even know who owned his player’s rights or under what conditions his contract with the last club he had played for had ended allowing him to take that year off. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to, because what sane person would be willing to lower themselves so much - in a completely different role, no less - when just six months ago he had voluntarily given up the strongest league in the world?

Harry, among other things, didn’t think it was right to ask for his help. It wasn’t just his personal reasons that made him not want Louis to accept, but also a matter of team pride. They weren’t short of players, they had a second libero and could manage on their own. Why take the easier route? He hadn’t meant to offend Stan with the words he’d said earlier, but Harry truly couldn’t understand where his athletic pride had gone.

If everyone thought like him, then there would be no point in having substitutes. The bench players always had something to prove to earn their spot on the court, so why train as hard as the starters – if not harder – if, when needed, help was sought outside the team? In Harry’s mind, it made no sense whatsoever.

"Guys, here’s Louis," Oli suddenly announced, pointing to the entrance of the hospital.

Harry, like everyone else, instinctively turned in that direction and immediately recognised the familiar figure walking towards them, trying to light a cigarette.

"How’s the party going?" he asked jokingly, probably noticing the pile of rubbish they hadn’t thrown away yet. "Tell me there’s something left, I’m starving."

"Sorry, mate" Matt replied, shrugging his shoulders, "Not a crumb."

"Actually" Harry said, looking around to remember where he’d placed the wrapper, "I saved a sandwich." He handed it to Louis as soon as he found it. "Just in case you- uh, you or Niall- well, in case anyone was hungry."

Louis’s genuinely surprised expression shouldn’t have made Harry blush, but it did, because it wasn’t meant to be a kind gesture. He had just thought practically, unlike his greedy teammates.

"Thanks," Louis smiled almost shyly, taking the sandwich.

"What did the doctor say?" Liam asked, rescuing Harry from that sudden unwarranted moment of embarrassment.

"Nothing yet, we’re still waiting. Two red codes came in, so everything’s been stalled for more than half an hour," Louis huffed, clearly exhausted from the endless waiting. "The X-ray should’ve ruled out fractures, but without the MRI there’s no way to know the real damage."

"Shit," Zayn cursed. "When are they going to do it?"

"Not tonight, they don’t do MRIs in the ER," Louis explained. "Actually, we’re just waiting for the check-up to hear a partial diagnosis, get a prescription and then sign the discharge papers."

He took the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out and starting to eat.

"God, I was really starving" he repeated in an almost ecstatic tone, covering his mouth with his hand.

Harry looked away, finding a stain on the tip of his shoes suddenly very interesting.

"The ACL is definitely gone, though, even though I hope it’s just the anterior one," Louis added.

"Fuck, he’ll miss the whole season" Isaac commented, rubbing his face with a sigh.

"Two years ago when it happened to my- one of my teammates, Andrea, he was back on the court six months after surgery."

Harry’s gaze instinctively shifted back to Louis when he heard him mention his ex.

"I called him as soon as Niall fell asleep to get the number of the specialist who operated on him because he often works abroad, so maybe he could recommend a good one for us" Louis explained, but his gaze shifted to Harry. "He- uhm, offered to call him personally tomorrow morning to get us a bit of a priority, in a way."

"Well, that was kind of him," Liam smiled with a soft look, unlike Harry, who barely held back the urge to scoff.

"Wait, but- oh my God! That Andrea?" Isaac exclaimed, his eyes wide when he realised who they were talking about. "Andrea Merlo?"

"That's him," Louis replied, arching an eyebrow sarcastically, as if it were some kind of secret language between him and Harry, before turning to Isaac, who was still trying to process the news.

"How do I always forget that you know all my idols?" he asked, putting his hands on his face. "Are you going to introduce him to us somehow? Please, anything's fine- a video call?"

Louis hesitated for a moment, probably unsure of how to handle the situation without revealing too much. It was a bit ironic to think how he was constantly forced to speak - positively, too - about the ex who had broken his heart just a few months before. Harry thought he would almost feel sorry for him, if not for how he'd treated him instead.

"I- uh, okay... sure," Louis finally replied, giving in with a tight-lipped smile.

Even Michael seemed particularly interested in the conversation, unable to resist the temptation to ask the question that was probably on half the team's minds. "But is it true that he's with- "

"Louis, your phone's ringing," Harry interrupted him, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"No?" Louis pulled it out of his sweatpants pocket to check.

"Oh- uh, I was sure I heard your ringtone" Harry mumbled, suddenly pretending to be busy balancing the pile of trash they still needed to throw away. "I thought, uh, well... It could've been Niall. Sorry."

Harry could feel Louis’s gaze on him, but he had no intention of looking up just to see that smug expression. He didn’t want his hypothetical gratitude for changing the subject either. He wanted nothing from him.

Louis stayed silent for a few seconds, but before he could say anything, it was Stan who spoke up.

"Before you go back inside," he hesitated briefly, probably trying to find the right words, and Harry had to resist the urge to intervene again to stop him from continuing. "I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just get straight to the point: Louis, would you like to be our libero?"

To everyone's surprise, Louis started laughing, leaning slightly backward. "Why does this sound like a marriage proposal?"

When he realised that, apart from a few chuckles, no one was joking, he seemed to focus on the question. "Wait, were you serious?"

Harry looked up at them, noticing how they were, in a way, studying each other.

Stan nodded, "Fucking serious."

There was a few more seconds of silence, then Louis furrowed his brow. "But- what the fuck?" He shook his head as if the very idea was ridiculous, before exclaiming, "No."

Harry hadn’t even realised how tense he was until, at that moment, he felt his shoulders relax. He would never admit it out loud, but a small part of him had feared Louis might actually say yes to such an absurd proposal.

Stan, on the other hand, seemed completely taken aback by the refusal. "Why?" he asked. "Is it a contract issue? Do you still have any obligations with your last club?"

"No, it just seems like a ridiculous request," Louis replied sincerely.

"It’s not, we need a libero," Stan insisted.

"You’re the libero of the team," Louis said, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Look… I’m sorry, I’m serious. I don’t want to sound mean or ungrateful, but I’m not going to accept." He sighed, "It’s hard to say, but try to understand what I mean when I say this is your opportunity and you can’t just let it slip away after all these years of sacrifices."

Louis always knew just what to say and, at that moment, Harry found it a bit more annoying than usual, because in the end they were saying the same thing but with completely different outcomes. The cherry on top, which only heightened the acidity in his stomach, was the fact that the only person Louis seemed to never find the right words for was Harry.

"I know, but… I- I know you’re right and I think I could play if I had the certainty I could be replaced on my off days, because… you know how I am and when it’s off, it’s just off" Stan explained, opening up to Louis more than he had with the rest of the team. "What if you were on the team with us, but as the second libero?"

Louis couldn’t hold back a laugh at that proposal. "Lucas, if this is just a way to see me sitting on the bench  in shorts, just say it… I won’t judge you."

The entire team burst out laughing when Stan turned red, caught off guard. Even Harry bit his lip with an amused expression. For once, at least, he wasn’t the victim of these kinds of jokes.

"Sorry, I couldn’t resist," Louis chuckled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, before getting serious again, though by then the general atmosphere had relaxed. "Don’t tell your teammates, but I think they’re capable of receiving and defending well enough, so - if it ever comes to having to put you on the bench - they can manage on their own. As horrible as it might look, the world won’t end if Oli-the-goat does a pass."

Stan’s expression was a mix of relief and confusion, but Harry understood him well, because Louis always had the ability to charm anyone. You instinctively found yourself agreeing with him, even going against your own ideas, because it was simply impossible to say no when he spoke like that. All Harry had to do was look at Stan’s puzzled frown - which seemed to ask How did we get to this point? - to know that he would regret giving in to Louis’s charm the moment he was far enough to make its influence disappear.

"Promise me you’ll think about it?" Stan made one last attempt.

The smile Louis gave him was kind but sly. "Only if you promise me you’ll really think about what I said."

He went back inside the emergency room a few minutes later, just long enough to smoke another cigarette before bidding everyone goodbye and encouraging them to head home.

Harry was right; it didn’t take long for Stan to realize what had just happened, letting out a sigh and muttering, "I don’t even understand how he managed to convince me."

"It had to happen to you eventually," Isaac teased him, "Welcome to the club of victims of Tomlinson and his magical tongue."

His cheeks immediately flushed when he realised how those words could be misinterpreted and the whole team burst into laughter, making fun of his embarrassment.

Harry laughed along with them, but lowered his face to hide how much he, too, had blushed. He knew all too well the magic that Louis’s tongue was capable of.

If they only knew.

๑

In the end, Louis agreed.

Harry couldn’t quite grasp how it had happened or what had convinced him. All he knew was that on that Friday afternoon, out of nowhere, rumours started circulating among the boys about a meeting between Stan, Haynes and Louis.
Given how things had gone the night before, everyone assumed the purpose of the meeting was to talk to Stan about his insecurities, to help him overcome them and face the challenge ahead with a clear mind.

When the team arrived at the gym for training that evening, Haynes’ office door was still shut and voices could be heard clearly from inside.
The first sign that something was off was the triumphant expression on Stan’s face as he stepped onto the court, followed by a slightly more serious-than-usual Louis and a Coach who looked as though he’d just won the lottery yet remained utterly bewildered by life itself.

There were no detailed explanations about how or why Louis had agreed, but Harry knew that, naturally, Louis had set some rules. As always.
He made it clear from the start that he wouldn’t take on a player-coach role, as the professional detachment required as a coach would make it impossible for him to fully integrate into the team dynamics as a player. He would remain a sort of expert consultant for Haynes, continuing to handle video analysis and match study, but otherwise he’d be just a regular player like everyone else.

Louis had also agreed to play only until the end of the Royal Cup. Once the league season began, Stan would take over the starting position on the court. They would assess the specifics along the way, depending on Stan’s development, which remained the primary goal of the arrangement. In any case, during the league, Louis would never play more than half a match.

For Harry, this news felt like a cold shower.
He didn’t want to sound melodramatic, but that first practice together was genuinely one of the toughest moments of his life. The biggest challenge had been the lack of time to process the change and prepare himself mentally. Harry had arrived at the gym ready for yet another evening spent trying to provoke any sort of reaction from his assistant coach - who he was still angry with - only to find himself needing to build a connection with a new teammate instead.

This was one of the fundamental principles for anyone who played team sports: on the court there were neither friends nor enemies.
It wasn’t just about coexisting peacefully with unpleasant people or avoiding favouritism towards the nicer ones; it was about knowing and respecting every teammate equally regardless of whether, off the court, that person was your worst enemy, a brother or a lover.

In everyday life, Harry could hold a grudge against Louis for years, but during those two-hour training sessions or matches he’d have to trust him. He’d have to seek and offer support to Louis and they would celebrate and cry together. Harry and Louis would be a team.

That was the hardest part for Harry during that first practice because, in some way, he would learn to silence the fourteen-year-old inside him who only needed to see Louis play volleyball to spiral into a powerful hormonal crisis, but he wasn’t sure he could maintain the clarity needed to remember the humiliations and the arguments. He knew it would be all too easy to give in to the smiles, the sweet words and those blue eyes that always managed to turn his world upside down.

The warning Niall had given him a few days earlier suddenly made more sense than ever: if he wasn’t careful, he would only end up getting hurt.

The realisation that worsened his emotional state came on Saturday, just before they set off for the Royal Cup weekend.
The thought hit him out of the blue as he was packing his bag for the trip.

Surely, he should have realised sooner, but with everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours and the worry over his best friend’s serious injury, he had never really stopped to think about it.
He and Louis would be roommates.

Harry sat on the floor, resting his back against the bed and taking deep breaths, hoping to stave off the rising panic. With Niall out of action for months, Louis wouldn’t just take his place on the court but in everything else too. And since the universe apparently hated Harry, Niall had been assigned as his roommate for away games weeks before. He and Louis would be forced to share a room for the rest of the season.

He felt like crying.
How on earth would he survive without losing his mind? How would he keep reminding himself to switch his brain back on as soon as he left the court?

Twice now, whenever he had spent time alone with Louis, he had been completely unprepared and defenceless. He had let his guard down without even realising it - because with Louis, it was so damn easy - allowing the butterflies in his stomach and the desire to take control.

He covered his face with his hands, drawing a deep breath as he thought back to just a few hours earlier, after training had ended, when he’d pretended to be late for an urgent appointment just to leave without showering and, more importantly, to avoid being there while Louis wandered around the locker room stark naked.

He’d thought that was the biggest hurdle to overcome to maintain his dignity and the last shreds of sanity he had left. But now, that seemed almost ridiculous compared to the real, enormous problem of sharing a room.

Harry couldn’t give in to the desire that clouded his mind every time he dealt with Louis. He couldn’t risk losing control of his hands - or his tongue, or any other part of his body - when Louis would be wandering half-naked around their bedroom. He couldn’t let him treat him like a whore again, because in that case Louis would be right to think that of him. 

Harry was fucked. 

In reality, however, Harry’s difficulties began much earlier than expected and for him it would be a miracle just to make it to the night in the room with Louis alive, because another thing he hadn’t accounted for, not even in his imagination, was the effect of seeing him in the team uniform. 

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing him in shorts and a t-shirt, but when he first laid eyes on Louis dressed entirely in white, he thought he would never be able to look away again. It was simply illegal. 

For a moment, in that instant, he cursed his best friend because if Niall had played in any other role, he would have had the blue uniform like the rest of the team. But he was the libero so, according to the rules, he had to wear a different colour. They hadn’t even had time to print a new shirt, so Louis would be wearing Niall’s uniform, complete with Horan written on the back and a number Harry had never seen him play with before. Louis had always been number twenty-eight; it would be weird to read a plain ten on his shirt. 

In the locker room, Zayn even took a photo of him from behind, as Louis looked back over his shoulder pointing with both thumbs at the surname written on his back. They sent it to the team chat and, when Niall saw it, he replied with a voice note where he was laughing breathlessly, asking Louis if he wanted an autograph. 

Harry didn’t know whether to be grateful to have that photo on his phone or to curse his friends for providing him with material that could cost him his sanity. 

Luckily for him, though, Louis quickly changed into the warm-up shirt, an innocent blue t-shirt identical to everyone else’s, which gave Harry a chance to find a shred of pre-match focus. 

Shortly before the warm-up ended, while the last serves were still flying from one side of the court to the other, Harry sat on the bench for a moment, searching among the various bottles for the green one he had brought with him for this away game. He took a sip of water, continuing to hold it tightly in his hands with his eyes closed, in what had become his new pre-match ritual that he was trying to get used to. 

He never thought of himself as superstitious, he hadn’t even realised it until he was almost forced to change his habits. He knew perfectly well that his performance on the court depended on nothing but himself, but he had always found comfort in those small automatic gestures that, in a way, awakened his self-awareness and helped him focus on the match, shutting out everything else. 

He quickly reviewed all the information about the game, took another deep breath and opened his eyes just as the referee blew the whistle to end the warm-up and his teammates joined him on the bench to drink and change from the warm-up shirt to the uniform. 

The focus he had just found went blissfully to hell as soon as Louis stood shirtless a few steps away from him. 

There was no hope left for his dignity either, as he physically couldn’t take his eyes off Louis while he put on that shirt, probably at least a size too big, and tucked it into those white shorts which only seemed to emphasise how absolutely perfect his arse was. 

He swallowed hard, taking another sip of water to try to balance his salivation before standing up and turning his back on him so he could mentally slap himself while changing his own shirt. 

The first set was an unexpected success, there was simply no contest. The Cambridge players experienced the Tomlinson effect on a psychological level, clearly feeling intimidated by the presence of an opponent of his caliber, even if in a role that didn't quite suit him. Harry could understand them because he was the first to be unable to comprehend the fact that he was his teammate, but that didn’t mean he had an ounce of pity for them and he used every shot he had to close the set as quickly as possible. 

The Blue Bees knew their opponents too well not to expect a comeback in the second set, so they didn’t lull themselves into thinking they could continue to have an easy ride and were ready to react as soon as the game became more competitive. 

Harry felt unbeatable that day and every time he went to the centre of the court to celebrate in the embrace of his teammates after a point, he could feel the same energy from them. 

It wasn’t because Louis was making a difference on the court  - he was phenomenal, sure, but no more than Niall - it was more a matter of spirit: a team that, when everything seemed lost, had stayed together and found a way to rise again as one , Louis included. 

They fought point by point and won the second set as well, but they only started to believe they could actually win halfway through the third set. That rally had been going on for several exchanges without either side showing the slightest intention of giving up. Murray tried to settle it by hitting hard against the block and the ball shot up towards the back of the gym. Louis and Zayn sprinted after it, while the rest of the guys tried to provide support. Louis’s acceleration was impressive and, just when all hope seemed lost, he slid in with his foot, kicking the ball up and back towards the court. 

Harry didn’t take his eyes off the ball’s trajectory for a second, running to position himself perfectly because he knew Mitch would try to give him the responsibility of sending such a delicate ball to the other side. It wasn’t just the importance of not wasting a spectacular save, it was also the immense difficulty of attacking a set coming from almost the back of the court. 

Mitch did the only thing he could, sending him the highest ball he could push. Harry took a few steps back to find the right trajectory and, looking back to never lose sight of it, he began his approach for the attack, evaluating in a split second how to handle that shot. 

He was too far from the net to try to smash it, he’d only risk not getting it over the net, and such a set also meant a well-placed triple block in front of him closing off almost all his attack options. The Harry of some time ago would have chosen to play it safe, he wouldn’t have aimed to score but simply to avoid making a mistake. But right then, Harry couldn’t look at that ball without feeling the need to be the one who would close that fucking point.

He decided to become that reckless opposite hitter he had so desperately tried to find the courage to unleash in recent weeks. He jumped and spiked the ball with all his strength against the outer part of the opposing block. The ball bounced off Murray’s forearm and shot straight into the bleachers, impossible to save.

Harry barely had time to turn his back to the net and let out a liberating shout before Louis threw his arms around him, quickly followed by the rest of the team. The entire crowd, regardless of allegiance, applauded the teams on the court for the show they had just witnessed. For a moment, Harry couldn’t understand anything.

“Yes! Fucking yes!” Zayn shouted, leaping onto his back.

Mitch ruffled his hair vigorously while Matt and Oli smacked his arse, shouting with joy.

Louis took his face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together as he exclaimed “That’s my fucking opposite!”

It was just another point, nothing that would make a practical difference or grant victory to anyone, but psychologically it felt like a down payment on that match. They had just proven they were more determined and more confident.

Cambridge felt the psychological blow of that point and struggled to regain momentum, allowing the Blue Bees to gain a couple of points’ lead, an advantage that proved crucial when their opponents pulled themselves together and started fighting back.

They closed the match with a block from Isaac and, as soon as the ball hit the ground, the whole team rushed onto the court, engulfing him in the celebration of their first significant victory against their toughest rival.

As soon as they entered the locker room Harry video-called Niall, who had flooded the group chat with dozens of texts hoping that at least the Coach would give him updates on the match’s progress. Niall answered on the second ring and his smile widened enormously when he saw the entire team crowding into the frame, all shouting and jumping.

“I don’t believe it!” he yelled back.

They quickly recapped the match for him while, one by one, the first few players began heading to the showers. It wasn’t the same as having him there but they were a team and, even from a distance, they would always remain united.

They didn’t head back to the dorm after the match because Coach Haynes decided to reward that achievement by taking them out to dinner. Harry loved every single moment of that evening. They didn’t stay out too late because, despite having the morning off, they still had a game to play the next day.

When they arrived back at the dorm, Harry spent some time chatting with Michael and Isaac before heading to bed. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he tried to push away the anxiety that was creeping back in. He didn’t want to ruin such a beautiful night with negative feelings. He didn’t want to walk into the room and end up arguing or acting grumpy, he was happy and he didn’t want to fake a different mood over some stupid pride.

He opened the door cautiously, he wasn’t even sure why, and when he entered he found that Louis was not only already there but also already changed for the night. He had taken the bed on the right, the one closest to the window, and was watching a movie on his laptop.

Louis absentmindedly glanced up from the screen, took out one of his earphones and gave a half-smile. Harry mirrored it, a bit awkwardly, and closed the door behind him setting his bag on the floor.

“I took this bed, but- uh, if you’d prefer it, I don’t mind swapping,” Louis said. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask earlier.”

Harry shrugged. “No problem, I don’t have a preference.”

“Okay,” Louis replied, putting his earphone back in.

Harry guessed that was the end of any possible conversation and, just a little bit - only a pinch - felt disappointed. He sighed, grabbed some shorts and a t-shirt from his bag and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he returned Louis was more or less in the same position as before, focused on his film, but he had turned off the main light, leaving only the small lamp near Harry’s bed on. That too seemed like a pretty clear message.

Harry slipped under the covers, muttering a 'goodnight' he didn’t expect would even be heard.

“Goodnight,” Louis replied softly, his tone almost sweet, contrasting with the fact that he hadn’t even taken his eyes off the screen.

Nothing Harry had feared so much in the past few hours was happening, but somehow his mood shifted anyway. He tried to distract himself by replying to a few texts or wasting time on Twitter and Instagram.

That night had only proved how incapable Harry was of managing this situation with a clear head. It had only taken the euphoria of the win and the general celebratory atmosphere to send him right back to square one, to make him forget the state of their relationship and how frustrating it was to be treated by Louis as if he were just anyone. A stranger. Like now.

When he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Louis had fallen asleep while watching his movie, Harry spent a few moments captivated by studying his perfect profile. He didn’t want to seem creepy, but it was the first time he could allow himself to look at him openly without the risk of being caught.

He turned off the light a few seconds later, shaken by how little it took for his heart to change its rhythm. It was as if Louis only had to exist to make it skip a beat, and that scared Harry.

The next morning, when he woke up, Louis was already gone.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered, taking it out on his pillow.

Chapter Text

"So, how’s life without me?"

"I didn’t realise you were dead," Harry replied, grabbing a cookie from the pack he had brought for Niall, which was resting on his bed right between the two of them.

Harry really needed his best friend at that moment, so he hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of the free hours before Monday’s practice to visit him. He had bought some snacks along the way and then lay down next to him, not even waiting to be invited. With Niall, it wasn’t necessary, there was always space for Harry in his bed.

In any case, Niall couldn’t have done much to oppose it, given that he had been stuck there for days with some pillows propping up his leg and an ice pack always ready.
However, Harry had brought food, so he felt less guilty for the intrusion.

"Dead and buried," Niall replied in an overly dramatic tone. "You’ve already replaced me."

"Please," Harry nearly growled. "Don’t remind me, I might hate you for getting injured."

Niall laughed, swallowing another cookie. "Oh, sorry, I wouldn’t want my broken knee to make you suffer too much."

"I swear, I’m suffering more than you," he kept complaining. "You left me alone with Louis."

"That was the goal."

Harry turned his head toward him, frowning. "Did you tear your ACL just to spite me?"

"Let’s not exaggerate," Niall laughed. "But I did work all night for you in the emergency room. Who do you think convinced him to agree?"

Harry sat up abruptly, turning his whole body toward him to show all his indignation. "You- what? "

Niall raised an eyebrow, not impressed, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Someone had to do it, considering you’re both idiots. There’s no point in looking at me like that."

"How should I look at you? I’ve just been betrayed by my best friend."

Maybe he should have called him his ex-best friend, considering Niall started laughing again.

"Come back here" Niall said, patting the bed to indicate he should lie down next to him again. "Tell me how the first night with your new roommate went."

Harry stared at him with his mouth open, theatrically placing a hand over his heart. "Was it all planned?" he exclaimed, eyes wide. "How could you do this to me?"

"Oh, come on," Niall rolled his eyes. "You know him. He and that stick up his ass would never have taken this opportunity without a little brainwashing" he explained with an amused tone. "Tempting him was too easy. In my opinion, deep down he wanted to say yes from the start, I just had to push the right buttons. The real problem was fighting that fucking rigid mindset of his."

"Don’t tell me," Harry scoffed ironically.

"Luckily, I’m used to dealing with you. You can be even more stubborn and thick-headed than him when you want to be, so I know how to use my aces up my sleeve."

Harry shot him a dirty look. "I’m not like him."

"No, you’re worse" Niall replied, shielding himself with his arms when Harry threw a pillow at him. "At least I can reason with him."

"Okay, let’s leave me out of this," Harry took a deep breath. "It’s not fair to Stan."

"Don’t hide behind Stan just because you’re afraid of Louis. You know if it wasn’t the best choice for him too, none of us would have even considered it."

"I admit Louis found a great compromise to give him the time he needs" Harry muttered, grabbing the pack of cookies and hugging it to his chest. "But you don’t deserve these, so now they’re all mine."

"I’m literally pushing you into bed with the guy you’re crushing on, and this is my reward?"

"Well, it’s clear it didn’t go as you expected."

"Okay, I can accept that for now," Niall sighed. "But you were shut in the same room all night. You must have at least talked about whatever your problem is or argued- I don’t know, anything."

"No," Harry lowered his gaze under the excuse of choosing another cookie to eat. "Maybe we exchanged five words in total before he started ignoring me again."

"But- no, wait. Let’s start over. Tell me everything, because it doesn’t make sense."

"I swear, that’s how it went."

"If I say it doesn’t make sense, it means it doesn’t make sense," Niall insisted firmly. "I shouldn’t tell you this and I won’t give you any details, but the other night Louis talked about you the entire time."

Harry’s head shot up, looking at his friend with an incredulous expression. "What do you mean?"

"Not like you do when you send me fifteen ten-minute voice notes venting, thank God," he tried to steal a cookie without success. "But he managed to steer any conversation back to you. I don’t even think he realised it."

"What did he say?"

"You’ll never hear anything from me."

"Come on, Niall," Harry pleaded. "Why did you tell me if you’re not going to say more?"

"You should know I don’t go around spilling what my friends confide in me."

"Oh, so now Louis is a friend?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "A few days ago, you were warning me about him and now you’re sharing secrets?"

"Jealous?" he teased before bursting into laughter. "I’ve never been against Louis as a person, you know that. I was only worried about the possible consequences and not because him being our coach would be a drama, but because you two would definitely make it a problem."

Harry looked away, biting his lip, so Niall continued.

"I adore Louis, especially after getting to know him in a different light. Let’s just say spending time with him made me understand why you looked at him that way in that selfie."

"Jesus, not that picture again," Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Are you telling me you’ve got a crush on him?"

"Did you just admit you have a crush on him?" Niall shot back, a sly smile on his face.

"Why is it so important for you to hear me say I have a crush?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Admitting there’s a problem is the first step to solving it."

Harry would have gladly punched that smug expression off his face. He didn’t even feel guilty about hitting someone who was already down.

"Okay- okay, fine. If it makes you happier to hear me say it, I might have a crush on Louis," Harry confessed to himself for the first time too. "I- I have a crush on Louis" he repeated softly, feeling his cheeks burn. "But now - please - tell me how to fix this, because I need to get over it at all costs."

"That’s not the kind of solution I meant. I was thinking more along the lines of finding a way to sort out your mental issues and finally get laid."

Harry’s breath caught in his throat because he knew it was time to tell the truth to his best friend or he’d lose his mind.

"Uh, do you remember the night of the selfie?" he asked, his voice faltering.

Niall nodded, looking at him curiously, probably because Harry kept turning redder by the second.

"Well, uh, that afternoon was… well, he- it was beautiful. He was beautiful. That’s not new, I know, but… in general, I thought I’d feel awkward being alone with him, but it was so fun that after a while I almost forgot it was him," he hesitated for a moment, unsure how to continue. "A-and… uh, Niall, I swear, it seemed like he was flirting."

"He’s been flirting with you since day one," Niall replied, scoffing.

"No, I mean- maybe?" Harry stammered. "But I’m talking about real flirting," he rubbed his face with his hand, growing more flustered. "Okay, yeah, I flirted with him too. Actually, I might have let myself go a bit too far, but- but he never pulled back, you know?"

"Usually, that’s how it works when you like someone," Niall teased affectionately before his eyes suddenly widened as if struck by a revelation. "Oh my God!" he almost shouted. "You guys fucked that night, that’s why you couldn’t even look at each other the next day in the gym."

"No," Harry quickly clarified, "We didn’t fuck, but- uhm, we kissed and then - you know - we kind of lost control of the situation. That’s all."

Niall raised both eyebrows, barely containing his laughter. "You lost control?"

"Don't say it like that," Harry swatted him on the arm. "Not totally," he exhaled to try to calm himself. "Okay. I gave him a blowjob, alright?"

That finally managed to stop Niall from laughing, looking somewhere between shocked and about to throw up. "Too much information! Too much information!" he exclaimed, covering his ears.

Harry leaned forward, laughing, to grab Niall’s wrists and pull his hands away. "Now you understand why we couldn’t even look at each other?"

"Now I won’t be able to look at him the same way either," Niall protested.

"It was only fair you share in my discomfort," Harry chuckled in response.

"Fuck you," Niall couldn’t help but laugh despite his almost disgusted expression. "And then?"

"Well, after that practice, he asked me if we could talk and suggested we go for a drink together - y'know - to try to ease the awkwardness."

"Try to- what?" Niall burst into laughter. "Did he actually say that?"

"Yeah," Harry frowned. "What’s wrong?"

"Such a loser," Niall mumbled through his laughter.

"What? Why?" Harry genuinely didn’t understand his reaction. "He told me he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened and that, in order to get back to normal, he - uh, like - needed to spend some quiet time with me."

Niall nodded, struggling to stay serious. "Quiet time, right."

"Yeah, like… uh, just to chat about nothing, stuff like that."

"Wait, I think there’s a word for that," he curled his lip as if pretending to think it over, "Ah, date!"

"It wasn’t a date."

"Just because Louis didn’t have the guts to ask you directly and came up with these loser excuses that - by the way - only you would believe, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a date."

Harry sighed in frustration, feeling his cheeks turn even redder. "Call it whatever you want, but it wasn’t a date. We just stayed there for hours at Night Changes, drinking and talking."

"Maybe he even paid for you."

The look Harry gave him was enough to send another wave of laughter through Niall.

"Yeah, but I tried to protest."

"Obviously."

Harry decided to ignore him. "Ni’, I think I made a mistake going there that night."

"Why?"

"I don’t know, for a lot of reasons," he sighed as the chaos in his mind threatened to drive him crazy. "Too many things have changed."

Niall placed a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. "Like what?"

Harry’s heart raced just at the thought of what he was about to admit for the first time. "I think that night Louis started to like me," he shrugged slightly, "I don’t know how to explain it, it’s… kind of everything, actually. It’s the fact that you could listen to him for hours and never get bored, because even when he says stupid stuff it’s never boring. It’s the fact that outside the gym he’s a totally different person, much more open and, in his own way, sweet. It’s the fact that he doesn’t even realise how cute he is when he laughs or when he keeps fixing his fringe. It’s- maybe, it’s mainly the fact that he always gives his full attention. It’s not just about listening, he’s attentive in the right way because not only does he put you on a pedestal, but he makes you feel like you actually deserve to be up there."

For a moment, silence hung in the air and only then did Harry realise how much more serious the situation was than he had thought. It hit him like a bolt out of the blue, because until those words had left his mouth, he hadn’t even realised how good Louis made him feel. He had always focused mainly on the negative feelings when it came to him, never giving room to the rest.

"Okay, maybe your crush is a bit more intense than I expected," Niall said quietly, "But it’s not a bad thing."

Harry turned his gaze away, hoping Niall hadn’t noticed how his eyes were starting to glisten. If he did, though, Harry was grateful he didn’t make it obvious, because he felt ridiculous having teary eyes for a guy with whom, in reality, there was nothing at all. "Yeah, it is, because you know how things go with me and Louis. One way or another, when we’re together it always ends up a mess."

"What went wrong that night?"

"Nothing, it was all fucking perfect. We stayed talking until the pub closed, and- we weren’t drunk, but- you know when you’re tipsy enough to say and do whatever crosses your mind without thinking too much?" Harry sighed. "When he kissed me in the end, I think I lost my mind completely."

“Oh,” Niall’s reaction seemed pleasantly surprised. “So the perfect non-date ended with a kiss?”

“No, the perfect non-date ended in Louis's bed.”

Niall leaned forward, trying to catch Harry’s gaze. “Are you messing with me?”

Harry shook his head. “We had sex, and then- uh, I didn’t intend to stay, obviously, but we fell asleep and the next morning was horrible.”

“Tell me you didn’t run off or that he didn’t kick you out?”

Harry shifted to lean against the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest. “No, I- I panicked, but I didn’t run off, at least not until Louis started saying stupid things about how nothing would change between us in the gym, how there wouldn’t be any favoritism or- well, I don’t know,” his eyes clouded over again. “I lost it. I felt accused, like with his fucking diplomatic approach, he was trying to tell me I slept with him just to get something out of it. It was so humiliating.”

“Didn’t he try to explain?”

“Yeah, but do you think I was going to stick around to listen after what he said?”

“Maybe that wasn’t what he meant,” Niall suggested. “Did you think he might have panicked too, just like you?”

“Ni’, at the time I didn’t even think about finishing getting dressed, I just threw my shoes on the stairs,” Harry replied a little defensively.

The truth was, Harry hadn’t considered that possibility because, as stupid as it seemed, without an outside suggestion he wouldn’t have thought about Louis panicking. Louis was the one who could handle any situation, he always had the answers. Maybe it was Harry who needed to start accepting that, deep down, Louis was human too.

“I’m not trying to defend him because maybe he really was just a jerk,” Niall’s preamble already made Harry suspect he wouldn’t like what was coming. “But you know what he’s like, how rigid he is with the whole respect for roles, rules and everything else. If there’s a line to follow, no mistakes are allowed. You have no idea how hard it was to get him to understand that the world wouldn’t end if he stepped slightly out of line and accepted the coach-player dynamic. In the end, he found a way to separate the two things. I fought to convince him because I thought the only way to push him to try with you was to get rid of that fucking mental block about being your coach, because it was clear that was the issue.”

“Too late, I guess.”

“No, you didn’t get what I’m saying. I don’t know if he did it consciously, but it doesn’t change the fact that Louis put aside his role for you twice,” Niall explained, his voice carrying a reassuring tone. “The first time, okay. It happens, right? One gets caught up in the moment. But the second time, he chose to ask you out and if all that crap he told you to justify himself were true, he would’ve been the same Louis as in the gym. I can guarantee you, you wouldn’t have ended up in bed. You know him better than I do, you know that’s how he is.”

Harry remained silent, reflecting on those words because, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Niall was right. He had spent a week thinking about Louis and what had happened, while Niall had only needed five minutes to dismantle everything Harry had believed.

“Okay,” he finally murmured. “So?”

“So, what?”

“So, let’s admit that I want to clear things up with him” Harry said, fiddling with a thread on the blanket. “How do I do that now that he regrets everything that happened?”

“He said that?”

Harry shook his head, then shrugged with a slightly defeated, resigned air. “No, but he’s started treating me like I don’t exist.”

“That’s not what I saw in the gym.”

“But it is,” Harry turned towards him and couldn’t help but pout. “It wouldn’t make any difference if it were you or me in front of him, it’s like I’m nobody anymore.”

“I’ll pretend I’m not hurt by that,” Niall joked, giving him a light push on the shoulder. “And by the way, Louis and I have a great relationship, I’m special to him, thank you very much.”

Harry laughed with him. “So you get me when I say that after being the center of his attention it’s incredibly frustrating to suddenly become just anyone?”

“I shouldn’t say this and I hate you for making me, but you’re my best mate” Niall said, catching Harry’s attention, who tilted his head slightly to get a better look at him. “I don’t know exactly what you said to him when you argued - well, apart from what you yelled at him in the gym in front of everyone - but when we were at the hospital Louis mentioned that he’d said something wrong to you and asked for some advice on how to fix it.”

Harry tried to ignore the way butterflies filled his stomach and every other vital organ. “Seriously?”

“I swear,” Niall replied with a fond smile. “Honestly, even if I knew all the backstory, I would’ve just told him to try talking to you.”

“But he didn’t,” Harry murmured, a note of disappointment in his voice.

“And what did you do to change things?” Niall raised an eyebrow, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “Apart from acting like a kid in kindergarten to annoy him, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I was angry,” Harry defended himself.

“But you’re not anymore and you’ve got a crush as big as his ass, so get a move on.”

Harry slid down further, lying back down next to his best friend. “What if I skip training today?”

Niall burst out laughing. “You’d never do that, especially for a guy.”

“There’s always a first time.”

“There won’t be,” Niall said reassuringly. “You’ll go there and you’ll get your guy before either of you can make another stupid mess. Nothing can go wrong: you like him, he likes you, you’ve already had sex, what are you afraid of?”

“Honestly? Everything... and this drives me crazy because it’s not like me,” Harry sighed, then stopped to think for a few seconds. “Sometimes I think the problem is Louis.”

“How?”

"I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s- uh, it’s Louis. The person I idealized for half of my teenage years just because in my head he was the perfect prince charming: the beautiful, kind and funny guy who always knows what to say and who was my first unforgettable kiss, before disappearing from my life,” Harry bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, “What if it’s all just in my head? What if I feel this way about him because, now that he’s reappeared out of nowhere, a part of me just wants to live out the story I fantasized about years ago?”

“You can only know that for yourself and I’m not much help when it comes to unforgettable kisses, because unfortunately Louis hasn’t completely fallen at my feet yet,” Niall downplayed, “But I can tell you that you’ve described the same guy I know, so it’s not just in your head.”

“Yeah, but- there are things that, uh- God, why does it have to be so complicated?” Harry let out a frustrated groan.

On one hand, he couldn’t wait to finally get some things off his chest, things he’d never talked about with anyone, but on the other hand he was terrified of looking even more pathetic. He knew Niall would never judge him, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

“There are things- uhm, things that are only about me, but they’re connected to Louis in a way,” he added.

“Things that- what?” Niall asked, confused. “What does that mean?”

“Like, uh, the fact that I caused all that trouble years ago to change my role,” Harry tried to explain. “It was advice Louis gave me that summer at the camp and I trusted him. I didn’t do it for him, of course, it was something I decided to do for myself, but that doesn’t change the fact that I questioned my life, going against everyone and everything, just because I thought a guy I knew for five minutes was right.”

“He was right, though,” Niall observed.

“I know, and I kept telling myself that every time I had a breakdown because I didn’t want to sit on the bench or argued with the Coach,” Harry stopped, the rest of his thoughts hanging on the tip of his tongue. “Can I confess something really embarrassing that I’ve never told anyone?”

“You know you can, and I’ll only tease you a little.”

Harry raised one arm over his eyes to hide his face as he gathered the courage to tell him something he’d sworn to himself he’d never confess to anyone.

“Do you remember my old water bottle? The blue one with the green strap?”

“Of course, you had it for years before you entered this new phase of existential crisis where you change one every day,” Niall teased affectionately, “I don’t get it, what’s the connection?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Harry whined. “Uh, the night when all that chaos happened at the summer camp, he found me alone because he was passing by that little path to fill up the bottle.”

“Oh my God!” Niall whispered, sensing where this story was going. “Did you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it!” Harry replied, almost offended. “He gave it to me, he insisted I drink and- I swear I was about to give it back before he left, but then he kissed me and I, uh- I believe neither of us noticed until I found myself there, alone, standing with my heart racing and his bottle in my hand.”

“And you kept it until- oh, now I get it.”

“Until Louis came back out of nowhere to ruin my life?” Harry let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah.”

“It’s a sweet thing, it’s not that embarrassing.”

“Niall, please,” Harry whined, shifting his arm to cover his face with both hands. “It’s embarrassing to death and it’s not sweet, it was never a sweet thing” he protested, his heart racing, “Okay, maybe at first, because I was young and romantic and that was the only memory I had of him. In my head, it made sense - I mean - there were even his initials engraved on it, I felt like I was living in a rom-com.”

“You’re right, it’s not sweet at all,” Niall joked.

“It was just in the beginning and I was young, don’t rub it in,” Harry defended, blushing even more. “Then that year was tough in the team and- I don’t know, in a way, that water bottle reminded me why I was doing it and that I had to hang on. It’s stupid, but it gave me courage,” he looked down.

“It became something only for me, it no longer had anything to do with him. Even when things finally started turning around and I knew I was fighting for my starting position again, that bottle was my personal reminder that if I worked hard, I could make it, it was all up to me. I just needed to block out the world for a second and focus, and somehow I never stopped doing it. I didn’t even pay attention to it anymore, it was just an automatic thing, sitting on the bench right before the games, with the bottle in my hand and my eyes closed.”

“You shouldn’t have given up on it, you don’t even know if he would recognize it,” Niall commented, with no teasing in his voice.

“Niall, his initials are literally engraved on it,” Harry’s eyes widened, unable to believe he was saying this seriously. “He remembered me, there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize his own bottle,” he shook his head in terror at the thought. “He already found out about all the trouble I had with Haynes over the role change, I’d say that’s enough. I can survive keeping that bottle safe in my bag while using another one.”

“So, in the end, he remembered you,” Niall said, nodding to himself, before turning back to him. “You’ve been talking non-stop about Louis for two months, how is it possible you never told me any of this?” he almost screamed, making Harry laugh. “What the fuck have we been talking about until now?”

Harry moved a little closer to him, hugging him, even though Niall pretended to resist.

“You should thank me, for two months I saved you from all this mess.”

“Oh, you saved me?” Niall tilted his head to show him his sarcastic expression. “With endless rants about nothing, since obviously I didn’t get what your problem with Louis was.”

“My problem with Louis at first was just the fact that he was an asshole to me,” Harry corrected him, “And you could totally understand that, since you saw it every day.”

“Sure, sure,” Niall huffed, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders to squeeze him a little more. “I felt like a hero for making you two stay in the same room, hoping to finally get rid of all that sexual tension, but instead it was all for nothing.”

Harry laughed, enjoying the cuddles he needed like air.

“Now you understand why I’m scared?” he murmured after a few seconds of silence.

"Cause do you already like him a little too much, more than you’d like to?"

"No," Harry answered with a grunt, "Because when it comes to him, I always have this tendency to throw myself into things. He shows up and everything changes for me, every time."

"Always for the better, though."

"Yeah, but... fuck- it was already weird that some of the most important things in my life were connected to Louis, I didn’t need him to be actively involved in it."

"Why?" Niall chuckled, stroking his hair. "It just means that Louis is good for you."

"Because if something were to ever happen between us- uh, not that I’m saying there’s a chance," his breath caught in his throat at the thought. Harry sighed, trying not to be consumed by anxiety again. "It’s never good to throw yourself headfirst into a relationship."

"It’s also not good to be blocked by fear, just follow your instincts," Niall suggested. "Louis is an amazing guy, give him a chance."

"What if it’s too late now?"

"The guy of your dreams has fallen from the sky after six years and you’re still here making pointless problems?"

"He’s not the guy of my dreams."

"He should be," Niall laughed. "If I were gay, he probably would be mine. And you know why?"

Harry rolled his eyes, laughing. "Why?"

"Because he’s amazing at cuddling."

๑

Harry, throughout the entire practice, hadn’t been able to think about anything else. Not just the fact that Louis was great at cuddling and that Niall had figured it out before him - he was still struggling to digest that information - but mostly about what he had realised that afternoon.

He watched Louis and could only think about wanting to go back exactly one week to do everything over again, the right way this time.

Niall had told him to follow his instinct, but if he had done that, he probably would have ended up making a fool of himself, so he opted for a middle ground. Before leaving, he would approach him and ask to meet the next day to talk or, in case he couldn’t find a chance to say it in person, he would send him a text once he got home.

He hadn’t yet decided which of the two options to hope for, they both seemed equally embarrassing and he didn’t even know what he would say if Louis agreed to meet him. But the important thing was to get out of the situation where they had been stuck for a week. At any cost.

When the practice ended, however, Louis didn’t join the rest of the team on the floor to stretch. He went to sit on the lowest step of the bleachers to catch his breath while drinking some water.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him, after two hours of suffering he didn’t even care about being caught staring so blatantly anymore. Louis was sitting there, sweaty and out of breath, just a few steps away and Harry couldn’t get rid of the images of when he had seen him like that, but above him.

He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away and forcing himself to look elsewhere. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the desire to have him again, otherwise he would never be able to take a step towards him without jumping on him. Harry lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, mentally slapping himself because he needed to calm down, no matter what.

“Did you fall asleep?” Zayn teased, trying to get his attention.

Harry looked up at him, who was already standing. "I’m done," he got up as well, “I stink, I definitely need a shower.”

"Get over it, you were too slow,” Zayn shrugged, “You’ve already lost the first rounds.”

He was about to follow his teammate into the locker room when the sound of a ball bouncing on the floor caught Harry’s attention. He instinctively turned toward the court, seeing Louis bounce the ball while walking toward the far wall of the gym. He stopped on the baseline but didn’t turn toward the net, stretching his neck to the left and right, clearly exhausted from the two hours of training just finished.

He extended his left arm in front of him and, after tossing the ball just above his head, hit it with a quick movement of his right hand. The serve ended against the wall and Louis moved toward the trajectory of the bounce to receive it in a forearm pass, then ran to retrieve the ball that had dropped - correctly - near the wall and returned to position to start again.

Harry watched three more repetitions before finally walking away from the locker room door and heading toward him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, starting with the most idiotic question he could have asked.

Louis, who hadn’t heard him approach, spun around sharply, raising an eyebrow. “Training?”

“That drill is fine for under 14s,” Harry stopped a few steps away from him, hands on his hips, “We’re bad, okay, but this seems a bit insulting.”

Louis laughed, though his gaze seemed confused, as if he didn’t quite know how to interpret what was happening.

“Well, I was about that age the last time I really trained reception, so let’s say it’s okay,” he replied while casually bumping the ball on the floor.

Harry reached out a hand toward him, signaling for the ball. “I’ll help you.”

Louis stopped it between his hands and for a few seconds he just studied his face in silence. “It’s not necessary, it’s fine like this,” he shrugged, “I’m just trying to reactivate certain mechanisms I might have neglected a bit in the last decade.”

It was impossible for Harry not to see in him almost the same Louis he had caught training alone at summer camp to perfect his technique and be flawless in every set.

“One cart of balls and then that’s enough for tonight,” Harry suggested, ignoring his words, with his arm still outstretched, waiting for him to pass the ball.

Louis hesitated, “There's no need, you’re tired.”

“Not more than you,” Harry retorted before letting his arm drop back to his side. “It’s not a problem for me to help you,” he tried to insist, keeping a gentle tone even though the anxiety was starting to make him recognize what seemed more and more like a rejection. “Uhm, if it’s okay with you.”

Louis lowered his gaze, almost shyly, but smiled and passed him the ball before running to the other side of the court to position himself for reception. Harry took the ball cart to the backcourt and prepared to jump serve in Louis's direction.

He didn’t care at all how pointless that extra practice was for Louis, who kept receiving every single ball with ease, and he didn’t care about their teammates either, who stopped to watch them as if they were two lunatics as they left the locker room to head home.

In the end, they didn’t just do one ball cart, they did three. When they finally stopped, Harry’s shoulder was sore, but he felt calmer than he had in recent times.

"Thanks," Louis said, helping him put the last balls into the cart.

Harry shrugged casually. "Whenever you want- I mean, just ask."

Louis wiped the sweat from his face with a sleeve, then threw himself on the floor almost like a dead weight. "I'm exhausted, I don’t think there will be a next time."

It was a hard battle between Harry’s brain, which was yelling at him to keep his composure, and the rest of his body, which seemed unable to understand how to manage the vision in front of him. He let his gaze slide down Louis's right thigh, exposed from the shorts pulled up over his leg, to the sweaty shirt that stuck perfectly to his chest in that position, to the droplets running down his neck and from his messy wet hair on his forehead.

Harry was sure that if he opened his mouth at that moment, all he would ask would be to fuck him, so he swallowed hard and went to put the cart with the balls away, even though Louis had said he would do it.

When he returned, Louis was stretching and - really - Harry realised he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I- uh, well, I’m going to take a shower."

Louis looked up at him and nodded with a smile, not saying anything else, so Harry retreated to the locker room. He knew how meticulous Louis was when it came to pre-workout muscle activation or post-workout stretching - after all, he was a professional athlete - so Harry was grateful for the time he had to shower alone.

He was almost fully dressed when Louis reached him in the locker room and suddenly Harry felt all the tension he hadn’t noticed before weighing down on his shoulders. It might seem silly, but what happened on the court was strictly about the relationship between teammates - that was the space where there were no friends or enemies - while the locker room was an entirely different territory. The locker room was real life.

"Hey," Louis gave a half-smile, "Sorry, I thought you had already left."

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. "And why are you apologizing?"

For maybe the first time since Harry had known him, he saw Louis floundering, searching for an answer. "I don’t know," he simply admitted, shaking his head. "I didn’t want to disturb you."

"It’s not my place," Harry replied as he pulled on his hoodie, looking for a way to make him understand that he had let his guard down without exposing too much. "Uh, this locker room is as much yours as it is mine."

"Thanks, uh- I guess?" Louis let out a confused and slightly embarrassed laugh, then finally moved toward the bench where his bag was.

An alarming voice in Harry’s head kept urging him to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going and prevent Louis from going back to ignoring him.

"I would’ve said goodbye anyway," he hastily clarified.

Louis turned around, glancing at him over his shoulder as he pulled clean clothes out of his bag. "Uh?"

"If I had already left- like, you thought I had already left, but in that case I would’ve said goodbye."

"No," Louis scrunched his nose in an ironic grimace. "You wouldn’t have."

Touché.

Harry bit his lip, stung by his words. "Okay, maybe you’re right, but… uh, I promise I’ll say goodbye," he nervously fiddled with the hoodie drawstrings, "Next time, I mean."

"Okay?" Louis replied, still a bit confused but with a smile so sweet that Harry thought he didn’t deserve it. "Thanks."

This was the moment to risk it all, Harry knew. They had to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.

"Only if you promise not to avoid me anymore."

At that point, Louis completely turned toward him. He looked at him as if he couldn’t understand what he was saying. "I’m not avoiding you."

"Yes," Harry mimicked the same ironic grimace Louis had made earlier, "You are."

"I’m not- okay," Louis shook his head quickly, as if trying to put his thoughts in order before speaking. "I didn’t want to avoid you , I just didn’t want to get all over you and - I don’t know - come off as too much."

"Since when do you care?" Harry asked, biting his tongue when he realised how accusatory his tone sounded.

"Since I messed up?" Louis replied, emphasizing his sarcastic tone with a light laugh. "You’ve made it pretty clear what you think of me and I’m not the type to force my presence on others," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Even though it doesn’t seem that way since I joined the team - your team - but I’ve never tried to avoid you. I was just trying to give you your space."

Harry remained silent maybe for a second too long, trying to process that answer, while the fast-paced beating of his heart made it impossible to hear his own thoughts.

"Well, don’t do it," Harry mumbled, torturing his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Louis's whole face seemed to relax instantly. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded firmly and then his heart melted when he saw Louis’s face light up with a smile so wide that his beautiful blue eyes were surrounded by adorable little crinkles.

"Okay," Louis replied almost in a whisper, lowering his face perhaps to try to hide his reaction. It was pointless, though, because when he raised his face again a few moments later, his smile looked even brighter. "Okay" he repeated, this time with more confidence.

"Good," Harry couldn’t help but grin, embarrassed but finally relieved.

He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder before turning back to him, who was still looking at him. "Goodnight, Louis."

"Goodnight," he smiled at him again, "And thanks- uh, for helping me earlier."

A part of Harry, the part that no longer knew what dignity was, wanted to tell him that he would stay for another four hours training with him if only he asked.

"Whenever you want," he simply replied before forcing himself to leave the locker room.

He walked to his car almost in a trance, replaying in his mind what had just happened but without fully realising the significance of it. When he closed the door, he stayed there for a few seconds with his eyes closed, his head resting against the backrest.

He had just made it clear to Louis that he wanted him in his life. And he was fine. He was more than fine, actually.

He drove home, unable to stop smiling, feeling a bit foolish because in the end nothing had really happened and it wasn't even certain that anything would develop from that moment on. But he was still happy because, for the first time since Louis had reappeared, he felt like he was on the right track. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he felt it was the right one.

When he got home, he made a sandwich - he didn't feel like cooking after that day - and grabbed his phone from the gym bag pocket before collapsing onto the sofa in front of the TV.
He knew he had to update Niall as soon as possible, otherwise he would never forgive him, but he got distracted by a notification that caught him a bit off guard at that moment.

Matthew: Would you like to study together tomorrow morning?

Matthew was a colleague from university and Harry knew exactly what that message meant because it was the kind of relationship he had with him. Since the time during their first year when a real study session ended up in bed, they occasionally sought each other out. Like with most of the guys Harry had dealt with, the arrangement was always clear from the start and neither of them expected anything from the other.
Harry didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, honestly, he wasn’t in the mood. Matthew was a good guy - he was good in bed, too - and the last time they'd been together might have even been before the summer. But the idea didn’t convince him entirely. On the other hand, though, he knew that seeing him might do him some good not just to release the tension that had been building up inside him for days, but also because maybe being with a guy who wasn’t Louis would help him see things a bit more clearly.

He stayed there, staring at the phone screen until another notification caught his attention.

Louis: If I asked you to stay and help me again tomorrow after training?

Harry couldn’t help but smile in surprise and, with his heart threatening to jump out of his chest, he started typing the response without thinking twice.

Harry: Depends… maybe if you ask me nicely

Louis: You’re unbearable 

Louis: I’m saying it nicely

Harry burst out laughing, imagining perfectly the tone and expression Louis would have given him in person when he said that.

Harry: Alright 

Harry: You convinced me

Chapter Text

“What’s that?”

Oli’s amused tone made Harry turn around and only then did he realise that his teammate was actually speaking to him.

“Uh?” he asked, confused, while folding the shirt he had just taken off.

“This,” his friend emphasized, stepping closer to point at something just below his left pectoral.

Harry looked down to figure it out and suddenly felt his cheeks burn.

“The silent killer strikes again,” Matt exclaimed, making the entire locker room laugh, “That’s a hickey with a capital H.”

“Who did it?” Isaac asked, earning a slap on the head from Michael.

“You know he’ll never tell us” Matt replied, before turning to Harry, “At least tell us how hot she is on a scale from one to you couldn’t even dream of her.”

Harry instinctively shot a glance at Louis, who was already looking at him. His expression was impossible to read and he quickly diverted his gaze as soon as their eyes met.

“Why are you looking at Louis now?” Liam asked, giggling, before letting out an almost shocked sound. “Oh my God!”

Harry’s eyes went wide and his heart stopped for an instant, panic flooding through him. Both he and Louis turned sharply toward their teammate.

“Isn’t she the setter from the women’s team who asked Louis to give you her number the other day?" Liam explained.

“The- what?” Harry stammered, finally catching his breath.

For a moment he had seriously feared he had just outed himself with his own hands because, although that hickey wasn’t clearly from Louis, if Liam had suggested it, the whole team’s attention would be on the two of them. Sooner or later, someone would figure out there was something going on, at least on Harry’s side, and he wasn’t ready to deal with any questions about his sexuality from his teammates.

“Oh, I definitely had nothing to do with that hickey,” Louis replied, raising his eyebrows almost sarcastically, before turning around to continue changing, thus closing the matter.

Harry hurried to put on his practice shirt, cursing himself for going to Matthew’s place that morning.

He had never had a problem omitting a few details to his friends to make his adventures seem straight, but in this case hiding his sexuality wasn’t even his top priority. What worried him more was making sure Louis understood that he wasn’t seeing anyone else, because he didn’t want to be pushed aside and end up in the friendzone for good.

They had just gotten close again, as friends of course or whatever they were, but Harry didn’t want to send him the wrong message by making him think he didn’t want anything more.

He had made the mistake of reluctantly accepting Matthew’s invitation because he wanted to prove to himself that he still had a chance, that he wasn’t already so incredibly screwed that he couldn’t use the good old rebound trick to get himself out of the most awkward and complicated situation he could possibly have put himself in.

It hadn’t worked, of course. Actually, his plan had been such a failure that he hadn’t even been able to go through with it. Matthew had tried to kiss him, but Harry hadn’t felt the slightest desire, so he had acted all bold by taking off his hoodie and shirt to move things to the next level immediately. Matthew had taken the opportunity and left a few light bites on his neck, moving down to his chest, where he started to get a bit more serious.

The problem, however, was that Harry’s mind was elsewhere and while Matthew seemed to enjoy the beginning of their foreplay, he was almost getting bored. He was so distracted that he hadn’t gotten the slightest bit aroused and as soon as Matthew had taken one of his nipples in his mouth, Harry had stopped him. He had apologized - he was really mortified - and then left, leaving a confused and definitely not too happy Matthew behind.

“What?” Liam continued to insist, getting Louis’s attention. “Didn’t you give Kate’s number to Harry?”

Louis shrugged without even looking up from whatever he was looking for in his gym bag. “Not his type.”

"Why you just got here and somehow you know his type, while we've known him since he was in diapers and we don't?" Zayn asked, theatrically wounded.

“Apparently, you guys don’t pay enough attention,” Louis replied simply, starting to undress.

Oli slapped him on the chest before putting his arm around his shoulders. “And what’s his type?” he asked, amused and curious.

“I like people who mind their own fucking business,” Harry quickly intervened, his heart beating faster from the anxiety. “Maybe that’s why I don’t like you guys,” he added to lighten the mood.

As expected, the guys started throwing everything they had within reach at him, from clothes to even a few shoes, but Harry knew this would happen so he quickly protected himself, curling up behind his own arms.

The temptation to check Louis' reaction was too strong to resist, but when he saw a hint of a smile appear on his face - even if held back - Harry didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or feel disappointed that he hadn’t gotten jealous, not even a little bit.

During practice Louis seemed a bit more serious than usual, but otherwise acted normally, so Harry kept wondering if it was just his mind making him see that small oddity. Maybe he wanted Louis so badly to finally claim him as his own out of jealousy that he started imagining small reactions just to put his poor mind at ease.

When practice ended, instead of doing stretching with the rest of the team, Harry walked over to Louis on the lowest step of the bleachers.

“You ready?” he asked before opening his red and white striped water bottle to take a sip.

“If you have other things to do, don’t feel obligated,” Louis replied.

Harry tilted his head slightly, confused. “Why would I have other things to do?”

Louis’s eyebrows arched, the way they always did when he was about to tease him. “I wouldn’t want anyone to be waiting for you at home or somewhere else because of me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, trying to hold back an amused smile. “Stop it.”

“I’m just being a nice guy,” Louis clarified, looking at him as though studying him carefully.

Harry felt the pressure of the moment because he didn’t want Louis to think he was the kind of guy who slept with a different guy every day or that he had someone else in his life.

“It’s fine, I don’t have any other plans,” Harry replied, hesitating just a moment before continuing. “And it’s not even true what- uh, I mean... you know how the guys are, they always exaggerate,” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed, “Probably because I like to keep some mystery, obviously, but they tend to see my sex life like it’s a movie.”

Harry didn’t miss the way Louis licked his lips while letting out a chuckle. “I hope it’s a good movie at least.”

Maybe that’s what pushed him to take a chance. “You tell me, since you were the last co-star” he whispered so no one else could hear.

Louis nearly choked when the water went down the wrong way. He raised his eyebrows so much they almost disappeared under his sweaty fringe. “I didn’t do that,” he coughed, vaguely gesturing toward his chest.

“That doesn’t count,” Harry replied with a voice an octave too high, “It doesn’t count because nothing else happened.”

Louis lowered his gaze with a brief laugh, clearly not believing a single word.

“I stopped him,” Harry added quickly, before he could regret it.

Louis’s reaction wasn’t what Harry expected because when he lifted his head suddenly, he looked worried. “Did he do something wrong?”

The low, firm tone he used went straight between Harry's legs, and Harry never imagined he could be so affected by that protective side of Louis he hadn’t known about.

“No- oh my God, no” Harry exclaimed, wide-eyed, “Nothing like that, just- uhm, just… he wasn’t the guy I wanted.”

They both lowered their gaze for a moment and when their eyes met again they couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh.

Every detail about Louis was always able to destabilize him, but Harry had realised that he had a soft spot for his adorable way of laughing. Especially in that moment, his laugh seemed to make him shine, as if it were enough to turn his sweat into fairy dust.

Harry was so incredibly screwed.

Louis cleared his throat lightly, putting away his water bottle. “Shall we go?”

“Uh?” Harry asked, still struggling to get out of that train of thought. “Where?”

“What do you mean where?” Louis exclaimed, dramatically sighing as he headed toward the center of the court. “I don’t know, to the theater? To a restaurant? Where do you want to go to help your libero be less useless?”

The few guys on the team who hadn’t yet gone to the locker room started laughing because Louis had made sure to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear, just like he always did. Harry rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but he had to bite his lip to avoid smiling like an idiot.

“It’s official, they’re back,” Zayn announced solemnly as he stood up after finishing his stretching, “Let’s get ready to watch them bicker like an old married couple again.”

Harry tried with all his might to stay serious while flipping his middle finger at his friend, unlike Louis, who burst out laughing.

“Come on, love” Louis said, playing along, spreading his arms slightly to let Harry know he was ready to start practicing receptions. “Show me what you can do.”

Harry scrunched his nose in a futile attempt to hide how badly he wanted to laugh and, at the same time, bang his head against the nearest wall, because he couldn’t allow his heart to start doing flips every time Louis decided to behave like an idiot.

They continued practicing for over half an hour and this time, after stretching, they headed to the locker room together. It would have been awkward, but Harry kept reminding himself that Louis was just his teammate at that moment, so there were no excuses for not behaving normally.

Not peeking in Louis’s direction as he heard him undressing was probably one of the hardest things Harry had ever done in his life. He didn’t know how to handle the situation, but knowing that Louis was almost naked - he convinced himself it was 'almost' for the sake of his mental health - just a few steps away was driving him crazy in ways he had never experienced before. They were also alone in the entire gym. He prayed with all his heart that he wouldn’t betray himself with his own body.

The following evenings didn’t go any better. On one hand, Harry was happy because every day Louis asked him to stay and their routine was allowing both of them to start lowering some of their barriers toward each other, still in a neutral and safe zone. On the other hand, Harry kept daydreaming about pinning Louis against the wall and kissing him.

His dreams went way beyond that, but that was the main thing. He was dying to kiss him and every night, he felt like he was going a little crazier.

If a few weeks ago someone had told him he’d end up jerking off after every practice as the only way to avoid going insane, Harry would have laughed in their face.

It was pathetic, but more than that, it was frustrating because even when he tried to provoke him or flirt shamelessly, he never managed to get a real reaction from Louis. There were moments when Louis’s gaze burned through his skin and that look full of promises made him think he had finally succeeded, but then nothing happened and they continued acting like perfect teammates.

They went on like this for the whole week and as the growing anxiety for the semifinals added to his sexual frustration, Harry felt like he was about to explode.

On Friday, while the team was heading to the Booze to spend the night together, Harry spent more than ten minutes convincing Louis that it wouldn’t be a problem for him to arrive a little later than the others to continue practicing together.

“You’re exhausting,” Harry huffed when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“For once I can manage alone,” Louis insisted.

“I don’t see why you should,” Harry shot back.

“Niall’s coming too tonight, I know you want to go,” Louis added.

“Of course I want to go, but that doesn’t mean the world will end if I arrive five minutes late.”

“It won’t be five minutes, you know that,” Louis retorted, as stubborn as ever.

Harry didn’t know how to make him understand that he wasn’t giving up for anything on that one moment of the day when he could spend time alone with him.

“If you don’t want me to stay, just say it” Harry snapped eventually.

Louis seemed caught off guard by that sudden change in tone and his expression softened immediately. “I never said that” he replied, his voice carrying a gentle tone.

Harry, noticing his change in attitude, lowered his guard. “What am I supposed to think if you keep sending me away?”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew it wouldn’t have been a problem if, for once, you preferred not to stay” Louis explained, nervously running a hand through his hair. “You’ve already done more than enough to help me.”

“Okay, I got it the first five times you told me and I think I’ve always told you no.”

They both chuckled and Harry felt relieved because for once they managed not to really fight, solving their little argument quickly. Maybe they weren’t as hopeless as he thought.

“Maybe you should start understanding that if I stay every night, it’s not because I have to help you, but because- uhm, because I like doing it” Harry admitted, gathering the courage to open up just a little.

“Alright,” Louis replied with a cute and shy smile. “Alright, okay.”

“Now go on,” Harry playfully pushed him by the shoulders, making him take a few steps toward the court.

Louis dug his heels in the ground, making himself heavier to move. “I’m too tired, I’m old,” he pretended to whine.

“Go train, lazy ass,” Harry teased him, laughing, “And then come to the pub with me, no excuses.”

The way Louis looked at him over his shoulder, turning slightly toward him, made Harry’s legs shake.

“It depends, maybe if you ask me nicely,” Louis replied with a provocative little grin that Harry would have gladly kissed away.

“You’re unbearable,” Harry huffed instead, pushing him again, “Did I ever say I hate you?”

Deep down a small part of him really did hate him especially since, over the past week, Louis had used that answer for almost any question Harry asked. His way of teasing him by turning his own words against him had always been infuriating, but it was even worse now that it only made Harry want to kiss him more.

“You might have hinted at it one or two hundred times,” Louis chuckled, finally starting to walk on his own.

The practice continued as usual, with the two of them teasing each other in that constant game of serve and receive, but without ever letting their focus slip on each repetition. Harry had never trained so much and so well in serving, so he hoped to see some results in the semifinal.

After the usual cold shower - necessary to keep the situation under control in the locker room - they headed together to the Booze. It was strange to walk peacefully next to Louis, who was smoking and chatting with him, completely unaware that he was the most beautiful guy Harry had ever seen. He walked around like it was no big deal, wonderfully wrapped in his oversized yellow hoodie stepping on Harry’s mental sanity with every step, and the more Harry watched him, the harder it became to not think about how easy it would be to reach out and intertwine their fingers.

It was an irrational thought, he was fully aware of it because he knew he couldn’t do it, but in an ideal world at that moment they would have been a beautiful couple walking together to meet their friends, who would definitely tease them for always acting like fucking lovebirds.

Louis flicked his cigarette away just before entering the Booze and, for no reason at all, turned to Harry to give him a smile that made his heart skip a beat, because apparently the two things seemed inextricably linked.

He entered first but held the door open for Harry, doing it with such casualness that it didn’t even seem like an out-of-place gesture between two friends. They immediately spotted the loud table where the rest of the team was sitting and the guys noticed their entrance, waving excitedly to invite them to join.

Louis placed a hand on Harry’s waist, catching his attention. “Beer?” he asked as soon as Harry turned to look at him.

“Yes, but I’m coming to order too” Harry replied, struggling to maintain his composure, given that Louis’s hand was almost impossible to ignore.

“The first time you listen to me without arguing, I’ll be a happy man,” Louis sighed affectionately, rolling his eyes.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not true, you’ll be desperate because secretly you like it.”

“Probably,” Louis admitted. “Very, very, very secretly.”

What hope did Harry have of surviving the night when every single thing Louis said could confuse even the butterflies in his stomach?

“I owe you one” Louis added, squeezing Harry’s waist lightly between his fingers. “Go over to the others, I’ll take care of things here.”

It was that gesture that convinced him to actually head toward the guys, both because otherwise he might have melted under the sweetness of that touch and because who was he to stop Louis from giving him those perfect boyfriend illusions?

When he reached the table he went straight to Niall, who had saved him a seat and threw himself into his embrace like he hadn’t seen him in months.

“What did I miss?” Harry asked, trying to catch up on the latest gossip.

“I could ask you the same thing” Niall whispered, hiding his smirk behind his beer mug to avoid being overheard by the others.

Harry pinched his side, hissing, “Don’t start.”

Whatever Niall’s response was, Harry was distracted by Louis’s arrival. There were only two free spaces at the table and he really hoped Louis would choose the one next to him, not the one between Zayn and Oli, which was way too far for his taste.

“Louis!” Niall exclaimed as soon as he saw him. “Move,” he pushed Harry by the shoulder, making him sit on the free chair next to him. “Come sit here, I missed you.”

Louis laughed and didn’t need to be told twice. He put the two beers on the table, bringing Harry his, and sat down between the two of them.

“How are you?” Louis hugged Niall as if they were old friends too.

“Better now,” Niall sighed dramatically. “How do you plan on making it up to me?”

“For what?” Louis asked, laughing, amused.

“You betrayed me,” Niall pulled away from the hug, slapping Louis playfully on the chest. “I leave for a few days and I see you come back with another guy” he explained, pretending to be hurt. “You open the door for him, get him a drink and do that thing with your face that you used to do just for me.”

Harry wanted to kill his best friend. He wanted to with all his heart. He tried to hide how flushed he was, attempting as naturally as possible to drown the damn butterflies in his beer.

Louis, however, also had a faint pink hue on his cheeks. “What’s the thing with the face?” he asked.

“Smile?” Niall scoffed as if it was obvious, before turning to Harry and pointing a finger at him accusatorially. “And you, don’t act so indifferent, because I’ve got some words for you too,” he clarified with a sharp tone. “You didn’t even have time to get rid of me and you were already in bed with my man.”

At that moment, when he choked on his beer, Harry really thought he was about to die and he was only certain of one thing: if he survived, Niall was a dead man.

“What?” his ex-best friend asked with a high-pitched voice. “Don’t look at me like that, both of you. It’s the truth. Or are you gonna tell me Louis didn’t take my place in the room with Harry?”

Louis burst out laughing while Harry planned Niall’s murder in between a cough and another.

“You okay?” Louis asked him almost in a whisper, gently running his hand down Harry’s back. Harry nodded, trying to catch his breath.

For a while, far longer than necessary, his hand stayed there.

Eventually, Harry didn’t care that much about the curious looks from the others, not as long as Louis kept giving him those little gestures that would be invisible to everyone else but not to him. Like when one of the guys made a joke and Louis turned toward Harry to see if he found it funny too or when they made a really awful one and Louis’s knee would bump against his, almost as if to make sure Harry didn’t miss the way he would tease them. Or, even, when Harry dropped his napkin on the floor, bent to pick it up and, standing back up, realised that Louis had instinctively, without even turning toward him, reached out his arm to cover the corner of the table with his hand to prevent Harry from bumping his head.

Harry felt so much on a pedestal that he got dizzy.

๑

Harry had never been so nervous for a match as he was that day.

The semifinal was the following day, Sunday, but they had left the day before because they had to face a long journey and couldn't risk stepping onto the court with the exhaustion of over four hours in a minibus.

They were going to face Cheltenham, but they would be playing on neutral ground, so they were heading north, toward the outskirts of Leeds.

Harry would have liked to sleep or relax in some way, but his mind couldn’t calm down. Last year, they had reached the semifinals almost as a surprise, they hadn’t expected it, so they had nothing to prove because no one would bet a penny on them. In fact, they lost and that defeat still stung because the difference with their opponents hadn’t been so glaring, their main issue had been their mentality.

This year, however, they wanted to win. They had to win.

They had grown a lot in every possible way; they knew they were better than their opponents and deserved the final, but none of that was a sufficient guarantee.

After all, in their world they used to say 'the ball is round'. Harry had always found that saying interesting because it was hard to explain, but it contained the wonderful and cruel truth of that sport.

The ball is round. It was like saying that luck can change, that there would always be an unpredictable factor that could change the outcome of even the most obvious matches. In a mechanism as perfect as the one needed to properly set a team in motion, just one tiny completely random detail could make all the difference.

Harry had been pretty quiet throughout the journey and even during dinner, where he only nibbled at some food absentmindedly. He hated when his mind got into that state, it made him even more insecure because he never knew if he would manage to snap out of it once he was on the court.

They all retired to their rooms pretty early, with the strict order to rest as much as possible so they would be in good shape for the next day. Harry and Louis went up to the room together this time, but neither of them said much while getting ready for bed.

Louis, just like the week before, pulled out his inseparable laptop and focused on the screen for a few minutes.

Harry was about to turn off the light when Louis finally spoke up. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, surprised by the suggestion but even more surprised when Louis moved over to make room for him on his bed.

He turned off the main light before joining him, sitting next to him with his back resting against the pillows.

“What do you want to watch?” Louis asked, scrolling through some titles on the screen.

“Whatever you want.”

Louis turned just to give him a glare, stopping the search. “I can’t stand people who never make a decision.”

“Shut up,” Harry muttered, chuckling, and with his hand he moved Louis’s face to make him look back at the computer screen. “You’re always complaining that I want to have the last word on everything.”

“Except the one time I ask you, of course.”

“I’m fine with anything, really, just not a horror because I’m already too tense with my own thoughts.”

Louis chuckled but didn’t comment, continuing to scroll through the list of movies in search of an idea.

“Is this something you always do?” Harry asked after a while.

“What?”

“Watch a movie the night before a match.”

“There’s not much else to do” Louis replied, shrugging slightly. “And then it helps to take a break from your thoughts, so- well, let’s say it’s not exactly a superstition but I’ve always found it a good habit.”

“Sure,” Harry let out a little laugh. “You’re too rational to have superstitions.”

Again Louis glared at him, though only with the corner of his eye, but he didn’t hide his amused smile. “What’s with the sass today?” he joked. “Next time, I’ll throw you off the bed.”

“Touchy.”

“And by the way, for your information, we all have superstitious habits so stop complaining,” Louis grumbled, pretending to be offended. “The usual nonsense like - I don’t know - spinning the ball on your finger before serving or some people have lucky underwear.”

“You don’t have lucky underwear, do you?”

“No,” Louis tilted his head back against the pillow, laughing, before turning to Harry with a provocative look. “All my underwear is lucky.”

Harry blushed like an idiot. It was too much for him, talking about Louis’s underwear while they were together on his bed was probably asking a bit too much from his self-control. “Stop it,” he squeaked, gently bumping their shoulders together. “The underwear topic is closed here.”

That made Louis laugh even more and Harry’s heart almost melted.

“For example, you always have the libero pass you the ball when you have to serve,” Louis said with a clearly smug expression, because it was obvious he was proud of his observation skills.

Suddenly, though, his eyes widened. “Shit!” he exclaimed in an alarmed tone. “I forgot to do it.”

Harry furrowed his brows, looking at him perhaps with a bit too much affection. He loved the fact that his face was always so expressive. “What?”

“Pass you the ball,” Louis replied in a frustrated tone. “Last week… because I’m the libero now and- shit, I should’ve remembered that.”

“Louis,” Harry called out, laughing, because Louis really seemed mad at himself for forgetting to do something no one had asked him to do and especially something he wasn’t even supposed to know. 

He slid a little further forward, resting his head on the pillow but never taking his eyes off him.

“Look, it’s no big deal. It’s a silly thing,” he reassured him. “As you can see, I can serve even if I go get the ball myself.”

Louis turned to look him in the eye even from that position. “In the A League, there are the court service kids who pass us the balls. I completely forgot that’s how it’s usually done.”

“Oh my God,” Harry sighed laughing. “Then you say I’m melodramatic.”

“You are.”

“And you’re annoying,” Harry grumbled, reaching for his face to gently push him, making him turn back to the computer.

As expected, Louis turned back toward him. “Does it bother you when I look at you?”

“Kind of” Harry lied, blushing to the tips of his ears, repeating for the third time in just a few minutes that gesture to redirect Louis’s attention to the computer screen.

"Enough with that hand," Louis started laughing, grabbing Harry’s hand with his and holding it trapped against his stomach while resuming the search for a movie.

Harry wanted to die.

It took him a second too long to regain control over his vital functions, too distracted by the way his hand moved up and down with Louis’s breathing. He didn’t even try to free himself from his grip. Who was he trying to fool? He hoped Louis wouldn’t let him go.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry weakly cleared his throat. “What movie did you watch before the most important match of your career?”

Louis turned to look at him, curious. “Why?”

“Tomorrow’s match could be the most important of my career,” Harry admitted, shrugging timidly. “So if you remember, we can watch that one.”

Louis narrowed his eyes, as if studying his face more closely. “Tomorrow’s match won’t be the most important of your career,” he replied seriously.

“It could be and- uhm, not just because we might not reach this level again but also because the Royal Cup final is an important showcase, so winning it could really be the turning point I’ve always been waiting for.”

Louis didn’t say anything. He just stared at him for a few more seconds before returning to look at the screen, typing into the search bar.

“This,” he slightly turned the computer so Harry could see it too.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Saving Mr. Banks?”

“Maybe not what you expected but it was probably on TV the night before the match where I was noticed by a talent scout.”

“Alright,” Harry chuckled. “By the way, I’ve never seen it.”

Louis' expression was pure disapproval, which made Harry laugh even harder.

“Unforgivable,” Louis muttered as he hit play, then made himself comfortable as well.

“I love Tom Hanks,” Harry whispered, tilting his head slightly.

Caught up in the movie, he didn’t realize which one of them got closer first but after a few minutes Harry’s head was resting on Louis’ shoulder as if that had always been its place, while his hand remained happily trapped for only a short time before Louis let it go.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered halfway through the film, sniffling. “You didn’t tell me it would make me cry.”

Louis chuckled, but it was clear he wasn’t teasing. “I didn’t think it would make you cry.”

“Right, because you’re heartless.”

“I’ll add that to the list of my virtues, since you always seem so eager to update it.”

Harry didn’t trust his mouth at that moment because he knew that if he opened it, the real list of everything he adored about Louis would come out. Instead, he jokingly bumped their knees, but when his foot accidentally touched Louis’ in the movement, neither of them pulled away.

Harry knew he was a mess and that was one of the reasons he usually paid little attention to movies when he was with someone he wanted to impress, because he found it embarrassing how emotionally involved he got. That night, however, he had been so determined not to think about anything - neither the match nor the fact that Louis was so close and he couldn’t have him - that he had blocked everything out, focusing just on the computer screen, without considering how ridiculous he would look if he started crying like he usually did.

When he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to sniffle as quietly as possible, Louis rested his cheek on his head and placed a hand on his knee, squeezing it affectionately.

Harry wanted to kiss him so badly that he had to bite his lip to stop himself.

The movie ended too quickly for Harry’s liking, both because he really liked it and because he wasn’t ready to let go of the comfort that Louis’ body so close to his provided.

“Did you like it?” Louis asked almost in a whisper as the credits started.

Harry nodded, licking his lips when Louis leaned forward slightly to see him better and smiled at him. He was so close it would have been easier to kiss him than not to, but then Louis sat up and Harry hated with all his being the cold feeling that invaded all the spots of his body that had been pressed against him during the last two hours.

“I hope you’re looking for something fun to watch,” Harry improvised, hoping to extend the night.

Louis turned to look at him over his shoulder with an amused smile. “Actually, I was turning it off.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Harry sat up as well.

Louis kept looking at him with an expression halfway between confused and amused, but didn’t move an inch when Harry leaned closer to him, trying to sneak a peek at what he was doing with the laptop.

“We should sleep,” Louis tried to say, but his tone made it clear it was just a thinly veiled excuse to tease him.

Harry moved Louis’ hand off the keyboard, taking the controls. “Stop complaining.”

As expected, Louis didn’t even try to move aside, instead trying several times to slide his hand under Harry’s fingers to prevent him from typing, proving once again just how frustrating he could be.

“God, I can’t stand you” Harry muttered laughing, before outright stealing the laptop from him and placing it on the nightstand to push it further away from him.

“I remind you that that’s my laptop.”

“Today, you’ll learn something called sharing.”

Louis tried to resist but with little conviction and Harry, propped on his elbow, turned to give him a glare that probably wouldn’t have scared even a child but, strangely, it worked and made him stop.

“One episode, quickly” Harry pouted, trying to look pitiful. “You can’t make me go to sleep depressed the night before the semifinals, I need something cheerful.”

“Fine,” Louis sighed, giving in and collapsing back onto the bed. “At least tell me what it is?”

“The Big Bang Theory,” Harry replied smugly before hitting play and lying on his side to watch the episode.

“But I can’t see it like this,” Louis complained.

Harry sighed, hoping to look annoyed when in reality he was on the verge of melting. He turned back to look at him, lying on his side too with his arm bent under his head. He struggled to push away all the thoughts crowding his mind about everything he wished could happen at that moment and tried to keep the playful tone.

“You can just listen.”

He expected one of Louis’ usual sharp replies but, instead, Louis simply grabbed his shoulder, pulling it toward him until Harry lost his balance. He fell back with part of his shoulders on Louis’ chest and his head resting on his bent arm.

“Problem solved,” Louis muttered with a satisfied grin, looking at him from that dangerously close distance.

Harry’s gaze lingered on Louis’ lips, wondering what would happen if he gave in to the temptation, but in the end he gathered his strength and cleared his throat.

“You made me miss the beginning of the episode,” he pretended to complain, sitting up to reach the laptop with his hand and restart the episode, before curling up again against Louis’ body.

He felt Louis’ breath catch for a moment, probably because he thought Harry wouldn’t take advantage of the offer made almost playfully, but Harry had no intention of letting go of that contact with him.

Louis’ breath against his neck almost made him lose his mind.

“Now that I think about it, Sheldon reminds me of you” Harry added after a few minutes of silence, glancing at him from the corner of his eye and biting his lip, waiting for Louis to fall into his trap.

“Because he’s a genius?”

“Because he’s a psychopathic pain in the ass and a control freak who loses his mind if anyone breaks his rules.”

Louis burst out laughing so loudly that Harry could feel the vibration of his laugh through his chest and couldn’t help but get involved, proud of his own joke.

“I think that’s the nicest way anyone’s ever insulted me.”

Harry turned his face toward him, smiling smugly. “Well, whenever you want.”

He squealed when Louis pinched his side and instinctively brought his hand close to Louis’ to stop him in case he tried again.

“Anyway, everyone loves Sheldon,” Louis retorted.

“If that helps you sleep at night.”

Louis reached across Harry’s stomach, pinching his other side.

“Stop it,” Harry laughed, moving his hand to Louis’s arm as if that could somehow stop him.

“Ask me nicely.”

Harry showed him the middle finger and their laughter mixed in the small space between them. Their eyes stayed locked for perhaps too long, more than could be considered innocent, but even though Harry wanted it more than anything he knew it wasn’t the right time. This time, he wanted to do things the right way.

With an almost imperceptible sigh, Harry turned back to the forgotten episode, pretending to pay attention while actually just trying to calm his heart, which threatened to leap out of his chest because of how Louis had kept holding him as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t even made a move to take his arm away, pulling him closer as if that was the most natural thing between them.

As the episode was nearing its end, Harry noticed that Louis’s breathing had become regular and when he turned to check, he saw that Louis had fallen asleep. Harry took the chance to slide a little closer to him and instinctively Louis squeezed him a little tighter.

He knew he couldn’t stay in his arms all night but he couldn’t find the strength to leave, so he let himself enjoy another episode or two and didn’t feel guilty for taking advantage of it without Louis knowing.

Eventually, Harry fell asleep too.

It was Louis who woke him up the next morning. Harry had actually started waking up when he heard an insistent and annoying little tune followed by some mattress movements but, since he hadn’t associated the sound with his alarm, he kept sleeping. The only thing he had truly registered was the sudden absence of that arm around his waist, the one that had held him tight until a moment before but had then returned to its place.

“Harry” Louis whispered, “Harry, we need to get up.”

At that moment, Harry really became aware of where he was and especially who he was with. The bed was so small that they had hardly moved during the night, except for the fact that Harry’s head was no longer resting on Louis’s arm and now they were sharing the pillow.

Harry turned his face toward Louis, barely managing to open one eye as he mumbled “No.”

He felt Louis’s laughter spill onto his face and couldn’t help but smile, which he immediately tried to hide.

“Harry” Louis called again, gently squeezing his side, with such sweetness in his voice that Harry almost wanted to cry.

Louis was always so gentle when he touched him and Harry, just waking up, tended to be more emotional than usual, so once again he couldn’t control the smile that spread across his face. This time, though, he opened his eyes.

He immediately regretted doing so because Louis, with his puffy eyes and messy hair, was perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He already knew it, because it wasn’t the first time he’d seen him, but it was the first time that Louis had smiled at him like that.

“I know you hate me for waking you up and blah blah blah, but we have practice in less than an hour,” Louis explained in a hoarse voice, which hit Harry’s heart like a punch, before asking “You hate me, right?”

Harry chuckled but nodded and Louis rolled his eyes affectionately.

“I’ll go shower first, so you’ve got ten more minutes, but if you don’t get up I’ll throw you out of bed” he said, sitting up.

In response, Harry rolled onto his stomach, occupying the entire space and hugging the pillow, ready to make the most of those few minutes.

Louis moved closer to him again, balancing on his elbow so he could look him in the eyes. “Today’s an important day and do you know why?”

Harry would have really liked to find all that energy annoying at that time in the morning, but he could only think about how cute it was.

“Don’t say it’s because of the semifinals” he mumbled, his words slurred.

“Who cares?” Louis snorted as if Harry had just said something stupid. “There’s that too, okay, you’ll crush them - you know, nothing new,” he moved even closer, perhaps to share his enthusiasm, “The real important thing is that I’ve just discovered that in the morning you don’t talk and, most importantly, you do what I tell you without complaining.”

Part of Harry wanted to respond with his middle finger but he couldn’t help bursting out laughing because Louis really was an idiot.

An adorable idiot, because he affectionately petted Harry’s hair and, before getting out of bed, he leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, whispering “Good morning.”

Harry wanted to scream into the pillow, but even if he could have, he wouldn’t have been able to because his heart stopped completely the moment Louis’s lips touched his skin in the sweetest and most innocent way possible.

He didn’t know if it was the movie or Louis - or that kiss on the forehead - but Harry felt noticeably more relaxed that morning. Even when he had to calm his heart to focus on the semifinals, he managed to direct his energy in the right way.

He didn’t like going to the gym in the morning, because he was used to doing it in the evening, but he knew how important that final practice was, so in the end he was glad their team had that last opportunity to polish their movements before heading out on the court in the afternoon.

As the hours passed, though, anxiety crept back into Harry’s thoughts, pushing him to completely shut his mind off. It was as if he couldn’t truly register any external stimulus, moving automatically through the different stages of the pre-game warm-up and finding himself waiting for the whistle to start almost like it was a sentence.

It was a vicious circle because the more he told himself that if he went out on the court with that mindset he could only cause disaster, the more negative his thoughts became.

Just before the referee blew the whistle to signal the last two minutes of the official warm-up, Harry grabbed the yellow water bottle and sat on the bench. He took a sip of water, then closed his eyes to focus all his attention on the game about to start.

He sighed, feeling like an idiot because for the first time since the start of the season, he really missed the comfort of his old water bottle which, instead of being in his hands, was carefully hidden at the bottom of his gym bag. He never left it completely empty, partly because it made it easier to fool himself into thinking there was nothing strange about it - it could always come in handy, right? - and partly because before leaving the locker room he always managed to be sneaky enough to steal a sip of water from his bottle. As if that wasn’t exactly the same water he was drinking right now.

He opened his eyes to push those thoughts away, as they were only leading him in the wrong direction, and closed them again trying to focus on the game.

“Are you with us?” Mitch asked when he came over to put on his jersey.

Harry nodded, lying, then placed the water bottle on the ground with the others and changed as well.

The first set was less disastrous than expected since both teams were nervous and clearly playing with the brakes on. They all made mistakes, not giving the small crowd in the bleachers a great show, but the level of play started to rise as the ice began to break.

They lost that first set by just a few points. Harry knew he hadn’t been as decisive as he should have been because he’d made too many predictable choices in attack, but at least he hadn’t made too many mistakes. His mind was in a dangerous place, teetering between truly getting into the game and letting himself be demolished by one mistake too many.

The second set started with a different pace and the Blue Bees found themselves chasing the opponents right from the start, fighting to get back into the game before it was too late.

Haynes replaced Mitch with Liam, because the whole team wasn’t functioning as it should and the only way to give a strong shake-up was to change the setting, try to manage the game through a different mind’s approach. Fortunately, it turned out to be the right choice because Liam and Zayn had always had a special connection on the court and this gave a slight boost to the team’s effectiveness in attack.

When it was Harry's turn to serve again, it wasn’t yet a particularly delicate phase of the set, but they had three points to recover. Louis threw him the ball as he had throughout the match and Harry took a deep breath before bouncing it twice on the ground.

Serving had always been one of his strengths and even during this somewhat inconsistent performance it had been one of the few constants he had been able to rely on. Just before the serve, he saw Haynes signaling for him to serve to the conflict zone between the libero and the front-row hitter, so he made sure to hit the ball in that direction.

He put the opposing reception in serious difficulty, but Cheltenham managed to rebuild the play and attack, only to find Isaac and Matt's hands blocking the pass, scoring a block point.

As Matt and Isaac yelled their celebration inches away from each other’s faces, the rest of the starters joined in their celebration.

Louis took the opportunity to tell him, “Serve long in zone 1.”

Harry furrowed his brow because that instruction went against everything they had studied while preparing for the game.

“Listen to me,” Louis insisted, looking him straight in the eyes and bringing a hand around his neck. “TThey're poorly positioned. The reception is unbalanced to the left because they know that’s their weak spot in this rotation and the setter is moving too early.”

Harry nodded, even though he hadn’t noticed all those details, and Louis gave him an encouraging pat on the chest before pushing him towards the serving zone.

He walked calmly, taking all the time available, and when he turned toward the court Louis passed him the ball. Haynes signaled for him to serve short just as the referee blew the whistle to authorize the serve but Harry, carefully observing the court, realised that all the details Louis had noticed were correct. He bounced the ball twice, stretched his arm out in front of him and focused his gaze first on the ball, then on the target zone and then back to the ball.

Ball. Court. Point.

He took a deep breath and tossed the ball. He hit it high, giving it a sharp and fast trajectory that went to the intersection of the lines in zone 1. It was an impossible serve to receive, in fact the opposing team didn't even try, simply watching the ball with their eyes and gifting the Blue Bees their first ace of the match.

As soon as his feet hit the ground after the jump, he was overwhelmed by his teammates’ embrace, and he felt something snap inside himself, realising he had entered the game. The serve was the only skill in that game where an individual could make the difference, so if Harry could take the lead when he was alone against an entire team, he would be unstoppable by combining his strength with that of his teammates.

For the next serve, he didn’t look at anyone’s instructions, he simply decided to follow his instinct and rely on power. He didn’t go for complicated directions, he chose his best shot and hit it with all his strength. The serve went straight to the opponent’s libero, who tried to receive it but couldn’t keep the ball in play, forcing his teammates into a desperate and useless attempt at a save.

They had recovered the deficit but, more importantly, they were making the opponents suffer to stay mentally in the game and not feel overwhelmed by their dominance at that moment, which could have changed the course of the match.

Harry remained focused, even as he celebrated with his teammates, because he knew he could manage the situation with a cool head.

He made his way to the serving area for the fourth time with a determined stride, then turned toward the court, searching for Louis's gaze, waiting for him to pass him the ball. He found those blue eyes already fixed on him and, unlike what usually happened, he didn’t feel his legs give way. He felt stronger.

Louis kissed the ball before passing it to him and Harry scrunched his nose to hide the idiot grin that would otherwise have spread across his face.

He bounced the ball twice, then stretched his arm out in front of him, making his decision for the serve.

Ball. Court. Point.

His serve was lower than expected and hit the top of the net with force, hanging in mid-air for a split second before dropping to the opponent's side of the court.

The first one to reach Harry, this time, was Louis. He literally launched himself at him, just a second before the other guys started pulling him, hugging him and patting his butt. Harry couldn’t understand anything anymore but felt like he was on top of the world, especially when Louis took his head in his hands and kissed his temples. Zayn also gave him a kiss, but his heart didn’t react the same way.

The next serve was effective but not enough to give the Blue Bees another direct point. They fought through some rallies, but in the end Zayn put the ball down with a line attack.

The positive serving streak continued for two more points before a block handed the ball to the opponent, but by then, it was clear that the set was in the hands of the Blue Bees.

They won it  with ease, continuing to dictate the pace in the third and fourth sets. When Liam closed the match with a clever tip, catching the defense off guard, Harry’s heart was about to explode with joy. Even before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Harry was already celebrating with the rest of the team.

Louis jumped into Liam’s arms, who lost his balance due to Zayn and Oli. They all fell to the ground with him in that embrace, which soon involved everyone, pinning Liam under the weight of the team. Harry crawled over to Mitch, who was lying a few steps away from him and threw himself into a hug that felt like victory.

They had done it. After years of sacrifices, they had finally earned their place in the Royal Cup final.

When they all stood up to reach the opponents at the net for the final handshake, Harry wasn’t the only one who was moved by the victory. He accepted the sincere congratulations from the Cheltenham players and staff because, for once, he felt like he truly deserved them. He was proud of himself and his boys.

It was a strange feeling, he felt both drunk and fully aware at the same time. He went to join his teammates at the back of the court for stretching, but when he sat down he could only close his eyes, letting his head fall back as he balanced himself on his arms. A few seconds later, he felt arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a hug so tight it took his breath away.

He recognized Louis’s scent even before opening his eyes.

Louis was kneeling, straddling Harry’s outstretched legs and holding him as if he wanted to merge their bodies together.

“MVP!” Louis exclaimed in a high-pitched voice Harry didn’t believe he had ever heard him use.

Harry straightened his back slightly, so he could support both of their weights without using his arms. “Let’s wait for the stats first” he said with a laugh, returning the hug, “I wasn’t the best player on the court.”

“I don’t need the fucking stats.”

Harry wanted to argue, but all it took was focusing on the feeling of Louis’s proud smile pressed against his neck for him to give up.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in a barely audible voice.

“What’s with all this mushy stuff?” Liam shouted with a squeaky voice, pretending to be scandalized.

They both started laughing, along with the rest of the team, but before getting up Louis made sure to squeeze Harry’s face between his hands and give him a loud kiss on the cheek.

"He’s turned all red," Isaac teased him, as everyone laughed while Harry fell back, crossing his arms over his face to hide.

"Thank God Niall’s not here or he would have tormented you all night," Zayn added.

"Do you want a kiss too?" Louis provoked.

Harry peeked through his arms and saw Zayn raising an admonishing finger at Louis. "Don’t even think about it."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, but then Louis took a step forward and Zayn jumped to his feet starting a chase that ended, only after a clumsy slalom through the people crowding the court, with Louis tackling Zayn and messing up his always-perfect tuft.

"Zayn’s gonna kill him," Isaac commented.

"Nah, it’s impossible to get mad at Louis" Liam replied, amused. "In the end, he even managed to win over Harry."

"Only because he wore me down" Harry admitted with a laugh, sitting down to finally start stretching.

Somehow, after the shower and dinner, they managed to convince the coach to let them go out and celebrate. It wasn’t easy because, according to the schedule, they were supposed to return to London that very night, but none of them wanted to spend all those hours in a minibus after that victory. Haynes was reluctant at first, but in the end they found a compromise. He would ask to stay in the dorms for that night, provided that, no matter what state they were in, they would be ready to leave at eight the next morning. In the meantime, they could do whatever they wanted, but without using the minibus.

"The problem is we’re in the middle of nowhere" Oli grumbled, looking for a place to go on the internet. "The only club we can walk to is this RBB."

Michael peeked over his phone screen. "It’s a gay bar."

"Well done, you can read," Oli shot back sarcastically.

Liam rubbed his hands together, ready to set off. "Well, it doesn’t look like we have alternatives."

"I don’t care if the nearest place is Mitch’s grandma’s house, as long as there’s alcohol and music," Zayn commented, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. "Who’s leading the way?"

They followed Oli for about ten minutes or so, until they reached a small clearing at the end of an alley, which hosted a fairly crowded parking lot. Harry was pleasantly surprised by how the neon lights reflected off the shiny surfaces of the cars, giving the whole place an almost surreal atmosphere.

That effect was due to the large sign that took up much of the main building’s facade. The club’s name, written in big pink letters, was accompanied by a rainbow bear with black mustaches and a spiked leather collar which wrapped around the bear’s neck and continued down its body, as if it were a bondage accessory. Just a few meters away, separated only by a short row of trees, was the entrance to a small café, which in some ways seemed like a miniature copy of the main club. That sign also featured the same rainbow bear, but with subtle differences that made it look like it had its own personality. The café was called SBB, whatever those initials meant.

"But that’s- that’s a teddy bear dressed like... Oli, where the fuck have you brought us?" Stan almost shouted hysterically, looking around.

"Oh," Mitch exclaimed before starting to giggle. "Now I get it. RBB stands for Rainbow Bondage Bear."

Stan looked like he was about to panic. "It’s probably a strip club, the coach will kill us."

"Why would he kill us?" Zayn teased. "We're all adults, we can do whatever we want."

"Relax, Stan" Oli grunted, handing the phone to his friend. "Look at the pictures, it’s just a regular club."

"They might not even let us in dressed like this" Harry added, since they were all wearing the team’s tracksuits, not having brought any other clothes for the trip.

"We’re twelve handsome athletic guys, dressed the same, entering a gay club in the suburbs" Zayn observed. "They’ll roll out the red carpet for us."

"I feel like the discount version of Magic Mike," Michael joked.

"Speak for yourself" Matt silenced him. "I’m first class."

They lined up to enter, continuing to joke about their outfits or who would make the most impressions, curious about what awaited them inside the club.

In the end, there was nothing really unusual. The place wasn’t very big, but every detail in the decor was able to capture attention. Contrary to what Harry expected, the predominant color was black. The floor, the brick walls, the bar counter, the leather sofas surrounding the dance floor, everything was black but splashed with rainbow highlights.

On the main wall at the far end of the room, behind the DJ’s console, under a graffiti with the club’s name in pink spray paint, was a medium-sized rainbow teddy bear identical to the one on the sign but dressed in full leather gear, including a jacket, cap and boots. Next to it stood a smaller bear – SBB, Harry thought – and through its sunglasses, it looked like it was reading a book it was holding between its paws.

At the moment Harry thought how strange but brilliant the idea was. He noticed that behind the bar counter, the wall was covered with photos of the most extravagant outfits the two bears had worn over the years. There was everything, from replicas of the most iconic Freddie Mercury outfits to wedding dresses, from police uniforms to firefighter ones and even football kits, overalls, rainbow skirts or superhero costumes.

The two walls behind the leather sofas were much simpler and, overall, the light random splashes of colorful paint brightening the black bricks made the whole space feel balanced.

Even the waiters’ black t-shirts or shirts had a small rainbow border around the sleeves and collars, while the names of the cocktails paid homage to all the greatest queer icons.

Harry ordered an Over The Rainbow and loved everything about that drink, from its fruity taste to the little sugar rainbow decorating the rim of the glass.

"I think you dropped this," a short blonde guy said, catching his attention while Harry tried to listen to Isaac and Michael over the music.

"Uh?" Harry turned around, noticing the guy was handing him one of the club’s round napkins, shaped like a smiley face. His was green, winking at him. "No, I don’t think it’s mine," he smiled politely.

"Are you sure?"

Harry waved the napkin with the smiley face he was holding and shrugged before turning back to the conversation.

"You broke his heart," Zayn teased. "He was trying to give you his number."

At that moment Harry realized and cursed himself for being so stupid. He was so used to shutting down any kind of interest when going out with his friends that he hadn’t even considered the possibility that the guy might have been flirting with him.

"You really can’t be this naive" Louis commented, raising an eyebrow at Harry’s surprised expression.

"I’m not naive" Harry mumbled, frowning while taking a sip of his drink. "I didn’t think about the fact that we’re in a gay bar" he tried to explain.

Another thing he hadn’t considered was the gay radar and he hoped none of his friends would wonder why, among all of them, most of the guys were approaching Harry or Louis. Surprisingly, even Isaac was approached a couple of times and even received a free drink from a mysterious admirer at some point in the night, while no one was shocked by the heartthrob status of Zayn. That was the norm though, because Zayn Malik could wear a basic tracksuit and still look like a model.

To Harry's eyes, though, not even Zayn could match Louis' beauty.

It was disarming and he could see it in the eyes of the guys who approached Louis to ask him to dance, yet still hung around talking to him despite his polite refusal. They couldn't take their eyes off him - sometimes even their hands - and that way of his, that natural flirting with anyone, was about to drive Harry crazy with jealousy.

"This is a bit frustrating," Michael sighed as he downed the last of his second drink. "If I had the same success with girls as I do with guys, I wouldn't be single right now."

They all burst out laughing as Louis placed a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe it's time to switch to the rainbow side of the force."

"I’m starting to think it would be easier- I mean, look" he pointed to another guy who was currently asking Isaac to dance, "You don't have to do anything, you don’t have to try or make a fool of yourself, you just- you just wait for the right guy to fall from the sky."

For a moment while laughing at Michael's existential crisis, Harry found himself dreaming that this could be normal. Joking freely with his best friends about how cute or not a guy was, accepting a phone number from someone who could really attract him instead of yet another girl just to avoid raising suspicions, flirting for fun without wondering what his friends might think. That night it was all part of the game, but Harry couldn't ignore the bitter aftertaste of that farce that would have been true freedom for him.

"Do you think so?" Louis asked Michael ironically, sighing and placing a hand on his hip. "Try dealing with someone like Harry and then tell me if you don’t have to try."

Harry's eyes widened, turning to him with his mouth agape at what he had dared to say, but when he saw Louis' satisfied grin and recognized the provocative spark in his eyes, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Excuse me?" he provoked back, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe his ears. "I’m adorable with people who know how to handle me the right way."

Louis blinked several times, pretending to be shocked by the news. "Cause- I mean, are you telling me there's actually someone who can do that?" He put a hand on his chest before shaking his head and starting to count on his fingers as he spoke. "Because from what I've seen, the ones who joke around annoy you, the ones who are kind are weird, the ones who give you attention are heavy, the ones who give you less attention avoid you, the honest ones are assholes, the ones who compliment you are fake and the ones who-" 

"Okay, I think that's enough" Harry interrupted him, blushing slightly. Maybe the fact that dealing with a person who could randomly be any of the things you've listed every single day might be a bit confusing, don't you think?"

"Maybe that person is just trying to figure out the only way not to be hated?"

Harry frowned and immediately clarified, "I don't hate you."

"Now you don’t," Louis emphasized, raising an eyebrow before turning back to Michael. "So don’t believe that guys are less complicated than girls because the most interesting people are always hard to win over."

"You never tell me these things," Zayn pouted at Liam.

Luckily that shifted everyone's attention from Harry, who felt like he was about to pass out from how fast his heart was beating. Only Louis continued to keep his gaze fixed on him.

"What?" Liam asked, chuckling, "That you're psycho?"

"Hey!" protested Harry amid the laughter.

But Zayn kept looking at Liam with a serious expression, as serious as he could be after four drinks. "No, you never had to fight for my friendship just because you thought it was worth it."

Liam, probably the only sober one in the group, hugged him laughing. "What was I supposed to win if you’ve been my best friend since we were in kindergarten?"

"Ignore those two," Mitch interjected, nodding toward Harry and Louis but addressing Zayn. "They’re in the honeymoon phase of their friendship after making our lives miserable for two months because they were two stubborn idiots" he rolled his eyes affectionately, "Let’s enjoy the peace and let them do their lovebird thing."

Louis proudly wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, pulling him as close as possible and kissed his cheek.

Harry was definitely not ready for this version of Louis so physical and affectionate, especially not after two drinks heavier than he expected, which had significantly lowered his defenses.

A group of guys, curious about their athletic outfits, approached the team. They seemed friendly, asked a few questions and convinced them to join them on the dance floor. As they walked through the crowd to find a spot in the room with enough space for everyone, a cute guy in the group - Steve or something like that - wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist and Harry turned to him to figure out what he wanted.

"Do you want to get some fresh air before dancing?"

"Uh- no, sorry, I'd rather stay with the others" Harry replied with a polite smile, trying to gently free himself from his grip.

"Alright," Steve sighed, walking alongside him as they started walking again and he leaned toward his ear to speak more privately "You're not out with your friends, are you?"

Harry pulled away, putting some space between them. "Sorry?"

Steve raised his hands in surrender, shrugging innocently. "Curiosity," he justified.

"Is it so hard to think that I might just not be interested?" Harry shot back, still trying to keep a friendly tone.

He didn’t wait for Steve’s response and took advantage of the surprise on his face to step away and join the rest of the guys.

"Everything okay with that guy?" Louis asked as they got close.

Harry had noticed that Louis hadn’t taken his eyes off him even for a second while he was talking to Steve.

"Yeah, I told him I’d meet him in the bathroom in ten minute" he provoked just to see how long it would take Louis, always so sharp and perceptive, to realize that Harry was literally laughing in his face biting his lip to avoid being too obvious.

He also felt vaguely guilty when he saw the lost expression on Louis’ face for a moment, as if someone had just slapped him, gasping and struggling to find the right thing to say. Then suddenly, he understood and shot Harry a murderous look.

"That was a low blow" Louis commented, rubbing his face with a hand.

"I don’t know what you mean," Harry grinned, finally starting to dance.

Louis placed a hand on his side and moved in to brush his lips against Harry’s ear. "What I mean is that it would be easy for me to take you to the bathroom right now, if only I didn’t want more."

He slowly pulled away, stopping to observe Harry’s face carefully, noting how his eyes widened.

"More?"

Louis leaned in again, but this time he let his lips trail down Harry’s cheek, light as a feather, before reaching his ear. "Only if you want it too."

Harry rested his cheek against Louis’ and nodded, not even knowing what exactly more could mean, because it could have a million different nuances, but he was fine with it. He wanted everything Louis could give him.

He hadn’t even realized he had stopped dancing because until Louis took a step back, leaving his personal space, Harry could focus on anything other than him. Louis took his hand and led him a little further into the center of the group to dance with the others.

Harry loved dancing, he wasn’t exactly great at it but he didn’t care, especially when he was surrounded by his friends and could act goofy. He didn’t even worry about blatantly staring at the way Louis could move his hips, though that might have been the last straw for his mental sanity.

They were all tired, sweaty and pretty drunk when Steve - whose existence Harry had almost forgotten - approached him again.

“Sweetie, have you changed your mind?” Steve slurred, maybe a bit too drunk.

“Definitely not,” Harry laughed, turning back to his friends, since for him the matter was already closed for good.

Steve, however, didn’t seem to agree. He slid a finger through Harry’s hair, which was only half up in a bun, and leaned in to sniff a strand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry exclaimed, stepping back quickly.

He felt Louis’s arm wrap around his waist from behind, pulling him close in a protective but also possessive manner.

“I’ve already told you no twice, I’m not repeating myself,” Harry said firmly but without aggression in his voice, because the last thing he wanted was to provoke a drunk guy he didn’t know.

Steve’s gaze flicked to Louis for a moment before returning to Harry. “For him? Seriously?” he said with an incredulous almost disgusted expression.

Harry scanned him from head to toe and then burst out laughing, partly due to the alcohol. He couldn’t help it.

“Mate, if it wasn’t already clear, he’s my boyfriend” Louis interjected, his tone too calm to be sincere, then turned Harry around to hold him against his chest. “Come on, babe” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, taking a few steps with Harry who suddenly didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

He wanted to kiss him so badly it almost made him want to cry.

“I think I just got turned on” Zayn said, walking up to tease Louis, “Babe, next time, defend my honor too?”

Everyone burst out laughing, even Harry, who put a hand on Zayn’s chest to push him away. “Find yourself another guy,” he chuckled, feeling no guilt at all, before wrapping his arms around Louis’s neck and whispering in his ear, “Zayn’s not the only one turned on.”

He laughed again when Louis’s eyes went wide, coughing to cover up his reaction, but never letting go of his grip on his waist. They continued dancing close to each other, using the situation as an excuse to not pretend indifference in front of their friends, never separating for the rest of the night.

It was all so surreal. Pretending to be a couple for fun was the only way they could avoid hiding, but at the same time they couldn’t do anything they actually wanted. Harry didn’t throw away any precaution only because of Louis, who somehow always managed to be more sober than him and could hold back even when Harry was literally rubbing against him.

They left the club only after four in the morning, retreating to the café next door, which luckily was open all night.

“SBB means Sugar Baby Bear,” Harry exclaimed with a giggle, showing everyone the full name of the place written on the menu, before sinking back into the sofa between Louis’s arms.

“It makes sense” Louis commented, hugging him affectionately.

“Can I puke? You two are disgusting” Oli grumbled shaking his head, then pointing a finger at Louis. “And you’re so whipped. ‘It makes sense’," he mimicked in a high voice, “What? You’re just embarrassing.”

Isaac, with a groan, buried his face in his crossed arms on the table. "Please don't talk about puke."

“When you’re sober, we’ll roast you for life” Zayn mumbled, his head in his hands, “We knew Harry’s drunk clingy version but you, dude… embarrassing.”

They all laughed, including the two of them. Harry wasn't so drunk that he couldn't realize how both of them had attributed more blame - or credit - to the alcohol than it actually deserved for their behavior.

“Oh, what my eyes witnessed tonight” Liam whined dramatically, covering his eyes with one hand, “Louis, your performance tonight would break the heart of all the fan-girls who make pilgrimages to the gym just to see you.”

“Well, sooner or later, they’ll have to accept it since I’m gay” Louis said in a playful tone, amid the general laughter at Liam’s joke.

Harry whipped around to face him, afraid he had said it without even realizing, but Louis smiled at him with an unexpected calmness for such a delicate moment. One by one, the boys processed the message and looked at Louis in silence.

Harry’s stomach twisted, as though it were his own coming out and not someone else’s, maybe because he knew the way his friends would react would answer many of the insecurities he had carried in his heart for years.

“Is this one of those moments when you expect one of us to say something deep and intelligent?” Zayn asked without batting an eye, his head still between his hands like a few minutes before. “Because if that’s the case, you should’ve tried that a few pints of alcohol ago, mate. If you’re fine with an ‘okay,’ then I’m happy for you,” only then did he look up at Louis and smile, shrugging, “Happy Pride.”

"I didn't see that coming" Isaac commented, still shocked by the news, but with a tone that sounded more excited than horrified to Harry.

“Please, Isaac” Mitch sighed, rolling his eyes, “Did you see that wrist?”

The whole team burst out laughing affectionately, while Louis proudly flipped them off. Harry tried to mask the tears that had welled up in his eyes with an amused yawn.

Louis cleared his throat. “So, just to be clear and avoid misunderstandings- uhm, is it a problem for anyone?” He scanned their faces for a moment, "I'm not offended, feel free to speak openly."

"Louis, honestly mate, who the fuck cares who you sleep with?" Liam replied.

“More girls for us” Michael exclaimed, high-fiving Oli.

Everyone started talking over each other, as they always did when a new subject came up, and Louis took advantage of the chaos to look at Harry carefully.

“Is it a problem for you?” For a moment he seemed unsure, as if that was the reaction he feared the most, but Harry couldn't understand why. “You know, uh, the fact that I’m gay” then he added in an even lower voice, “Publicly, I mean.”

“No,” Harry hurriedly replied, “Of course not.”

The fact that Louis didn’t seem worried about the others’ reaction, but feared that his coming out to the team might drive a wedge between them, for some reason made Harry feel guilty. As if his personal fears could somehow affect another person’s freedom, Louis’s freedom of all people.

“Hey,” Louis tilted his head slightly to follow his gaze, “What’s with that face?”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, not when Louis looked at him like that, so he shook his head before curling back up next to him. “Nothing, I’m just happy for you.”

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up, the first thing he noticed was Louis's scent.

He smiled, instinctively burying his face in his hoodie as if he couldn’t help but inhale it. He froze instantly as he realised what he was doing and opened his eyes alarmed, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that Louis was still deeply asleep, his head resting against the minibus window with his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He peeked at the time on his phone, careful not to move too much so as not to wake him, then closed his eyes again hoping to fall back asleep.

He was as tired as he’d ever been. They had stayed in the café until almost six in the morning, taking advantage of the time to eat something and drink pints of coffee before walking to the dorms. Luckily, the coach had shown mercy and left the minibus open, though without the keys, so they climbed in without thinking twice and had all fallen asleep within minutes.

Harry hadn't left Louis's side even for a moment since he had pretended to be his boyfriend at the RBB. He had stuck by his side at the club, in the café and even on the walk back, always wrapped in his comforting embrace. It had been such a natural reflex to sit together in the minibus and fall asleep as if there were nothing unusual about it.

The truth, though, was that everything felt extremely new and Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t just the intimacy of those gestures or the way Louis had looked at him all evening, because the words that had burned into his memory kept repeating themselves in his head, giving him chills just like when he’d first heard them.

Louis wanted more.

Did he want sex? Did he want to try to build some kind of relationship? Did he want... Harry?

Harry was confused because, on one hand, part of him had hoped until the end that Louis would give in to the sexual tension between them all night - all week actually, but especially that night - but it didn’t happen. Harry had also been torn about whether or not to make the first move, but he wasn’t crazy enough to risk a rejection when Louis had already made it clear that he didn’t want the night to go in that direction.

Knowing that Louis didn’t just want a quick hookup in the bathroom, though, awakened a different part of Harry that had been busy for hours trying to manage the butterflies in his stomach. The fact that Louis didn’t want to settle for less, that he wanted more - whatever that meant - could only be a good sign.

Harry himself didn’t know exactly what he wanted from Louis, so he couldn’t expect to have clearer ideas about Louis’s intentions than his own. The one thing he was sure of now was that he didn’t just want sex from him.

He wanted that too, of course, he'd never desired anyone so much, but despite the urge to have sex with him again had almost become almost obsessive, Harry often found himself hoping to have a conversation with Louis or make him laugh in that adorable way, rather than just staring at his ass.

Louis's hugs and all his little gestures of affection were so pleasant that Harry daydreamed more about those than anything else. Even in that moment, while his heart raced and he couldn’t fall back asleep due to the way Louis was holding him, he couldn’t help but daydream about a future where that was just the daily routine.

The normality of an afternoon at home studying while Louis worked on his laptop right next to him or an evening after practice spent on the sofa watching a movie that neither of them would actually watch because they’d both be so tired that they’d fall asleep within minutes. Harry dreamed of all these little things, but he was also scared.

He was afraid because just thinking about the word relationship made his stomach tighten. It had been so long since he’d truly wanted one but, above all, he didn’t have the experiences that could make him feel at ease with the idea of opening up to Louis.

He was scared that Louis might not be on the same page, but he was also scared that at some point it would be Harry himself who suddenly stopped feeling that way, just like he'd experienced in almost all of the brief relationships he'd had.

He was also afraid of not living up to expectations, especially after the kind of relationship Louis had with Andrea. Harry felt small, in a way, not only because he couldn’t help but compare himself to him but also because he knew he couldn’t give Louis - not yet, at least - the kind of freedom and honesty he was used to in his previous relationship.

He envied Louis for how easily he had come out to the team that night but, at the same time, he felt almost cornered by that gesture. He knew it wasn’t to push him to do the same, but Harry still felt like he’d missed the opportunity to say 'Well, me too' and face that fear that had always held him back with a few simple words.

Suddenly, that lack of courage he had always tucked away in a corner of his mind finding a thousand justifications to lessen its weight, had become a heavy weight in the center of his chest.

He tried to slip out of Louis’s embrace as gently as possible because the last thing he wanted was to wake him up and have to face his probing eyes. He sat up, straightened his back and took a deep breath.

He missed the soft warmth he had been wrapped in during those hours, but he needed to breathe or his mind would drag him into a dark vortex from which he wouldn’t know how to escape. He tried to push away every negative thought that fought for dominance in his mind, but some of them were so loud that he couldn’t ignore them.

He felt like he had wasted his chance, but at the same time he was angry because he wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know if he was more upset with himself or with Louis, who had caught him off guard with such a move. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t his fault though, because Harry couldn’t put the weight of his insecurities on someone else. If only he had known Louis’s intentions earlier, though, maybe…

Maybe nothing would have changed. It might have been even worse because in that case, he wouldn't even have been able to hide behind the fact that he had been caught off guard; it would have been a hundred percent a choice. The choice to continue lying to his friends, to live behind a mask that didn’t belong to him and to force Louis to do the same.

He looked at him for a few moments while he slept peacefully, unaware of the emotional storm Harry was going through.

He wondered how one day he might look Louis in the face and ask him to get trapped in a secret relationship when Louis was so used to being open and honest that it almost seemed easy.

Maybe Louis, when he thought he wanted more from Harry, hadn’t accounted for the fact that staying in the shadows might not just be a temporary phase of whatever was going to happen between them in the future.

Maybe he had overestimated Harry, thinking he was capable of taking control of his life once and for all.

Maybe he expected to deal with someone who actually wasn’t the person he had in front of him, someone who wasn’t up to his expectations. Harry wasn’t Andrea and maybe he’d never be able to give Louis what he had the right to expect from him.

When he felt his eyes fill with tears and his chest tighten to the point of pain, he tried again to take a series of deep breaths, hoping to calm down. This wasn’t the time to panic.

Louis woke up about ten minutes later, looking completely lost for a moment, and even though Harry knew it would have been better not to, he couldn’t resist the temptation to watch him. He saw Louis yawn with his eyes still half-closed, then stretch with slow and tired movements. It was at that moment that he seemed to realize something strange, making him suddenly open his eyes fully, staring at his own chest before looking around in confusion, until his gaze landed on Harry's face.

"Why are you awake?" he murmured in a husky voice.

Harry shrugged, offering a half-smile in an attempt to seem casual.

Louis pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his knuckles, then brought a hand up to stifle another yawn before rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"How much longer?" he asked, starting to shift in his seat as if he couldn’t stand sitting still any longer.

Harry hadn’t paid much attention to the road, but he was fairly sure he’d recognized the last exit they’d taken. "Uhm, maybe half an hour... I think."

Louis turned to him, looking as if he were trying to figure something out. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, averting his gaze under the pretense of checking the time on his phone. "Just tired."

He felt Louis’s eyes on him for what felt like an eternity, but in the end Louis didn’t say anything and Harry silently thanked God. They remained quiet for the rest of the trip, which didn’t last much longer than Harry had predicted. They arrived shortly after noon and the coach didn’t miss the opportunity to tease them as they all climbed out of the minibus like zombies.

"At least we don’t have practice today" Louis commented, walking with him, Luke and Oli toward their respective cars.

"You would’ve made us train even in this state," Oli objected.

Louis chuckled, blowing the smoke from his cigarette upwards. "Not true."

"Wanna bet?" Oli continued to tease him before pulling his car keys from his pocket and disabling the alarm. "See you tomorrow, guys."

"Give me a ride to my car, please" Luke pleaded. "I parked way too far."

Oli rolled his eyes but of course motioned for him to get in. "You guys?" he then asked, turning to Harry and Louis.

"Mine’s just around the corner," Harry declined the offer.

Louis also shook his head. "I can’t feel my legs after all those hours sitting, I need to walk."

"And smoke," Oli pointed out, getting into the car.

Louis flipped him off, laughing, and Oli returned the gesture by sticking his hand out the window as he maneuvered out of the parking lot.

When they resumed walking, it was Louis who broke the silence. "Uh, is it okay if I walk you to the car?"

"Yeah," Harry bit his lip timidly. "But it really is just around the corner. I’m almost there."

Louis shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him, continuing to walk by his side until they reached the car. Harry placed his bag in the trunk and, after closing it, turned to look at Louis, who showed no sign of leaving.

"Thanks" he said with a small smile, not knowing what else to do. "Uh—for keeping me company, I mean."

Louis furrowed his brows, chuckling before putting out his cigarette with his foot. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile, because that gentle persistence was so typically Louis. "Yes, I told you already."

"Thought it was worth checking," Louis replied with a fond but unconvinced smile. "Just to make sure you’re not secretly planning to poison me because you’re sad about global warming or - I don’t know - because I did something wrong without realising."

Harry looked away for a moment, feeling his stomach twist without being able to tell whether it was a pleasant or unpleasant feeling. "If I were trying to poison you I wouldn’t admit it, though."

"Knew it" Louis whispered, lightening the mood with that usual joking tone that always managed to get a laugh out of Harry. "Alright," Louis sighed, smiling at him affectionately. "See you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow" Harry replied almost in a whisper, trying to silence the little voice in his head that only asked for five more minutes.

"Louis" he called out when he had barely taken a couple of steps away. "Can I- can I ask you a not-so-polite question?"

"Of course," Louis nodded, immediately turning back.

Harry opened his mouth several times, but it was as if all his thoughts were stuck somewhere deep in his throat, while Louis looked at him with an increasingly confused expression before giving up and speaking again. 

"Ask me anything you want, just don’t keep looking at me as if you’re afraid of- oh." Louis stopped for a moment, letting his gaze sweep over his face before smiling at him with infinite sweetness. "Ask me anything you want, I promise I won’t judge you."

Harry averted his gaze, feeling somehow too exposed. "Why did you come out to the team?"

"I…" Louis’s eyes widened, surprised by the question, and he hesitated for a few seconds before responding. "Honestly? I don’t know- I mean, uh... it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing because it felt like a good time, but I admit that- that I had thought about it before." He tried to explain. "I mean- I knew the guys weren’t assholes so... why not?"

"Why not?" Harry repeated to himself, as if reflecting on it, confused by that answer.

"I mean, under normal circumstances I wouldn't have done it so soon because I prefer to get to know the people around me a bit better before opening up, but not all situations are the same and sometimes it's worth taking a risk to get some answers, right?"

Harry furrowed his brows. "I don’t understand what’s different this time."

"I love the guys, but- I don’t even know where I’ll be next year... you know what I mean?" Louis waited for Harry to look at him before continuing. "It would’ve sucked, but I would’ve gotten over it. They’re not my best friends. I’m not saying I did it for you, because that would be wrong, uh, and embarrassing. But… hypothetically, if it had gone badly, I wouldn’t have lost anything."

"You- you did it for that?"

"No," Louis quickly clarified. "Well, kind of" he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "This makes it sound like a bigger deal than it actually was. I didn’t think about it that much. I just thought it was worth it because- no one has to come out, okay? But you told me how long you’d wanted to and- and how much the reaction of your best friends scared you, so I thought… I thought seeing how they’d react might make you feel better. At least fear wouldn’t be the one deciding for you."

Harry blinked several times, trying to process that response without being overwhelmed by the anxiety of what Louis’s words implied. "But I- I don't…" he stammered, searching for a way to justify himself. "I don’t know if it works like that."

"Hey, breathe," Louis placed his hands on his shoulders, searching for his gaze. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things worse."

"It’s not your fault if I- if I can’t do it."

"Harry, knowing you're in a safe place doesn't change things. It doesn't suddenly make you ready to take the leap. Only you can know when, or if, you'll ever want to do it. I just- I didn't want you to feel pressured into doing something you don't feel ready for. Living in fear is awful, but not having any fear doesn't mean you have to do something reckless. It just gives you the choice. I only- I just wanted you to know that if you ever decide to jump, you'll find twelve idiots waiting to catch you with open arms."

Harry nodded, suddenly remembering to breathe again, and Louis pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like this" he whispered into Harry’s hair. "I should have thought it through better."

"I’m okay," Harry murmured, clutching at his hoodie and genuinely believing it for the first time since he’d woken up. "I just needed to talk about it."

"I’m glad you did." Louis hugged him even tighter, pressing a series of soft kisses to his temple.

This time, when his breath caught in his throat, Harry knew it was for a good reason.

"I feel so stupid" he confessed after a few seconds of silence, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure how Louis had heard him.

"Well, usually I’d agree with you," Louis chuckled, lightening the mood and letting out a sharp yelp when Harry stepped on his foot. "I was about to say you’re not, at least not this time, but you’ve missed your chance," he grumbled, pretending to be offended. "Go on, if you want to keep making up insults about yourself."

Harry laughed and loosened the hug just enough to look at him. "They’re not made up" he said with a hint of amusement to mask the seriousness of his thoughts. "It’s stupid to be scared of things like this."

"Are you kidding me?" Louis asked, looking utterly unimpressed.

"No" Harry replied hesitantly, not sure where this was going.

"Being scared of things like this is stupid?" Louis repeated, his voice a pitch too high. "Sure, tell that to the guy who’s terrified of snails."

Harry definitely hadn’t seen that coming and he was so caught off guard that all he could do was burst out laughing.

"I see you still find it hilarious" Louis said in a theatrically flat tone as Harry tried to muffle his laughter against his chest. "And I’m not offended at all. Not at all."

"You’re an idiot," Harry replied through giggles.

"Yes, go on, twist the knife," Louis continued. "As if it’s not bad enough living with the stupidest phobia in the universe and having to listen to you call me fucking brave."

"Stop it," Harry protested gently, because he knew what Louis was trying to do.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "I’m just saying there’s always someone worse off than you. Every time you think your fear is stupid, just remember the bloody snails."

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’s neck, holding him as tightly as he ever had, hoping that through the embrace he could convey all the gratitude he couldn’t put into words. Louis remained silent too, simply returning the hug with the same intensity.

"Now you really need to go" Louis whispered after a while, "because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out without kissing you."

"You could," Harry suggested.

Louis pressed a kiss to his hair. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

๑

Louis: What are you doing online at this hour?

Harry: That’s called stalking

Louis: I opened the chat to tell you something funny, but I’ve changed my mind

Harry: What was it?

Louis: Bye
Louis: Go to sleep

Harry: I’m not tired 
Harry: Why are you still awake at 2 am?

Louis: You know those analysis sheets you ignore every week? 
Louis: I’ll let you in on a secret 
Louis: They don’t write themselves

Harry: I hate you 
Harry: And it’s not true that I ignore them 
Harry: You shouldn’t be working this late

Louis: It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do…

Harry: I’ll keep you company until you’re done

Louis: Going to bed isn’t an option, huh?

Harry: I was thinking of a different kind of company 
Harry: But if you ask me like that… ;)

Louis: You’re lucky you’re so good-looking because your flirting skills are terrible

๑

"I’m not one to give out compliments, you should know that by now" the Coach said seriously as the team stretched at the end of practice. "But I’m proud of the way you approached and won the semifinal."

Harry let his gaze wander over his teammates’ faces, all sharing the same satisfied smile. Even Louis was smiling as if this achievement was just as important as the many greater ones in his career. By now, Harry knew him well enough to understand that for Louis there truly was no difference between the Olympics and a local cup, he approached everything with the same mindset. They had talked about it just the night before when, in a sudden wave of courage, Harry had called Louis to keep his promise of keeping him company while he finished his work.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had felt like a teenager with his first crush, his heart skipping a beat every time he heard Louis laugh and clutching his pillow to his chest to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay. At the same time, though, talking to Louis was so easy that he never wanted to stop. They’d mostly chatted about silly things, as if ending their days on the phone together was already a habit. Still, there had been a brief moment when Harry had let slip how nervous he already was about the final, asking how Louis always seemed so composed.

"That doesn’t mean we can let our guard down now" Haynes continued, forcing Harry to tear his gaze away from Louis and focus back on him. "Yesterday you deserved the night off but this week, besides being the most important, is also the shortest because we won't be able to train on Friday. So, we’ve only got tomorrow and the day after."

"Why aren’t we training on Friday if the final is on Saturday?" Luke asked, earning a series of glares from everyone present.

"If you occasionally bothered to read the texts I send in the group chat, you’d know" the Coach scolded, then sighed rubbing his face with his hand. "Louis printed the video analysis data" he said, turning to him. "Can you hand out the sheets to the lads?"

Louis stood up effortlessly, disappearing into the locker room for a few seconds before returning to the court and handing each athlete their copy. Harry wasted no time; as soon as he had his printout, he skimmed over his percentages to get a sense of what to expect.

Louis had a habit of scribbling handwritten notes alongside the information already on the sheets and Harry couldn’t wait to read them. He’d never admit how much he actually loved those brief comments, especially since more than once he hadn’t taken them well.

That day, though, his sheet seemed disappointingly empty. There was just a note about his reception - his only percentage down from the previous week - an MVP underlined in the top left corner and an asterisk next to the number of aces, which he couldn’t quite make sense of. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Louis return to his spot, sitting between him and Zayn. Before asking for an explanation, Harry decided to double-check to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. He found another asterisk on the back of the sheet and frowned when he couldn’t decipher the doodle Louis had drawn next to the title of the final section, where he usually wrote a brief summary of what to focus on during the week.

Harry brought the paper closer to his face to get a better look. He was almost sure it was… an at-sign?

"An at-sign?" he asked, puzzled, turning the sheet towards Louis to point it out. "What- what is this? Some kind of treasure hunt where I need to figure out the correct email address to find all the other comments?"

Louis just shook his head in resignation, trying to suppress a giggle. He almost looked embarrassed.

"What?" Harry huffed, attempting to put on an expression that was at least somewhat intimidating. "Why do you keep looking at me like that but not saying anything?"

"Because it seems pretty obvious what that bloody at-sign means" he replied, chuckling. "I can’t draw any better," he ruffled his hair with his fingers, the same way he always did when he was embarrassed about something. "The point still stands, though."

"What poi- oh," Harry looked back at the sheet, his lips slightly parted in sudden realisation.

It wasn’t an at-sign, not in the literal sense, anyway. It was a snail. Louis had put it there as a reminder of the conversation they’d had the day before. It was his way of reminding him that it was normal to be afraid but that there was really nothing to worry about.

He felt his cheeks flush and if they hadn’t been in front of everyone, he might have gotten a bit emotional. Or kissed him. Yeah, he definitely would have kissed him.

He looked up again, meeting Louis’s eyes, who seemed just as embarrassed as he was.

"Thanks" Harry said quietly, unable to hide the shy but genuinely grateful smile on his face.

Louis shrugged, as if he wanted to downplay what he had done. "It’s the only extra note you need for the final."

"I don’t get it," Zayn interjected, who apparently had been paying close attention to the entire exchange.

"Malik, mind your own fucking business," Louis huffed with a laugh, before returning the middle finger he’d received in response.

"Guys, one last thing before you head off" Haynes announced, standing in the middle of the disorganised circle of his athletes. "Remember, it’s the week of the final, so have fun tonight, but - please - don’t do anything stupid."

The entire team burst into laughter, but something told Harry that no promise they made would truly reassure the coach. After all, that night was Halloween. At first, they had all agreed to do nothing, because going out after practice meant staying up late and this was not the week for that. However, the Coach had suggested moving practice to the afternoon so he could take his daughters trick-or-treating and Oli had then spontaneously organised a party at his house for the team and a few other friends.

Harry had spent the entire day trying to come up with the perfect costume on such short notice, because he had neither the time nor the money to waste and, more importantly, he wanted to look sexy but not too much. In other words, he wanted to catch Louis' eye.

He decided to shower at home rather than at the gym and as he washed his hair he couldn't stop thinking about what Louis might be wearing. He hadn’t dared ask him what costume he’d chosen or perhaps he hadn’t asked because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but his mind just couldn’t help wandering.

In his head, he saw Louis dressed as a sexy vampire, a sexy mad scientist, a sexy pirate and... honestly, any costume on him would be sexy. Fuck.

Instinctively, Harry wrapped a hand around his cock, thanking God that he hadn’t showered at the gym, as he suspected that not even a cold shower would save him from this erection. He moved his wrist quickly, turning it so his palm brushed over the tip, and closed his eyes imagining that the wet grip around him was Louis' lips. He remembered exactly what it felt like to be in his mouth.

He came within minutes, growing more mentally frustrated by how much he wanted Louis, but at least feeling more relaxed. At least he wouldn’t be coming in his underwear at the mere sight of Louis dressed as some sexy-anything.

Eventually, Harry found the perfect idea and was quite proud of himself, as it allowed him to wear one of his favourite outfits. He dried his hair with care, making sure every curl was perfectly formed at the tips, then picked the tightest black jeans he owned from his wardrobe. They felt almost like a second skin, but he didn’t care about comfort that night, his main goal was to drive Louis wild. Louis should feel an overwhelming physical urge to rip those jeans off him and fuck him senseless.

The shirt he’d chosen was one of his absolute favourites, black and slightly sheer, with red roses printed across the front. It created that perfect see-through effect that Harry loved because it made him feel sexy.

On the way, he stopped to buy a rose to complete his costume and when he arrived at Oli’s house, while hanging his jacket by the entrance, he immediately felt Louis’s eyes on him. He couldn’t explain how, as he hadn’t even seen him yet, but he could feel that familiar warmth in his stomach whenever Louis looked at him. Turning towards the living room, he immediately met his gaze.

Louis was talking to Liam and Stan, but he seemed completely disconnected from the conversation, continuing to stare at Harry with his mouth slightly open.

Harry’s feet moved automatically towards the group. He greeted a few people along the way, noticing the room was already too crowded for his liking, especially considering the small size of the apartment. He realised he had lost sight of Louis just as he thought he had finally escaped from the endless chatter of Dylan, Oli’s werewolf neighbour, and looked around for those beautiful blue eyes.

"Taking your time, huh?" Louis' voice surprised him from behind. "Come over whenever you want."

Harry turned immediately, unable to stop himself from smiling. "Important people always arrive last," he teased, biting his lip in anticipation of the inevitable comeback.

But Louis said nothing, instead letting his gaze travel slowly over Harry’s body, scanning him from head to toe, but lingering on his face. Harry felt exposed in the best possible way, basking in the warmth of that attention.

"I’ve never seen you with your hair down" Louis mumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "You look beautiful" he added, clearing his throat nervously. "And... What are you dressed as?"

Harry didn’t even try to hide how much he had blushed at the direct compliment. Judging by how hard his heart was pounding, he knew it would be pointless. The fact that Louis was more struck by his hair than his sexy outfit made Harry feel... special? He wasn’t even sure why, but he felt appreciated in such a genuine way that it was like Louis had just raised him a level higher on the pedestal he felt himself on whenever he had his attention.

"Thanks," Harry smiled, nervously pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, then proudly showing off his rose. "I’m the fairy from Beauty and the Beast."

Louis raised an eyebrow, taking the opportunity to scan him again from head to toe. "I remember her looking a bit different."

Harry chuckled, biting his lip at how Louis’ flirting was making his poor heart ache. But it wasn’t just that. The blue sweater Louis was wearing was doing things to Harry too.

One thing in particular: a small triangular hole just under the neckline. Harry could have lost his mind over that little patch of skin.

"And what are you dressed as?" Harry asked, wondering if Louis knew he was basically personifying sex, although for Harry that would have been the only acceptable answer.

"As someone who didn’t realise it was a costume party" Louis replied.

They both laughed, but Harry tried his best to look disapproving. "I don’t think that’s an acceptable option."

"Well, maybe next time it should be specified in the invitation." 

"It’s Halloween," Harry shot back. "It’s obvious it’s a costume party."

"Apparently not."

Without thinking twice, Harry handed him the rose. "You can be the Beast if you want."

"Should I be offended?" Louis asked, raising an eyebrow, but he accepted the rose.

"Let’s just say the character fits you," Harry replied.

"How dare you?" Louis exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest to emphasise the affront, causing Harry to laugh.

At that moment, Zayn joined them, throwing an arm around Louis’ shoulders.

"Why do I still not see any alcohol at this party?" he greeted them.

Harry had seen him arrive just a few minutes earlier, wearing a black hoodie with the hood up and two cat ears on top.

"I see you really went all out for the costume," Louis mocked.

"Have you seen yourself?" Zayn raised an eyebrow. "What are you supposed to be? A dentist?"

Louis threw his head back laughing before turning back to look at Zayn fondly.

"I’m the Beast" he said, pointing at Harry. "He’s the rose."

"I’m not the rose," Harry protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

Louis rolled his eyes. "He’s the beauty."

Harry wanted to die.

His heart probably felt the same way because it was about to burst out of his chest.

"Louis!" Harry squealed, unsure whether it was because of another wrong definition or because he wanted to make it clear that if Louis kept going like this, Harry would lose his mind.

"Okay, okay," Louis chuckled, raising both hands. "Harry is the fairy who gives the rose to the Beast."

Zayn continued to look at both of them with the same expression of utter disdain that only a true cat could have. "A couple's costume," he faked a gag.

"It’s not a couple's costume," they both replied in unison.

"Sorry, I’m going to go kill myself over there" Zayn commented, somehow even more disgusted than before, and actually walked away.

"Though, he’s right about one thing" Louis said, laughing as he stuffed the rose into the back pocket of his jeans. "We should get some alcohol."

Harry followed him into the kitchen, where they stayed chatting with a group of Oli’s friends who were each dressed in a different colour, forming a rainbow. About an hour later, Niall arrived hobbling on his crutches, which had been turned into two lightsabers for the occasion. He kept repeating how happy he was to be the only one on the team who could drink freely that night, but everyone knew he would have gladly given up the other leg to be in pre-final preparation mode too.

Niall's arrival, however, as always gave the party an extra boost. He and Oli were the life of the party on these kinds of occasions, it was impossible not to have fun in their company.

The only downside to that night, something Harry hadn’t accounted for, was that in such a small apartment there was nowhere for any privacy. Not that he was expecting who knows what, but when he left home, he had hoped with all his heart to finally get the chance to kiss Louis.  He couldn’t think about anything else since, the morning before, Louis had confessed that he too was dying to kiss him again.

It all felt so unfair.

He’d spent the entire night trying to figure out a way, but locking himself in Oli's bathroom or bedroom would've been too risky. He was almost giving up when he saw Louis heading toward the balcony to smoke alone.

Without thinking twice Harry followed him, closing the noisy rusty sliding door behind him just a handful of seconds after Louis had already stepped outside.

"Hey," Louis greeted, pleasantly surprised.

Harry caught up with him at the far end of the balcony, stopping just a step away.

"Hey," he replied, biting his lip and rubbing his hands on his arms. "Aren’t you cold?"

"I’ve got a sweater on, I’m not half-naked" Louis pointed out, blowing the smoke upward as, once again, he let his gaze slide over Harry’s body.

Harry shrugged. "It’s part of the costume."

"It’s part of your plan to make me lose my mind," Louis said with a mischievous smile.

That part of the balcony was too far out to be visible from inside the house, so Harry decided to take his chance. He licked his lips, gently playing with the edge of Louis's sweater.

"Maybe," Harry responded, stepping back until his back was against the wall, never taking his eyes off Louis's. "But I think it’s not working" he teased.

Louis instinctively closed the distance between them again, his gaze lingering a little too long on Harry’s lips before he finally lifted his free hand to brush one of Harry's long strands of hair.

"And I think you don’t realise how beautiful you look tonight," Louis whispered.

He let go of Harry’s hair, leaning against the wall with his arm to trap him with his body.

"Come to me tonight" Harry blurted out, unable to hold back any longer.

Louis slowly shook his head, but with a smile so sweet it didn’t even seem like a refusal. Almost.

"I came with Liam. I have to take him home."

Harry was about to protest when Louis leaned in toward his face and his heart nearly exploded.

"Go out with me" Louis whispered against his ear before pulling back to meet his gaze.

"Huh?" Harry asked, too short of breath to understand immediately. "Now?"

"No," he heard Louis’s giggle brush across his lips. "A real date."

Harry nodded without even realising it. "When?"

"Tomorrow or, I don’t know, the day after… as soon as possible," Louis’s voice was soft and light, like a caress. "I don’t want one of these nights to end with us in bed together just because we lost control and couldn’t resist anymore. I want more."

"You said that the other day too."

"Because it’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about lately."

"What do you mean by more?"

"I don’t just want to fuck whenever and wherever we can," Louis let out a soft laugh before correcting himself. "Well, I’d like that too, but I’d love to do things properly," he kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth. "Kiss you without worrying that someone might see us, take you on a proper date, buy you flowers... I want the whole package."

Harry, with his heart beating so hard it hurt, turned just enough to slide Louis's lips onto his. For a moment, he feared Louis would pull away since he had interrupted him, but he didn’t, so Harry deepened the kiss, his fingers still gripping the edge of Louis's sweater both to keep him close and because he didn’t trust himself enough to let his hands roam freely.

It felt like dying and being reborn when their tongues met and started chasing each other, as though they couldn’t live without one another anymore.

Sadly, that kiss didn’t last nearly long enough for Harry’s liking, as Louis jumped back as soon as they heard the balcony door creak, signalling someone was coming. Isaac and Michael appeared moments later, but barely spared them a glance. They were too involved in their conversation to notice anything unusual.

Louis tried to smoke what was left of his cigarette as naturally as possible, staring off into the street, while Harry still couldn’t stop looking at him.

"Someone spilled an entire tray of pizza on the floor" Michael explained, opening the cupboard at the opposite end of the balcony from where Harry and Louis were.

"It was an accident" Isaac exclaimed, as if he had said that a hundred times before.

Michael turned toward them, holding a bottle of detergent in one hand and a rag in the other. "Guess who’s cleaning it up?"

"I already said I’ll do it," Isaac grumbled, crossing his arms.

"You’re not touching anything else today," Michael pointed a finger at him. "You’ve already done enough damage."

They went back inside still bickering, not even waiting for any response or comment from their friends. Harry and Louis exchanged confused glances and burst into laughter.

"Okay," Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to calm himself, both from laughing and from the anxiety of almost being caught kissing Louis. "That was close."

Louis chuckled, blowing the smoke upwards. He stayed silent for a few seconds before looking at Harry from the corner of his eye with an amused smile. "You know what I was thinking?"

"What?"

"It’ll be weird going back to the Royal Club after all these years."

"Going back to- what?" Harry said, confused, before his eyes widened when the realization hit him.

He knew it, because the Royal Cup finals took place every year at the Royal Club, the headquarters of the club that, in addition to funding the tournament, also organized the summer camp where Harry had spent his teenage summers. He had always known, but the idea of qualifying for the final had always felt so far out of reach that he had never really thought about the fact that he would be going back there with Louis.

"Don't tell me you hadn't thought about it," Louis teased, probably noticing his expression when he turned to look at him.

Harry shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn from the wave of memories flooding his mind. "I hadn't realised yet."

"Now, if we were in a fucking rom-com," Louis chuckled, licking his lips to highlight the irony of that dramatic pause, "I would hold off until this weekend just to proper kiss you exactly where I kissed you the first time."

Harry's heart did a somersault, because maybe deep down he would have wanted to live in a clichéd, predictable rom-com, but he would never admit that out loud. Louis put out the cigarette on the railing, then took a step towards him, who was still standing with his back against the wall.

"But since this is real life, you'll kiss me now," Harry dared to hope out loud.

Louis smiled, getting closer and raising a hand to stroke his cheek. The gentleness of that touch made Harry's heartbeat go crazy, feeling almost like he was about to melt between Louis's fingers.

"But since this is real life," Louis said, brushing the tips of their noses together, "Go out with me."

"Okay," Harry whispered, breathless.

When Louis kissed him, Harry felt his smile spread against his lips, but it only lasted an instant because right after Louis pulled away and, without saying anything, went back inside Oli's house, leaving Harry alone to pick up the pieces of his existence.

Chapter Text

"Look at that," Louis whispered excitedly, placing one hand on Harry's leg and pointing out the window with the other.

Harry tried hard to pretend he wasn’t nearly dying inside from the unexpected intimate touch and turned to look at the street, noticing a large rainbow fading behind the trees.

Could he be more cute than this? The rainbow was undoubtedly stunning, but it was nothing compared to the way Louis' eyes lit up when he got excited about something so simple and pure.

Harry didn’t realize he had shifted his gaze to him until Louis, with a little laugh, took his face in his hands to turn it back toward the view - the other view - saying, "That way."

"Well, yeah... that’s not bad either," Harry commented.

"Either?"

Harry’s cheeks turned pink because he shouldn’t have said it out loud. He didn’t know why he kept getting so embarrassed whenever he opened up to Louis, it wasn’t like he’d ever been this shy with other guys and he had definitely said worse to him before. He’d literally begged him to kiss him and invited him to his house, yet he still felt the butterflies in his stomach when he let slip how much he liked Louis.

"Shut up" Harry huffed, rolling his eyes with an embarrassed smile, but he still couldn’t resist the temptation to slide his hand down to meet the one Louis still had on his leg, intertwining their pinkies.

Louis glanced at their hands for a moment, then leaned back against the seat, hiding his smile behind the cuff of his hoodie. God, how much he wanted to kiss him.

Harry couldn’t believe his own bad luck.

Since Louis had asked him out, not only had they not had their date but they hadn’t even had a moment of privacy. Not even a stolen kiss. Nothing. Since that Tuesday night.

It had been almost three days and Harry, sitting on the minibus next to Louis, was growing more and more frustrated. It was easier to accept that nothing would happen between them before they openly talked about their situation, but knowing that they both wanted the same thing and still couldn’t take a step forward was mentally unbearable for Harry.

He couldn’t even blame anyone, it was just fate.

Harry had hoped that as soon as possible meant the day after the party, but Louis already had plans with his sister Lottie that Wednesday, so they had opted for Thursday. Harry had spent more than an hour tidying up his house, because it never seemed to be presentable enough to make a good first impression on Louis if, at the end of the night, he came over. He obsessively adjusted the same sofa pillow until he was almost about to throw it away in despair and then came Louis’ text telling him he would probably be late after practice because Haynes had asked him to stay and go over the final details for the upcoming match.

He should have known from the start how it would end, but Harry still hoped he was wrong and prepared for that date. He knew that between him and volleyball, Louis would always choose volleyball and in some ways he understood that, but he was still a little disappointed when Louis called to say that he’d be late with Haynes. Harry made one last desperate attempt, suggesting he order two pizzas and wait for him at home so they could spend the evening together without worrying about time but of course Louis had said no, probably because it wasn’t a special enough plan and the world would've collapsed if he’d stepped out of his mental scheme for once.

Harry didn’t know how to make him understand that he didn’t care about having a perfect date, he just wanted to spend time with him. He wanted it as much as he wanted to win that final but, at the same time, he’d have preferred if Louis didn’t care so much about that match partly because it would mean having all of his attention and partly because, in the end, this was the most important game of Harry’s career, not Louis’s. 

The bitter conclusion, though, was that as they approached the Royal Club, anxiety was consuming him more and more and Harry hadn’t kissed Louis since Tuesday, after being repeatedly led to believe that he would finally get the fucking complete package that had been promised.

The good thing was that they would sleep together for two nights because, regardless of the final result, they would have to stay until Sunday for the awards ceremony, but he didn’t dare hope that anything would happen. He was resigned now.

At that moment, Louis moved his pinkie, not to shift positions but just to catch his attention. Harry turned to look at him, but as soon as Louis opened his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by Liam, who kneeled on the seat in front and leaned over the headrest, calling, "Tommo!"

Louis pulled his hand away from Harry’s leg, unable to hide a sigh that he expertly masked. "What’s up?" he huffed, in a way that the assistant coach Louis would never have done, not with Liam at least.

"I’ve got a question that only the greatest setter of our time can answer," his teammate teased.

Louis rolled his eyes, giving him a little tap on the forehead. "Kiss-ass."

"Well, if that’s what it takes to get answers," Liam winked jokingly, "I’ll be waiting for you in my room tonight."

Harry knew it was just a joke - it was clear it was because Liam was straight - but he still couldn’t stop shooting a glare, trying to burn his friend on the spot.

Liam instinctively pulled back the hand he had reached out to tease Louis by pinching his cheek and furrowed his brow. "Don’t bite" he joked, raising his hands in mock surrender, "Jesus! I almost preferred when you guys did nothing but argue." 

"I’m waiting for the question," Louis interjected, insistently regaining his attention with ease.

Harry didn’t want to look like a child sulking, but he knew both of them too well not to know that this conversation would steal Louis away for the rest of the trip. Stupid setters.

He hid his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, trying to ignore how much the absence of his touch bothered him. He leaned his head against the window and forced himself to focus on what he saw along the road because if he focused on what Louis was explaining to Liam, he’d probably lose his mind once and for all. He mentally cursed himself and his stupid obsession with setters.

His life would have been so much simpler if he had a crush on a middle blocker. Middle blockers were usually not known for their sharp minds, often not particularly bright, and they were simple people. But Harry liked complicating his life because, in addition to having a soft spot for the most mentally intriguing category of volleyball players, he had found the setter with the most beautiful face he had ever seen and one with a distinct tendency to ignore his existence.

He should ignore him too, he knew that, but what kind of person with any sense of logic could ever turn his back on Louis when, from time to time, he would turn to him and give him one of those smiles brighter than the sun? Only a fool would have had the courage to willingly give all of this up.

After all, thinking about it, Andrea was a middle blocker. It all added up perfectly.

Louis and Liam kept talking non-stop even after they arrived at the Royal Club and, as soon as they got off the minibus, Mitch joined them so Harry resigned himself to the idea of losing Louis for good.

He looked around, noticing how everything had stayed the same as when he used to spend his summers there. After all, it had only been three years since the last time he had attended that summer camp. He had been offered a position on the staff and for a while he had even thought about accepting it, because deep down he loved the atmosphere of that place and he would have liked to try experiencing it from a completely different perspective. But in the end, he had declined. The official reason was university and the dreaded summer session, but the real reason was definitely more foolish.

He was embarrassed to admit it, but it was all because of a dream he had had, in which he returned to the campus as a special guest. Harry was one of those who made it, his career had taken off but that didn’t mean he had forgotten his roots. With great pride and pleasure, he had accepted the invitation to the Royal Campus to share his experience with the kids who dreamed of following a similar path.

He had never had the courage to admit it to anyone, not even to Niall, who had signed up for the camp with him for a couple of summers and had pushed him to accept the summer job until the very end.

He had almost forgotten that silly dream, but as he drove part of the team through the alleyways of the resort he knew like the back of his hand, he couldn't help but think about it. It wasn’t the grand return he had imagined, but he was still a finalist in the Royal Cup, he had to accept it.

When he reached the bungalow assigned to him, situated between Liam and Zayn’s and Michael and Isaac’s, he pointed Luke and Stan in the direction of theirs, which was in the parallel street. As soon as he closed the door behind him, it instinctively felt right to take a deep breath, inhaling that familiar smell of wood and dampness that had marked his adolescence.

Louis joined him in the room almost an hour later, when there were barely twenty minutes left before their appointment for that evening’s gala.

“God,” he huffed as soon as he entered the room, letting himself fall on his stomach onto the empty bed. “Don’t you ever leave me alone again.”

Harry rolled onto his side so he could look at him from his bed. “I would never interfere in the anonymous setters' circle,” he teased in a joking tone, “Your cult is a little creepy.”

Louis laughed and turned his head toward him, but without moving the rest of his body even an inch. “We’re not a cult.”

“They all say that.”

“Anyway,” Louis emphasized, returning to the original topic, “I wish I had been with Liam and Mitch this whole time.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No,” he exclaimed dramatically, “I was kidnapped.”

Harry chuckled, trying to hide his curiosity to avoid giving Louis satisfaction. He knew perfectly well that his goal was to get Harry to ask questions and put him in the spotlight.

“Well, they let you go pretty quickly,” Harry responded indifferently, rolling onto his back as if the conversation didn’t interest him that much. “I get it.”

Louis let out a theatrically outraged and offended noise that nearly made Harry burst into laughter, causing his indifferent facade to waver.

“Take back what you said.”

“What?” Harry turned his head toward him, unable to suppress a laugh when he saw Louis propped up on his elbow as if ready to spring to his feet. “Accept the truth” he added, more amused, “Any kidnapper would send you back after five minutes.”

Louis opened his mouth, placing a hand on his chest.

“No amount of money would ever be worth putting up with you," Harry went on, biting his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Stop it” Louis threatened, but the bright spark in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t serious.

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll make your life miserable."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, like that’s anything new."

Louis was about to reply but shut his mouth at the last second and lay back down on the bed, this time turning his back to him.

"That's it?" Harry asked.

"Shut up, I'm ignoring you."

"You're not doing a great job, considering you're still talking to me."

Louis flipped him off over his shoulder, and Harry burst out laughing. He was too cute.

“Fine,” Harry sighed dramatically, pretending to give up. “Who kidnapped you?”

“People more fun than you.”

“And what did these people want?”

“I’m not telling you,” he waved his middle finger again, “I’m not talking to you.”

Chuckling to himself, Harry pointed out his contradiction. “You’re already talking to me.”

Louis, predictably, fell silent.

“Let’s see how long you can stay quiet,” Harry teased. “Three, two, one…”

Louis kept ignoring him.

"Alright, since you're not talking, I might as well get ten minutes of sleep before joining the others," Harry mumbled, loud enough for Louis to hear.

Silence.

Harry knew that Louis’s silence was just a different tactic to grab attention, but he was only human and his resistance when it came to Louis had never been great. So, after just a few seconds of silence, he got up and squeezed into Louis’s bed.

“Don’t even think about it” Louis protested, though he didn’t stop him.

Harry lay down behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder so he could at least see part of his face.

“Tell me.”

Although he tried to hide it, the corner of Louis’s mouth twitched into a faint smile. “I know what you’re trying to do” he muttered.

“Listen to your misadventures like a good friend?”

Friend.

Harry mentally cursed himself for saying it.

“You try to seduce all your friends by getting into their beds to make them give in to your requests?”

Louis’s words, always so damn direct, hit him right in the chest, making him blush. He hid his face against Louis’s shoulder, muttering, “Usually, no.”

“I suspected as much,” from his tone, it was clear that he was smiling. “Now can I continue ignoring you?”

“Come on, Lou” Harry protested and from that position, he could feel Louis’s heartbeat speed up.

For a moment, Louis remained silent, then he turned onto his back and looked at Harry. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he sighed before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Harry immediately accepted the invitation and snuggled against his chest, trying to quiet the butterflies in his stomach.

“So, who do I need to protect you from out there?” he whispered, as if not wanting to disturb the peace he had found in his arms.

“Right now I don’t care about those bloodsuckers.”

“Are there vampires around the resort?” Harry asked, feeling Louis’s adorable chuckle vibrate through his chest.

“Worse, agents” he huffed in an exasperated tone, “Agents, Federation reps and a bunch of people pretending to be friendly and then changing face as soon as you turn your back.”

Harry remained silent for a few seconds, taken aback by that response. To be honest, he had simply expected him to have met the president of the Royal who, after all, was a genuinely good person, just a bit too talkative.

“That sounds terrible” he finally said.

"It is."

"Will they all be here tonight?"

Louis nodded. "And the best is yet to come."

"We could come up with an excuse and stay in the room."

"Not happening," Louis responded immediately.

"Why?" Harry furrowed his brow, confused. "We're allowed to want to rest the night before the final."

"Not a chance" Louis chuckled before looking him in the eye. "We're going in there and making everyone fall at our feet."

Harry didn’t really understand what he meant until he found himself surrounded by guests at the gala. It felt strange to call it that when half the people there were wearing tracksuits and polo shirts with their team logos, but the sports world had its own rules and for them it was like wearing formal military attire.

This dinner was essentially the opening ceremony for the event that, alongside the final of the category Harry played in, would also feature the Final Four of the top British league.

The teams from the National Super League, the top-tier British league, had recently played a parallel competition to the lower league - the Royal League Cup - and the top four would compete during this final weekend.

The following day, between the morning and early afternoon, the two League semi-finals were scheduled to take place, followed by the Royal Cup final in the evening between the Blue Bees and Cambridge. The final of the most prestigious series, however, was set for Sunday afternoon, with the awards ceremony afterwards bringing the event to a close for all participants.

At that Friday evening gala, then, alongside the six teams actively competing in the two tournaments, nearly all of the most influential figures in volleyball - at least on a national level - were in attendance. Agents roamed the reception hall like predators, managing their clients' interests and attempting to make new deals. Members of the Federation’s board smiled and shook hands without pause, exchanging brief courteous conversations before moving on to the next person to repeat the sequence. It felt like they thought of themselves as the distinguished guests and simultaneously the hosts, trying to steal the spotlight from both the athletes and the actual organizers responsible for the event. Photographers and journalists blended perfectly into the crowd, trying to capture the most important moments of the night.

Among the athletes - who, at least in theory, were the true stars of the gala - some kept to the sidelines content to enjoy the lavish buffet, while others seized the opportunity to network, striking up conversations with just about everyone. Harry hadn’t yet figured out which side to take, because he wanted to stay on the sidelines but as soon as they arrived Louis introduced him to some people who had actually approached just to talk to him. From that moment on, they were caught in a never-ending circle of chatter and new introductions. If only he’d had time to stop and think, Harry might have panicked the moment he lost sight of Louis, facing alone the constant waves of strangers who seemed to want something from him, though he couldn’t tell what.

Harry had never had trouble socializing, this knowledge was the only thing that kept him calm while sipping his non-alcoholic drink with two of the strongest players in the country and the vice president of the Federation. But he still didn’t feel completely at ease. It wasn’t just because of what they had talked about in the room but also because of how Louis had completely changed his demeanor the moment he walked into that room. It was just subtle differences, really. A more composed tone of voice, a smile that was polite yet distant and he never stayed with the same person for more than a few minutes. He was professional but not in the way Harry was used to seeing him in the gym. He almost seemed like a shark among other sharks.

Every now and then, Harry would lose himself watching Louis laugh or chat across the room. He knew Louis expected him to do the same, to make everyone fall at his feet like he had said in their room, but Harry wasn’t sure he was capable of it. There was a difference between simply being sociable and enchanting everyone who came into his orbit, and Harry would bet that a couple of people might barely remember his name by the end of the evening. But none of the people who had exchanged even two words with Louis would go to bed without thinking about their conversation at least once.

"Tell me this hell is almost over" Louis whispered suddenly, appearing by his side at the buffet table.

Harry grabbed two tarts and handed him one with a smile. "I see you're enjoying yourself."

"Kill me, please" Louis sighed, grabbing the tart and swallowing it in one bite. "How’s it going?"

"Uh?"

"Met anyone interesting?"

"I'm not here to flirt" Harry raised an eyebrow, not understanding what had gotten into him. "And I thought- well..."

"Harry," Louis chuckled, looking at him fondly. "Not like that. Are you out of your mind? They just have to try to get close to you."

Harry blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, feeling his stomach twist as Louis kept laughing at his reaction.

"Louis, so this is where you were hiding," a deep voice suddenly exclaimed from behind them.

They both turned, but Harry had no clue who the giant of a man was, eyeing Louis as though he were a tasty treat.

"Steven," Louis smiled, shaking his hand although his expression remained impassive.

"Steven Turner," the man introduced himself, offering his hand to Harry. "And you are?"

"Harry Styles," Harry replied hesitantly, shaking his hand.

"Oh, I’ve heard of you," Steven suddenly seemed enthusiastic. "I'd love to represent you, may I leave you my business card?"

Harry nodded, at a loss for words, because he realized he was face-to-face with an agent, the first one to show interest in him all these years. He took the card he handed him, slipping it into his sweatpants pocket with trembling fingers.

Louis flashed a smile, though not entirely convinced, and against all expectations suggested to Steven that they step outside for a cigarette. Harry was a little surprised by that reaction, but he knew Louis well enough to understand there must have been a good reason for him not to want to discuss it with the agent right away. Maybe he didn’t want Harry to come across as too available or maybe he just wanted to give him some advice first.

Throughout the night, Harry collected two more business cards and when the gala finally came to an end he returned to his room with a haul of new connections and promising contacts in the high level volleyball world. He didn’t dare hope they would turn into something concrete but he had to admit to himself that it had been nice - and exhausting - to pretend for one night to be someone.

He heard Louis arriving even before he saw him enter the bungalow. He recognized his laugh amidst the laughter of Zayn, Liam and other guys he couldn’t identify, probably from another team.

"You’re already here" Louis murmured surprised when he opened the door. "I thought I’d lost you."

"You were too busy soaking up the praise" Harry teased, searching his bag for something to wear to sleep.

"How funny" Louis replied flatly. "I’m really dying of laughter."

Harry flipped him off and then, laughing, remembered his haul. He pulled the business cards from his pocket and handed them over with satisfaction. "Look at this."

Louis leaned in to read them carefully, then took Steven Turner’s from his fingers. "He’s a big piece of crap."

Harry’s eyes widened. "What?"

"Well, yes... trust me," Louis glanced at the note again, not bothering to hide his disgusted expression. "I can have you talk to some players who have been his clients if you want, but if I can give you advice... anyone but him."

"Okay," Harry nodded, still confused. "Okay, I trust you."

"The other two are good people but, honestly, they don't mean anything at the high level."

"Oh," Harry muttered disappointedly, giving one last glance at the business cards before throwing them onto the bed with a sigh. "It was nice while it lasted."

"Hey, no," Louis tightened his fingers around Harry's wrist to get his attention. "I just mean you shouldn't waste time with them, because the people who matter will come to watch the game, not some stupid gala. People like Turner try to get ahead by winning over athletes with nice manners and sweet words, because that's the best they can offer. Those who have the power to actually make something important happen don't need to use tricks. They just need to see with their own eyes what the players are made of."

Harry nodded, feeling a little reassured yet still terrified, but mostly stupid. "No pressure for tomorrow then" he joked, rubbing his face.

"Can we stop turning everything I say into a negative thing?" Louis laughed, lightening the mood as he started gently stroking Harry's wrist with his thumb. "Forget about movie scenes, okay?" He waited for Harry to acknowledge him before continuing. "No scout is going to come here without knowing anything about the players they'll see, just waiting for a 'love at first sight' moment when they spot a phenomenon on the court. The ones who come already have a clear goal in mind and it's just a formality to see someone they've already set their eyes on and studied through videos. It doesn't matter if you have a bad game, because they care about assessing the athlete's potential, not whether they're having a good or bad day."

Something in Harry's paranoid mind told him it couldn't be as non-threatening as Louis made it seem, but the logic of his words and his calm and sincere tone still managed to calm him down.

"Nobody might even show up," Harry said because, unable to help himself, he had to find something to complain about. "The most important match is the League final, maybe no one cares about us."

"That might be," Louis shrugged, "But since there's no point in thinking about everything that might or might not happen, why don't you keep me company outside while I smoke?"

"You should smoke less," Harry admonished.

Louis rolled his eyes and, still holding Harry's wrist, pulled him outside the bungalow.

When he didn't stop at the bottom of the stairs, Harry squeaked, "Where are we going?"

"Just taking a walk."

"The Coach will kill us if he catches us."

Louis turned to look at him over his shoulder with a mock worried expression, not even hinting at letting go of his wrist. "You think he's going to call our moms?"

"I can't stand you," Harry sighed, trying his best to stay serious while following him, even though he had no idea where they were going.

Louis started laughing and Harry suddenly forgot what he was worried about.

"You're not even smoking" he commented, just to say something.

"First you complain that I smoke too much, and now you complain that I'm not smoking?" Louis huffed, shaking his head. "I want to see if the spot where I used to hide with my friends to smoke during summer camp is still accessible or if they've found it."

"I'll never understand how the Louis obsessed with rules can coexist with the Louis who doesn't follow a single one."

"Rules are made to be broken."

"Sorry?" Harry exclaimed. "Give me back all the fines I paid you."

Louis burst out laughing and after looking around as if expecting one of the camp instructors to jump out of a bush during a night check - probably muscle memory - he dragged Harry through a narrow passage between a bush and a stone wall, where the metal fence enclosing the resort's sports area was broken.

"Let's put it this way, my rules are not made to be broken, all the others are."

Harry sighed and really wanted to argue about the absurdity of Louis' beliefs, but he was too distracted by the anxiety of sneaking into an area that was off-limits to the public at night. "Are you sure there are no cameras?"

"I doubt they've installed a surveillance system lately because otherwise they'd know that during summer camp everyone goes to smoke back there" he pointed to the corner behind them, between the wall and the tool shed. "That hole in the fence has been there for almost ten years and no one's ever fixed it."

"Didn't you say you wanted to smoke there to relive the good old times?"

"I changed my mind," Louis smiled at him with pursed lips. "I want to go somewhere else."

They walked past the five-a-side football pitch and the tennis courts, then descended the stairs leading to the athletics track, passing through the locker room tunnel beneath the bleachers. It was so dark that Harry couldn’t even see Louis, the only contact with reality he had was the fingers still wrapped around his wrist and the one spot on the floor lit by the phone's flashlight.

"This is how people die in movies" Harry mumbled nervously. "Why didn’t I stay in my room?"

Louis' laughter echoed off the empty walls of the corridor but before Harry could repeat how creepy everything was they were already outside, on the athletics track.

"Come on" Louis said excitedly, guiding him toward the bleachers.

"You really don’t want to go up there" Harry exclaimed, resigned, though he knew there was no way to convincing him otherwise.

Of course, they climbed to the top and sat on the last step of the bleachers with their backs against the low wall. It was cold but the view from up there was stunning, they could even see the reflection of the sea beyond the pine forest. Around them there was silence, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the hooting of an owl in the distance.

"Was it worth it?" Louis asked and from his voice it was clear he was smiling.

Harry tilted his head back to look at the sky, which was mostly covered in clouds. "Who says I’ve never been here?"

"Your face" Louis replied without hesitation.

When Harry straightened up to look at him, he immediately met his eyes, which were already on him. "After making me climb all those stairs, you should be looking at the view" he pretended to scold him.

Louis simply shrugged. "You’re more beautiful."

"Stop" Harry murmured, covering his face with his hand to hide how embarrassed he was.

Louis let out a chuckle but didn’t say anything more. He made himself comfortable and rested his head against the wall. His fingers gently slid along Harry’s wrist, which he had never let go of, all the way to his hand. He simply placed it on his own leg, continuing to explore every inch with the almost imperceptible touch of his fingertips, as they both enjoyed the peaceful silence surrounding them.

Not even the frantic beat of his heart seemed able to break the serene atmosphere where Harry's mind was lost, completely absorbed in the sounds of nature and Louis’ sweet attentions.

It was Louis who broke the silence a few minutes later.

"You have no idea how many hours I spent here the last time I came to summer camp."

"With your group?" Harry asked, not daring to directly ask if this was the place where he brought his conquests.

“No,” Louis’ amused grimace made the question seem like the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “Do you think this is a place to mess around with friends?”

Harry shook his head. “I guess not.”

“This place was just mine, I’ve always found it so relaxing,” Louis took a deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling with his head resting against the low wall. “I’d come here in the previous years too… you know, when you need to be on your own after spending the whole day surrounded by too many people?”

“Definitely,” Harry replied.

“Exactly,” Louis smiled. Then he turned his head towards Harry and opened his eyes. “The last year, I was getting ready for that tryout and I was so nervous that almost every night I had to come here to keep from exploding.”

“From the outside you seemed like the most calm person in the world,” Harry commented. “So confident.”

“I wasn’t, not even close” Louis admitted, scrunching his nose in a grimace, then shrugged. “I didn’t show it even to my friends. They thought I disappeared at night to be with some girl.”

Harry wanted to ask him so many things, he wanted to know everything about him, but he wasn’t sure how far he could go.

“Well, sometimes it was probably true” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the way Louis’ fingers were tracing invisible patterns on Harry’s palm.

“No,” Louis chuckled. “The other years, yeah... maybe more than necessary if I’m honest, but that summer I was too stressed to even worry about pretending to be straight.”

“Half the campus was in love with you,” Harry remembered, leaving out the fact that he had never handled the jealousy well when he thought all those girls could have him but he couldn’t.

“Including you” Louis teased, bursting out laughing when Harry kicked his leg with his knee.

“That’s not funny at all” Harry muttered, but his breath caught in his throat when Louis, in what seemed almost like a reflex, took the opportunity to slide Harry’s leg over his.

“You know, I wish I could tell you that I was in love with you all summer when we were kids, but the truth is I was too much of a coward to admit to myself that I liked that shy and adorable kid who once helped me train” Louis confessed, lowering his gaze to Harry’s hand, which was now being carefully held between his. “It wasn’t new, you weren’t the first guy to catch my eye, but I never would have been honest with myself enough to give it a name.”

“There’s no deadline for realizing you’re queer” Harry said, hoping to convey to him that any personal journey was fine.

“Oh, but I’d already figured it out and I became more sure every time I was with a girl just to prove something,” Louis finally looked him in the eyes again. “Some things feel less real if you don’t say them out loud, don’t they? You can pretend they’re only in your head.”

“From the way you say it, it sounds like you’re blaming yourself but I think it’s normal,” Harry reassured him. “We’ve all been through it, I think.”

“It’s just…” Maybe for the first time since Harry had known him, Louis seemed really uncomfortable.

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked gently, hoping to make it clear that he just wanted to understand him better and that this wasn’t about not wanting to listen to everything Louis wanted to share.

“Because I always get the impression that you tend to underestimate yourself, when you should be proud of who you are,” Louis answered without hesitation. “And now here we are, right here… I can’t stop thinking about it and I wanted you to know.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, both struck and confused by those words. “That you’re human too?”

“No, I wanted you to know that you’ve been important to me” he said almost in a whisper, but his gaze didn’t waver for an instant. “In a different way than I may have been for you, but you’ve been important.”

Harry sat there, stunned, struck by the revelation but still terribly confused.

“I- I don’t understand” he stammered, lost for words.

“When those assholes did that- that fucking prank on you,” Louis ran a hand over his face as if the memory of the moment when his friends had shown him the video of Harry talking about his crush on Louis was still fresh, “I’ll never imagine what it must have been like for you because even I, who had nothing to do with it, felt like I was dying. I panicked. Rationally, I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was gay, but I knew nothing would stop me from being the next one to go through what you were going through.”

“It was horrible, I confirm,” Harry chuckled, still often wondering if his difficulty coming out to the team had anything to do with that traumatic event.

“You know what made me find the courage to do something?” Louis waited for Harry to shake his head before continuing. “The way you looked at me… how you seemed more terrified of me than of anyone else,” he furrowed his brow as if he could still see that image, “I couldn’t let it stay like that, I had to make sure you knew you were safe, at least with me.”

Only then did Louis entwine his fingers with Harry’s, squeezing his hand affectionately.

“I’d never allowed myself to get too close to a guy I found interesting because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to turn back and stopping pretending would have forced me to face the consequences, but with you I had to or I would never have forgiven myself.”

Harry’s heart was beating dangerously fast, so he just murmured “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“You told me that too, that night,” Louis smiled at him gently. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because all the time I spent with you I was myself, one hundred percent, no filters and… and I’d never felt so good,” he fixed his fringe nervously, “I’d been with a dozen girls but- but that was the first time I felt butterflies in my stomach, my heart racing and all that crap. When you stopped crying and finally smiled at me I was literally melting in front of your dimples.”

Harry knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way because everything Louis was saying referred to a time so long ago it seemed like another life, but he couldn’t silence his fourteen-year-old self, still screaming in the corner of his head.

“Very straight,” he defused the moment, managing to make Louis laugh.

“Exactly, let’s just say you were my point of no return,” Louis’ gaze shifted to Harry’s lips, maybe unconsciously. “And also the first guy I kissed.”

“You were my first kiss,” Harry whispered.

“I know,” they both chuckled in the vulnerability of the moment.

Harry licked his lips. “So if I kissed you now, would it be too rom-coms’ style for your taste?”

“Definitely,” Louis answered, pretending to look disgusted.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a little laugh, because he couldn’t help but find Louis utterly adorable. Louis took advantage of that moment to put a hand on his cheek, pulling him close to kiss him.

It wasn’t their first kiss, nor the most beautiful one, but it had something special that made Harry’s heart beat at a whole new rhythm.

“The problem is, I don’t care,” Louis murmured on his lips. “You have no idea how many times I came here wondering what it would be like to bring someone I actually liked and now I’m here with you. So, screw rom-coms. You make me want everything, even that."

Harry knew he should say something to make him understand that he felt the same way, but it seemed like the words had gotten lost somewhere in all the feelings he was having, so he hoped he could show him by kissing him. And if it wasn’t enough, he would kiss him again and again.

He wrapped his arms around his neck because the only thing he wanted in that moment was to never let him go, while Louis wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him even closer. He slid his tongue along Louis's lips, who didn't hesitate to part them to make room for him.

They kissed slowly, with all the tenderness they hadn’t yet allowed themselves, savoring every moment and stopping only when they were both out of breath. Harry, with his legs draped over Louis’s, rested his head on his shoulder. They stayed in silence, curled up against each other, while Louis seemed unable to decide which part of Harry’s body to caress. It wasn’t sexual, it was more of a cuddle, a search for contact. He moved from his knee to his neck, from his arm to his hair and then back to his knee before taking Harry’s wrist in his fingers and bringing it to his lips, kissing it gently.

Harry hid his face against his chest, sighing with relief when he felt Louis’s heart beat faster just like his and then arched his head to leave a kiss under his chin. Louis lowered his head, looking at him for a moment with sparkling eyes before pressing his lips against Harry’s in a kiss that was just a mix of smiles.

"Did I tell you they asked me to come to the summer camp as a special guest?" Louis asked suddenly, in an amused tone.

Harry gave him another kiss on the cheek, just because he couldn’t stop and didn’t see any reason to. "You should go."

"Please" Louis huffed, chuckling, "Can you see me acting like a superstar?"

"You don’t have to be. Do you remember when Grbic came that summer?" Louis nodded and Harry continued, "He was amazing, not like that other guy - what was his name? - the one who showed up to the technical sessions in flip-flops."

"Oh my God," Louis laughed, tilting his head back and Harry couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss his neck. "I remember Grbic, after walking around the courts all day, went to call all the setters who had impressed him most to do an extra session with him half an hour before the afternoon practice ended," he shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe the luck he’d had, "I think I learned more in an hour with him than in all the years I had played volleyball."

"You’d definitely be like that, the guys would adore you."

Louis rolled his eyes but then squeezed Harry’s cheeks in one hand and gave him a kiss. "Would you come with me?"

Harry tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach just because Louis was considering that they would still be together that summer. Not that they were together right then, but still.

He tried to keep his feet on the ground, somehow. "They didn’t invite me."

Louis raised his eyebrows almost provocatively. "Not yet."

"Yeah, sure" Harry replied, laughing.

"Let’s make a deal, okay?" If he kept looking at him with that smile, Harry would probably agree to anything. "When you play in the A League in Italy and the Royal comes crawling back to you, begging you to come as a special guest, then we’ll go together."

"In the year two-thousand-never?"

Louis shrugged. "It’s just a matter of time."

"You're so silly," Harry chuckled, but then burst into a real laugh when Louis pinched his cheeks again to silence him with another kiss.

"What’s the harm in accepting if you don’t think it’s going to happen anyway?"

"Fine," Harry huffed.

Louis rested his head against the wall behind them with a satisfied smile.

"God, do you think they still do that ridiculous group dance every night?" he chuckled, gently pushing his fringe aside with his fingers. "How did that song go again?"

Harry laughed too. "I think they’ll do it for life."

"We’ve got an entire summer to practice it then, we’ll need it for next year."

"You’re not making a training plan for that too," Harry pointed a finger at his chest. "I refuse, I’m warning you."

"Speaking of which…"

"No," Harry interrupted immediately, quickly covering his mouth with both hands.

Louis tried to get free and, when he couldn’t, he licked the palm of Harry’s hand.

"Gross" Harry exclaimed, instinctively pulling back.

"The hypocrisy," Louis declared before leaning forward to lick the tip of Harry’s nose and when Harry, laughing, gave him a light slap on the chest, he kissed him deeply.

"Now it’s not so gross anymore," Louis teased as they pulled away.

Harry raised his eyebrows mischievously. "There are other uses for it that would gross me out even less."

"I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that," Louis murmured in a tone that was almost frustrated, hiding his face against Harry’s neck.

"Actually, this is exactly something you should listen to carefully."

"Are you trying to kill me?" Louis nibbled his neck. "Don’t tell me these things the night before the final."

Harry huffed - almost grunted - full of disapproval. "Not your stupid rules."

"Well, before you interrupted me, I was trying to say we should go back to the room," before pulling away he kissed the same spot on Harry’s skin he’d just nibbled. "It’s late."

"Boring," Harry sang, but when Louis stood up and offered him his hand to help him, he gave in and followed him down the stairs.

They reached their bungalow in a comfortable silence and Harry, walking by his side, couldn’t ignore the feeling of lightness and happiness that seemed to have filled every corner of his mind. He wouldn’t have wanted that evening to end for anything in the world, but as soon as he got into bed, he realized he was really tired.

"Movie?" Louis asked casually, pulling the computer out of his bag, and Harry nodded because he would never be able to say no to him.

When Louis went toward his bed, Harry made space for him and without wasting time he snuggled under his arm, curling up on his chest. He couldn’t focus on the movie for even a second, tired and still too distracted by his own emotions, but in the end he didn’t care.

"You’re dying of sleep," Louis whispered after another suppressed yawn against his shirt. "Do you want me to turn it off?"

Harry wrapped a leg around his and stretched his arm to embrace his waist because he had no intention of letting him leave that bed. "No" he mumbled firmly.

Louis’s soft chuckle was so delicate that it woke feelings in Harry that he thought he had only experienced in front of newly born kittens, especially when he tried to hide it behind his hand.

"And why don’t you sleep then?"

"Because I’m fine," Harry confessed. "And I don’t want this day to end."

Louis kissed him on the head, then leaned forward to reach the tip of his nose, his cheek and finally kissed him on the lips.

"Sleep, so tomorrow will be even better."

As expected, Harry fell asleep shortly afterward, but even though he suspected that Louis would stay to sleep in his bed, he didn’t expect such a pleasant wake-up.

After turning off the alarm, Louis’s arms tightened around Harry’s waist, letting him mold perfectly against his back. He began leaving slow kisses along the curve of Harry’s neck until Harry’s skin shivered.

"Good morning" Harry mumbled, turning within that embrace to stop giving him his back.

He was always surprised at how beautiful Louis was right after waking up, so much so that he almost let his beauty distract him enough to only narrowly avoid his good-morning kiss attempt.

"I stink" he explained right away, before Louis could take it as a rejection.

"Okay," he replied quietly as Harry gently stroked his cheek, before leaning in and kissing him anyway. "Me too," he murmured, nibbling on his bottom lip. "Good morning."

Harry wasn’t strong enough to resist for long, so he parted his lips slightly and welcomed Louis’s kiss, with his heart already racing in his chest.

When the second alarm went off, they were still kissing with no intention of stopping, while their morning woods begged for attention. Somehow, Harry's hands had found their way to Louis’s bum beneath his boxers, attempting to push him as close as possible against him. It was Louis who freed them both from boxers, pulling them down just enough for their cocks to brush against each other, before gathering them in one hand and beginning to rub them together, skin against skin. Feeling Louis' cock pulsing against his made him lose his mind, but he forced himself to hold on as long as possible, coming only when Louis' hand quickened its pace leaving him breathless.

๑

Midway through the fourth set of the final, the situation was extremely delicate.

The Blue Bees had won the first set, only to lose the second and third. They had always been there, just a step behind their opponents, without the momentum to overtake them. They hadn't given up for a single moment and had fought for every ball. So, even though the score didn’t seem to be in their favour, they knew the match was still open. It was all down to them.

The bleachers were packed with spectators, which had made Harry feel even more under pressure during the warm-up as he had never played in front of such a large crowd. But once the match began, it felt as if everyone had vanished. Somewhere deep in his mind, he could hear the chants of the crowd and of all the friends and family who had come to support them, but it was like distant background noise because in his ears there was only the sound of his teammates’ voices, the dull thud of the ball against the skin and the squeak of shoes scraping on the taraflex court.

"They're struggling in reception, be ready for the ball coming back or for a second-touch dump," Haynes said, looking each of his players in the eye before turning to Matt. "Leave the line open, let’s shut down all their other options."

Cambridge had called a timeout with the score at 20-19 in their favour, not because they needed it, but to exploit the psychological effect of the interruption. It was a trick that everyone used in the crucial moments of a match to try to make the server mess up, attempting to destabilise their focus. In reality, what often made that tactic effective was the clear understanding of the opponent's intentions, as it placed pressure on the server not to make a mistake, since that was what everyone expected.

"Mitch, keep using the entire net. No points of reference," the Coach continued, while the players took the opportunity to drink some water.

When the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the thirty-second timeout, Haynes gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. "You’ve got this."

Harry distinctly heard his mother and sister cheering from the bleachers, but he stayed focused as he headed to the serving area. When he turned towards the court, he immediately met Louis' gaze. After kissing the ball as he always did, Louis tossed it to him. It was such a simple gesture, yet so sweet, that Harry couldn’t help but be moved. Even in the smallest way, it always helped ease the anxiety and pressure he felt during such delicate moments.

As soon as the referee blew his whistle, Harry bounced the ball twice on the floor, trying to push away all those thoughts reminding him just how important this serve was. If they scored, they would tie the match and be only five points away from potentially bringing the game back to life, but if he messed up Cambridge would have a two-point lead and only need four more points to win the final.

He stretched his arm out in front of him and, as his eyes fixed on the ball, he briefly caught the at-sign Louis had doodled on his wrist before leaving their room.

It's normal to be afraid. You can do it.

For a moment he considered playing it safe, just putting the ball in play, but that would almost be like making a mistake, because that way he'd be putting the opponents in a perfect position to launch their best attack and score. He decided to take a risk and hit it hard, as though that ball wasn’t potentially decisive for the match. He was one of the few players on the team with a license to kill from the service line, he was always expected to take risks, so backing down out of fear of making a mistake wasn’t an option. 

His blood ran cold when he hit the ball and, realising the trajectory was too diagonal, he knew it was almost certainly going out, even if just by a little. Fraser, one of the two opposing spikers, hesitated for a moment, probably weighing whether to trust his instincts on such a questionable ball or just play it safe and ensure he didn’t get aced. In the end, he reached to his right to receive the serve and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Cambridge tried to build the play, but Crewman attacked a quick ball to the centre that went out, giving the Blue Bees the point to level the score.

The roar of the crowd, armed with drums and trumpets, filled Harry's heart as he ran to the centre of the court to embrace his teammates. Mitch tried to pull everyone under his arms, shouting, "Come on, fuck it! Now!"

Zayn took Harry's head in his hands and kissed his forehead with force. "Go get this fucking ace."

Harry started towards the service area, but after just a couple of steps, Louis caught up to him, grabbing his arm just above the elbow. He stood on tiptoe so he could whisper in his ear.

"If you get an ace now, I’ll give you a blowjob tonight" he whispered, covering his mouth with his hands to make sure no one could read his lips.

Harry nearly tripped over his own feet, spinning around to look at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. "If I mess this up now, it’s your fault."

They both burst out laughing as Harry reached his position and waited for Louis to pass him the ball. In that moment, he didn’t even realise how light his heart felt during those eight seconds of preparation for the serve, he simply assessed the best tactical option with a grin on his face that didn’t want to leave, almost as though his anxiety had short-circuited thanks to Louis.

He didn’t get an ace, but he didn’t mess it up either. In fact, he put the reception under considerable pressure with a short ball that even surprised him with the courage he’d had to play it. The rally was long and fought, but in the end the point went to the Blue Bees after an invasion.

Harry missed the next serve, bringing the score back to tie, but fortunately, Cambridge also made a serving error. After those two consecutive mistakes, however, the final actions of the set were the most spectacular of the entire match because the Blue Bees were determined to give everything to force a tie-break, while across the net the opponents were fired up, desperate to finish it once and for all.

When Zayn sent the winning ball of that set to the floor, Haynes was on the verge of a heart attack. While Mitch walked away from the bench to do the coin toss with the referee and the opposing captain, the coach took the opportunity during the break to give technical instructions to the team, including Liam and Luke as he had already said that, if the occasion arose, he would make a double substitution with opposite and setter. Harry selfishly hoped with all his heart that wouldn’t happen, because he had no intention of leaving the court for even a second, not at that point in the match.

He knew that the double substitution would put the team in a favorable position, giving them the opportunity to always have three attackers in the front line during such a short set, but Harry didn’t care. He was fired up, his mind was clear and he had a shot ready. For once, he wanted that responsibility on his shoulders, he needed it.

Mitch won the toss, so the Blue Bees began the tie-break with their captain serving. In the early exchanges, it almost seemed like Cambridge had been mentally affected by losing the fourth set, letting it slip through their fingers when they were so close. They struggled to keep up, allowing the Blue Bees to set the pace and gain a two-point lead that, if they could maintain it, would bring them the win.

Mitch was the true driving force in that fifth set, playing with a speed of mind and hands that often left the opposing block off balance. He confidently took on even the riskiest choices, just like a high-level setter - someone like Louis - would have.

By the time they reached the mid-set changeover, they were ahead and from that moment on, there was no more contest. Haynes didn’t make the double substitution, because it would’ve been crazy to disrupt the rhythm when everything was going so well. The final play was a true demonstration of teamwork. After a series of exchanges where Cambridge desperately tried to cling to the hope of a miracle, Louis was so determined to save the ball that he literally pushed Harry out of the way to defend Murray’s attack aimed at the conflict zone between them. The defense was almost on top of him, but it was high enough to allow Harry, who had fallen due to the push but was the closest player, to get back up and attempt a set. Despite the risk, he didn’t hesitate for a second, sending the ball up to Mitch who, being the setter, was the least guarded at the net.

Louis jumped back to his feet at lightning speed, running toward their makeshift attacker while shouting for the team to cover, but Mitch spiked the ball with the same cool composure he would have shown in practice, as if it wasn’t one of the most crucial balls of his career. Probably judging by his face, he only realized what he’d just done when he saw the ball hit the floor inside the opponent’s court, because he suddenly went pale. That was the only thing Harry noticed before jumping into his arms, only to be tackled along with him by the rest of the team.

They had won. Harry couldn’t believe it, they had won the Royal Cup. When he loosened his grip around Mitch’s shoulders to let the others hug him too, he sank to his knees and began to cry, covering his face with both hands.

Louis knelt down in front of him, pulling him tightly to his chest. "I’m so proud of you" he whispered, his lips pressed against Harry’s ear.

Even amidst the cheers of the fans and the celebration shouts from his team, all Harry could hear was his heart beating with such happiness that it felt like it might explode. He wrapped his arms around Louis’s waist, clutching his jersey with both hands.

"Guys, the salute," Liam interrupted them, giving them both a pat on the shoulder to get their attention.

They broke the embrace, stood up and joined the rest of the team for the final salute under the net. Harry wiped his eyes with the edge of his shirt, laughing when he met the tearful gaze of his mother and sister in the bleachers. He shook hands with all the Cambridge players, offering sincere congratulations and accepting their praise for the well-earned victory with a wide grin. But the best moment came when he turned around and saw Niall waiting for him on the sideline with his crutches.

He barely managed to suppress the urge to leap into his arms, but he still ran to hug him.

"You guys were amazing, fuck!" Niall exclaimed, accidentally tapping him on the calf with his crutch in the excitement of returning the hug.

"Do you still have a voice?" Liam teased as he joined them, "How much did you scream during the game?"

"I didn’t notice anything" Harry laughed, stepping back, "How is that possible?"

"You’re always in your own world when you play," his best friend joked.

Within minutes, the court filled with people talking, joyful embraces and girls kissing their boyfriends proudly. Gemma and Anne also came over to congratulate Harry but their moment together was brief as Louis suddenly interrupted them.

"Excuse me, can I steal Harry for five minutes?"

Anne’s eyes lit up in a way that Harry found unsettling. "Louis, it’s nice to finally meet you" his mother said, reaching out a hand to him, "I’m Anne, Harry and Gemma’s mom."

"Mum" Harry squeaked, turning bright red.

Louis’s gaze briefly flicked to Harry’s face, as if wondering what she knew about him, but he quickly composed himself and flashed one of his irresistible smiles.

"You three have the same smile, it would be impossible to mistake you" he replied, returning the handshake, "I’m Louis."

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "When you’re done flirting with my mother…"

"You’re such an idiot" Anne scoffed, laughing, before surprising everyone by pulling Louis into a hug. "Congrats to you too for the win, you were brilliant" she said sincerely, "And thank you for trying to put some sense into my son these past few months."

"Mum!" Harry exclaimed again, making all three of them laugh.

"Thanks," Louis smiled at her and when Harry realized how red his face had gotten, his heart melted. He just wanted to hug him for the rest of his life.

"Go on now" Gemma chimed in, "Before Mum kidnaps Louis and decides to keep him as her son instead of you."

"That’d be a great catch," Louis joked, giving them another wonderful smile before dragging Harry away.

"What’s going on?" Harry asked as he followed him through the still crowded court.

"Aside from the fact that you’re jealous of your mother?"

"Always so funny."

"I’m afraid to ask what you’ve told her about me" Louis laughed nervously.

"Unfortunately, nothing bad enough to have her on my side, apparently" Harry muttered, pretending to be annoyed. "So? What’s going on?"

"Someone asked about you, I wanted to introduce you."

"Who?"

Louis didn’t answer, but a few moments later they stopped in front of a graying man in his forties, slightly shorter than them and wearing a blue pin on his jacket.

"Fabio, eccomi qua " Louis said in Italian.

Harry’s knees went weak for several reasons, but he tried his best not to show it.

"Harry, this is Fabio, the sports director of the Milan team," Louis explained.

Harry’s eyes widened and he extended his hand to introduce himself.

"It was a pleasure watching you play today" Fabio complimented him in perfect English, with just a slight Italian accent. "I hope to see you soon in our league."

"It would be a dream," Harry almost stammered.

"And what about you?" Fabio asked Louis with a look that seemed almost affectionate, "How much longer do I have to wait to have you on the team?"

"For a game of five-a-side?" Louis replied with a teasing smile, "I’m always available."

Fabio laughed, approaching Louis with a mock-threatening expression before giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You’re a bastard."

A few minutes later, as they said their goodbyes, Louis turned to him with a smile that seemed full of pride. "See?" he said, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders as he led him towards the locker rooms. "This is someone you can be proud of making an impression on."

"Do you think Fabio was really interested?" Harry asked, looking at him with a hope in his heart he hadn’t realised he even had.

"I was actually talking about myself," Louis rolled his eyes playfully, "But yes, Fabio too."

Harry tried to ignore his attempt at flirting. "Do you think there’s a chance he might call me to Milan?"

"I don’t know about that," Louis stopped, his fingers gripping the locker room door handle as he looked at him earnestly. "If I were to base it solely on talent I’d say yes, but there are too many variables in play when it comes to the transfer market. So, I can’t say for sure," he added, giving Harry an encouraging smile. "But even if he doesn’t call you, the important thing is that your name is circulating among Italian clubs. Maybe Milan doesn’t need a sexy stubborn opposite, but Modena, Perugia, or some other team might."

A sexy stubborn opposite.

Sexy.

Harry scrunched his nose in a useless attempt to hide his embarrassed smile, briefly lowering his gaze. "Don’t try to distract me from this conversation by calling me sexy."

"But you are," Louis chuckled, looking for Harry’s eyes again, before scanning the room almost furtively, then leaning closer to his ear. "Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about the promise I made to you during the game."

"I didn’t score an ace, though" Harry mumbled, swallowing hard and cursing himself for bringing it up.

"I was going to pretend I didn’t notice… but since you insist" Louis said, shrugging and opening the door before Harry could say anything.

Harry hurried to catch up. "No!" he exclaimed, "I’m not insisting, not at all. I didn’t say anything."

It was only when he saw Louis chuckling under his breath that he realised the entire team was watching them. He blushed but tried to act indifferent as he walked towards the infuriating idiot he had a huge crush on.

"Louis" he muttered in what was supposed to be a threatening tone.

"I don’t know," Louis pretended to think as he pulled off his shirt. "It wasn’t an ace."

"It was almost an ace."

Louis took off his shoes, using his heels to help, then bent down to remove his socks. "The 'almost' is the problem” he said licking his lips with a mischievous grin, clearly knowing exactly what he was doing.

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Could you stop undressing while I’m talking to you?"

When he felt fabric hit his face in response, he jumped, eyes wide, and reflexively caught Louis’ shorts in mid-air before they hit the ground. Louis was the first to burst into laughter, soon followed by the rest of the guys.

"Your face!" Louis snickered breathlessly, pointing at him.

"Louis!" Harry cursed again, throwing the shorts back at him, hitting his chest.

"What?" Louis huffed in amusement. "Come on, stop wasting my time too. We need to be at dinner in half an hour."

He took off his underwear and walked towards the showers, while Harry tried to remember how to breathe. He always forced himself not to look when Louis was walking around naked in the locker room, but this time Louis had undressed right in front of him. Harry couldn’t help but admire the way Louis’ hips swayed as he walked, emphasising the perfect curve of his ass with each step.

That boy would be the death of him.

Harry killed time as best as he could, chatting with the guys and pretending to search for something in his gym bag, wanting to make sure the situation was fully under control before undressing himself.

That evening, more than ever, it was hard to ignore Louis’ presence in the locker room. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what had happened between them the night before - and that morning - or if it was because of the promise Louis had made on the court, but he couldn’t remain unaffected by the feeling of Louis’ gaze on him or when Louis passed by, almost absentmindedly brushing his bare back just above the towel around his waist.

For the rest of the evening, Louis had fun teasing him relentlessly. 

During dinner, he repeatedly placed his hand on Harry’s thigh, always too close to where Harry truly wanted him and when it was time for dessert, he made sure to hollow his cheeks as he cleaned the spoon with an ecstatic look after each bite of his warm chocolate fondant. Harry thought he might die when, with the most innocent expression he could muster, Louis scooped up a drop of vanilla cream from his plate with his finger and ate it, as if it wasn’t the most erotic scene Harry had ever witnessed in his entire life.

Louis didn’t give him a break even after dinner, when they went with the team to occupy the lounge behind the resort’s reception. They sat by the fireplace, arranging themselves as best as they could since there weren’t enough chairs and sofas for everyone. Harry, for instance, sat on the floor with his back against Louis’s legs, while Louis settled on the couch next to Niall.

Haynes had bought drinks for everyone to celebrate and Harry loved every minute of that evening, even though his mind was mostly absent, distracted by Louis’ hands that just couldn’t seem to stay still for even a moment. Louis casually caressed his neck with his fingertips, played with his hair or massaged his shoulders almost playfully, but always with the perfect pressure in the right spots. Harry felt like he could cry, though he wasn’t sure if it was because those attentions were maddeningly pleasant or because he wanted more.

As they walked back to their rooms with the team, Harry almost felt his hands itching, needing - no, craving - Louis. As soon as the door to their bungalow closed behind them, he didn’t hesitate for a second before grabbing Louis’ face and kissing him desperately. He pushed him back until Louis sat on the bed and without breaking their kiss, Harry climbed on top of him.

Louis’ hands slid down to his ass, gripping him eagerly and drawing a moan from Harry that blended with his already breathless gasps from the kiss, so full of desire. Suddenly, Louis tightened his grip and lifted just enough to spin around, holding Harry in his arms, before throwing him onto the bed, flat on his back.

Louis leaned forward just long enough to give him a kiss before sitting up again and swiftly removing Harry’s shoes. Harry would have let him do anything for the rest of his life if he kept handling him like this. He loved feeling Louis’ hands on him and couldn’t stop watching him move confidently, as if everything in front of him were his. In a way, it really was.

Louis took off Harry’s socks too, then hooked his fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling both his pants and boxers off in one swift motion.

"Oh, God" Harry mumbled, his heart almost exploding from the way Louis was looking at him. It was as though Louis was about to devour him and, honestly, Harry hoped that was the case.

Louis smiled, clearly pleased by the effect he was having on him without even touching him properly, then bent down to press his lips against Harry’s ankle.

"Got a kink for ankles?" Harry teased, trying to stay still even though Louis’ breath on him was driving him wild.

"I’ve got a kink for your body," Louis replied, nibbling gently at his calf. "Every single inch."

Harry covered his eyes with his arm, feeling suddenly too exposed under that intense gaze, especially when his half boner reacted to Louis' words, twitching. The embarrassment gave way to a moan as, after marking the entire path with kisses and bites, Louis began to suck on the skin of his inner thigh in a point dangerously close to where he truly wanted his mouth.

He felt on the verge of burning up, so he lifted his shoulders just enough to shrug off his hoodie and toss it somewhere onto the floor. Louis glanced up to see what he was doing and smiled against his skin, probably at how utterly wrecked Harry already looked. He licked that patch of skin one last time, the one that had been the focus of his attention for the past few minutes, and pulled himself up, reaching Harry's lips for a kiss where it was impossible to tell who was hungrier for the other.

Louis also pulled his t-shirt off, while Harry let his hands strip away each layer of clothing from Louis’s torso. Harry’s mind was so fogged by the way Louis’s tongue caressed and pursued his own, that he couldn’t even focus properly on an important task like getting his sweatpants off. It was as if his hands couldn’t stop caressing Louis’s face, threading through his hair or gripping his back, so he tried to signal what he wanted by attempting to pull down his sweatpants with his feet.

"Forgot how to use your hands?" Louis teased him almost in a whisper, before sucking on his lower lip.

"They're busy," Harry replied, tugging lightly at his hair and earning a moan that shot straight to his cock. He ran his other hand down Louis's back, slipping under the fabric to squeeze his arse, just as he'd been dreaming of doing for hours.

For a moment, it seemed like Louis had no intention of helping him, as he deepened the kiss instead, but eventually he pulled away from his lips and undressed. When he came back close, it was only to tease him, trailing the tip of his tongue along the outline of Harry's mouth and letting him chase after it every time it pulled away.

Harry was certain he’d lose his mind if Louis didn’t kiss him again at that very moment and he was ready to flip their positions to take exactly what he needed if Louis kept torturing him this way. But in the end, every thought vanished when he felt Louis’s fingers tighten around his cock. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, gasping from the sudden wave of pleasure that had swept through his body, and for a moment he barely registered Louis’s movements as he moved backwards on the bed, at least not until his lips closed around the tip of Harry’s cock.

Harry knew he’d reach his orgasm in a matter of minutes if Louis kept up that pace, hollowing his cheeks to suck as if his entire existence depended on it, while his tongue teased every nerve ending on the most sensitive part of Harry’s skin, using his hand where his mouth couldn’t reach. When Louis slipped his cock out from between his lips, Harry instinctively wrapped his legs around his waist to make sure he wouldn’t pull away too far, drawing a playful laugh from Louis, far too adorable for the situation.

"Where are you going?" he asked in a tone that was almost desperate, seeing Louis lean out of the bed.

"I’d like to grab my gym bag," Louis replied, giving up on stretching any further with a sigh, "If only you’d let me move."

Harry tightened his grip further. "I don’t think that’s possible."

Louis returned his mischievous grin, leaning forward to kiss him for what had to be the millionth time. "What a shame," he murmured against Harry’s lips, as his finger slipped between Harry’s cheeks, teasing his rim but not going further.

That was enough to convince Harry to spread his legs, allowing Louis the freedom to move. Louis didn’t need to be told twice, nor did he waste time teasing him for his submission. He quickly yanked the gym bag by its strap, dragging it onto the floor and pulling it closer to the bed. He swiftly opened the side pocket, pulling out a small bottle of lube. He let a generous drop fall onto his fingertip, then spread it along the rest of his finger and around Harry’s rim.

The cool, delicate sensation made Harry’s stomach knot with the growing anticipation of such intense pleasure. Louis kissed him again and Harry moaned into his mouth as his finger finally slid inside him.

"You’re even more beautiful like this" Louis whispered, giving him one last peck before sliding down his body again to take his cock into his mouth once more. He bent his finger several times, until he found his prostate and began massaging it with small, circular motions.

It was too much, Harry could no longer handle all those sensations. He felt like his heart was about to burst but, just as he was about to come, Louis stopped completely, pulling away from his body.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, his voice pleading and tinged with desperation, searching for Louis’s gaze. "Why?"

He could see that spark of satisfaction in Louis’s eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher, as he watched him lean in closer to his face.

"A half blowjob for a half ace" Louis whispered in his ear, before nibbling on his earlobe.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh at how ridiculous it was or cry from frustration, so he hid his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. "Tell me you’re not serious."

"I’m dead serious," Louis replied, gently moving his hand away to place a kiss on his cheek. "Seems like a fair compromise to me."

"Not to me," Harry exclaimed, shooting him a threatening look, as much as he could with only one part of his face exposed.

Louis calmly moved his other hand, fully freeing his face, and smiled at him for a moment as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. "Rules are rules" he simply replied, before kissing him on the lips.

If only Harry hadn’t found this way of pushing him to the brink so fucking exciting, it wouldn’t have been so easy for Louis to have him under control. But instead, he gave in, returning the kiss without a second thought. "I hate you" he murmured, threading his fingers through Louis’s hair, feeling his smile spread across his lips.

"I can tell" Louis replied.

They both laughed, still kissing, until Harry pushed him by the shoulders, sending him flat on his back onto the bed, before pulling away. He didn’t try to hide the satisfaction of paying him back with his own game when he saw the confused - almost worried - expression on Louis’s face. Harry leaned towards the side pocket of Louis’s gym bag, still open, hoping he’d brought condoms and nearly cheered in victory when he found them on the first try.

"Everything okay?" Louis asked, sitting up and placing a hand on his back.

Harry turned, showing him the condom packet with a pleased smile. "More than okay."

If he hadn’t already been on the verge of self-combustion, he surely would’ve reached it from the way Louis was looking at him in that moment. It was pure sex in flesh, bone and blue eyes.

Harry lunged towards his lips, straddling his legs, and allowed himself to be enveloped by the arms he wished could be around his waist forever. It was a passionate and intense kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth, a mutual tasting, driven by all the hunger they could no longer hold inside. 

They only pulled away when they were forced to catch their breath and Harry seized the moment to tear open the condom wrapper with his teeth, unrolling it onto Louis' thick hard cock. He had never been so flustered as he was in that moment, not because of something as simple as applying the lube, but because Louis never stopped licking, biting or kissing every part of his body he could reach from that position, and Harry was only human he got distracted far too easily.

When he finally settled on Louis' finger, supporting himself with one hand and feeling the tip press beneath him, he began to penetrate himself slowly, dictating the rhythm while Louis kissed his neck and his hands never stopped caressing his body for a moment.

It was all so different from the first time they had sex. That had been beautiful - truly beautiful - but it was nothing compared to the intimacy they were sharing now. There was desire and passion behind the pursuit of pleasure, yet there was also the tenderness of a caress or a word whispered against the other's lips. There was devotion in their gazes and a yearning to truly know each other, to belong to one another in a way they were still learning to explore together.

When Harry’s hips changed rhythm, quickening their movements in pursuit of the warm sensation beginning to build in his stomach, Louis let out a groan so raw and deep it sent shivers down both their spines.

"I don’t think I’ll last much longer" Louis said, breathless, his lips still pressed against his chest after leaving the mark of his passage. He kissed him right there, over his heart, before lifting his gaze to meet Harry’s, who was already looking at him.

Those eyes would eventually be the death of him.

"Me too" Harry gasped, taking Louis' face in his hands and tilting his head back so he could see him clearly. "God, your eyes" he whispered, almost to himself, before kissing him. 

Louis, if possible, pushed even deeper into him, meeting his movements with increasingly forceful thrusts. And when he wrapped a hand around his cock, Harry could no longer resist. He was overwhelmed by one of the most intense orgasms of his life within seconds, unable to contain all that pleasure in his body any longer, spilling his release onto Louis' hand and chest. Louis, on the other hand, continued to thrust with an increasingly frantic rhythm until he came as well.

For a few moments, they stayed still, breathing on each other's skin as they tried to catch their breath. Harry wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of his life wrapped in that embrace, but he was starting to lose feeling in his legs, so he eased Louis out of him and let himself fall back onto the bed.

Louis remained seated for a while longer before leaning out to pick up what appeared to be a crumpled pair of boxers from the floor, which he used to wipe his abdomen and hand. Only then did he turn to Harry, unable to hold back a smile when their eyes met, and cleaned him up as well.

Harry blushed, feeling almost foolish, because he didn’t know how to handle these simple yet sweet gestures. But Louis seemed touched by his reaction because, after tossing the boxers back onto the floor, he lay down beside him, his face just inches from his, and smiled again.

"You’re so beautiful when you blush" he murmured, looking into his eyes and gently caressing his side.

Harry’s cheeks flushed even deeper, but that was probably Louis' plan all along. Harry fought the urge to sigh, he was too happy in that moment to complain, even just pretending.

"Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it" he confessed, pushing Louis’ fringe aside with his fingers to get a better look at his gaze.

"Used to what?"

"Your eyes."

Louis moved even closer, entangling one of his legs with Harry’s while absently caressing his back with his hand. "What’s wrong with my eyes?"

"They look at me like that" Harry replied, struggling to find the right words to explain, "And then, uh… they’re just beautiful."

Louis lowered his gaze, hiding his face against Harry’s neck, letting out an embarrassed laugh.

"What?" Harry chuckled, confused by the reaction. "What did I say?"

"I wasn’t expecting that, it’s the first time you’ve given me a compliment."

Harry was about to object, because it couldn’t possibly be true, but then he realized that Louis was probably right. He’d always been afraid to open up too much when it came to him.

"Not in my head," he admitted.

Louis placed a kiss on his neck before lifting his face to look him in the eyes again. "Oh, really?" he asked, his tone curious and a little amused. "And what happens in your head then?"

"A lot of things," Harry joked, tapping his forehead. "You have no idea how often we talk about you in here."

"You and your personalities?"

"Exactly," Harry confirmed, making them both laugh. "We mostly talk about your eyes and how unfair it is that they have this power over us."

"What power?"

"The power to make it impossible for me to resist you."

Louis smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. "If it had been that easy, you’d have been mine a long time ago."

"I’ve been yours since day one, I’m afraid" Harry confessed, his heart threatening to leap into his throat. "You looked at me the first time and- boom, done. There was no turning back."

"Just because of my eyes?" Louis asked, pressing his lips to Harry’s.

"Just your eyes," Harry nodded with a sigh, giving in to the kiss, which felt different from all the ones they had shared before. It tasted like something important.

Chapter Text

When he heard the ringtone, Harry cursed under his breath as he ran to the kitchen to answer. He checked the time before hitting the green button, realizing how late he was.

"Hello?"

"I'm downstairs" Louis said. "Are you ready or is it too early?"

"I'm almost ready," he lied shamelessly. "Uh, wanna come up for five minutes?"

Louis hesitated for only a moment before responding, "Okay, I’ll park and be right up."

"Second floor."

Harry rushed back to his room, tossing the phone on the bed and throwing half the clothes he had taken out to decide what to wear into the closet. That evening, they would finally have their first real date and Harry was practically bursting with excitement. At the same time, he was stupidly nervous for reasons he couldn’t even understand. To avoid raising suspicion, Harry had left right after practice, telling the guys he’d shower at home, while Louis stayed at the gym to get ready.

He rushed to the entrance, pressing the side button of the intercom to open the front door of his building, then returned to his room to quickly put on the white trousers he had chosen. He stared at the various outfit combinations he was still undecided about for just a moment too long, so when Louis rang the bell Harry had a black shirt in one hand and a floral-printed one in the other. He laid both shirts on the bed, along with the others, and made his way swiftly to the door.

The way Louis' expression shifted the moment he saw him, from an adorable smile to a look that seemed to devour him with his eyes, gave Harry goosebumps.

"Hey," Harry smiled nervously, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

Louis scanned him from head to toe one last time before his gaze returned to Harry’s face and that sweet smile reappeared.

"Hey" Louis replied, his voice almost hesitant as he handed him a red rose. As soon as Harry took it with trembling fingers, Louis stepped forward, rising slightly on his toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Harry felt his face flush but, more than that, he couldn’t take his eyes off the flower. "You didn’t have to" he whispered, stroking the velvety petals.

Louis furrowed his brow, as if Harry’s words didn’t make sense. "Of course I did," he chuckled, hiding his hands in his pockets. "I should bring you one every day just to see you smile like that, but - honestly? - I kind of feel guilty for the flowers because, in the end, you’ll always be the most beautiful rose."

"Stop it," Harry chuckled, gently pushing him playfully on the shoulder, but he still couldn’t help blushing. "Don’t tease me just because I like flowers."

"No teasing," Louis shrugged, briefly lowering his gaze. "But you’re even more beautiful when you smile like that."

Harry didn’t know how to handle Louis' straightforwardness because, usually, guys would compliment him to try to impress him or with some clear ulterior motive. But the way Louis looked at him and his tone of voice only conveyed sincerity and sweetness. He scrunched his nose, trying to hide his embarrassment and closed the door.

"Stop it" he repeated almost in a whisper, then cleared his throat in a clear attempt to change the subject. "I just need ten minutes, sorry for making you come up but I didn’t want to make you wait in the car."

"No problem," from the way Louis smiled, it almost seemed like he was nervous too. "It might become a problem if you keep standing there half-dressed in those trousers though, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep my composure."

That made Harry laugh out loud. "On the first date?" he teased mischievously, motioning for him to follow him through the living room. "What do you take me for?"

"Never in a million years," Louis played along. "We’re good boys."

Harry stopped in the kitchen, looking for a small vase to keep the rose in, which he’d try to preserve for as long as possible. No guy had ever given him flowers before, but Louis didn’t need to know that.

"Can I offer you something?" he asked absentmindedly while rummaging at the back of a cabinet, finding a small crystal vial and turning on the tap to fill it with water.

"No, thanks."

"Not even some water?"

"Uh, yes," Harry heard Louis chuckling behind him. "I’ll take the water, thanks. I’m- uh, I admit I’m a little nervous and my mouth is dry."

Harry bit his lip barely holding back a smile, not wanting to give in, even though Louis couldn’t see him because his back was turned. He gave himself a moment to compose himself before turning around to place the vase in the center of the table and carefully arranging the rose inside. Then he took a bottle of water and poured it into a blue glass.

"Would you mind if I said it comforts me to know you're nervous too?" Harry confessed.

His eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement of Louis’ throat as he drank and suddenly Harry felt the need for a glass of water too.

Louis was always beautiful, but tonight he looked so perfect it took Harry’s breath away. He wasn’t more beautiful than the Halloween night with that absolutely illegal sweater, nor more than in his everyday life, because the real thing about Louis was that he always managed to look amazing without even trying. He only needed a shower, to wash his hair and to wear literally anything to look perfect without any effort. He didn’t need to comb his hair too carefully, because it was that perfectly messy look that made it appear even softer and made Harry die to touch it. His skin was smooth and flawless, with a hint of stubble that made his face even more captivating.

That evening, he was wearing a pair of jeans, a cream-colored hoodie, and an olive-green suede jacket that, in a way completely incomprehensible to Harry, seemed to make his eyes look much more green than blue. 

"You’re not listening to me, are you?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts, blushing for what had to be the millionth time that evening. "Sorry, I- okay, I was staring at you" he admitted after a brief hesitation.

Louis raised his hands to hide his face, laughing awkwardly. "Go get dressed, please" he said in an imploring tone. "I really want to take you out for dinner."

"If- uh, you know, if you want you can come over here while I finish getting ready," Harry offered without even thinking about it.

It went against everything Harry stood for, because especially on a first date, his goal was always to impress the other person, so he would never ruin the element of surprise by letting them see him choose his outfit. But as cliché as it sounded, Louis was different. Maybe because even though they insisted on calling it a first date, they weren’t strangers and they had already shared their own strange version of normality. Plus, to be honest, Harry didn’t want to leave him alone for even a minute, so he was happy when Louis followed him down the hallway and into his room.

"Sorry for the mess, it’s not usually like this" Harry murmured, quickly gathering the majority of the clothes he had left on the bed.

He wasn’t sure if it was his head playing tricks on him, but he was convinced that the clothes had tripled since he had last left the room or he would have never asked Louis to come in with all this mess. He knew he was exaggerating, but having Louis in his room made him feel so exposed, almost as if he were under scrutiny.

While Harry struggled with anxiety, trying to clean up casually, Louis probably didn’t notice anything, focused as he was on looking around, studying every detail.

"What mess?" he asked, not even looking away from the series of medals and trophies on the shelf above the desk.

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling to himself, and with a sigh he took one last look at the options in front of him. In the end, he chose a light blue shirt with tiny white stars, leaving the first two buttons undone and rolling up the sleeves. It hung loosely around his hips, in sharp contrast to the tight white trousers that clung to him like a second skin. He quickly went to the bathroom to freshen up his hair, making sure it looked just the way he liked, perhaps lingering a bit longer in the mirror than he normally would.

He wanted to look his best for this first date, probably because his appearance was the only thing he felt he could control.

When he returned to his room, Louis was still meticulously inspecting everything he could lay his eyes on. Harry couldn’t decide whether to be charmed by such intense curiosity or to feel a little pushed aside, as it seemed Louis had completely forgotten about him. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and watching him patiently, waiting for Louis to notice his presence.

“If you keep staring at Mr. Carrot like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re planning to take him out for dinner instead of me” he said, his tone teasing.

“Mh?” Louis murmured, caught off guard, turning towards the door with the little white stuffed bunny still in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw Harry and he let his arm drop to his side, muttering to himself “Fuck.”

“What?” Harry asked, taking a few steps toward him, trying to figure out whether Louis had reacted that way because he’d been caught red-handed with the stuffed toy or because of him.

“I wasn’t mentally prepared” Louis admitted, moving closer.

“To be caught with Mr. Carrot?” Harry teased.

Louis placed his free hand on Harry's waist as if it had always belonged there, raising an eyebrow with a playful grin, and with the other hand he lifted the plush bunny. “Mr. Carrot?”

“Don’t say it like that, I was four years old,” Harry grumbled, as though being insulted.

“It’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable,” Harry muttered, as if it were a personal affront. “Okay, maybe it is, but my sister used to tell me that if a monster ever tried to attack me at night, Mr. Carrot would bite it, so technically he's a tough one." 

“God,” Louis rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, “Why are you so cute? It was easier when you just seemed like a psychopath.”

“Hey!”

They both laughed and Louis lifted his head to look at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Harry’s eyes widened, surprised by the question, but he didn’t hesitate to nod. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that Louis after cupping his face with one hand would kiss him on the cheek before pulling back just a little, looking at him as if he were holding the most precious treasure in the world.

“I wasn’t mentally prepared to see you like this because I thought I was just taking the most beautiful guy out for dinner, but then I saw you and... you’re not just fucking sexy, you’re also inexplicably delicate and adorable and…” He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “You’re-  you’re just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you a thing, it’s just-”

Harry interrupted him by pressing his lips to his, but Louis immediately pulled back.

“Not before the date” he hurried to explain.

“Louis,” Harry sighed, “I don’t care about your stupid rules.”

At that point, Louis even dared to let out a small laugh before adding, “Please.”

Harry huffed, just about ready to start stomping his feet like a child. “Why?”

“Because if I kiss you now, we’re never leaving this room.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

"The problem is I really, really, really want to take you out to dinner’" Louis started and Harry was already willing to give him anything he wanted without hesitation just because of that explanation, but Louis continued. "I asked my sister for a restaurant recommendation, I made a reservation and I can't wait to die of nerves while we do all those silly first-date things." He let his fingers trace the collar of Harry's shirt. "And you look too good dressed like that, it would be a shame to take it off so soon. I want to look at you, especially if the fact that I find you so handsome makes you blush just like now.'"

"You need to stop," Harry laughed, his cheeks red from embarrassment, gently pushing Louis back a step. "Okay, let's go."

At that moment, Louis' phone rang, completely ruining the atmosphere they had created.

"See?" Louis said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing Harry the screen, where the words hands off Harry flashed. "I set the alarm when you told me to come up."

It was too much for Harry and he burst out laughing so loudly that he had to clutch his stomach to contain the cramps while Louis, pretending to be offended, put the stuffed bunny back in its place.

"Let's go," Harry repeated once he caught his breath, then led Louis down the hallway. He picked a beige coat from the coat rack and put it on, along with matching ankle boots, trying not to show how much Louis' attentive gaze made him feel exposed.

Harry wasn’t naive, he knew he was a good-looking guy, but no one had ever made him feel this irresistible. Special.

The restaurant wasn't far, just about twenty minutes by car, but even if it had been an hour Harry probably wouldn't have noticed because throughout the whole drive he couldn't stop staring at Louis. Everything about him was magnetic, from the way he drove to his voice when talking about random things or humming absentmindedly.

He parked in a small private lot right next to the restaurant, a luxury that few places could afford in a city like London. The thought alone made Harry even more nervous because he feared Louis had taken him to a restaurant he couldn’t afford or one that would make him feel inadequate, especially since he didn’t have an outfit fit for the occasion.

"Okay, before we get out, I need to make a confession" Louis said as he turned off the car. "I asked Lottie for advice because I've only just moved to London and I didn’t know any places that would be good for a proper date, because- well, let’s just say that when someone has asked me out in the past few months, it hasn’t exactly been about our interests."

"Someone, who? " Harry asked before he even realized what he was saying.

Louis' expression clearly showed he realized he’d said more than he intended, but he seemed so nervous in that moment that Harry couldn’t even be mad at him for mentioning his casual flings before their date even started.

"Nevermind," Louis hurriedly replied. "The point is, I asked my sister to recommend a place that wasn’t too much, but... uh, I never know how much to trust her when it comes to this stuff."

Harry let out a half-laugh. "You’re making me nervous."

“You’re right, it’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in recent years” Louis closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and when he opened them again he smiled at Harry. “Lottie said there’s no better place for a first date. I hope she’s right.”

“We could get out of the car and find out, for example” Harry suggested, amused by the unusual vulnerability in Louis’s gaze.

“Right,” Louis cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

Harry took a deep breath too before getting out of the car and following Louis through the parking lot.

The restaurant, from the outside, didn’t seem as intimidating as Harry had imagined and when Louis held the door open for him to enter, he noticed it was actually quite inviting. The brick walls contrasted sharply with the covering of the numerous pillars, which were black and decidedly more modern in style, covered in small, haphazard white scribbles. They almost looked like chalkboards embedded in the walls or displayed in the middle of the room so everyone could read their contents, but what struck Harry the most was the lighting, simple yet artistic at the same time. Wires of varying lengths hung down from the ceiling, each holding lightbulbs of different sizes, creating an alternating pattern of light and shadow that gave the atmosphere a warm, relaxing feel.

"I love it" Harry muttered, looking around, captivated.

Louis let out a sigh of relief, though he seemed almost surprised that Harry liked it. "Really?"

Harry nodded confidently as he hung both of their jackets in the cloakroom by the entrance, but before he could add anything else they were interrupted by a waiter who approached them with a friendly smiling expression.

"Welcome to Little Things" he greeted them, then glanced down at the iPad in his hands. "Any food allergies?"

Louis turned to Harry, who shook his head, and then replied "No, thanks. There should be a reservation under the name Tomlinson."

The waiter quickly scanned the screen for a moment and, after clicking something, looked up again with a smile. "Right this way, please."

He led them through the room to one of the tables at the back and before leaving them alone, placed a menu by each napkin. There was a wide range of options to suit all tastes and, to Harry's immense relief, the prices weren’t too high.

"Okay, I guess this is the awkward moment where no one knows what to say and we’re too nervous to have a normal conversation" Louis said with a nervous laugh right after placing the order.

Harry chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "Why does calling it a date make everything so difficult?" he sighed. "I mean, it’s not like we haven’t done this... more or less."

Louis shrugged, looking at him with a tender smile. "I like first dates."

"You must be the only one in the world" Harry teased, furrowing his brow.

"It's the only moment you're allowed to ask all the questions you want without coming off as a stalker."

Harry bit his lip to hold back a smile. "But we already know each other."

"Not true," Louis replied. "Well, I know your personality, but I don’t actually know anything about you."

"There’s not much to know."

"If you knew how many questions I want to ask you, you wouldn’t think that."

His heart did an unrequested flip because, despite all the wonderful things Louis kept saying about him, Harry still struggled to believe he could interest him this much.

"Like what?" he murmured, his voice tinged with insecurity.

Louis thought for a couple of seconds before speaking. "Do you live alone or do you have roommates?"

"I live alone."

"I figured, since you've never mentioned roommates, but I started to wonder when I saw your place because it doesn't look like the typical student apartment.

"It’s not, actually, though it’s a bit complicated" Harry explained. "My dad is from London and before he got married he lived in the apartment his grandmother left him. He moved to Cheshire with my mum just before the wedding but didn’t sell it, because he thought it would always be useful to have a place to stay in London. When they transferred him back to London for work, though, the place was too small for two kids, so we had to look for another one."

"How old were you when you moved here?"

"Uhm, nine or ten, I think."

"Was it hard?"

"For me?" Harry took a few seconds to reflect before shaking his head. "I missed my friends, but I liked the idea of meeting new people. For Gemma it was much worse because she was older and was desperate just thinking about leaving her team, but it was thanks to the team she found here that she settled in quickly."

"So, you started playing because of that?" Louis asked, looking interested.

"No, I’d already started playing mini-volleyball at my sister’s old club and I would have done the same here in London but then Niall, my new desk mate, convinced me to join his team and here I am, still with the Blue Bees."

"It’s crazy that you’ve never left that team."

Harry shrugged slightly. "I've done a few loan spells with other teams but, other than that, I've never felt the need to change."

Louis looked at him a bit too long, probably lost in thought, making Harry almost feel like he’d said something weird.

"So now Gemma lives with her boyfriend, right?" Louis asked, as if nothing had happened.

"Right" Harry confirmed, though a bit confused. "When she started university, she actually moved into my current apartment and we even shared it for a few months before she moved in with Mike."

"You’re such a terrible roommate?" Louis teased with that tight-lipped smile he always had when he was pleased with something he said.

Harry, laughing, leaned forward to give him a playful tap on the arm. "No, they had been talking for a while about moving in together and Mike’s place was much more convenient compared to where they both worked."

"Of course" Louis commented, emphasizing the ironic tone of his voice to make Harry laugh even more. "Let’s just say Gemma really loves you and didn’t want to hurt your feelings."

"Why did I agree to go out with you?" Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

At that moment another waiter, younger than the one who had welcomed them, approached their table with the plates they had ordered.

"Would you like to order anything else?" he asked. "The kitchen closes in half an hour, so if you need it, I can bring the menu now."

"Oh, uhm, I didn’t look at the desserts earlier," Louis responded, caught off guard.

"There’s no issue with desserts because they’re already prepared, so you can order one later if you’d like."

"Harry?" Louis turned to him. "Do you want anything else?"

"No, thanks," Harry smiled at both of them. "This is perfect."

"We’re all set, thanks" Louis confirmed with a polite smile before waiting for the waiter to leave and turning back to Harry. "Do you know what I miss about Italy?"

"The food?" Harry guessed.

"Well, yes… that too, but no," Louis chuckled. "The restaurants there close late, you can go eat whenever you want."

Harry tilted his head slightly, looking a bit dreamy. "That would be convenient for us, since we train every evening."

"Trust me, it’s relaxing to know it’s never too late to have a life outside the gym."

For a few seconds, they sat in silence as they began to eat because Harry wasn’t sure whether to follow his instinct and ask Louis everything that came to mind or not. Italy was a topic he wasn’t sure how to handle or approach. Part of him wanted to know everything about the life he had always dreamed of for himself, but another increasingly louder part began to see it with a little hostility.

It had never been a mystery that Louis' presence on their team would be temporary. After all, the very definition of a sabbatical year implied that it was just a short break before getting back to his life, but even when Harry thought he hated him he had never been excited to know that Louis would be leaving. Louis, for better or for worse, was an important presence, one that could not leave without leaving a void behind.

"Do you miss Italy?" Harry asked suddenly, gathering the little courage he had.

"Mm, in some ways yes," Louis replied, "In others, not at all."

"Like what?"

"What?" Louis looked at him carefully, perhaps trying to figure out if Harry was just being curious or if there was something more behind it. "What do I miss or what don't I miss?"

Harry hesitated for a moment and took a long sip of wine before answering "Everything."

Louis thought for a few seconds, chewing his bite slowly. "I miss my friends, of course, even though I talk to them often. The everyday little things I was used to, like coffee at the bar with them before morning practice, spontaneous spaghetti meals at impossible hours or moms sending care packages from other parts of Italy with food not just for their children but for their friends too," he shook his head slightly, smiling with what seemed like nostalgia. "Over there, everyone has this kind of innate maternal instinct, they treat you as if they had actually adopted you, so one day you might get a portion of lasagna from a friend's mom and the next day you get a scolding just because your face shows you stayed out too late the night before."

Harry let out a laugh, but he actually found it very sweet. "I guess it’s not bad to feel part of a family when you’re so far from home."

"I think my friends’ families were my salvation," Louis admitted. "I’ve always struggled with the distance."

If Harry could, he would go back in time to hug seventeen-year-old Louis as he prepared to take such a big and difficult step. But since he couldn't, he simply said "It’s normal, plus you were so young when you left."

"Some things don’t get any easier as you grow up, especially when you can’t go home for Christmas because there’s the championship and trying to get your family to move is like winning the lottery."

"Why?"

"Because there are so many of us," Louis chuckled, clearly enjoying Harry’s confused expression. "Besides Lottie, I have four sisters and one brother, all younger" he explained. "You have no idea how many times they’ve had to cancel a visit at the last minute because someone had a high fever."

"Okay, yeah," Harry's eyes widened and he let out a laugh, "You guys are a lot."

"Told you so," Louis laughed too, taking a sip of wine before continuing, "I also miss the atmosphere in the arenas."

"Even on TV, it looks exciting. I can’t imagine what it’s like live."

"I don’t think I can explain it," Louis sighed, showing that nostalgic tone again. "Five thousand people screaming your name or cheering because you scored a point... those aren’t emotions you can explain or forget."

Harry’s stomach tightened slightly, partly because he knew Louis deserved to be in front of those five thousand people, that was his place, and partly due to a bit of healthy envy. Fortunately, Louis kept talking without waiting for him to say anything.

"I don’t miss the frantic pace of the times when, between the A League, the Coppa Italia and European competitions, you have a game every two days in different places across the continent."

"Then people wonder why there are so many injuries," Harry commented.

"Exactly, and mentally it’s just as exhausting as physically," Louis emphasized with a sigh. "The thing I miss the least, though, is dealing with the more toxic side of the environment."

"Agents?"

"Also, but not just them."

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to ask the question that had been bothering him for the past three months. "Can I ask you something?" he finally said, quickly adding, "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

Louis raised both eyebrows, but when he spoke his tone seemed more amused than alarmed. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Harry laughed, relaxing as he saw Louis's calm attitude. "I was wondering- uh, why did you take a sabbatical year?"

Louis also started laughing. "Honestly, I'm surprised you’re the first one to ask me since I’ve been in London."

"Everyone on the team’s been asking since day one," Harry confessed. "It’s a bit of a strange choice."

"Quit everything at the peak of your career?" Louis joked, laughing. "Let’s hear it, what are the theories?"

"Not many, actually. The rumors floating around on Twitter never convinced us," Harry replied.

"What rumors?"

"The fact that no team wants you because you're a pain in the ass to deal with."

Louis burst out laughing. "I’ve heard pretty much all of them, but that one was new."

"Honestly, I couldn’t even believe it when I hated you."

"So that means you don’t hate me anymore?" Louis asked with a teasing smile.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Depends on the moment."

"Well, that’s already a step forward, I’m satisfied," Louis chuckled before turning serious again. "Anyway, it’s complicated to explain."

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to" Harry repeated, worried he might have crossed a line.

"No, it’s not that. It’s just- it’s a mix of things," Louis frowned as if gathering his thoughts to figure out where to start. "I’d say the main reason is my former agent."

"He didn’t find you a team?"

"No, on the contrary, he was great. He knew after the breakup with Andrea I wanted a change of scenery and he got me a two-year contract I never even dreamed of. But right after I signed, he started getting a little too pushy with me and- well, long story short, he made sexual advances that I obviously rejected."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide.

"At first he laughed it off, but by the end of the season he got more insistent, until the proposals turned into threats to ruin my career if I didn’t do this or that," Louis grimaced in disgust and Harry fully agreed. "He started spreading rumors about me just to show me how serious he was, but I didn’t care. I talked to the club I had signed with but, unfortunately, my contract was tied to him and if I’d moved forward he would only profit from it. Breaking the contract would have meant paying huge penalties under those circumstances and at that point probably no other team would have picked me up, so I went back to him pretending to give up and made him say everything I needed while I recorded him."

"Shit, so you’re free now?"

"We’re working on it" Louis replied simply. "I sued him and the agreement with the club is that, if I win, the contract will be annulled."

"I'm sorry things went that way."

Louis shrugged, as if the whole thing didn’t bother him that much anymore. "It was a rough time and, on top of that, my family decided to lose their minds" he huffed, almost hiding a half-laugh. "Lottie had her rebellious phase, she found a place and an internship here in London without telling anyone. She only told our mom once everything was set in stone, so they had a huge fight. And in the end, when my mom’s current amoeba of a boyfriend got involved, Lottie left and pretty much cut ties with home."

Harry found himself listening to Louis with a shocked expression, because from the outside no one would have guessed he was going through such a complicated time.

"Let's just say that if it hadn't been for my sister, I never would have decided to take a sabbatical year, but my family needed me and it had been too many years since I could do anything for them" Louis concluded, "That's why I came to London instead of going back to Doncaster."

"For your sister" Harry murmured to himself, struck by the importance of that decision.

Few people would have made such a sacrifice for their family, no matter how complicated his work situation in Italy had been at the time.

Louis nodded and when he spoke it almost seemed like he was justifying himself. "She was completely alone here and, as mature and smart as she is, she's still young. I'd already left her alone once when I moved away during our parents' divorce, I couldn't abandon her again."

"She clearly adores you," Harry smiled at him gently, thinking about the little he had seen of their relationship. "You can tell by the way she looks at you."

"Trust me, she didn't adore me so much when I moved to London and started interfering with her life," Louis shrugged, but his expression was totally pleased. "But in general, yes, we have a great relationship."

"And now is it better between her and the rest of the family?"

Louis nodded while finishing the last sip of wine in his glass. "It wouldn't have lasted long even without my intervention. Us Tomlinsons can be stubborn, but we're really close."

"Stubborn, you?" Harry teased, pretending to be shocked. "I would’ve never guessed."

They both laughed and maybe for the first time in his life, Harry felt a strange warmth fill his heart. It had nothing to do with butterflies in his stomach or the anxiety - now gone - of a first date, it was a sense of well-being that seemed to expand endlessly, fueled by the spark Louis had in his eyes when he looked at him or spoke of what he loved.

He would never admit it out loud, of course, but ever since Louis had started talking about his family, Harry couldn’t stop picturing him with his siblings. He would have given anything to see them together because it would have felt like discovering a side of Louis so private that it was completely new to him. Maybe Harry was simply starting to realize that there wasn’t a single part of Louis he didn’t like and that scared him but, at the same time, it made him eager to uncover every little detail of who he was.

He looked at Louis, the delicacy of his features and his movements, and couldn't fathom how perfect he seemed in all his wonderful imperfections.

"You were right, by the way" Harry admitted suddenly, catching him off guard.

Louis tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow with curiosity and a hint of amusement. "That's a first," he chuckled, "Or at least, from you."

Harry smiled shyly, his dimples fully on display. "I'm glad we had a real date" he explained, gathering courage from Louis's pleasantly surprised reaction. "I had a good time- I feel good when I'm with you and I like... uh, I like talking about anything with you and getting to know you better."

From the way Louis was looking at him, he hadn’t expected such a vulnerable confession from Harry, but then again, Harry hadn’t expected it from himself either.

"This," Louis cleared his throat as if to compose himself and let out a small laugh, his cheeks blushing slightly. "Does this mean I didn’t bore you to death with the story of my life?"

Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back the stupid smile that threatened to plaster itself on his face and never go away, and shook his head. "It’s kind of- uhm, like a TV show, with everything that's happened to you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Louis laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. "So does this mean there will be more episodes?" The hopeful spark in his eyes made Harry's heart skip a beat. "A second date?"

"I'm fine with tomorrow," Harry replied, unable to contain the happy, excited smile that appeared on his face, mirrored by Louis’s expression.

"What would you think about having dessert somewhere else?" Louis suggested.

Harry checked the time on his phone, realizing how quickly the time had flown. "Where do you think we can find a place still open?"

Louis ignored him, looking around and raising his hand to catch the attention of the waiter who had been taking care of their orders that evening.

"Everything okay?" the waiter asked, approaching their table and starting to clear away the plates. "If you'd like a dessert, we have apple pie, strawberry cheesecake, chocolate brownie and mango semifreddo."

"Can we take them to go?" Louis asked and, as soon as the waiter confirmed, he turned to Harry with a beaming smile. "How about it?"

By this point in their date, Harry probably would have agreed to anything without a second thought, so he didn’t hesitate to nod. "Mmm, I'm tempted by the apple pie, but I think I'll go with the cheesecake."

"Then we'll take one cheesecake and one brownie to go," Louis announced.

"Perfect, would you like to wait here or should I bring them to the counter?"

They chose the second option, as they were among the last customers and didn’t want to delay the restaurant’s closing time. They made their way to the counter, where Louis insisted on paying for both of them.

"Please don’t tell me you're going to sulk for the rest of the evening," Louis sighed, though his tone was affectionately amused.

Harry shot him a glare, crossing his arms over his chest. "It’s not my fault you're bossy and stubborn."

"I asked you out, it’s only fair," Louis defended himself. "I’m happy to do it."

"I’m on your side, keep spoiling him," the lady behind the counter, who had been handing them their receipt, chimed in and then turned to Harry. "Where did you find someone so good-looking and kind?"

"It’s all appearance, he’s not really kind," Harry rolled his eyes. "He uses that face to get what he wants."

"Like paying for your dinner?" the cashier teased, raising an eyebrow.

"And getting everyone on his side, apparently," Harry huffed.

"Are you done?" Louis chuckled, placing a hand on his hip. "I don’t think I can handle too many compliments on the first date."

"It’s the first one?" the lady asked, surprised. "I thought it was an anniversary."

Harry was about to say that probably one of them wouldn’t even make it alive to their first anniversary, but the way Louis was looking at him made the words die in his throat. He didn’t even realize he’d been lost in admiring his eyes and probably could have spent the rest of the night doing just that, if the cashier hadn’t interrupted them.

"Then you absolutely have to write something."

Both of them jolted, brought back to reality by her bright voice. With a confused expression, Harry asked "Write?"

"On the wall," the lady pointed to the black wall to her left which, just like the columns decorating the room, was covered in messy white writings. "The restaurant's name is a tribute to how little things can be precious, so anyone can write something they love or that makes them happy," she explained, handing them a white marker. "Why don’t you write something you liked about this first date? That way, you’ll have an excuse to come back when you celebrate your anniversary."

"I'll do it" Harry said, grabbing the marker and moving away from them to find the right spot on the wall to write, telling Louis not to peek when he realized he had followed him.

"Did someone really write that they love fries with Nutella?" Louis exclaimed, his voice going an octave too high.

Harry laughed and jokingly nudged him to make him quiet, but Louis wrapped an arm around his waist and, pulling him from behind, rested his chin on Harry's shoulder so he could continue reading aloud all the funny messages he spotted.

"So, then?" Louis suddenly asked. "Haven't you decided what to write yet?"

"Louis," Harry sighed, hoping he wouldn't hear how loudly his heart was beating.

"Mh?"

"I- uh, I don’t think I can even write my own name if you keep holding me like this."

"Sorry," Louis chuckled and when he let him go Harry felt like stomping his feet like a child and ordering him to go back to where he was before.

"It’s not your fault you have this effect on me" Harry replied, immediately regretting it because he shouldn’t have said it out loud.

He chose not to look at Louis’s reaction on his face, it was already embarrassing enough this way, so he approached the wall, took the cap off the marker and wrote the first sentence that came to mind when the cashier had suggested the idea. He didn’t care what had been his favorite thing about their first date, because if he had to choose only one thing his answer would be Louis. So he decided to write down one of the details he liked about Louis. It was just a little thing, one of those little things that made his face a little more precious and that, regularly, made Harry’s heart skip a beat.

"The crinkles by your eyes when you smile," Louis read aloud, before looking at Harry with a confused expression.

"When you really smile, uhm..." Harry mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush. "It’s one of my favorite things."

And Louis did it right then, smiling in the most beautiful, sweet and sincere way, trying to hide how red his cheeks were while adjusting his fringe on his forehead.

"There, just like that," Harry pointed out.

Louis reached out his arm to try and take the marker from Harry's hands, but Harry hid it behind his back.

"Give me that marker," Louis tried to insist with what he thought should be a threatening tone.

"Nope."

"Come on, we can’t stay here forever," he replied after another failed attempt. "I want to write something too."

"I don’t want to. This is my moment."

Louis raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I can never tell you what I think, so... here," Harry explained in an unsure voice, but finally made Louis give in.

Louis seemed on the verge of saying something several times, but in the end he just shook his head slightly and gave him one of those smiles Harry liked so much. "Our desserts are ready," he pointed to the bag on the counter, "Shall we go?"

They thanked the cashier, who didn’t miss the opportunity to wish them good luck, saying that they were one of the cutest couples she had ever seen and, after putting on their coats, they left the restaurant with their hearts a little fuller than when they had entered. Neither of them had corrected the lady when she called them a couple and Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it.

"Is there a particular place you’d like to go for dessert?" Louis asked as he started the car.

"‘Mh, what kind of place?’

"Any place."

Harry tried to think for a few seconds, but actually he didn’t care at all. He could have taken him to a landfill and he probably wouldn’t have objected. He just wanted to spend time with Louis.

"I’m fine with anything," he replied sincerely.

Louis merely glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and then smiled without saying anything else, driving in silence. At that hour, the city looked completely different, so calm and quiet. Harry didn’t know if the trip was so fast because there was no traffic or because he’d gotten lost staring at Louis’s profile for an endless amount of time, but it felt like they’d just gotten in the car when they turned to enter the parking lot next to the Primrose Hill park entrance.

"Why here?" Harry asked, curious about the choice, which seemed so inconvenient compared to the area of London they’d been in before.

"I like it," Louis answered with a shrug, then opened the door and got out of the car.

Harry didn’t even try to protest when Louis refused to let him carry the bag with the desserts. He had already given up and while they walked along the main path, lit by a row of low spherical streetlights, Harry couldn’t resist the urge to take his hand. He slowly moved his fingers toward Louis’s, barely brushing them, but when Louis returned the touch, Harry threw all his insecurities out the window and intertwined their hands.

That night, the sky wasn’t entirely clear and the few clouds, illuminated by the city lights, gave the wonderful view an even more special atmosphere. They stopped for a while to enjoy the view from the highest point in the park, then looked for a bench to sit on.

"This one’s yours," Louis handed him a plastic fork and one of the two black and gold cardboard boxes, after peeking inside.

The first bite caught Harry by surprise, almost making him moan because he hadn’t expected the cheesecake to be so delicious.

"Good?" Louis asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Harry nodded enthusiastically, then stretched his arm out to steal a bite of the brownie Louis had gotten.

"Go ahead, help yourself" Louis teased, but instead of moving his dessert away to avoid more theft, he moved closer.

"It’s not my fault, they’re too good," Harry defended himself, speaking with his mouth still a little full, making Louis laugh. Louis, catching him by surprise, leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

"Okay, this is better" Harry whispered, kissing him again.

They took a little longer than necessary to finish their desserts, occasionally getting lost in a stolen kiss here and there. When they were done, neither of them seemed to want to leave, so Harry slipped under Louis’s arm and snuggled up to his side, letting him hold him.

"Are you cold?" Louis asked, taking his hand and feeling how cold his fingers were.

"No," Harry murmured, "I shouldn’t tell you, but I’m pretending just so you’ll cuddle me."

"As if you needed an excuse," he tilted his head to get closer to Harry’s ear and whispered, "Your dimples."

Harry turned just enough to look at him properly, furrowing his brows in confusion. "My dimples?"

"That's what I would have written on the restaurant wall," Louis explained, looking Harry so intensely in the eyes that it sent chills down his spine.

Louis brought a hand around Harry's face, gently caressing his cheek with his thumb, and leaned in to kiss the spot where Harry's smile had revealed a dimple.

If Harry could have, he would have listed all those little things that made Louis special in his eyes and he promised himself that one day he would, but at that moment all he wanted was to kiss him. So he turned until their lips met and hoped he would never have to let go.

๑

"Are you going to keep that idiot smile on your face all night?"

Harry glanced at his best friend out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road, trying with all his might to push that smile away, but it seemed impossible.

"What can I say, Ni'? I'm happy."

Niall pretended to gag, making Harry laugh, before adding "Tell me you're making up for three months of repressed sexual tension."

His first instinct was to say that he’d never had as much sex in his life as during those ten days since the date, but he bit his tongue just in time.

"Niall, I've been at his place since yesterday afternoon and I’ll probably stay over tonight too," was all he said, "What do you think?"

"That's why you've been so cheerful and relaxed lately," Niall clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling, "Tommo must be good."

"You're just a boring straight guy, you can't understand."

Niall burst out laughing, "Really?"

"You just can't understand" Harry emphasized, slightly exaggerating the drama in his voice.

"Okay, okay, I don’t want to know," his best friend stopped him, "But you could’ve told me you were at his place, I would’ve gotten a ride from someone else."

"I would’ve offered anyway, even if you hadn’t asked me first," Harry replied, "It would’ve been weird if the others found me already at his place."

"What kind of fucking logic is that" Niall exclaimed, gesturing wildly, "Someone has to be the first to arrive, it’s not like if the guys find Louis with Isaac it means he’s fucking him in his spare time."

Harry knew Niall had a point, but he still wouldn’t have felt comfortable waiting at Louis’s house for the guys to arrive.

It was the last free weekend before the season started, so Louis had the idea of inviting the team over to his place to spend Saturday night together. The apartment the club had given Louis wasn’t small, but it wasn’t spacious enough and Harry had told him multiple times that there was no way they would all fit comfortably, since there were fifteen of them, plus any girlfriends who would likely join the group.

Harry’s selfish side was a little upset about not being able to have Louis all to himself that night, thinking they could’ve watched a movie cuddled on the sofa or gone to dinner somewhere, though that’s what they’d done almost every night after training.

The other more rational side was looking forward to the little gathering, knowing it would probably turn into an all-out PlayStation battle between beers. Anyway, in the end, everyone would leave and Louis would be all his again.

He parked just ahead of the entrance to the Night Changes, barely holding back a laugh at the memory of that night which now seemed so far away, and when he got out of the car, he grabbed the bag with the things he’d picked up on the way to Niall’s place.

"What’s that?" his friend asked, nodding toward the bag as he approached him on crutches.

"Louis said he had to buy napkins but I doubt he remembered," he rolled his eyes. "Plus, this morning I finished his eggs."

When Niall burst out laughing, Harry looked at him confused.

"Excuse me but you, who were worried about being caught at his place, think it's normal to show up with eggs just because a little bird told you Louis might be out of them?"

Shit.

"Stop it," Harry muttered, blushing as they crossed the street. "Don't make me more anxious than I already am."

"Anxious about what?"

"I don't know," he stopped in front of the door, waiting before ringing the buzzer. "Doing something stupid or... or to have lost a pair of underwear somewhere."

"Harry, I love you and in the last ten years I've seen your underwear almost every day, but I swear I wouldn't be able to tell them apart from any other guy's," Niall's amused tone didn't help calm Harry down. "And come on, you know Louis better than me and you know that psycho would lose it if you left anything out of place."

It was Harry's turn to laugh as he pressed the intercom button. "You’d be shocked if you saw how careless and messy Louis is at home."

"That's not true."

"I swear," Harry laughed, opening the door as soon as he heard the click and letting his friend in. "When he's at home, he's lazy and totally disorganized."

They turned right just after the entrance, passed the staircase and stopped to wait for the elevator.

"Did your myth just crumble?" Niall asked, laughing.

Harry shook his head, biting his lip because he couldn't smile like an idiot over these little things. "It comforts me to know he's human."

Niall leaned his head against the wall, pretending to gag again. "Maybe I preferred you when all you did was complain about him."

They both started laughing, but as soon as they entered the elevator they dropped the subject. When they reached Louis' floor, they found the front door slightly ajar, as the only invitation to enter.

"We could be two murderers and he wouldn't even know," Harry muttered to himself, wondering how Louis had made it to this age, acting so recklessly.

"Two murderers armed with eggs."

Not even Harry's glare stopped Niall from bursting into laughter and only when Liam appeared to open the door did he save his life.

"I'd recognize that laugh anywhere," Liam quickly hugged Niall before being distracted by Harry's bag. "What did you bring?"

"Uh- nothing," Harry stammered, passing him without ceremony. "Things- uh, things that could be useful."

"Oh, it's you guys" Louis said, appearing out of nowhere and walking toward Niall to hug him, then hesitating awkwardly when it was obvious he didn't know whether to do the same with Harry.

When he finally gave Harry a clumsy pat on the shoulder, Niall sighed dramatically and passed them, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath that sounded like a series of insults. At that moment, Zayn and Oli also appeared from the living room with two beers in hand and, before even greeting the newcomers, Oli asked "Did you guys get lost too?"

"What?" Harry frowned, confused. "Where?"

Louis, on the other hand, groaned with laughter. "Oh my God! Are you going to do this all night?"

"You were wrong" Zayn pointed his finger at Louis' chest, looking rather pleased with himself. "Admit it, you were wrong, and let us enjoy it."

"I wasn't wrong, I just forgot a piece."

"He said it!" Oli almost shouted. "Shit, he confessed!"

Harry turned towards Louis to try to understand what was happening but, before he could, Oli asked again “Which side did you take at the entrance of the building on the first try?”

“Right?” Harry replied questioningly, still not grasping the point.

Louis had been Louis even for this casual evening, sending a text to the team chat with detailed directions not only for the address but also on how to reach his apartment on the second floor. Harry had been with him when he wrote it, kissing his neck from behind to make the task as difficult as possible, teasing him by saying he expected Louis to provide the number of steps to take and stairs to climb.

“It’s not possible, you two must’ve planned this” Oli snapped.

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking around confused. “But what- it was written in the text.”

“No, the text said to take the right staircase, so we all took the right staircase, not the right hallway that led to another staircase hidden at the ends of the world,” Zayn explained. “So, we’ve decided that if everyone takes the wrong path because of him, at the next practice he’ll have to bring pastries.”

At that moment Harry finally understood, because the building where Louis lived was so large it was like a maze. In front of the entrance door there were two main staircases, but underneath them were two more hallways, to the right and left, that led to other staircases. As Zayn had said, Louis's staircase wasn’t the first on the right but the one at the end of the hallway.

“Well, I’ve been to his place before,” Harry admitted, looking at Louis with a pleased expression. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice the mistake.”

Louis opened his mouth theatrically when he heard those words and, looking hurt, hissed “Traitor.”

They all burst out laughing and Oli, patting Louis on the back, commented “Well, Harry’s disqualified from this game and so is Niall since they were together. It’s still three-nothing for us.”

“I’ll pretend I’m not offended because you invited him to your house before me,” Liam said. “Even though you’ve promised me a Fifa tournament for weeks.”

“Liam, darling,” Zayn put an arm around his shoulders as if to console him, “Do you have big green eyes and dimples? Doesn’t seem like it, so accept reality and find another guy to court, because clearly you’re not his type.”

They all laughed again while Harry tried to pretend, hoping only to hide how that joke, besides making him blush like crazy, had completely thrown him into a panic.

Louis glanced at him for less than half a second before speaking. “I have a secret to tell you,” he moved closer to Liam to flirt with him playfully, “Harry and I wanted to make you jealous to see if you were interested in me or not but, evidently, you love me too.”

“Of course, I do” Liam replied in a dramatically theatrical tone before opening his arms, “Come here, my love.”

Louis didn’t need to be told twice, he rushed over and dramatically acted out a fake kiss, complete with a casqué. The only problem was that Liam didn’t hold him up firmly enough and when Louis lost his balance and hung onto Liam’s back, they both fell to the ground, unable to get up due to laughter.

At that moment the doorbell rang, so Louis asked Zayn to open it and Oli helped both of them get up from the floor.

Harry cleared his throat almost shyly. “I- uhm, these,” he pointed to the bag he was still holding, “I’ll go put them in the kitchen.”

“Do you remember where it is?” Louis asked quietly, teasing him and earning a glare.

Harry headed towards the kitchen without saying anything else and a few moments later Louis joined him, leaning against the door while Harry placed the bag on the counter just a few steps away from him.

“What did you bring?”

“Napkins,” Harry replied, pulling them out of the bag.

“Oh, fuck! I forgot to buy them.”

"I know," Harry rolled his eyes, trying to hide a playful smile and then showed him the egg carton, "I ran out this morning."

Louis didn’t seem very happy this time, judging by the way he furrowed his brows. "You don’t have to replace what you take from my fridge."

"But I ran out."

"So what? I can survive without eggs until tomorrow or Monday."

"Are you seriously making a big deal because I bought eggs?"

"I’m not making a big deal" Louis said quietly, before softening his tone again. "I just want to make it clear that when you’re here, you’re not- like, a guest. I don’t like it. I want you to be here without worrying about... acting all proper."

In other words, Louis was telling him he wanted him to act as if this were his home. Harry knew this wasn’t about their relationship, because Louis was just like that and would have said the same thing to anyone else, but still, this awareness didn’t stop his heart from going completely out of control. He just nodded with a smile, taking a few steps toward him to store the damn eggs in the fridge.

"You know how you can make it up to me?" Louis asked with a teasing tone in his voice when Harry closed the door again.

"I don’t think I want to know."

Of course, Louis ignored him. "You could stay here tonight, so tomorrow we can finish those eggs and the problem will never have existed."

Harry couldn’t help but laugh and more importantly couldn’t say no. "I should just tell you to fuck off."

"I’ll take that as a yes," Louis grinned, then peeked into the hallway for a second to check if anyone was coming, before heading back into the kitchen to take Harry’s face in his hands and steal a quick kiss from his lips.

"I’ll go back in there" he said, not even trying to hide his satisfied expression as he watched how affected Harry looked by that simple kiss.

When Harry joined Louis and the others in the living room just a couple of minutes later, he noticed that Mitch had also arrived with Sarah, his long-time girlfriend, along with Stan, Matt and Luke. Within half an hour about twenty people were filling the house, chatting, eating pizza and drinking beers. As expected, it didn’t take long before the PlayStation became the center of attention for part of the group, sparking an intense Fifa tournament.

Harry spent almost the entire evening talking with Sarah, who had become one of his closest friends over the years. Only once did he get distracted because of Louis, when he heard him laughing loudly on the sofa with the other guys. Harry wondered if his friends back in Italy were as funny as these guys or if he didn’t miss them that much after all. It was a thought that lasted a fraction of a second, then he quickly shook it off and mentally cursed himself for thinking such a thing. There was no point in making comparisons, he knew that, and nothing prevented both groups from being just as fun or entering his heart the same way.

"Oh my God, Louis!" Isaac suddenly exclaimed, running through the living room to reach him while excitedly pointing at his phone screen. "Did you know?"

Everyone turned to look at them to figure out what had happened to get Isaac so excited. Louis took the phone, but didn’t even have time to read it before Isaac announced the news.

"The Sir Perugia will be in London on November 29th for a CEV Cup match against IBB London."

The Sir Perugia. The information reached Harry with an almost painful slowness and hit him full force only when Louis’s expression seemed unreadable for a moment. That was the team he had played for until the year before and where Andrea still played, but Harry couldn’t tell if Louis already knew about that match or not.

"Uh, yeah" Louis replied, handing him back the phone. "I saw they were in the same group as London but I hadn’t looked at the schedule."

"Can we meet them?" Isaac asked with a pleading voice and expression. "Guys, wouldn’t it be amazing if Louis could organize a meet-up with them? They’re some of the best players in the world."

Louis hesitated for a moment, looking around, maybe to see if the other guys liked the idea or if he still had a chance to sabotage it, because it was obvious to anyone who knew him that he didn’t want to say yes. Harry mentally cursed himself again for thinking about Italy a few minutes before, perhaps attracting this awful news.

Just a few months ago, he would have been the first to go crazy at the idea of watching a team like Sir Perugia play live and he would have died for a close-up with the players, but in that moment just the thought of Andrea and Louis being in the same city made him feel overwhelmed by the weight of that presence in his mind.

"Well, okay," Louis finally replied with a half-smile, shrugging his shoulders. "I can try."

Harry knew he couldn’t do anything else, it would have been too weird if he refused to arrange the meet-up, but he also knew that those eleven days of waiting were going to be a nightmare for him, especially because he had no right and no rational reason to feel so fucking jealous of Louis.

Chapter Text

It was over between Louis and Andrea, something they had both put behind them, Harry knew that and it wasn’t really what was worrying him – or at least, it wasn’t the first thing on his mind – because the real problem was that he still saw Andrea as the embodiment of everything he might never be. It wasn’t about the career, even though that would have been the most logical concern, because that was something Harry could live with. It was Andrea as a person, as a boyfriend, who had always made Harry feel inferior. He had spent weeks feeling suffocated by his presence in his mind and when he had finally managed to put him aside, focusing only on whatever was happening between him and Louis, Andrea made his fucking dramatic entrance.

The worst part was that Harry couldn’t blame anyone. It wasn’t Andrea’s fault because he didn’t just show up out of nowhere to interfere with his ex’s new life and it certainly wasn’t his fault that his team had to play in London. It wasn’t Louis’s fault because, even though they hadn’t talked about it, every time someone mentioned the match with Sir, it seemed like Louis was even less eager than Harry. It wasn’t Isaac’s fault because he couldn’t possibly know the emotional weight of that simple request and anyway, sooner or later the news about the match would have reached someone’s ears, so even if it wasn’t him they would have come to the same conclusion.

The truth was that Harry was simply unlucky. Actually, not simply… Harry was extremely unlucky.

Since he had been living in London, he had hoped every year that one of the great teams he used to watch on TV would come to play at least once in England. He didn’t even expect it to be in his own city, he just wanted it to be somewhere accessible by a few hours of train or car, but it had never happened. Some smaller Italian teams had come, but nothing compared to Sir Perugia, Lube, Modena or Trento. He should have expected his prayers to be answered that year and, of course, with the only team Harry didn’t want to see, not even from afar.

He knew he was overreacting, but he had never been good at managing his anxiety. He was trying though, at least on the outside. He had told himself not to let his stupid paranoias ruin the time he spent with Louis because, until proven otherwise, Harry wasn’t anyone to him compared to Andrea, so it would seem ridiculous if he let himself get carried away by his twisted thoughts.

Most of the time, actually, he was so comfortable with Louis that those were the only moments when his mind seemed to give him a real break. Louis had always had this innate ability to calm him down when he was anxious and, in those days, that was all Harry needed. So, he felt a little ashamed to admit that he had purposely taken advantage of his time, suggesting they meet up or calling him from time to time, especially on the nights they weren’t together. In short, he had become clingy, and he hated himself for it because it wasn’t like him.

Harry had been in relationships before, although they were never long-term, and one of the reasons they typically ended was his need for personal space. He couldn’t stand guys who were too clingy or who texted him constantly – even worse if it involved phone calls – and even though he wanted to see the boyfriend of the moment, it never happened more than once or twice a week because, in his opinion, that was enough. Sometimes, he felt suffocated by too much attention, while other times he was the one pushed away for seeming too distant and disinterested. And it was true because, no matter how infatuated he might have been with someone, he had never reached the point of losing his mind completely.

Harry wasn’t the jealous type, didn’t blush easily, didn’t spend hours on the phone with a guy or text him, but with Louis he didn’t even realise he was doing it. It was natural, like he was instinctively drawn to his existence, and this, while on one hand scared him, also led him to hope that maybe it wasn’t just his fault that all his previous relationships had been a failure. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be a good boyfriend, maybe the other guys just weren’t right for him.

His mind had become a constant alternation of these thoughts, swinging between pessimism created by inferiority complexes and the hope of being able to live up to the situation, but his worst moment came that Friday.

Harry woke up that morning already in a bad mood, without a specific reason and a little bit for everything in general. Probably partly because, after falling asleep late to listen to his stupid thoughts, the alarm went off terribly early because he couldn’t afford to miss the eight o'clock class, a subject he hated by the way.

When he decided to open his eyes and grabbed his phone, he didn’t find a single notification because Louis had fallen asleep while they were talking the night before, so he hadn’t replied to his last message and surely he would continue sleeping for hours. Harry wasn’t allowed to be upset about that, but secretly he kind of was. In fact, when Louis sent him a good morning text at 10:42, Harry read it but didn’t reply until lunchtime.

Even without Louis, Harry's day was going terribly. The afternoon had started with a surprise test that he was sure he wasn't prepared enough for and that would count toward his final exam grade. On top of that, because of the test, he had left university an hour later than usual, arriving at the gym ten minutes late. He paid the damn fine without saying a word, then entered the locker room and didn’t even care that he slammed the door.

The cherry on top was that it was the last training session before the season opener, which would be the next day at home, and Harry probably even at fifty would always feel a slight knot in his stomach waiting for the official start of the season. He didn’t train badly but not well either, as if he had the handbrake on because his mind was too full of confused and worried thoughts to function properly.

During the first break, while Harry drank from a black water bottle matching his mood, Louis approached him and stayed there for a moment, perhaps waiting to be noticed. "Are you okay?" he finally asked in a low voice, almost intimately, wiping the sweat from his face with the edge of his shirt.

Harry nodded, closing the water bottle without even turning towards him.

"Are you sure?"

"God- Louis, let me breathe" he snapped, throwing the bottle in the middle of the others and turning to go back to the court, forcing himself to ignore both the confused look on Louis' face and the twinge of guilt already starting to build in his stomach.

For the rest of the practice, Louis not only didn’t talk to him, but didn’t even look at him, except when he was forced to because of the game situations. Only the tense features of his face showed some of his mood, because otherwise Harry would have thought he had suddenly become invisible.

When Haynes sent them to stretch, Harry didn’t immediately join the others because he felt the need to relax for a few seconds, so he walked toward the wall, took off his shoes and lay down on the floor with his legs raised and resting against the wall. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the voices of his teammates and his thoughts, but especially noticing the absence of Louis’ voice, who was never this silent at the end of a training session. He sighed, knowing he would have to apologize to him because he shouldn’t have vented like that.

Louis finished stretching before him of course, having started earlier, and when Harry entered the locker room, Louis was already getting dressed after his shower. But Harry couldn’t see how angry he was with him because Louis had his back turned. He took it as a sign, fate was giving him the chance to confront him with a bit more calm after he’d taken a shower himself. So he quickly undressed and went to wash up, while the other guys chatted among themselves. What he didn’t expect was to find that Louis was no longer there when he returned to the common area of the locker room to get dressed.

"He left a little while ago" Zayn said, probably noticing how Harry was looking around.

"Okay," Harry muttered, walking toward his bag and sitting on the bench with a sigh. He placed his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Suddenly, what had been simple guilt for the past hour had turned into panic. After days of trying to convince himself he was ready for a serious relationship because Louis was different from the others, he had reacted the way he was used to, pushing him away, pretending to need his space when Louis just wanted to make sure he was okay. The difference now was that this time, he really didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t want to talk, but he felt he needed Louis.

"Hey," Liam sat down beside him. "What's going on today?"

Harry sighed again, straightening his back and grabbing clean clothes from his bag. "Shitty day."

"Does it have to do with Louis?"

Harry shook his head. "A mix of things, including a fucking surprise test at university."

"I'm sorry, man," Liam said, giving him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder.

"You kind of treated him like shit," Zayn pointed out, though his tone wasn’t accusatory.

"I know, I wanted to apologize, but..." 

But he hadn’t waited for him. He shrugged slightly before pulling on his hoodie. "I’ll call him on the way home."

He got dressed quickly, leaving the locker room with his hair still damp and his phone already in hand, staring at Louis' contact on the screen, searching for the strength to make the call. When he finally did, he held the phone to his ear, hoping with all his heart that Louis would answer, but as soon as he passed through the gate of the courtyard he heard Louis' ringtone just a few steps away from him on the sidewalk. He turned just as Louis pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Louis?" he exclaimed surprised, instinctively heading toward him.

Louis looked up and ended the call as soon as he saw him.

"I thought you had left," Harry mumbled, with a bit of hope in his heart, stopping in front of him.

"If I'm still stopping you from breathing just say so," Louis brought the cigarette to his lips, but before inhaling he continued, "I can actually leave."

"No," Harry quickly clarified, "I was calling you."

"I saw."

Louis always had the ability to become completely unreadable and Harry went crazy every time it happened, because behind that expression could be anything and he had no way of picking up a signal to know how to act. His gaze kept shifting between the street and Harry’s face while, with his hoodie up and the sleeves of his jacket pulled down to cover his hands, he smoked like that cigarette was the only thing that mattered in the world to him.

Was he angry? Hurt? Was he tired and no longer wanted anything to do with him?

"I'm sorry for earlier," Harry said, choosing to just be honest.

Louis’ gaze finally stopped on his face. "You’ve been acting weird all day."

"It’s been a shitty day," Harry muttered softly. "I shouldn’t have taken it out on you."

Louis closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head to blow the smoke upwards before putting out the cigarette with his foot and looking back at him. "It felt like I was back to a few weeks ago and I don’t like that, because we’re not like that anymore... our relationship is different now. I didn’t expect you to respond like that."

Harry lowered his gaze, biting his lip and repeating "Sorry."

"Hey, no," Louis caressed his chin with a finger to make him lift his face and finally smiled when their eyes met. "I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just want you to know how I feel, maybe because I hope you’ll do the same with me eventually."

Harry grabbed the fabric of Louis’ jacket with both hands, pulling it slightly, and took a step forward when Louis opened his arms, letting him wrap him in a hug.

"Sometimes I don’t understand you, you’ve been acting strangely for a few days" Louis whispered, holding him a little tighter. "Did I do something?"

"No, no- you... you're the only good thing about these days."

"Don’t tell me things like that when I can’t kiss you," Louis complained, then pretended to stifle a scream against Harry’s jacket, making him laugh for the first time that terrible day.

"Look who’s here," Liam's voice exclaimed from a few meters away. "I’d say they’ve made up."

"Get a room!" Zayn shouted, making everyone laugh, including the two of them who broke the hug to turn toward their teammates, though Louis still kept an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Matt and Luke were there too, so soon coach Haynes would come out because they were the last ones left in the locker room when Harry had left.

"Fuck off, Zayn" Louis replied, laughing. "If I even had the slightest chance of having sex with him, you’ve just ruined it."

Harry mentally thanked the darkness for hiding the blush on his cheeks, but instinctively he still hid his face behind a hand, chuckling awkwardly.

Matt pointed a threatening finger at him. "There’s a game tomorrow, so no sex."

"Remind me never to use you as backup when I’m trying to hit on someone," Louis rolled his eyes dramatically, then turned to Harry, sighing. "And once again, friendzone."

"Goodnight, guys" Liam called as he laughed and the others followed his example, leaving shortly after.

"Do you want to eat something at my place?" Harry asked as soon as they were alone again.

"Are you sure you don’t want to be alone? It’s not a problem if you need your space every now and then," Louis looked at him like he was some kind of complicated puzzle. "We don’t have to spend the evening together just because of what happened earlier. We’ve already cleared things up."

Harry raised an eyebrow, confused by his attitude. "If you don’t want to, just say so. I won’t be offended," he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.

"What?" Louis’ eyes widened. "I’m saying I want to, but I don’t know if you really want to."

"Oh my god," Harry muttered, quickly looking around before grabbing Louis’ face with his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I’ve had a shitty day and it looks like you’re the only one who can make me forget it, so I don’t want to be alone. I want to be on the sofa with you and get some cuddles, okay?" he explained before taking a step back and shrugging. "It’s simple. You know where I live. If you want to come, great, if not I’ll call you later."

"I’ll buy ice cream and come over."

"I might prefer the ice cream on the sofa to your cuddles," Harry replied, pretending to be sorry.

In the end, Louis arrived at Harry’s place about ten minutes after him, bringing a tub of what he had recently discovered was Harry’s favorite ice cream. They ate a plate of pasta, then Harry grabbed two mugs and filled them to the brim with ice cream while Louis searched for something to watch on TV, because the pre-game movie had unintentionally become their tradition.

Actually, once the ice cream was finished, they paid little attention to the movie, too focused on each other. They spent the entire evening in each other’s arms, with Louis lying on the sofa and Harry on top of him almost with all his weight, though Louis didn’t seem to mind the risk of running out of oxygen. He didn’t stop caressing Harry’s hair, face or shoulders, occasionally slowing down just to leave kisses wherever on Harry’s face he could reach from that position.

When Harry finally relaxed for real, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, he began to talk about his day because he hadn’t forgotten that Louis had told him he hoped Harry would open up more to him, so he did. He told him everything, omitting only his concerns about Andrea. Louis listened attentively, completely ignoring the TV and continuing to cuddle him, even managing to make him laugh at things Harry wouldn’t have thought were funny just a few hours earlier. And when neither of them had anything left to say, they kissed each other deeply, slowly, savoring every second.

Harry felt good. Louis made him feel good and while they were kissing, he couldn’t get the tune he’d heard earlier on the TV during a commercial out of his head because he thought it perfectly described what Louis meant to him.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

๑

The following days hadn’t been easy for Harry, but somehow he had managed to keep the tension at a manageable level. Perhaps that had made him a bit reckless, as he alternated between moments of anxiety and utter despair to others in which he could only think about getting his hands – and any other part of his body – on Louis, regardless of where they were. Just like the day of the match when he arrived at the gym way too early, knowing Louis would already be there setting up the cameras he needed to record the game for analysis. He had lured him into the locker room with an excuse and then slammed him against the wall, kissing him until Louis lost his mind. When the first member of the team arrived, the two of them were hidden at the far end of the small shower corridor and Harry was a moment away from getting down on his knees in front of Louis. They composed themselves as best as they could and joined the others separately, pretending they had both been in the bathroom.

Even after Monday’s training, they had come dangerously close to being caught, because that evening they wouldn’t be together so Harry had followed Louis in his car to say goodbye properly. They had been kissing passionately for a few minutes and certainly would have gone on for much longer than they had time for when suddenly the beep of a deactivated alarm caught Louis’s attention. He pulled away, recognising Mitch and Liam’s voices as they approached. At that moment, Louis started the car and reversed out of the parking lot, pretending to simply be giving Harry a lift home, while their two friends waved them off absentmindedly before getting into the car parked right next to Louis’s. After circling the block twice, Louis finally dropped Harry off at his own car.

They had been lucky both times, but strangely, Harry no longer cared too much. He had reached a point where he would rather worry about being caught in the act by one of his friends than continue to feed his growing anxiety about Andrea’s arrival, as inevitably happened the day after that near-miss with the car.

That Tuesday morning began on the wrong foot straight away. The first thing Harry did when he opened his eyes, even before checking for any notifications from Louis, was open Instagram and check the Sir Perugia’s account, then go through each player’s profile to see if they had already left for London, since the match was the following day. He spent the entire day like this, sneaking glances whenever he could, as if it would make a difference whether he knew it or not.

When he finally found the much-anticipated photo of the team on the plane, posted by their new setter, he immediately closed Instagram, throwing the phone onto the bed as if it had suddenly become too hot to touch. Only then did it truly hit him that in less than twenty-four hours, he would have to put a smile on his face and go meet the ex who had broken the heart of the guy he was currently seeing, pretending to be honoured to have had such a special opportunity.

The Sir’s management had been thrilled when Louis had contacted them to ask if it would be possible to arrange a short meeting between the players and his current team. The Blue Bees had therefore been invited to watch the final practice on the morning of the match, after which they would be able to meet and speak with everyone. In the afternoon, the entire team would be guests of the club to watch the match from the VIP stands. What seemed like a dream come true for all of Harry’s friends had turned into a near nightmare for him.

All day long, he couldn’t stop wondering how Louis would feel seeing Andrea again after so long, whether he would be nervous and, if so, whether it would be in a good or bad way. Perhaps the wait to see him had made Louis realise how much he missed him. Maybe it was the same for Andrea.

The only time he truly managed to shut all those thoughts out of his head was during practice, because volleyball had always been his escape, his safe haven. He focused on every ball and every movement of his body as if nothing else in the world mattered, refusing to let anything distract him… at least until just before the end of practice. He was getting ready to spike after following the trajectory of a set coming from nearly the back of the court, when he caught sight of Andrea standing at the entrance of the gym.

Harry froze in place, even forgetting to jump and letting the ball drop to the floor. Everyone followed his gaze, trying to figure out what had happened, but only Louis approached him to make sure he was okay.

“Everything alright? Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, concerned that Harry might have had a sudden muscle problem.

Harry quickly shook his head, both to answer Louis and to snap out of the shock. “No- no, I’m fine,” he said, “Sorry.”

“Oh my God,” Isaac exclaimed at the same time, “Andrea Merlo?”

At that moment, Louis turned toward the entrance as well, just as an embarrassed Andrea waved shyly.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Andrea said with a kind smile, then looked around and moved towards the first step of the bleachers. “If it’s okay, I’ll sit here.”

The Coach immediately approached him, introducing himself and welcoming him to their gym. “It’s truly an honour to have you here. My boys are eager to meet you all tomorrow,” he said, shaking Andrea’s hand, then signalling for Louis to join them. “I take it you’re here for him?”

“No need,” Andrea cut him off with a friendly and amused laugh. “I just came by to say hello. Finish your practice. Don’t mind me.”

Don’t mind me. It would have been easier to fly away right then and change countries.

They resumed training as though nothing had happened, while the Coach chatted with Andrea and the players seemed determined to show off, each at their best. Harry in a sense, carried on by inertia, barely aware of what he was doing, as the noise of his thoughts drowned out even the sound of the balls. As if that wasn’t enough, he could feel Louis’s gaze burning into him but tried to ignore it, hiding what was going on in his head behind half-hearted smiles.

When Haynes blew the whistle to end practice, Harry let out a sigh of relief, but it lasted only a moment. As soon as the team started stretching, Andrea approached the disordered circle of boys sitting on the floor making his way to Louis, who was the only one still standing.

“Have you ever thought about a career as a libero?” he teased, smiling at him with just a little too much affection for Harry’s liking. “You’re not as bad as I expected.”

“Not all of us can afford not knowing how to defend,” Louis replied, using the cheeky tone he always used when he wanted to provoke someone. “Luckily, I’m not a middle blocker.”

“Hey!” Oli exclaimed, tossing a shoe in Louis’s direction, missing him only because Louis had the reflexes of a cat.

If Harry could have, he would have stood up and kissed Louis in front of everyone... and not just because of that reply.

Andrea laughed heartily, clearly used to that sharp tongue, and suddenly Harry found himself no longer appreciating the interaction between them, which still felt far too familiar.

“I see you haven’t changed at all,” Andrea said before addressing the rest of the team. “Come on, confess, how unbearable is he from one to ten?”

“Now he’s tolerable most of the time, I’d say about a five,” Matt replied. “But if I think back to when he and Harry used to argue all the time… then a fifteen.”

They all burst out laughing and Michael leaned towards Harry to try to mess up his hair, earning a glare that could almost set him on fire. At that moment, Andrea’s gaze shifted to Harry who, in turn, was hoping to remain unnoticed because he had no desire to be friendly with him, but Louis interrupted before he could say anything.

“I’ll finish stretching and catch up with you,” Louis told him, nodding towards the spot where Andrea had been sitting to watch the training.

Andrea nodded and, before walking away, addressed the team again, still wearing that kind smile. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

The response was a disordered mumble of voices and, as Louis sat next to Harry, Oli joked about how they had forgotten that their Tommo was actually quite the big shot.

Mitch leaned in slightly towards Harry, catching his attention with a soft grunt. “You can stop staring at him like that now.”

Harry widened his eyes, convinced he had kept a neutral expression. “What?”

“I don’t know, like that. It’s creepy,” Mitch shrugged with a grimace, then tilted his head to indicate Louis. “Kind of like how he’s staring at you.”

Harry turned to look at Louis who, as predicted, was already watching him.

“Everything alright?” Louis asked, sounding like a broken record, repeatedly asking the same thing.

“I could ask you the same,” Harry muttered, raising his eyebrows in a mocking way.

Louis moved closer, lowering his voice further. “He’d called me a couple of times these past days” he admitted, stretching to touch his toes. “If I’d known he was going to make an appearance here, I’d have answered.”

“You didn’t answer?”

“I didn’t feel like talking to him… about what, exactly? Isn’t it enough of a circus we’ll have to put on tomorrow?” he sighed, then gave a small smile. “Sorry, I know it’ll be a big moment for you, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“I’d gladly have done without it, trust me,” Harry finally confessed.

“Really? I thought you couldn’t wait to meet him and the others.”

Harry scrunched his nose to hide the grimace he hadn’t been able to suppress. “Maybe before… uh, before there were any conflicts of interest.”

Louis chuckled and that, which had become one of his favourite sounds in the world, managed to relax Harry ever so slightly. For a moment, he remembered the song they had heard a few nights earlier on TV at his place and which he could no longer help but associate with Louis who was, in effect, his ray of sunshine.

When they finished stretching, Louis headed towards Andrea and while the first few guys started heading into the locker room, Harry stayed behind a little longer than usual, drinking while standing in front of the step where everyone had placed their water bottles during training, hoping to catch a few words of the conversation happening just a few steps away from him.

“Since you’ve taken up mini-volleyball, you don’t even have time to answer the phone anymore?” Andrea asked, with just a bit too much sarcasm in his tone to come across as playful.

“Is that why you came all the way here?” Louis asked with a half-laugh. “How long were you waiting to say that?”

“Okay, truce. I messed up,” Andrea admitted with a sigh. “That was a bad joke, I’m not here to argue.”

“And why are you here, then?”

“To ask you to spend the night with us,” but before Louis could reply, he clarified, “Not with me, with the team. They haven’t done anything to you.”

“Did you really need to come all the way here to ask me that?”

“If you’d answered my calls…”

Louis cut him off. “Did it have to be you asking me?”

Harry realised he couldn’t stay any longer, both to avoid drawing attention and for the sake of his own sanity. The last thing he wanted was to witness an argument between exes or, even worse, a reconciliation. He made his way to the locker room without ever looking up, quickening his pace but straining his ears against his will. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they were speaking too quietly to make out what they were saying.

When Louis told him about ten minutes later that he would be joining the Sir at the hotel because the guys wanted to spend some time with him, at least Harry managed to hide his surprise and even tried to appear happy for him, though inside jealousy and fear were eating him alive. He went home with a heavy heart and a tight stomach, melodramatically throwing himself onto the bed because, for once, he could allow himself to react, and that’s exactly what he would do in his own way.

It felt as though he had suddenly been thrust into his worst nightmare, not just because of Andrea, but also because for that night it was as if Louis had returned to his old life. His true life, that of high-level volleyball. The one in Italy.

He acted before even realising what he was doing and as he opened Instagram the only thought that crossed his mind was that, after all,  he too was part of Louis' life now. He had no intention of being just a ghost destined to fade away. He lingered for a few seconds, carefully scrolling through his phone gallery, unsure of which photo to pick. He would’ve liked to post the selfie Louis had taken while they were wrapped in each other's arms in his bed, almost fully dressed but with eyes glistening with desire and lips swollen from kisses, so the world would finally know once and for all that Louis bloody Tomlinson wasn’t single. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, since officially the two of them weren’t anything, but still.

He allowed himself to daydream a little about that pure fantasy scenario in which he was brave enough to finally feel free, but then he scrolled back to the day of their first date. He couldn’t pick just one photo, he loved the entire sequence because, just by looking at them, it was clear how well they fit together at that moment. Yet, at the same time, the images were innocent enough to suggest that it was simply a wonderful friendship. In the end, he selected three, his favourites.

In the first one, Harry was trying to show what was left of his amazing cheesecake, while Louis was meant to do the same with his brownie. Instead, he made a silly face, crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks, which was so funny that in the second photo, they both burst into laughter. The last one was the real selfie, with their heads close together, their cheeks still red from laughing and their eyes shining with joy.

In the caption he wrote It's the little things. He tagged Louis and posted it before he could regret it, then put his phone away as if it were burning his hands.

He buried his head under the pillow and when a notification buzzed a few minutes later, he thought he might die right then and there. He reached for the bedside table, unable to resist the curiosity, even though he knew he wasn’t mentally prepared for any kind of reaction from Louis. But when he saw a string of question marks from Niall on the screen, he still felt a little disappointed.

What had he expected? Louis was with his friends, whom he hadn’t seen in months. Of course, he wouldn’t spend the night scrolling through social media or even looking at his phone. He probably wouldn’t have replied even if he’d sent him a text. He was tempted to do it, just to see, but in the end for once common sense won over his strange urge to go looking for things that would hurt him and he placed the phone back on the bedside table, hiding under the pillow again until he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke up to a number of notifications that was way too high compared to usual and, for a few seconds, just stared at the screen with a confused expression, as if he expected the phone itself to start giving him explanations. He opened Instagram, since it seemed to be the source of the problem, and tried to figure out what had happened for his post from the night before to get nearly ten thousand likes, including one from Louis. He clicked on his name in a motion that had become almost automatic from how many times he checked his account every day to see if there were any new posts.

He took a deep breath of encouragement before tapping the coloured circle around Louis’ profile picture to look at the stories he’d posted overnight. The first was a selfie taken in a hotel lobby with the whole team packed behind him, trying to fit into the frame, and the next three were videos reshared from other guys’ stories, basically just them messing about in the corridor or in some overcrowded room. But when Harry saw the last story, he sat up abruptly because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Louis had shared his post, adding a small @ in the top right corner of their photo, just like the ones he always scribbled everywhere when they were together.

"I’m going to die," he muttered to himself in a strangled cry, collapsing back onto the bed while clutching the phone to his chest and kicking his legs under the covers.

He peeked at the screen again, reopening Louis’ stories to make sure he hadn’t dreamt it all and when he realised it was true, he bit his lip to stop the silly grin that he knew would be impossible to shake off. He took a screenshot - no one would ever know he’d never delete it - and sent it to Louis.

Harry: Your 140k followers have started stalking me
Harry: ❤️@

It was only then that he realised Louis had actually texted him multiple times that night. The first message, sent just before midnight, simply asked if he was awake, then another one came about half an hour later, followed by more texts from time to time until 3:20 AM.

Louis: Are you awake?

Louis: I’ll take that as a no :(
Louis: I’m still here…

Louis: Tomorrow I need to show you the video of the prank I pulled on the physio haha

Louis: I can’t stop thinking that Oli and Russo could become best friends
Louis: It’s kind of creepy

Louis: And you too
Louis: Like… I can’t stop thinking about you

Louis: I’m sure you’d like the guys
Louis: Almost all of them

Louis: I just got home
Louis:You should at least dream about me… as punishment for falling asleep without saying goodnight

Louis: I’ve seen the photos
Louis: Okay… you’re forgiven
Louis: Goodnight xx

Harry read all the texts twice, maybe because over the years he had spent so much time fantasising about him that a part of his brain kept doubting whether this was really his Louis or just a product of his imagination. He replied with a good morning and confirmed that he'd fallen asleep early the night before, then added a heart - just because - and with a sigh he put the phone down and went to the bathroom.

He took longer than expected to have breakfast, getting lost in staring at his tea cup with a blank expression while thoughts about the day ahead started to flow through his mind relentlessly. He only realised how ridiculously late it was when, after scribbling you are my sunshine on a napkin with a pen left on the table the day before, he was snapped back to reality by a message from Michael in the group chat informing them he’d be late due to traffic.

Harry rushed to get ready at lightning speed, not even bothering to put the dirty mug in the sink and left the house a few minutes later, certain he was never going to make it on time. When he joined the rest of the team, the Sir’s training had already started. He took an empty seat between Liam and Zayn, hoping he hadn’t drawn attention to himself and had blended in immediately with his teammates’ identical tracksuits.

"About time," Zayn greeted him.

"Rough wake-up," Harry mumbled, looking around.

"Over there," Liam pointed to the bench on the half-court under the bleachers where they were, "It's weird seeing him like this, right?"

Harry followed Liam's finger, noticing Louis standing courtside with some of the Sir staff while laughing at something that had just been said, so at ease in the environment that if he wasn’t wearing the Blue Bees tracksuit, he would’ve looked like one of their players.

"What do you mean?" Zayn asked.

"It’s our Louis," Liam explained as if it were obvious, "But actually, it’s their Louis."

Zayn leaned forward to look his teammate in the eye, "What the fuck did you smoke this morning?"

"It makes sense," Harry murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from Louis. It wasn’t the same as watching him play and, unfortunately, he had never managed to attend one of his matches live during all those years he’d followed him on TV whenever he could. But watching him in that moment made him realise just how much this was truly his place in the world. He was glowing with a light Harry hadn’t seen on him in the past few months.

In that moment Louis, likely sensing he was being observed, turned towards the bleachers where they were and locked eyes with him, smiling and giving him a wink before going back to his conversation.

Since it was just a pre-game session, the practice lasted barely over an hour and just before the end, Louis motioned for everyone to come down and join him courtside. He took care of making the official introductions, joking about how coaching and then playing with the Blue Bees up to that point had been the most challenging experience of his career, but emphasising repeatedly how much he was loving every single joy earned and every difficulty overcome together. When Russo, one of the two starting middle blockers, teased him about how Louis had softened over those few months, Harry finally understood what the message from the night before meant about how he and Oli could have been great friends.

Harry even managed to ignore the way Andrea laughed at every joke Louis made, never taking his eyes off him, because in the end the armor he had worn over the past few days had cracked and he couldn’t stay immune to the charm of what he was experiencing in that moment. He knew it was just an illusion, but for a few minutes he felt like a player in Italy's top league and he couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through his heart, where all his dreams resided.

The players from the Sir stayed on the court for a long time, chatting with them as if they were all old friends and not world-famous champions giving some of their precious free time to fans.

That year Louis’s spot in the team had been taken by Giannelli, simply the captain of the Italian national team, and even though he had all the credentials to act like the star of the show, instead of snapping a few selfies and retreating to the locker room, he had stayed to exchange a few sets at the net with Liam and Mitch. Even Leon hadn’t hesitated to get the Blue Bees involved in some rallies, probably to break the ice and try to make everyone feel at ease. If Harry had stopped for a second to think that he had defended a spike from Wilfredo-fucking-Leon, he would’ve probably fainted.

He had stepped off the court for just a moment to place his hoodie on the nearest available spot on the bench when someone called out to him from behind.

"So, it’s you?"

Harry turned with a confused expression, then his eyes widened when he found Andrea just a few steps away from him.

"Sorry?"

"I'm not a psycho stalker, I swear," Andrea joked with a laugh that sounded genuine. "I saw the photos you posted yesterday because Louis- well, you know… but with your hair tied up, I didn’t recognise you at first," he sighed, as if remembering something important, and extended his hand toward him. "I’m Andrea, sorry."

"I- uhm, I know," Harry responded in almost an interrogative tone, so confused by what was happening that it took him a bit longer than usual to remember to shake his hand. "I mean- sorry, I’m Harry."

"Can I be brutally honest?" Andrea asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I don’t know how much you know..."

"I know everything," Harry interrupted him, instinctively putting up a defensive front because he had no idea what to expect.

"Okay, so I guess I can speak freely," Andrea said.

"I don’t understand what about."

"I tried asking him about you yesterday," Andrea explained, lowering his voice to make sure no one could overhear them, "both before and after seeing the photos, because I know him and I had already noticed the way he looked at you during the training, but sometimes talking to him feels impossible."

Harry tried to swallow the information without letting on how much it was stressing him out, because he still didn’t understand the point of this conversation and also didn’t know how to interpret the fact that Andrea had asked Louis for clarification about him.

"If he doesn’t want to talk about something, I think it’s right to respect that," Harry replied firmly.

"I’m not trying to pry into your business, I just..."

"It seems like you are, though," Harry interrupted before Andrea could finish his sentence, trying his best to keep his voice as calm and friendly as possible. "Assuming there’s something to know, maybe it’s just that his life isn’t your business anymore."

"I think I got off on the wrong foot, I’m not trying to get in the middle or ruin anything that’s between you two."

"No?" Harry raised an eyebrow, letting out a half-laugh, "What should one expect from someone approaching what they believe is the new guy their ex is seeing?"

Harry's tone finally seemed to break the gentle smile Andrea had been wearing until then. He furrowed his brow, becoming serious, and repeated, "That’s not my intention."

Harry made a conscious effort not to cross his arms over his chest because, as much as he wanted to make his position clear, he also wanted to understand whether this was just a way of marking territory or if Andrea truly had something to tell him.

"I just wanted to meet you," Andrea finally admitted. "As I said, I noticed you yesterday and I can add two plus two on my own." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Maybe it's also just to feel less guilty, as Louis made sure to point out all evening."

"If you’re done being antisocial," Louis’s voice caught both of them off guard, "We’re waiting for you to take the photo."

His gaze bounced between their faces, but Louis didn’t hesitate for a second before walking up to Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder and letting it slide down to caress the back of his neck in an affectionate and comforting gesture, as if asking him if everything was okay.

Andrea let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused expression. "Here comes the guard dog."

"For him?" Louis raised an eyebrow, replying with an ironic smile. "He doesn’t need it, trust me."

"So it’s not a problem if we have a little chat?" Andrea provoked, probably already knowing that he was touching a sensitive nerve with his ex.

"It’s not me you need to ask," Louis replied firmly. "Anyway, this doesn’t seem like the time or place so, as I already said, we’re waiting for you to take the photo."

Andrea seemed to not quite believe him but lowered his weapons anyway. As they crossed the gym to join the rest of the teams, he added a final comment to close the discussion.

"He's not lacking in personality, you've met your perfect challenge," he said, addressing Louis and winking at Harry before walking away and starting to put on a bit of a show, joking and clowning around with the rest of the guys.

They took a group photo with both teams lined up together under the net and, after the final goodbyes, the Sir players headed towards the locker rooms. Louis had disappeared again, so Harry followed his teammates out of the gym while they made plans to grab lunch somewhere before heading back to watch the game.

He wanted to talk to him to understand exactly what had happened earlier, but at the same time, he wasn’t entirely sure if he really wanted to, especially after accidentally driving past the back courtyard of the arena and seeing Louis talking to Andrea. That image stuck with him more than anything else and, as he drove, he couldn’t get it out of his head, feeling his stomach twist more and more.

Louis didn’t join them. Instead, he sent a message in the group chat to let the team know that the guys had insisted he stay for lunch with them. Harry kept checking his phone almost obsessively, hoping to see a notification from him pop up at any moment, but it never did. He didn’t expect him to message with the same frequency as the night before or anything like that and normally he wouldn’t have had expectations like that because he was the first to recognise how important it was to have time for yourself and to hang out with friends without having to account to anyone for what you were doing. But this situation was different.

Andrea had clearly told him that he had tried multiple times to talk to Louis about his romantic situation, but why? What did he still want from him after dumping him? And most of all, Harry kept wondering how Louis felt about all this attention from the ex who had broken his heart, because he certainly couldn't have been indifferent to it.

Anyway, Louis didn't reach out at all. No one heard from him until the time they were supposed to meet by the side entrance of the arena, where Louis was waiting to escort them to the VIP area. Harry avoided his gaze, pretending to be particularly interested in everything he saw along the way, because he was terrified of seeing a different light in his eyes. He was fucking afraid that this stupid day might change things between them.

In any case, Harry didn’t have to make much effort to stay away from him, as a few minutes after the warm-up started one of Sir’s scoutmen signalled for him to come over. With a sigh, Louis got up and went to sit with him on the sidelines.

Luckily for him the match was over in no time, just enough to play the three sets in which the London team was crushed by Sir Perugia, as expected. As soon as the referee blew the final whistle, Harry left immediately without waiting for Louis to come back to them. As he was leaving the arena, he realised that Louis had sent him a message between the second and third sets.

Louis: Are you busy tonight?

Under normal circumstances, that message would have made him smile, because Louis always managed to improve even the worst days, but at that moment Harry had reached such a level of insecurity and paranoia that he was able to doubt even such a simple sentence. Suddenly, behind the suggestion to meet, he began to read a thousand possible hidden meanings, many of which had Andrea’s face as the backdrop and a we need to talk between the lines.

He kept staring at his phone screen, wondering what to reply, until he got into the car. Then he took a deep breath and before starting the engine, he decided to ignore the message. The second attempt - a simple 'have you already left?' - came when Harry was already lying on the bed, face up with the pillow over his face, as if by doing so he could hide from all the problems and, most importantly, from his own thoughts. This time he replied, saying he wasn’t feeling particularly well and had gone home, hoping his headache would go away. When Louis called shortly after, he realized he couldn’t continue avoiding him forever or he would risk sending the wrong message. Pushing him away out of fear of losing him would only lead to losing him anyway.

“Hello?” he answered just before the phone could stop ringing.

Louis’s voice, on the other side of the phone, was as sweet as always. “Hey, how are you?”

“Mh, so-so.”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a headache,” he tried to reassure him because he knew that worried tone too well, “It’s been an intense day.”

“So is it a headache from tiredness or from 'I don’t want to see you'?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, even though he wasn’t really surprised because Louis, unlike him, seemed to always know how to read his behavior.

“Should I have reasons not to want to see you?”

“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” Louis sighed, “I’m sorry for the ambush from Andrea.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Harry clarified almost in a whisper, “And I really have a headache.”

“I’m sorry anyway… for everything.”

“I guess it’s been a crazy twenty-four hours for you too.”

“That’s also why I wanted to see you tonight.”

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and processing the second I need to talk to you said between the lines in such a short time. At that point, he might as well get it over with.

“Okay” he murmured, forcing himself to ignore the little voice in his head screaming no.

"Don't worry, it's fine," Louis replied after a few seconds of silence, as though he had been thinking it over for a while. "Just focus on resting now, we'll see each other tomorrow."

Harry hadn't expected it and he understood that Louis' gesture was a kind one, but the fact that he had so easily let go of the idea of seeing him after he had already agreed left a tinge of disappointment around Harry's heart.

"Okay," he repeated softly. "Goodnight, then?"

"Goodnight."

When Louis hung up, Harry stayed on the line longer than he cared to admit, with the phone still pressed to his ear listening to the faint sound of the line, before eventually pressing the red button and burying his face in his hands, stifling a frustrated scream.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he muttered, throwing the phone somewhere on the duvet and getting up.

He undressed and forced himself into a shower he had no desire to take, hoping it would help with his headache, but of course it didn’t work. A few minutes later, he found himself in the kitchen looking for aspirin. Just as he was about to pour water into a glass, his phone rang again.

"Lou?" he answered, still confused.

"Were you sleeping?"

"No, but... what's going on?"

"Sorry, I know I shouldn't have and I’ve probably crossed every line that exists in any kind of relationship," Louis said so quickly that Harry could barely follow, "But if I told you I’m downstairs, would you tell me to fuck off?"

Harry’s heart started to race for a thousand different reasons, all of them contradicting each other. "You're here?"

"Yeah, but... uh, it's okay if you want me to leave," Louis quickly added.

Harry was already heading for the intercom so, before hanging up, he pressed the button to open the gate and said "Come up, idiot."

As Louis climbed the stairs, Harry was too stunned by the surprise visit to think about all his worries. It wasn’t until Louis was standing in front of him on the landing that Harry realised just how much he actually wanted to see him.

"Sorry again," Louis said, stopping at the door as if unsure whether to come in. "I just wanted to see you." He reached out, handing him a Starbucks bag and a pharmacy bag. "And give you these."

Harry took them, his gaze darting between Louis’ face and the bags in his hands. "Aren’t you coming in?"

"Can I?"

"No, I thought I'd let you come up just to slam the door in your face" Harry teased, rolling his eyes before pulling him inside by the sleeve and shutting the door behind them.

“Message received,” Louis chuckled, moving closer to hug him and pressing his lips to Harry’s temple, leaving a quick series of small kisses as he held him tight. “How are you?”

“You do realise I’m not dying, right?” Harry pointed out, biting his lip to hide what was probably the first laugh of the whole day. Louis was there and suddenly everything felt brighter.

“Have you taken anything for your headache?”

“It’s just a headache,” Harry huffed, repeating the words for what felt like the millionth time. “I was about to take some aspirin.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Actually, no.”

“Knew it,” Harry could feel Louis’ smile widen against his forehead. “Good thing I came then.”

“You’re insufferable,” Harry chuckled, but any trace of the wall he’d been trying to put up melted away when Louis tilted his face to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, just before pulling away and gently steering him towards the kitchen.

“Go eat.”

“Louis,” Harry exclaimed, trying to resist.

“I brought you one of those lemon muffins from Starbucks that you like so much,” Louis pointed out. “Do me a favour, eat it, then take the aspirin and I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry gave in with a chuckle. “But I can walk on my own.”

Louis conceded that much and followed him into the kitchen, where the chaos from this morning still reigned on the table.

“Sorry about the mess, I ended up being later than expected this morning,” Harry explained. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’ll make it, you start eating.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, but didn’t resist and sat down, finishing most of the muffin before Louis came back with two steaming cups of tea. They stayed silent until, after taking the aspirin, Harry made up his mind to take charge of the situation.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“I- uh, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Louis replied, hesitating slightly. “I have no idea what Andrea told you and I’m sorry he got you involved. I didn’t know he was going to do that and honestly I didn’t expect it either.”

Sorry he got you involved. So, in that moment, Harry was officially the one caught in the middle of something that had nothing to do with him.

“Can we just get to the point?” he interrupted, unable to stand the tension that was eating him alive any longer.

Louis furrowed his brow, apparently confused by the simplest question Harry could have asked. “What’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” Harry averted his eyes from Louis’s to gather some courage and nervously began shredding the corner of the napkin that was still on the table from earlier that morning. “You’ve been with your ex since last night, I’m expecting anything at this point.”

“You know nothing could have happened with him, right?”

“Do I?” Harry asked sarcastically. “I don’t think you two slept together if that’s what we’re talking about, but other than that I don’t know anything.”

“What else would there be?”

“How was it for you seeing him again?”

“Honestly?” Louis let out a half-laugh, ironic and almost bitter. “I was terrified.”

Harry looked up from the napkin, meeting his gaze. “Were you afraid of still loving him?”

“No,” Louis replied without hesitation, then sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “I was afraid of my own doubts… it’s- it’s complicated to explain.”

“It doesn’t seem complicated to me” Harry murmured, feeling a crack form right in the middle of his heart.

“I’ve never had doubts about you, I had doubts about myself.”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Harry shook his head, not believing Louis was actually giving him the oldest, most cliché excuse in the book. “A classic.”

“Hey, no. That’s not what I mean,” Louis said firmly, placing his hand on Harry’s, perhaps hoping to calm him down before he tore the entire napkin to pieces. “Breaking up with Andrea was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, I won’t deny it, and with you everything was so easy and natural that... it often didn’t feel real.”

“I wouldn’t call it easy.”

“Dealing with you? No, that’s impossible,” Louis smiled, affectionately squeezing Harry’s hand. “I’m talking about- uh, what I felt for you, something I didn’t think I could feel.”

“It’s been over six months, you’re allowed to move on.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that for all the pain I went through, I thought I'd stay stuck in that limbo of casual hookups for years, but... but then I ran into you and it was too easy to be real, you know?” Louis fell silent for a few seconds, as though he couldn’t quite find the right words to express his thoughts. “I was afraid that the distance had made things easier and that maybe seeing him again would hurt.”

“And it wasn’t like that?” Harry asked, allowing himself to hope because, after all, Louis was with him right now and not with Andrea.

“Not at all. Actually, seeing him again made me realise something,” Louis explained. “He used to seem perfect to me, but actually… I never compared you to him.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you had, I think it’s normal.”

“No, you don’t get it. Last night and today, I realised I never compared you to him and it only hit me when I started comparing him to you.”

“Is that a good thing?” Harry furrowed his brow, not quite understanding the point. “Because in my head, this comparison sounds like a tragedy.”

“He doesn’t stand a chance against you,” Louis confessed, leaning in slightly to look even deeper into Harry’s eyes.

It was too much for Harry and he couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

“Why do you say that?” Louis’s expression was so confused that it seemed like to him that reasoning made no sense.

“Well, look at me... it’s me.”

“Exactly, I can see you,” Louis raised his free hand to gently caress Harry’s face. “Maybe it’s you who can’t see it.”

Harry didn’t know why that gesture had affected him so much, but suddenly he felt like he was on the verge of breaking down. What was the point of keeping everything he’d always thought inside? How could he expect to make any part of their relationship work without showing Louis his own insecurities?

“Andrea has always intimidated me,” Harry confessed. “Not just because he’s handsome, funny, kind and one of the best players in the world in his role, but mainly because you two had an important relationship. You loved each other, lived together and- I’ve never had a real relationship, I’ve never said ‘I love you’.”

“So?” Louis asked simply, continuing to stroke his cheek. “I still don’t understand what he has over you.”

“I might not measure up.”

“To him? To me? To the situation?” Louis tried to understand.

“To everything.”

Louis leaned in even closer, this time pressing his lips to Harry’s cheek. “It’s normal to be afraid,” he reassured him, kissing him gently. “But if you feel as good with me as I do with you, then I’d say there’s nothing to fear.”

“If you knew everything that’s in my head, you’d know it’s not all black and white,” Harry hesitated just long enough to find the courage to go on. “But- but, uh, when I’m with you it’s easy.”

“For you too?” Louis asked, smiling and kissing him at the corner of his lips.

Harry nodded because, in the end, it was true. Being with Louis was too easy. He only needed to be in his presence and suddenly all the worries about them seemed to vanish. Maybe that’s why, without even fully realising what he was doing, he added “It’s never happened to me with anyone, but when we’re together I think I could fall for someone like you.”

It was in that moment that Louis seemed unable to hold back any longer and, cupping Harry’s face in both hands, he kissed him passionately, making him feel an emotion he’d never experienced before. Harry couldn’t describe it, he only knew it was warm and enveloping and he wanted to feel that way for the rest of his life.

“Can I ask you just one more thing?” Louis said, giving him one last quick kiss before pulling away slightly.

Harry just nodded, too overwhelmed by his own feelings to do anything more.

“Can you explain why it says you are my sunshine here?” Louis lifted what little of the napkin from that morning had been left untouched by Harry’s nervous fingers. “I’ve been wondering about it since we came into the kitchen.”

Harry burst out laughing despite the embarrassment and for the first time he didn’t mind feeling exposed, even for something as silly and cheesy as that, because with Louis he felt safe. He leaned forward, kissing him and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Because that silly song reminds me of you” he confessed, burying his face against Louis’s shoulder, then starting to hum it as Louis covered him in kisses and they both laughed.

Chapter Text

"Hi, Harry!" exclaimed Lottie as she opened the door to Louis's flat.

Harry blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised. When he'd texted Louis to say he was skipping the afternoon class he'd assumed Louis would be free or, at the very least, he'd assumed he’d be alone since it was Louis who had suggested they go to his place.

"Uh- hi," Harry hesitated for a moment before offering a smile. "Lottie, what a surprise."

His eyes widened as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, then stepped aside so he could come in and shut the door behind him. It was only then that Harry noticed Louis standing in the hallway, hands on his hips and his head slightly tilted, wearing an impatient expression.

"Could’ve done without that" Louis said flatly to his sister, before turning to Harry with a much gentler look. "Come in and ignore her, please."

"No, but- I didn’t realise you were busy, I can leave," Harry apologised, glancing quickly between the two siblings. "We’ll catch up later at the gym."

Louis sighed and walked into the living room without even responding, while Lottie grabbed Harry and pulled him into the room with them.

"I thought he'd be less grumpy with you around" Lottie joked, gesturing for him to sit on the sofa.

"Please," Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling, then hesitated wondering whether to stay or not. "But seriously, I don’t want to disturb you if you’ve got stuff to do."

"We’ve got nothing to do and it’s my sister who’s disturbing," Louis replied, sitting on the armrest of the sofa. "In fact, she’s about to leave."

"I'd have left twenty minutes ago if you had listened to me right away" Lottie retorted.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about listening?"

"Oh my God" Lottie said, dragging out each word with an exasperated tone. "I just asked you for a favour."

"And I did it, two weeks ago when you asked me."

"So, what’s the problem now?"

Harry stood frozen in silence, watching them bicker like kids and struggling to tear his gaze away from the way Louis’ old grey sweatpants, thanks to his position, exposed a narrow strip of skin between the waistband and the edge of his slightly worn blue sweater. It was barely a few inches, nothing compared to what Harry was used to seeing, but it was driving him mad more than the way the fabric lightly pulled around Louis’s thighs.

God, he really needed to calm down, at least in front of his bloody little sister.

Harry realised he’d missed a bit of the conversation when Lottie dropped herself onto the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest and declaring, "I’m not moving from here until you stop being a dick."

"Fine. Harry, let’s go to yours," Louis replied challengingly, but without moving an inch.

"You’re unbelievable," Lottie snapped. "You just need to explain one thing to me."

"Which I’ve already explained to you on WhatsApp."

"I asked you for one favour, can you at least get the message?"

"Who says I haven’t deleted the chat?"

"You never delete anything," Lottie huffed before turning to Harry. "Tonight, my boyfriend’s coming over for dinner for the first time. We’ve been together for about a month, but then he was away for two weeks on business and he’s coming back today, got it?"

“Mh, more or less,” Harry replied, a slightly questioning tone in his voice. “I don’t get what’s Louis got to do with it?"”

“He’s got everything to do with it. He’s awful in the kitchen but the one thing he can cook, he nails and still won’t help me."

Harry turned to him with renewed interest, the image of Louis at the stove unlocking a series of new erotic fantasies in his mind. “What can you cook?”

“She’s just exaggerating, we’re talking about a stupid carbonara.”

“He’s never made it for you?” Lottie exclaimed, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Louis spoke before Harry could even attempt to reply. “Sorry if I focus on things like personality when I want to win someone over and I'd rather choke on that carbonara than use these cheap tricks.”

That simple sentence was enough to short-circuit Harry’s brain. It wasn’t just the casual way Louis had said he’d wanted to win him over, but also the fact that Harry would never admit to anyone what image had crossed his mind when Louis mentioned choking. It definitely had nothing to do with food.

“That’s why you had to drool over him for months before you got anywhere,” Lottie teased, earning a sharp look from her brother.

“Lottie!” he cursed, but received only an unimpressed laugh from his sister while Harry blushed harder than a guy his age should have.

He felt the need to intervene before things got any worse, because if Lottie turned out to be half as stubborn as her brother, they’d never get out of this situation.

“I can help you if you want” he suggested, not really knowing how.

“No,” Louis immediately clarified. “That’s out of the question.”

Harry ignored him and sat down on the sofa next to Lottie. “So?”

“Got any secret ways to get him to teach me how to cook that?” she asked, pretending to whisper but keeping her voice loud enough for Louis to hear.

“Lottie, I sent you a voice note with the step-by-step explanation.”

“And do you think I remember it?” she retorted.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, because all it took was noticing the tiniest movement of Louis’ eyebrow to know that he was about to explode again, even before he almost shouted “Check the fucking chat!”

“It’s a voice note!” she shot back in the same high-pitched tone. “How am I supposed to find it?”

“Give it here.” Harry reached out his hand, waiting for Lottie to give him her phone. Once she did, he asked just to be sure, “Can I get into Louis’ chat?”

“Oh, sure” she replied with an amused giggle. “At worst, you might accidentally read one of the thousand embarrassing things he says when he talks about you.”

“Lottie!” Louis snapped again before sighing, standing up from the sofa and heading for the window. “I’ll give you the time of one cigarette before I kick you out.”

“Couldn’t you just explain the recipe and stop acting like a child?”

“If you don’t want to look for the voice note, then there’s Google,” Louis said indifferently, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the windowsill, putting it in his mouth without lighting it and walking out of the room.

“I’ll end up using the wrong recipe. Your friends in Italy traumatized me with all their talk about how important it is to make it a certain way,” she said, watching her brother disappear down the hallway. “God, he’s unbearable when he acts like this” she grumbled, leaning toward Harry to see what he was doing with her phone.

“Mmm, do you remember anything we could use as a keyword to get back to the right point in the chat history?” Harry asked.

“I tried searching for ‘carbonara,’ but I think I explained the situation with voice messages,” she replied.

“Anything else you talked about the day before or after?”

“Harry, just forget it,” Louis sighed, coming back into the living room with a damp cloth in his hand. “My sister’s just a lazybones.”

“A what?” Harry asked, confused.

“A lazybones,” Louis repeated, stopping by the windowsill to clean it before sitting on it and cracking the window open. “Someone who, just to avoid making an extra effort, asks others for help with things they could easily do on their own."

Out of the corner of his eye, Louis saw Lottie’s mouth fall open, as if she was scandalized by such a serious insult. But before she could fire back, Harry decided to officially take her side and have a bit of fun teasing Louis.

“Like you, when you wait for me to reach my limit and make the bed for you?”

“No, that’s called common sense. What’s the point of making the bed when you’ll just get back in it anyway?” Louis took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. “If I needed to, I’d do it myself.”

“Right, let’s search for the recipe,” Harry sighed, shaking his head in resignation, then turned back to Louis. “What? She’s your sister, I have to buy her over somehow.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile he was clearly trying to suppress, almost on the verge of melting.

“Suit yourself,” he commented with fake indifference. “Next time she texts me asking if I can search for something on Google, I’ll tell her to ask you.”

Harry shrugged and turned to Lottie. “If you want, I’ll give you my number so we can skip a step.”

The search wasn’t as easy as Harry had expected initially because, apparently, those two communicated almost exclusively through voice notes and Lottie didn’t even remember exactly which day they had talked about it. They also tried searching online but, according to Louis, no English website seemed to have the original recipe and they were worried that the translation on the Italian ones might not be accurate. In the end, it took them over half an hour to complete the mission, with no help from Louis who, as soon as they were done, wasted no time reminding Lottie that it was time for her to leave.

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” Lottie huffed, standing up from the sofa.

Harry followed her, at least he would be polite and courteous, while Louis had already opened the front door to hurry her up.

Lottie flashed her middle finger at her brother as soon as she reached the entrance, before hugging Harry to thank him.

“Lots, it's really not necessary” Louis said, sounding almost annoyed. “No need to throw yourself at him every chance you get.”

“Well, you should do it instead of having a meltdown every time someone gets close to him.”

“I would’ve if you hadn’t shown up without even giving me a heads-up,” Louis replied, his voice an octave too high.

Harry cleared his throat, partly out of embarrassment and partly to remind the two siblings of his presence, but Lottie only seemed even more entertained. “Will you come on Saturday?” she asked as the last thing before she actually left.

“Saturday?” Harry asked, confused. “What are we talking about?”

“Didn’t you invite him?” she exclaimed, turning to her brother and hitting him on the arm.

A series of conflicting emotions flashed across Louis’ face, too complex to pin down. After gasping for a couple of seconds, searching for something to say, he just went on the defensive. “You didn’t tell me to invite him.”

“Are you stupid?” she almost shouted, hitting him again. “He’s your boyfriend, of course he’s invited.”

At that exact moment, Harry’s heart seemed ready to jump out of his chest, but it was probably nothing compared to what Louis was feeling, as he had gone pale in a way that was almost concerning.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Louis exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, which would have been comical if Harry himself wasn’t on the verge of dying. “I mean… we don’t-”

Lottie interrupted his stuttering with an imitation of her brother, with hands on her hips to mimic his usual pose. “Lottie, you can’t just show up at my house like this, I could have been with my boyfriend!”

“Lottie!” Louis threatened, glaring at her.

“What?” she exclaimed in turn.

“We’ve never talked about this,” Louis spread his arms. “Thanks a lot.”

This time, it was Lottie who widened her eyes, probably realizing what had just happened. “But…”

“But I’d rather talk about it with him first, not with you,” Louis interrupted, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her towards the door.

Lottie resisted for just a few seconds, long enough to turn to Harry. “Just because he’s an idiot doesn’t mean we’re all like that in the family” she said, despite her brother’s protests. “Harry, you can’t not come.”

“Out,” Louis finally managed to shove her out and, after closing the door, he looked at Harry as if expecting him to run away any second.

“Harry, don’t feel obligated to do anything,” his tone almost sounded like an apology. “My whole family will be there.”

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about,” Harry pointed out again with a nervous laugh, because he still couldn’t figure out how to interpret the situation.

Was this a good thing or not? Louis had called him his boyfriend but had also denied it and, on top of that, Harry didn’t understand whether his behavior regarding the invitation from his sister was more about protecting him from his family or protecting himself.

“This Saturday there’s some kind of charity party hosted by the company my sister works for. Nothing particularly important, except for the fact that it’s the first event entirely organized by Lottie, so she invited everyone,” Louis explained. “I’ll say it again, don’t feel obligated just to avoid disappointing her. Maybe this will finally teach her to mind her own business but, either way, she wouldn’t take it personally because she’d understand.”

“Probably, she’d take it out on you” Harry joked, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Hey,” Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrist, speaking softly. “I’m sorry.”

Harry smiled timidly. “I won’t come if it’s a problem for you.”

“What?” For a moment, Louis seemed confused, but then he hurried to clarify his thoughts. “I- I’d really like you to meet my family, but there are- there are a lot of them… and they can be intrusive and annoying when they want to, and- it would feel like an official thing. I don’t want you to do it if you think it’s too soon.”

It was so strange to see Louis this worked up that Harry had to bite his lip to hold back a soft laugh. “Is it that funny to you when I’m the one freaking out?”

They both laughed and then Louis pulled Harry closer to mess up his hair while hugging him.

“I’d be happy to meet my boyfriend’s family,” Harry murmured, emphasizing those words as if to tease him, hoping Louis would spontaneously elaborate.

Louis made a sound that was almost a grunt and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to?” Harry asked, unable to hide the sudden feeling of disappointment that wrapped around his heart, because he wanted it. He’d wanted it for longer than he could admit, probably since he was a kid.

“No!” Louis jerked his head up to look Harry in the eye. “I mean… I didn’t want to pressure you. It just slipped out while I was talking to my sister,” he sighed, resting his forehead against Harry’s shoulder. “It might have slipped a couple of times, actually, but- but it’s because I see you as my boyfriend, like from- from the first time you agreed to go out with me.”

Harry’s heart probably never beat as fast as it did at that moment. “You’re serious?”

Louis seemed to misinterpret Harry’s shocked tone, as he lifted his head and hurried to clarify. “But it doesn’t mean anything, I mean… everyone has their own pace.”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Harry admitted, his eyes sparkling and a smile so wide that both his dimples showed up.

“Really?” Louis asked, incredulous but already smiling.

Harry nodded, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him gently. “I also want to meet your family.”

Louis leaned forward to kiss him again and, as their lips parted, Harry added “And go to your sister’s party with you.”

Louis didn’t waste any time, kissing him again but this time without showing any intention of letting go. So Harry slid his hands from his face to his neck, then grabbed the sweater, pulling Louis easily down the hallway. He guided him to the sofa, as it was the closest place, and Harry didn’t want to waste time getting to the bed. He’d decided to skip his lesson because that afternoon his mind could focus on only one thing and he’d arrived at Louis’ house with his thoughts clear. He hadn’t expected to have to hold back his desire for so long, especially with Lottie right there and Louis looking so handsome and sexy that Harry could have devoured him. In every sense.

When his legs collided with the sofa, he pulled Louis down with him until he was lying on his chest, never once breaking away from his lips.

“So, what’s so funny now?” Louis teased, kissing the smile that had appeared on Harry’s face.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, sure,” Louis nipped at the left dimple, “You’re very convincing.”

Harry chuckled, slipping his hands beneath his sweater to feel as much skin as possible. "Can't I just be happy?"

"You have to be happy," Louis shifted his focus back to Harry’s lips, "Consider it my mission."

"Special Agent Tomlinson," Harry pretended to think for a moment, "Sexy."

When Louis's laugh vibrated against his skin, Harry couldn't help but think that this had become his favourite sensation in the world.

Louis pulled his face back just enough to meet Harry’s eyes. "At your service, to make you happy. You can ask me for anything."

"Anything?" Harry raised an eyebrow, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Don’t you think it’s a bit risky giving me all that power?"

Before replying Louis leaned in to kiss him, brief but intense. "You already have it, you always have," he murmured, looking at him again. "I’m kind of losing my head over you. I’d do anything just to see you smile like that."

Harry hoped Louis couldn’t hear how loudly his heart was pounding, even with their chests pressed together, but deep down he was willing to take that risk to feel him even closer. He pulled him tighter.

"You don’t need to do much," Harry smiled. "I don’t think I can be any happier than I am right now."

"Really?" Louis asked with that smug smile that always made Harry’s head spin.

"Tell me," Harry rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "I came here to get laid and somehow ended up with a boyfriend."

Louis kissed him again, long and with a mix of desire and tenderness, as if he wanted to savour every emotion of the moment. "I don’t know if this is normal or if I’m dying," he whispered suddenly against Harry's lips. "But every time you say you’re my boyfriend, my heart goes wild."

Harry placed his hand on Louis's chest, under the sweater, and repeated "I’m your boyfriend."

"My gorgeous boyfriend wants to kill me," Louis chuckled, kissing him again, while Harry’s fingers started to wander across his body.

"I have an idea of how you could make me happy," Harry whispered into Louis’s ear, before sliding his hands into his sweatpants to grab his arse. He couldn’t suppress a moan when he realised Louis wasn’t wearing any underwear.

"Oh my God," Harry gasped breathless, as Louis tried to devour his neck with bites and kisses. "You - oh my God - your sister was here!"

"Too bad for her, maybe next time she'll learn to give a heads-up," Louis chuckled. "Especially when I'm waiting for my boyfriend."

"Oh my God," Harry repeated almost in a whisper, as if his brain couldn’t process any other thought at that moment. He slid his hand inside Louis’s sweatpants to wrap a hand around his half-erection, making him gasp for a second. "How long do I have to wait, huh?" he teased, moving his hand with agonising slowness.

"Now you're in a hurry?" Louis raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you missed your chance when you chose my sister over me."

Harry let out a little laugh, but it got caught in his throat as he saw the spark suddenly light up in Louis's eyes. Louis shifted slightly on his knees, grabbed both of Harry's wrists and pushed them above his head, pinning them against the sofa.

"Not laughing anymore?" Louis asked, watching with a smug little smile as Harry's reaction made it clear how close he was to losing control, just from the possessive yet gentle way Louis was holding him still. Harry couldn’t help but let out a moan when Louis leaned in, whispering in his ear, "Maybe you’d learn to listen to me if I left you like this."

"No," Harry almost whimpered, "That seems like a terrible idea."

Louis nipped at his jawline, tracing the contour of his face until he reached his chin. But when Harry tried to turn to kiss him, Louis pulled back just enough to keep his lips out of reach. "Too easy."

"Why?"

"Do you think you deserve a kiss?"

Harry nodded frantically, not caring about looking pathetic because he was so aroused his mind was barely able to focus. He didn’t even feel embarrassed when a shamefully loud moan escaped him from the way Louis had just licked a long strip of skin from the base of his neck to his ear, before sucking on the lobe.

"I think you won’t be kissing me or touching me until you learn to do what I say."

"I always do," Harry replied desperately, grinding his hips for a bit of relief. "The few times you’re right."

Louis’s teeth sank into his skin just below the ear, in a spot he knew would drive Harry crazy. "How should I deal with you?"

"Shame you don’t know any way to shut me up," Harry challenged him.

Louis kissed the flushed skin he had tormented carefully before lifting his face to meet Harry’s gaze. "I thought you wanted to get fucked."

Harry couldn’t suppress a mischievous smile that, from Louis's reaction, seemed to go straight to his erection as if he had already understood the answer before hearing it spoken.

"I never said how."

They both gasped when Louis pressed their erections together, still covered by their clothes.

"Fuck. Really?" Louis asked, looking at him seriously to make sure this was truly what Harry wanted.

Louis couldn’t know how long Harry had fantasised about the idea of him fucking his mouth so, to make the point clear, Harry decided to respond in the most brazen and obscene way he could think of, staring directly into Louis's eyes before opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out.

"You’re going to kill me," Louis whispered breathlessly, before letting go of Harry's wrists and taking his face in his hands, pulling him into a dirty, sensual kiss as Harry’s fingers rushed to the waistband of Louis’s sweatpants, eager to pull them down as quickly as possible. When he succeeded in his mission, he bit Louis's lip, hoping to bring his attention back to what needed to be done, but it took a couple of tries before the message finally got through and Louis pulled back from the kiss.

God, Harry dared not think of the state he was in, as Louis already looked utterly wrecked.

After quickly removing his sweatpants, Louis straddled Harry’s chest, sliding up his body until he was only a short distance from his face. He took his erection in hand, dragging the tip along the outline of Harry's lips but pulling it away each time he desperately tried to take it into his mouth. Harry stuck out his tongue, managing to lick it unexpectedly just before instinctively raising his wrists above his head and locking eyes with him as he waited. That seemed to wake Louis up who, without wasting any more time, wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrists and allowed him to suck on his tip.

"If it’s too much, flip me off or – I don’t know – hit me with your knee, stop me at any point" Louis said, looking at him gently. "Alright?"

Harry nodded and stopped sucking, simply opening his mouth and relaxing his throat as much as he could. When Louis finally began pushing his cock into his mouth, holding his wrists still and looking at him with those eyes, Harry realised he had never been so hard in his entire life. He loved the weight of Louis on his tongue, he loved the fact that Louis knew how to be just the right amount of rough and how he looked at him as if simply seeing him there, beneath him, had the power to destroy him. He also loved the fact that he could trust him so much, to the point of allowing himself to surrender entirely to him.

Harry felt like he was about to explode at any moment, even though his cock had never been touched and was throbbing impatiently beneath his clothes. The frustration of being unable to find relief or touch Louis only served to fuel the arousal he felt from allowing himself to be used in this way.

He realised Louis was about to come when the rhythm of his thrusts became more erratic and uneven. But as soon as Harry flipped him off, he didn’t hesitate for a second before pulling out of his mouth, starting to mumble apologies with ragged breath.

Harry interrupted him immediately. "Come on my face."

"Christ," Louis gasped, tightening his grip on his wrists as if trying to summon the strength to hold back, not wanting to come at once and waste his request like that. He freed one hand, gently wiping Harry's face to remove some of the tears that had escaped when he had felt pleasantly chocked by his presence in his throat. Then, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and began moving them swiftly, while Harry melted under his fiery gaze, admiring him from that privileged position, sweaty and undone, impossibly beautiful.

Harry closed his eyes only when he could no longer help it, as soon as he felt the first warm drops hit his face, and smiled contentedly relishing every single sensation on his skin.

"Absolutely illegal," Louis murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his still damp lips, just before Harry felt him rise from his body and walk away barefoot from the sofa. He returned a few seconds later with a tissue, using it to gently clean Harry’s eyelids so he could open his eyes, then did the same with the rest of his face, holding him tenderly by the chin as if he had never held anything so precious in his hands.

Harry allowed himself to be pampered, because he loved those moments when Louis took care of him as if he were the most delicate of flowers, making him feel special and… loved. Perhaps it wasn’t the most fitting word, because it was too soon to speak of such a deep and somewhat frightening feeling, but he didn’t know how else to define the overwhelming warmth and absolute well-being he felt in the moments when he could read a single priority in Louis' eyes: Harry.

When Louis felt satisfied, he lay down to hug Harry, kissing him gently on the lips before letting one hand descend to tease Harry’s still aching erection over his sweatpants. His touch was so light it sent shivers down his spine without offering any direct stimulation.

"How long do you think you can hold out?" Louis murmured against his lips, playfully nibbling them.

Harry barely managed to suppress the urge to sigh, hoping he wouldn’t have to hold out much longer. "Depends."

"I can make you come right now if you want or, if you'd prefer to wait a little longer, we can have round two in the shower," he pulled his face back just enough to show his expression, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous look. "It's up to you," he added before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I’ll do whatever you want."

"I'll wait," Harry replied without a second thought, turning his head to meet his lips and kiss him.

๑

Harry had never been this nervous in his life. He knew he’d thought about it thousands of times over the years, especially since Louis had come back into his life, because he recognised he could be a bit melodramatic in certain situations, but nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Not even for the Royal Cup final had he been this fucking nervous because, after all, that was something he could control to some extent, while  that night it was simply about throwing himself to the lions and hoping to come out alive.

His past relationships had never been particularly long or serious, so he had never found himself in a situation where he had to meet his exes' families. He had been seeing Louis for about a month and a half, but with him it was different.

When he’d found out about Lottie’s event, alongside the understandable terror, he was excited at the thought of being invited because he felt this urgent need to be a part of Louis’s life, to learn as much as he could about his world. Maybe in that moment, he hadn’t fully grasped how utterly terrifying it would be to try to make a good impression on his mother and an entire army of siblings. With Lottie it had been far too easy, he couldn’t expect it to go that smoothly with all of them, but the person who intimidated him the most, obviously, was Louis’s mother.

He knew Louis had a very close relationship with her, it was impossible not to notice just from the way he spoke to her on the phone, so Harry expected to be put under at least a little bit of scrutiny. What mother wouldn’t want to make sure her precious son’s new boyfriend was up to scratch?

Even before receiving the invitation, Louis had always told him he was sure his mum would adore him, not only because in his opinion it would be impossible not to, but also because from the very beginning every time he vented to her or told her about what had happened between them, she had always taken Harry’s side.

As usual, the peak of the crisis came the night before the event but, by then, Louis had probably gotten to know Harry pretty well not to expect it. So, he had planned a surprise date, taking him to get takeaway food and then to the cinema. Spending time with him had kept him from getting too caught up in panic but, despite that, when at the end of the night he found himself staring at the ceiling above Louis’s bed, he couldn’t resist the temptation to ask him what kind of relationship his mother had had with Andrea. Louis had sighed, telling him he didn’t understand why his mind kept going back to Andrea, especially since the guy meant nothing to him anymore but, after pulling him closer and kissing his forehead, he answered him anyway.

They had always had a good relationship because, according to Louis, it was hard not to get along with his mother and it was well-known that Andrea was a social butterfly. However, she had never hidden the fact that she was a bit wary. She had always pointed out how their relationship wasn’t perfectly balanced, not because she thought the feelings were one-sided on Louis’s part, but because she saw that the scale on Andrea’s side always seemed to weigh more than her son’s, since it was always Louis who gave way in his favour. She had never been fond of the friendship between Andrea and Luca, even when Louis was the first to assure that there was clearly nothing more between them and, in the end, she had obviously been right.

At least, in that regard, Harry almost felt at ease. If there was one thing he could bet on, it was how incredibly obvious it was that Harry had eyes for no one else and that the whipped one in their relationship wasn’t Louis. Not as much as him, anyway.

In any case, as much as Louis tried to get him to use logic, Harry had always found some reason to worry in those days, almost getting into an argument with him when Louis kept refusing to tell him how formal his outfit should be to avoid looking like a complete idiot. In the end he asked Gemma for help, keeping her hostage for an entire afternoon while he tried on every combination his favourite stores could offer. He wasn’t sure who was more relieved when, after more than three hours, he finally found a combination that was elegant enough for any occasion without being too plain or excessive.

That evening, looking at himself in the mirror before leaving the house, for a moment he almost felt ready to face the challenge. Almost.

He adjusted his hair one more time, making sure it was just how he knew Louis loved it, ran his hands over his clothes to smooth out even the slightest wrinkle and lost count of how many times he had retied the slow knot hanging from his black silk shirt tucked into his black trousers.

He had been unsure about the trousers until the very last minute because he had another pair he loved, almost the same style as the ones he was wearing, but with stylized white flowers decorating the black fabric. However, in the end, he chose the more classic option because he already felt enough anxiety for the night as a whole without adding the stress of wearing something perhaps too extravagant by the standards of guys his age. He liked to take risks and play a little when it came to style, but maybe it wouldn’t be the best choice to make a good first impression on his boyfriend’s mum.

Harry had really thought of everything – maybe even too much – there wasn’t a single detail of the night that he hadn’t considered to make sure he was fully prepared, the only thing he hadn’t accounted for was the effect seeing Louis wear a smart suit for the first time would have on him. Timing, of course, was not on his side.

Louis picked him up in the car and Harry immediately noticed how his hair was particularly neat compared to the usual soft and tousled mane he loved to stroke every time the opportunity arose. But probably to make the whole look seem a little less perfect, he’d still left that light stubble that always made Harry’s legs weak for how sexy it made him look.

During the drive, after a brief greeting kiss, Louis updated him on the fact that, in the end, only his mom would be there that evening because her partner had an unforeseen issue and couldn’t look after the younger twins, so they had asked the oldest sister to stay with them to help the grandparents and, at that point, to avoid any favouritism the other twins would also stay in Doncaster.

Harry didn’t know whether to feel relieved because that way he could focus all his energy on making a good impression on just one person instead of six or if he should feel even more under scrutiny, because that would mean that all of his mother’s attention would be on him, without any distractions. But as long as Louis continued to hold his hand like that, as if it had become an automatic reflex when he drove with Harry sitting beside him, those thoughts couldn’t be loud enough to overshadow the frantic beating of his heart.

He would never get used to the fact that Louis was his boyfriend, sooner or later he would have to come to terms with that awareness.

When Louis parked, Harry for a moment thought he was going to die, feeling all the tension drop onto him at once.

"Give me a signal anytime if it’s too much and I’ll take you away," Louis reassured him, reading the sudden panic on his face.

"You can’t use sex phrases right before I meet your mum," Harry snapped with a voice an octave too high, making Louis burst out laughing. "And you even dare to laugh?"

"Sorry," Louis said, trying to recover, "It’s just that- I didn’t expect it."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, struggling to stay pouty. "When you’re done laughing, I should go meet my ex’s mum."

Louis pressed his lips together, trying his best to hold back, but a few seconds later he burst into another laugh.

"You can’t be this sensitive in front of my mum" he teased, earning a glare from Harry, then pulled him close, putting his arm around his neck and trying to kiss his cheek despite Harry’s protests.

"Don’t try it," Harry pressed his hand against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to push him away. "And let go, you’ll mess up my hair!"

He let him go only after managing to kiss him and even though Harry wiped his cheek with his hand, pretending to be annoyed, he couldn’t hide the little traitor smile.

"Okay, let’s go now," Harry said determinedly, then took a deep breath and placed his fingers on the door handle, but froze in that position without opening it.

"Would your mum hate me if I told you to fuck off in front of her?"

Louis wrinkled his nose in a mixture of affection and amusement. "Knowing her, she’d tell you you’ve been too kind and would probably tell me to fuck off as well, for support."

That made Harry laugh because, after all, it wasn’t hard to imagine it being true. Louis must have gotten something from her, right?

"And would she hate me if I made a fool of myself by saying or doing something stupid?"

"Harry, babe" Louis looked at him sweetly, bringing his fingers to his boyfriend’s face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, "Breathe. I’ve talked about you so much that it’s as if she’s known you for centuries and she already adores you. You don’t have to make a good impression on anyone."

"Oh fuck, but- what if I’m not up to the idea she has of me?"

Louis silenced him by pressing his lips to his, continuing to kiss him until Harry started to relax, almost melting in his hands as they caressed him without stop, with extreme tenderness.

"Done?" Louis teased, giving him a little laugh, but stopping him from replying by giving him another quick kiss. "You faced that fucking snail, you can’t be scared of my mum."

Not even Harry’s anxiety could resist Louis Tomlinson, with that way of being that always distracted him from his own thoughts and made him laugh even when he was on the verge of a breakdown, just like in that moment.

“You’re an idiot,” he leaned forward to kiss him one last time as they both laughed, "Get out of this car, now, before I shit myself."

This time they really got out of the car and Louis immediately intertwined their hands as they walked the block that separated them from the A.M., the rooftop where the charity party organized by Lottie was being held. The sky was clear and it wasn’t even too cold for being December, it seemed like the perfect night to spend in a place like that.

When they entered the building, they were greeted by a concierge wearing an Armani uniform, which probably cost more than his own salary but it perfectly matched the sophisticated and modern decor of the lobby they were in.

“May I have your names?” he asked in a professional tone, glancing down at the guest list.

“Louis- uh, Louis and Harry Tomlinson,” Louis answered, smiling shyly.

Harry tried to keep a straight face but, if he could, he would’ve started squealing from excitement because, even though it was just a fancy way of saying plus one, he felt like the teenager again who used to scribble Harry Tomlinson in his school diary and daydreaming. 

The concierge nodded after a few seconds, briefly pointing out how to reach the rooftop before dismissing them with a cordial smile and moving on to the next guests. Louis, still holding his hand, led him to the elevator and as soon as they stepped in, he pressed the number twenty-eight.

“This number haunts me,” he joked, referring to the fact that it had always been his jersey number.

“I have some shocking news for you,” Harry rolled his eyes as the doors closed, “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Since when?” Louis exclaimed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest, “And why?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “Because you’re an idiot, have I ever told you that?”

“Mh, you could. Just a couple of times,” Louis said with a grimace before leaning toward his ear, as if about to reveal a secret. “And have I ever told you that I think Harry Tomlinson sounds amazing?” He gently brushed his nose against him. “A bit like you’re meant to be mine.”

Mine.

“Lou,” Harry whispered, gripping the collar of his coat, partly to keep him close and partly to gather strength as his legs seemed to turn to jelly. “If you want me to be able to say my name to your mom, you need to stop saying stuff like that right now because I’m already in enough trouble without you making it worse.”

Probably, his crystal-clear laugh and the fact that he leaned in on his toes to kiss him on the forehead only drove the butterflies in his stomach even more crazy, but Harry would never give up any of those little gestures of affection that Louis kept stealing without warning, so he bit his lip and just tried to calm his heart as they exited the elevator and headed to the coat check.

Louis, like a true gentleman, helped him take off his black coat and casually handed it over to the coat check lady, lingering for perhaps a moment too long as he admired Harry, scanning him from head to toe.

“You’re stunning,” he said in an almost disbelieving tone, “How do you always manage to look so beautiful?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush under that intense gaze and nervously ran his hands through his hair, whispering a shy “Stop it.”

“Finally, you two!” a voice exclaimed a few steps from them and when Harry turned, he found two familiar blue eyes staring at him. He would have recognized her even if he hadn’t seen her in photos at Louis’ house because he undoubtedly resembled his mother.

“Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry squeaked, almost snapping to attention, before offering her his hand, introducing himself. “I’m- uh, I’m Harry.”

“You want to end up straight on my blacklist?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Harry’s eyes widened, letting the arm he had extended toward her fall against his body, but before he could panic, Louis intervened.

“Mom, do you want to give him a heart attack?” he teased, laughing.

“So he learns not to talk to me like I'm an old lady” she huffed, laughing too, before turning back to Harry. “Mrs. Tomlinson was my mother-in-law, for God’s sake,” she rolled her eyes with the same amused expression Louis would have if he were in her place. “Call me Jay.”

“Okay, Jay,” Harry nodded, smiling shyly as he nervously tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Now I see where Louis gets his personality from.”

“Considering your history, I guess that’s not really a compliment.”

“No!” Harry hastened to clarify, but realized it would be pointless to continue when mother and son started laughing because, obviously, Jay was just messing with him. He wasn’t sure what logic was behind it, but their unspoken connection helped him relax, at least a little. “Maybe I’m starting to reconsider, you know? Maybe it wasn’t a compliment actually,” he laughed, playing along.

If the spark he saw in Louis’ eyes in that moment meant what he thought it did, then he had made the right move.

“In my defense, he got just his sense of humor from me because for that thick head of his, we have to blame his grandfather.”

"It means there's no hope it'll get better?" Harry asked, throwing a playful glance at Louis’ fake impassive expression.

Jay shook his head with resignation. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“Don’t worry, just pretend I’m not here,” Louis huffed, though unable to hide a smile as he unbuttoned the gray coat he was still wearing, then took it off and handed it over to the coat check lady.

For a moment, Harry’s world seemed to suddenly slow down and stop in front of a Louis so breathtakingly handsome. He had been fooled by the little he had seen until that moment, which was white sneakers paired with classic black trousers, underestimating what Louis was hiding under the coat.

The trousers belonged to an all-black suit, whose jacket had a very particular closure that, with a metal clasp in the shape of a safety pin positioned laterally to his figure, accentuated his waist making it absolutely illegal. More than usual and that wasn’t easy. Under the jacket, he wore what looked like a simple white tank top that exposed part of the tattooed phrase on his chest which, together with the sneakers, lightened the elegance of the suit, giving it a more casual and sporty vibe.

Harry felt that from that moment on, his life would never be the same.

“You up for it?” Louis suddenly asked him, with one of those sweet smiles that always made his heart beat a little faster.

Harry blinked a couple of times, snapping out of his thoughts. “Mh?”

"I should be offended that you didn't listen to a single word of everything I said in the last two minutes" Jay replied, though her tone didn’t sound offended at all. "But the way you looked at Louis tells me everything I really need to know about you, so that's fine with me."

"Oh my God, sorry" Harry exclaimed, his face turning red from ear to ear. "I- I, uh... sorry, I didn’t realize- oh my God, I’m a disaster."

"Sweetheart, breathe" she reassured him, affectionately stroking his cheek. "All I've ever dreamed of for my son is a guy who looks at him as if nothing else in the world matters except him, so you don’t have to apologize for anything except for not coming sooner."

"Mum," Louis muttered, rubbing his face with one hand. "Can you stop embarrassing me, please?"

"Embarrassing you like this?" she retorted, placing a hand on her chest with a dramatically theatrical gesture. "Honey, I haven’t even started."

"I like your mum," Harry chuckled before turning to her and taking her arm, guiding her into the room. "I’m all ears, tell me anything that comes to mind."

Louis joined them a few minutes later, carrying three glasses of white wine, but he just stood there silently or occasionally huffing while they talked. If there was one thing Harry didn’t expect from that night, it was to end up adoring Louis’s mother this much. He expected to meet a pleasant person, but one he’d feel a bit shy around, afraid he might slip up and say something that would make him look bad. But Jay had managed to make him feel at ease almost immediately, probably because she was so much like her son in so many ways that Harry had no way to escape it. Another detail not to be overlooked was the fact that the two of them shared the same favorite topic and could easily have spent the whole night talking about Louis, almost ignoring his presence entirely.

He was so focused on listening to yet another story about how his boyfriend had been a golden-hearted child that when Lottie came to kidnap Louis to take him God knows where, Harry didn’t even panic at the idea of being left alone with his mother. He barely even noticed, to be honest.

He stayed with her until they were interrupted by a phone call from one of Louis’s thousand sisters and when Jay apologized and walked away to find a quieter spot, Harry went in search of his boyfriend. It didn’t take long to find him really, because after a quick glance at the buffet table and the open bar, he made his way without hesitation toward the large panoramic terrace.

As expected, Louis was smoking. He had just brought the cigarette to his lips with his other hand in his trousers pocket, when Harry closed the sliding door behind him, drawing his attention. He was struck by that intense, irresistible look Louis gave him as he turned to glance at him from under his lashes, head slightly tilted, resuming the cigarette between his fingers.

Harry swallowed hard, wondering how that guy - his guy - could possibly be real. He approached slowly, enjoying the sight before him, and shivered when Louis’s hand immediately found its way around his waist.

"I would’ve come to save you in five minutes" Louis said, smiling at him sweetly.

"From who?" Harry absently stroked the collar of his jacket. "Before I saw you again, I would've sworn I preferred your mom to you."

"Oh, really?" Louis asked in an amused tone.

Harry nodded, but his gaze involuntarily fell on Louis’s lips. "Mhmh."

"And why did you change your mind?"

"Because you’re lucky to be so damn beautiful" Harry admitted, licking his lips. "I’m afraid I can’t resist you."

He’d never been so serious, because in that moment he felt a strange need to belong to him, in any way possible. If only Louis had asked, he would have let him do anything or given him anything without hesitation, just to satisfy that instinct that told him to surrender to him. He took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck, smiling to himself as he inhaled the familiar and comforting scent of his skin.

"Everything okay?" Louis asked, blowing the smoke away from him before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray beside him and wrapping his other arm around Harry.

Harry nodded, "I just need a little physical contact."

"If you want, we can leave," Louis suggested, holding him tighter.

"I don’t want to leave, your mom still has to show me more of your childhood photos," Harry chuckled despite his embarrassed protests. "I just want to spend a little time with you before going back inside."

"I could get used to this version of you."

"Better, because I don’t think I’ll be letting you go anytime soon," Harry murmured, pressing a little laugh against his neck. "You’ll have to spend the rest of your life like this."

"With a sexy, overgrown koala?"

Harry nodded, laughing, showing off his dimples as he lifted his face to look at his boyfriend, who didn’t waste any time kissing his smile.

"Poor me," Louis joked. "By the way, you know you’re not my first koala?"

"Your mom showed me the picture.

"Really?" Louis widened his eyes before sighing. "I’m afraid to ask what else she’s told or shown you."

"It’s none of your business."

"I’d say it is."

"No, it’s between me and your mom," Harry said firmly. "Anyway, clear terms and long friendship. The past is the past, but from now on there will be no other koalas besides me."

Louis burst out laughing and squeezed him so tightly that for a moment, Harry couldn’t breathe - not that he was entirely sure it was because of that - before answering, "Only you, I promise."

Harry knew they were joking, but the tone in Louis’s voice made him realise that there was a grain of truth in those words for both of them. It was as if something had changed between them that night, though he couldn’t quite say what. Maybe simply, just when he thought Louis couldn’t possibly grow on him any more, he’d begun to get to know a whole new side of him that made him see certain aspects of his character in a different light. Not that he hadn’t appreciated them before, but talking to Jay and hearing her tell stories about how Louis had been an attentive, sweet and caring child - always so stubborn but incredibly lovable - helped him understand the adult Louis better, the one he felt like he was falling for more and more each day.

It was a destabilizing and scary thought in some ways, because for him it was a completely new feeling, but starting that evening on the terrace he began to accept that this was no longer just a crush. It couldn’t be just that, not with how he felt when he was in his arms, nor because he had never felt that physical need to be with someone before. It was the reluctance to break that embrace that made him open his eyes and, from that moment, he could no longer ignore those little things that made him realize that for the first time in his life he was starting to fall in love.

It was really about those seemingly insignificant details, like when he bought his favorite cookies at the supermarket so that, if Louis ever wanted them when he was at his place, he could eat them, or when he found Louis's clothes in the laundry because he had left them there or because Harry had borrowed them and would never give them back.

One time, Harry had even made the mistake of going to the gym wearing one of Louis’ favorite hoodies without thinking and when everyone had recognized it, he had to lie and say he’d always had one exactly like it, while trying to ignore Louis' amused expression, which seemed to say how bad a liar he was.

He felt a little more in love every time they argued because then they always made up and somehow became even closer or when they fell asleep in front of the TV without worrying about what the other would think if they saw them sleeping with their mouth open or if they snored a little, or even when seemingly random things reminded him of Louis.

He only needed to read an email address for his mind to wander to Louis and his damn at-signs, but it also happened with koalas, tea, the sun, flowers, when he read memes that only Louis would truly appreciate or when even the Christmas decorations around town made him think of Louis.

One afternoon in mid-December, while walking to the subway after classes, he found himself staring at the lights hanging along the street, thinking about when Jay had told him that as a child, Louis believed all the Christmas lights were for him, for his birthday. That’s when, without even thinking, he decided to take a brief detour and enter a store with the intent of buying all the fairy lights he could find.

He knew they wouldn’t be able to celebrate his birthday together and that they wouldn’t even see each other, because Louis would be going back to Doncaster for Christmas Eve and Harry would be with his family, but that wouldn’t stop him from making sure that, for one day, all the lights would actually be for him.

That year, of course, the calendar wasn’t on Harry’s side, since Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday and Louis would leave on Saturday morning to spend an extra day with his family. On Friday evening, moreover, the traditional Christmas drinks at the usual pub with the team had officially been turned into a surprise party for Louis’ birthday, albeit two days early.

Harry wasn’t willing to give up his plans or share that moment with anyone else, but he couldn’t sabotage his friends either, so his only choice was to be the mature one and move everything up to Friday’s lunch. What he didn’t expect was that, after spending almost the entire night making the cake and the whole morning decorating the house, Louis would tell him he couldn’t come over.

“What do you mean no?” Harry asked, trying not to get upset.

“Babe, I told you, I still have to pack my suitcase and wrap the presents for my sisters,” Louis explained on the phone, while the sound of tape could be heard in the background. “Tonight we have to go to the pub with the guys and we’ll be out late, I have to finish now.”

"Is an hour enough?"

“I won’t make it,” he groaned tiredly. “I’m already exhausted and it’s only noon, this day will never end.”

“You bought those presents a month ago,” Harry accused him. “If you hadn’t waited until the last minute to wrap them, you wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

Louis sighed, but ignored Harry’s jab. “Can’t you come here? We’d be faster together.”

In any other situation, Harry would have been the first to suggest that solution, but that day he needed Louis to come to his place and he couldn’t compromise.

“This is the only time we can be together before Christmas and you knew that, because the night with the guys has been planned for days,” Harry pointed out, his voice nervous. "Unlike you, I planned ahead to be free, but clearly it's not important enough for you."

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” he exclaimed. “I’m saying that if you really cared you’d make the time, you wouldn’t tell me to come to yours just to placate me.”

“You know that’s not true,” Louis’ tone also grew more irritated, "Now you're just being stubborn out of pride."

“Of course, now that I said no it’s because I’m too proud and have a shitty attitude,” Harry snapped, barely resisting the urge to hang up on him. “Because there’s no way I could just be right and you be wrong.”

Louis stayed silent for a few seconds, then sighed again before speaking. “Okay, you’re right.”

“Don’t just agree with me to make me shut up,” Harry interrupted him.

“No, I’m serious, you’re right and I messed up,” Louis continued. “I should’ve planned better because I want to spend some time with you before I leave but, most importantly, I don’t want to fight, so… please. I’ll be at yours in an hour.”

Harry flopped down on the couch, feeling all the tension of the last few minutes melt away. “And all the things you have to do?”

“Tonight or - I don’t know - I’ll wake up earlier tomorrow morning.”

“I can sleep at yours if you want, that way I can finish wrapping the gifts while you pack and you won’t have to wake up early” Harry murmured, suddenly feeling guilty.

“You can sleep here whenever you want” Louis always said that, “But you’re not obligated to help, even if you stay.”

“I’m not doing it for you, but for your poor sisters” Harry joked. “At least I can wrap gifts that don’t look like they came from a butcher’s shop.”

Louis started laughing and Harry’s world became bright again.

“Styles, you’re really a terrible person.”

“That’s why you like me,” Harry teased. “I’ll be waiting for you here then.”

“Save a kiss for me, put it aside for when I get there.”

“Only if you do the same.”

It might have seemed like a silly thing for two people who would see each other in just a few minutes, but that had become their way of saying goodbye when regular words didn’t quite capture what they were feeling. Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes for just a moment, then stood up from the sofa to go take a shower. Normally, he wouldn’t have worried about what to wear to greet Louis but since it was his birthday, even though they were at home, he wanted to find something comfortable yet nice.

He put on his usual black jeans, which he wore almost every day, a simple white cotton t-shirt and a light brown wool sweater that, despite being a size larger - enough to make him roll up the cuffs to stop them from covering his hands - was a bit short in the front, exposing the hem of the t-shirt. He didn't tie up all his hair, leaving the base of his curls loose because he loved when Louis played with them, but he didn't have time to look as presentable as he’d like.

He rushed to finish the last-minute preparations, glancing at the clock every so often while adding the final decorations to the cake or cooking the sauce, leaving it in the pan so everything would be ready when it was time to cook the pasta. He had just turned off the stove when Louis texted him that he'd parked, so he opened the gate and rushed to lower the blinds throughout the house, unwilling to give up on making this non-birthday as magical as possible, even though it was still daytime outside.

He quickly walked around the house, turning on the power strips he’d scattered around when he had decorated the ceiling and walls of the apartment with Christmas lights that morning, praying he hadn't overdone it and caused a blackout. He let out a sigh of relief as the last lights flickered on without any issue, but in that moment the doorbell rang and Harry almost tripped over his own feet since he wasn’t ready yet.

“I’m coming” he yelled, running toward the kitchen. “Just a second.”

He burned his fingers twice while trying to light the candles on the cake but, in the end, he was satisfied with the result, even though he couldn’t admire it yet because he still needed to let Louis in.

“I’m here” he called as he slid on his socks across the floor and, when he finally opened the door, Louis froze for a moment, blinking as if he were dazzled.

“What- what happened in here?” Louis asked, setting down his gym bag and looking around as he slowly walked inside. “These Christmas decorations weren’t here until yesterday.”

“They’re not for Christmas,” Harry explained after shutting the door, feeling suddenly shy and insecure. “They’re for you.”

Louis turned toward him, furrowing his brows. “For me?”

Harry nodded, biting his lip but unable to hold back a smile as he saw how the lights reflected in Louis's eyes. “Let’s go over there.”

“Wait, I still have to take off my shoes.”

“I don’t care” Harry huffed, pulling him by the arm.

“At least let me take off my jacket,” Louis giggled, not understanding his impatience, but Harry wasn’t about to wait for him. He moved closer to help him unzip it, undressing him in a few seconds and hanging the jacket by the door.

“I’m confused,” Louis admitted playfully, shuddering when Harry covered his eyes with his hand and kissed him.

Louis responded to the kiss without hesitation, instinctively wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist before adding, “I’m more and more confused, but I’m not complaining.”

“Don’t peek and kiss me,” Harry murmured against his lips, feeling Louis’s smile bloom against his skin.

“Okay, I can do that.”

They continued kissing as Harry backed up, pulling Louis along the hallway without removing his hand from his eyes until they reached the kitchen.

“Happy non-birthday.”

At first, Louis didn’t understand. He just kept chasing Harry’s lips to keep the kiss going, not really processing the meaning of those words, but when he did he blinked, looking around to figure out where Harry had brought him. Only after a few seconds did he notice the cake with the candles lit.

“But what- love, you didn’t have to.” He almost stuttered, visibly embarrassed.

Love.

It wasn’t the first time that term slipped from Louis’s lips, but Harry always tried not to get his hopes up because Louis often used affectionate nicknames with everyone. Yet, there wasn’t a time when his heart didn’t do a somersault, hoping that one day he’d say it and mean it.

“I tried my best” Harry murmured, stepping back to let Louis move freely toward the table, nervously tugging the sleeves of his sweater over his knuckles. “You should blow out the candles before the wax starts dripping onto the cake.”

Louis’s gaze lingered on Harry’s face for a few more seconds before turning toward the table. He leaned in slightly to blow out the candles, but stopped just a second before doing so. He pulled out his phone from his sweatpants pocket and took a picture of the cake, then motioned for Harry to join him and rotated the camera to take a selfie of the two of them, making sure the cake was in the shot too.

“Are you done?” Harry teased, trying not to show just how happy he was with Louis’s excited reaction.

“No,” Louis grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it on the table to prop up the phone, then started recording a video with the cake in the foreground and them in the background. “I can’t blow out the candles unless you sing the song.”

“Lou,” Harry muttered, covering his face. “I’m not singing if you’re recording.”

“You can’t tell me no.”

“I hate you,” Harry sighed, before giving in and starting to sing. “Make sure you make a wish” he added as Louis finally blew out the candles, extinguishing almost all of them on the first try before turning back to kiss him.

“Wish already granted.”

“That doesn’t count like that” Harry giggled, held tight in Louis’s arms.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“When I want something, I like to go get it,” Louis kissed him again, “And right now, I want only you.”

Harry let his fingers slip through Louis’s hair, deepening the kiss to keep his heart from racing him into saying something he wasn’t ready for, something he knew was still too soon. He couldn’t rush it, even though Louis made everything so damn difficult.

“Thank you,” Louis took his face in his hands, kissing his forehead with infinite tenderness. “I didn’t expect any of this.”

“Your mom told me about the Christmas lights.”

“I had a feeling,” Louis chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Harry’s cheek. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re just for you. I have no idea what Christmas is.”

“And the cake is shaped like a volleyball,” Louis pointed out, smiling.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, unable to hide his excitement because when he bought the silicone mold on Amazon, he was worried it wouldn’t turn out right, but he had managed to cover it perfectly with white chocolate frosting and even drew the lines of the ball with dark chocolate. He was pretty proud of the result.

“It’s perfect,” Louis kissed him again. “The lights are perfect,” another kiss, “You’re perfect.”

Harry felt like he was about to melt in Louis’s arms, as the weight of every word and every gesture settled around the walls of his heart, enveloping it with a feeling so strong it couldn’t remain confined to the center of his chest. It was as if the warmth of Louis’s kisses had the ability to reach every single cell in his body, making him crave more, like a drug.

He was one step away from abandoning lunch, the cake and everything else to actually get that extra bit, when a spark of clarity stopped him just a second before it was too late.

“Did you stop the video?”

“Mh?”

“The video,” Harry repeated, turning toward the phone and realizing that neither of them had remembered to stop the recording after blowing out the candles.

“Shit,” Louis exclaimed, bursting into laughter with him as he pressed the red button on the phone screen. “It was about to turn into porn.”

“Not in front of my cake,” Harry warned, slapping his hand away when he tried to reach for it. “Hands off.”

Louis showed off the cutest pout Harry had ever seen, becoming almost irresistible. Almost.

“First I have to give you your gift,” he pressed his hands against Louis's chest to push him away from the cake. “And after lunch, you can eat the cake.”

“And when can I eat you?” Louis winked, making Harry laugh again.

It took a bit longer than expected to finish the whole schedule Harry had planned because it wasn’t easy to focus on basic tasks like cooking pasta when Louis was being... Louis. Fortunately, Harry was able to distract him for a few minutes with the gift, a sporty smartwatch that Louis seemed to genuinely appreciate and which kept him busy while Harry finished preparing lunch.

When Harry had decided to fill the house with fairy lights he knew it would create a nice atmosphere, but he never imagined how romantic it would be to eat together under their own personal starry sky. When they snuggled up on the sofa with full stomachs, they didn’t even turn on the TV. They didn’t need anything to feel good, nothing except for the two of them.

“I have a gift for you too,” Louis suddenly said.

Harry lifted his head from Louis’s chest to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Yes,” Louis replied with an adorable little laugh. “Your Christmas gift. If you let me get up, I’ll grab it.”

“We’re celebrating your birthday today, Christmas has nothing to do with it.”

“Okay, but I still want to give it to you. If you prefer, you can wait until the twenty-fifth to open it.”

“Come on” Harry rolled his eyes, shifting to let him get up. “It’s unfair to take advantage of my curiosity like this.”

Louis stood up from the sofa laughing and disappeared through the door, probably heading toward the gym bag he had left at the entrance. He came back a few moments later, holding a box wrapped in pastel green paper with white, pink, and blue polka dots. From its size, it was impossible to tell what it could be, it wasn’t particularly large but also not small.

Harry sat up, crossed his legs, and reached out for the gift while Louis sat next to him, watching him with an amused look.

“Good thing you didn’t want it,” Louis teased, earning a scowl from Harry.

“Give me a hint.”

“Can’t you just open it?”

“No, I want to try and guess.”

“Mh,” Louis thought for a few seconds, “It’s a very simple thing.”

“Simple to guess?”

“I don’t think so, actually,” he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix his fringe like he always did when he was nervous for some reason. “It’s just... uh, it’s a very simple idea. Don’t expect anything fancy.”

Harry wanted to tell him that he didn’t care, because he’d be happy even if there was nothing inside, but he just smiled and ripped off the wrapping paper. He paused for a moment, staring at the white box in his hands, still not understanding what it was because he didn’t recognize the rainbow brand printed on it.

“Tiy?” he read confused, searching for a clue in Louis’s face but only finding a smile in response.

He opened the box and when he saw it was a rainbow of hair elastics in every shade, his heart noticeably skipped a beat. He looked up at Louis, but before he could say anything, Louis spoke first.

“They’re hair ties, uh... they’re the ones professional athletes use because- well, because they don’t loosen up or get damaged,” he explained almost shyly. “And you always try to match your hair tie to your shirt or your water bottle, so now you won’t have trouble finding the right col-”

Harry, setting the box down on the sofa, interrupted him by cupping his face in his hands and kissing him, because no thank you would ever be enough for what he was feeling at that moment about what seemed like just hair ties.

There was so much more behind it. There was Louis’s attention to even those details no one else would ever care about. There was the effort, because he would have gotten the same effect even if he bought two random hair ties from a street stall, but instead he had searched for the ones that would best suit Harry’s needs. There was the thought behind a one-of-a-kind gift made specifically for him and for no one else.

There was Louis behind that gift and Harry couldn’t have wanted anything more precious in the world.

While too-important words continued to whirl uncontrollably in his head, Harry would have been willing to give up all the oxygen in his body to not stop kissing him because he felt he needed those lips more than air. He only stopped when an insistent beep caught his attention.

“I think my smartwatch is trying to save my life,” Louis said, looking at his wrist before showing him the alarm symbol on the display. “How do I explain to it that with you I’m doomed?”

Harry reached out a finger to open the notification and the sound turned into a more delicate and rhythmic beep. “Are these your heartbeats?” he asked, noticing how fast they were compared to normal.

“Caught by a watch” Louis joked, blushing.

“Maybe it’s not working properly, we can change it.”

Louis shook his head, smiling. “It’s you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t you hear it?” he lifted his wrist closer to Harry’s ear, even though the beat had slightly regularized compared to before. “When it beats, it says HarryHarryHarryHarryHarry.”

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes and pulling his arm away. “Stop it.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry kissed him and a few moments later the beep increased again, giving voice to Louis’s frantic heart.

Chapter Text

Louis: Are you asleep?
Louis: Your fan club only just let me go

Harry: ??

Louis: Mum and Lottie
Louis: … and the rest of the family
Louis: You were the topic of the night

Harry: Me???

Louis: The little stalkers wanted to see your Instagram
Louis: Picture by picture
Louis: But they didn’t believe they were no filter so they wanted to see the ones on my phone too
Louis: Mainly they couldn’t believe you could look that good without filters
Louis: Welcome to my world

Harry: Louis...
Harry: 🙈🙈🙈

Louis: What? It’s the truth

Harry: I’m ignoring you

Louis: Do you want to see what Doris gave me before bed?

Harry: Sure

Louis: She said she’ll make another one tomorrow so I can bring one for you too

Louis:  

Harry: Is that me? 😭

Louis: My sister sees you like some kind of princess
Louis: I’ve always said she’s pretty sharp

Harry: That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me
Harry: I could seriously cry
Harry: Tell her she’s my favourite Tomlinson

Louis: I’m dropping a bit too far down the rankings for my liking

Harry: I have to follow my heart

Louis: 💔

Harry: 😘❤️‍🩹
Harry: How did the celebrations go?

Louis: Good… I missed family birthdays

Harry: I’m glad ❤️

Louis: My friends are picking me up soon… we're going for a drink in town

Harry: Soon? It’s already late

Louis: Ahah

Harry: 🤨
Harry: You’re too old to be out so late
Harry: You need to think about resting

Louis: 🖕🏻

Harry: No hope of climbing the rankings again

Louis: I have my tricks to earn back points… 😏

Harry: That’s called playing dirty

Louis: Desperate times…

Harry: You’re really awful
Harry: Hopeless

Louis: It’s my birthday… you should be nice

Harry: I didn’t remember that rule

Louis: See? My boyfriend’s mean to me
Louis: That’s why I have to comfort myself with sweets

Harry: All excuses
Harry: Did you eat a slice of cake for me too?

Louis: Mum wants you to have a slice when I’m back in London ahah
Louis: Won’t it go bad?
Louis: Do you think it’ll last another two days?

Harry: I hope so, because now that you’ve mentioned it I want some

Louis: I’m the one who can’t resist that long

Harry: Aw! Are you saying you miss me?

Louis: As if you didn’t know

Harry: Me? I don’t know anything at all
Harry: Tell me more

Louis: …
Louis: Today was such a beautiful day… you were the only thing missing to make it perfect

Harry: I would’ve loved to see you too
Harry: Even just for five minutes would’ve been enough

Louis: Not for me
Louis: Especially when I think I won’t see you for another two days

Harry: I think something weird is going on
Harry: Are you sure you left just yesterday morning?
Harry: There must’ve been some space-time alteration making it feel like it’s been a month and a half

Louis: Right? I was thinking the same thing

Harry: By the time you get back to London I’ll have grey hair

Louis: Mmm sexy

Harry: Ahah you idiot

Louis: The guys are here… I'm going now

Harry: Have fun ❤️
Harry: But not too much

Louis: Ahah
Louis: Save a kiss for me?

Harry: It’s your birthday… you can have as many as you want

Louis: I screenshot it… now you can’t take it back.

Harry: Damn… I’ll have to sacrifice myself

Louis: Goodnight babe
Louis: I’ll text you later

Harry: Goodnight @

๑

If there was one thing Harry had learned from those short – thankfully – Christmas holidays, it was that he had serious difficulty when it came to being away from Louis. They hadn’t seen each other for four days and he already felt like he couldn’t breathe, because Harry had been used to seeing him every day since the time he hated him, so he had dealt terribly with not being able to hear his voice in person or having to settle for hugging a stupid hoodie just to smell his scent.

He had tried to keep that uncomfortable question that occasionally popped into his head as far away as possible, wondering how he would react when Louis would leave for Italy again, but surprisingly he had managed to keep panic at bay, perhaps because that problem still seemed too far away to feel real.

When Louis returned to London, he actually brought him a drawing from his little sister and Harry was about to melt because he loved kids and would have been moved by it, if at that moment all the energy in his heart wasn’t focused on the emotion of having Louis back with him.

That day, they made love driven by a different feeling, perhaps because they had missed each other or perhaps because they had never taken the time to experience each other in that way, not just for the sake of pursuing pleasure but for the desire to truly feel each other, with devotion and intimacy. Every kiss, every caress, every delicate touch only brought new emotions to life, feeding the small fire inside Harry’s heart that threatened to explode at any moment.

Harry had never been one for slow romantic sex, probably because he had never been in love before and couldn’t imagine how it could be different when every gesture was based on such intense feelings. This, in fact, was just another demonstration of how everything was different with Louis.

Thanks to him, he discovered that sex could have many different shades beyond the purely physical one he had always known. It could be a way to take care of each other, to get to know one another, to feel truly free or to communicate when certain words were still too frightening. It could also be a team game and that silent understanding, just like in sport, always managed to make everything more exciting.

One of the things he discovered was how much they both loved to provoke each other, even crossing some boundaries. It was Harry, in particular, who would tease him until he drove him crazy or deliberately act out of line, because he knew that in the end Louis would fuck him so hard he’d forget his own name.

The first time they really pushed things a bit further, for example, happened while Louis was on the phone with Coach Haynes for what felt like hours. Harry decided he was tired of being ignored, so he knelt between Louis’s legs, making his intentions clear immediately. The way Louis’s eyebrows shot up, almost as if to warn him with a look, made him briefly fear a possible - and understandable - rejection. But then Louis almost imperceptibly widened his legs, giving him the sign he had been waiting for.

That alone had Harry spiraling, because he knew Louis would pretend not to want it, acting annoyed for being interrupted while working only to find a way to put him back in line later. The mere thought sent a jolt between his legs just as he unbuttoned Louis’ jeans and pulled down the waistband of his underwear to take out his still-soft length, all while trying not to miss a single reaction on his boyfriend’s face.

Louis’ tone remained unaffected despite the way he was being touched, he didn’t even falter when Harry teasingly ran his tongue over the tip. He simply closed his eyes for a moment as his half-hard cock twitched, demanding more. Harry obliged, taking him into his mouth and sucking greedily, relishing the feeling of him growing harder between his lips while forcing himself to stay silent. It was only when Louis slid his fingers into his hair and gripped tight that Harry lost control, a quiet moan escaping his lips, one that Louis expertly masked with a few fake coughs before shooting him a warning look and tightening his hold on his head.

Harry could’ve come right then and there, and the realization of being so fucking turned on without even touching himself only fueled the fire burning low in his stomach. It was a vicious cycle, the more he realized what Louis could do to him, the more he fell victim to it. And the risk of getting caught only made everything feel even more intense.

He would never admit it to a living soul, especially not to his boyfriend, but even hearing Louis talk about work gave him that extra hit of oxytocin that threatened to drive him completely insane. It had never been a secret that he had a thing for setters’ minds in general, but Louis’ in particular was his favorite addiction. He could spend a lifetime listening to him, utterly captivated, hanging onto every word. Even now, Louis’ voice was the only thing keeping him grounded and, at the same time, it was fuel to the fire of his arousal.

The moment Louis’ grip on his hair changed and Harry saw him bite his lip, he knew he was about to come so he pulled away, unable to stop a quiet amused laugh when he saw Louis furrow his brows with a lost look on his face.

"If you want to come, hang up the phone" he whispered in the softest voice, making sure to lip-sync it clearly, knowing he wouldn't be able to fulfill his request since they were still only halfway through their work schedule for the week. But that was exactly the point, to keep him on edge for as long as possible, pushing him to the limit before leaving him gasping for air.

He pressed his cheek against his erection, relishing the warm wet sensation against his skin, while allowing him the time to regain his composure without letting him forget, even for a moment, what was soon to await him again. Only when he felt it was the right moment did he begin to move again, initially tracing his lips along his entire length with a touch so delicate it was almost imperceptible, then starting to leave wet kisses at the base, slowly moving upwards until taking it back into his mouth.

He paused twice more before Louis ended the call, coming up with an excuse, and his completely shattered expression convinced him to let him come. The orgasm was far more intense than he could have ever expected and when Louis remained with his head resting on the back of the sofa, breathing heavily to recover, Harry took the opportunity to lift himself off the floor and straddle his legs.

Louis’s arms immediately wrapped around his waist, as if it were an involuntary reflex, while Harry cupped his face in his hands, kissing every inch of it.

"Satisfied?" Louis asked, breathless.

Harry nodded with a smile that showed both of his dimples. "Very."

"Bad," Louis murmured with a mischievous grimace, grabbing his hips to halt the movements Harry was making to find relief. "Too easy."

Louis caught him off guard, flipping their positions so that Harry's back was resting on the sofa cushions, trapping him between his arms as he hovered over him with his body.

"You distracted me while I was working," Louis gently bit his jaw. "What if Haynes had heard you?"

"But he didn't," Harry clarified, challenging him, although in reality that tone of voice made him feel like he was on the verge of melting.

Louis brought his lips to his ear and whispered, "Does it turn you on knowing he could have found out?"

Harry nodded, turning to desperately seek a kiss he didn't get.

"Little exhibitionist," Louis chuckled, before cupping his cheeks in one hand and kissing him passionately. "Do you want everyone to know how much you enjoy giving me blowjobs?"

"And that you're mine."

The way Louis kissed him made him forget the desperate state of his neglected cock. He wrapped his legs around his waist to make sure he didn't move even an inch – he couldn't bear it – and allowed every remaining shred of clarity in his body to focus entirely on their entwined tongues and how his heart pounded so fiercely it almost hurt.

"Here's what we'll do. I'll have a shower, we'll go to training and tonight I'll give you what you deserve for your cheekiness," Louis said, looking him in the eye. "Alright?" 

"And what if I came in the shower with you?" 

"You're free to do so," he replied nonchalantly, "But then tonight you won't get anything."

Harry hated how exciting this side of him was, because it was clear that Louis knew he had complete control over him without even trying. In fact, once again, Harry could do nothing but give in. A quickie in the shower with the rush of needing to go to the gym could never compare to what Louis could give him with all the time in the world.

Before letting him go, anyway, Harry demanded the one thing he wasn’t willing to let go of, the one thing Louis seemed unable to say no to. In the end, they kissed for so long that Louis didn’t get around to taking a shower and they left the house almost late. But it was stronger than them, when they kissed, they lost all sense of the world around them. There was nothing else except their lips and their racing hearts.

Harry’s decision, however, turned out to be the right one because that night Louis made him feel like he was touching the sky. He paid him back in kind, taking him to the bedroom window so that, even though no one could see them because it was night and they had all the lights off, Harry still felt exposed in the most thrilling way possible.

Louis slowly undressed him, kissing his neck and shoulders, then moving down to his ass and tasting it for the first time, sinking into him with his tongue as if he had never wanted anything else in his life. Harry, with his head resting against the glass of the window, could only stay on his feet thanks to the support of the windowsill, and when Louis stood up, satisfied with how he had left him, Harry would never have imagined that the best was yet to come.

He penetrated him slowly but as soon as he felt Harry relax he did not hold back any longer, putting aside delicacy and fucking him roughly and obscenely, knowing that this was exactly what Harry was looking for with his attitude that afternoon. 

It was liberating to be able to completely surrender to the sensations, to have such trust in his partner that he could switch off his mind and simply take whatever Louis wanted to give him, allowing him full control. In those moments, his only priority was to be shaped by Louis's hands, to be devoured by kisses and bites and to surrender beneath the thrusts of his hips while Louis took care of Harry in a way only he knew how.

Together with Louis, Harry felt a freedom he never thought possible, only ever imagined in his mind. He could hardly believe that he could be the centre of someone like Louis’s attention, and not just on a physical level. So, he wasn’t embarrassed when he found every excuse to push him, to see if Louis truly desired him that much, unable to say no, or if it was all just a fantasy in Harry’s head.

There was only one situation in which Louis didn’t just resist him, but his no remained firm, even when Harry put all his effort into tempting him. That’s why breaking his ridiculous rule of no sex before a match became one of Harry’s main goals in life. It was purely a matter of principle, because the only thing strictly forbidden was actual sex or any physically exhausting activities.

Actually, Harry also loved those lazy, romantic cuddle sessions where, just to feel each other's hands on their bodies, they acted like shy thirteen-year-olds. That alone was enough for him, he would have been happy with much less because the only thing he really needed was his boyfriend by his side. But he couldn’t help enjoying pushing Louis’s limits especially because, no matter how things went, he always knew he’d land on his feet.

Their way of playing and teasing each other, despite the constant failures, became one of Harry’s greatest satisfactions over time. Not only because it drove him crazy to see how hard Louis found it to resist him, but also because their complicity made it easy for him to know every time how far he could go in teasing him, knowing that on the days he overdid it, if Louis didn’t collapse under his persistence he would still have given Harry what he deserved once the match was over. It was a game where neither of them ever lost.

One Sunday in early February, Harry realized Louis' intentions when, after having brunch together at a pub they'd been meaning to try for a while, they went back to his place to watch a movie before leaving for the away game that week and Louis began to ignore him. He simply held him close, embracing him sweetly as always, but he didn’t even react to the most innocent kiss on his neck, clearly challenging Harry and his need for attention.

Harry started slowly slipping a hand under Louis' hoodie pretending to just hug him. After a few minutes, he began absentmindedly caressing and teasing his nipple through the fabric of his shirt. Then, he casually moved his leg between Louis' to casually nudge his groin. Louis continued to pretend he was indifferent, yet he never once gave any indication of wanting to stop and, most telling of all, his body couldn't lie or conceal the growing interest.

"Don't you like this movie?" Louis asked suddenly.

"Yes, why?"

"You seem distracted."

"Mh," Harry kissed his neck, moving his leg in just the right way, "I like you more."

Louis took a deep breath before lifting his face with a finger under his chin and kissing him.

"Is that a yes?" Harry smiled.

"No," Louis kissed him again, laughing softly, "It's just a reminder that we need to leave in an hour."

"An hour is enough for me."

Louis laughed and turned his head toward the TV screen. "Watch the movie."

"I'll pay the fine," he joked, but Louis as always was resolute and Harry wasn't in the mood to settle for any foreplay that day, at least not without some fun.

He pretended to have given up, continuing to tease him distractedly but never attempting to take things to another level. When they were ready to leave, he couldn't help but laugh a little because they kissed in front of the door as if they weren't going to see each other again in the next ten minutes, once they got to the gym's courtyard to meet the others. But it was different. That was the goodbye between Harry and Louis, a couple, and for the rest of the day they would just be teammates and friends.

Louis had actually managed to find a way to justify their behaviour so that it wouldn't attract too much attention because, despite always being careful, their closeness hadn’t gone unnoticed. A couple of weeks earlier, some of the guys had taken advantage of an evening when they were the last ones left in the locker room with Louis to ask him what was going on between him and Harry. When Louis called him later to tell him about it, Harry nearly panicked because if the same thing had happened to him, he probably wouldn’t have known how to handle it without causing a disaster. Louis, however, had come up with the perfect response straight away. He told the guys he had a massive crush on Harry and that, in order to preserve their friendship, he had decided to be honest and confess it. They’d talked about it and, even though Louis made it clear from the start that he knew there was no hope, Harry had of course turned him down. That’s when their innocent little game began, with Harry continuing to tease him and Louis falling for it, but all in good fun, as friends.

It was ridiculous to think that anyone could have believed it, but it had happened, and it allowed Harry to feel a bit more relaxed about how to behave with Louis when they were with the team. For example, he no longer hesitated to snuggle up to Louis’ side during minibus rides to away games, especially since Harry always ended up falling asleep after a few minutes and Louis was always cold, so hugging each other had become more of a necessity than a sappy indulgence.

That afternoon, Harry pretended to be particularly interested in his Instagram and waited for Louis to adjust his jacket, covering himself from his shoulders to mid-thigh, before putting his phone away and raising Louis' arm to be embraced. He returned the hug under the makeshift blanket. He slipped his hand between Louis' hoodie and t-shirt to warm it up a bit before moving it under all the layers of clothing so he could feel his skin. It was something he just couldn’t resist.

"Tommo, have you seen the latest season of..." Liam turned toward them from the seat in front and froze as soon as he saw them. "Harry," he sighed, "You can't keep torturing him like this."

"Can’t I hug him anymore?" Harry asked, laughing.

"We need Louis to be clear-headed for the game. You mess with his head if you throw yourself at him like that."

"How about minding your own business?" Louis retorted, pulling him even closer to his chest to make his point clearer.

Liam rolled his eyes before responding. "God, if someone had told me a few months ago that we’d end up like this, I would’ve thought they were crazy."

They both chuckled and Louis kissed him on the forehead, ignoring the disgusted grimace from their teammate.

"What show were you talking about?" Harry asked, changing the subject while, under the guise of getting more comfortable, he moved his arm to hook his thumb into Louis’ waistband. For a moment, he felt his breath catch, but it steadied after a few seconds as Harry remained still, doing nothing more.

"I had recommended he watch Peaky Blinders since he had never seen it" Liam explained, unaware that not only did Harry know everything, but that he had also taken the opportunity to rewatch the entire series with him. "He told me he just had the last season left to watch."

"I've only seen the first three episodes of the season" Louis replied, before starting to discuss them with Liam.

Harry listened distractedly and perhaps it was Louis' lack of attention due to the conversation that pushed him to finally do what he'd been fantasising about since before they left the house. With movements so slow they seemed almost imperceptible, he slid his hand a few inches lower, stopping at the crotch of Louis' sweatpants and gently squeezing to grab his attention more.

Louis cleared his throat, but otherwise remained motionless. Harry waited a few seconds before lightly moving his fingers along the limp outline of his groin, waiting for a sign that would indicate whether to stop or continue. When he tightened his grip again, barely massaging it, Louis casually spread his legs while continuing to listen to Liam, silently giving him the green light.

Harry had been fantasising about giving him a handjob in exactly that way for longer than he cared to admit, but the fact that Liam was talking to them and unaware of everything made the situation all the more dangerous and thrilling. He knew he couldn’t push it too far because, as much as he enjoyed the thrill of adrenaline, he wasn’t insane and didn’t actually want to risk getting caught.

He felt Louis' erection begin to form slowly, likely aroused and inhibited at the same time by the circumstances, and when Harry faked a third yawn, Liam finally sat back down, turning to face forward. Louis showed signs of weakness for only a moment, letting his head fall back against the seat with a sigh, but wasted no time in regaining control of the situation, locking his fingers at the base of Harry's hair, slipping them as far as he could under his bun and tugging.

"Maybe Liam’s right when he says you want to torture me," Louis whispered.

Harry lifted his head to look at him. "If you want I…"

He didn’t finish the sentence because Louis pushed his head back onto his shoulder. Harry bit his lip, loving the way he was being handled like that and closed his eyes, pretending to fall asleep while continuing to massage the bulge in his boyfriend’s sweatpants under the jacket. When Louis tilted his face to speak in his ear, Harry felt his breath on his skin before hearing his voice.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if we got caught?"

Harry didn’t respond, but tightened his grip around the outline of his now fully hard cock.

"Do you really want everyone to see how desperate you are for my cock?" he asked in such a low voice that Harry almost struggled to hear him, but the effect was still the same, as he had to cross his legs to maintain some semblance of decency, since the jacket didn’t cover him as well.

"You can’t even imagine what this is going to cost you," Louis continued before his breath hitched and he pulled away from Harry’s ear.

The images that flooded Harry's mind didn’t help him control his arousal, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything to relieve himself, so he simply tightened his legs slightly and took deep breaths, still moving his fingers over Louis' erection while keeping his eyes closed, pretending to sleep and trusting that Louis would stay alert enough to warn him if it was time to stop.

He truly got scared only when, at one point, Louis wrapped his hand around his, stopping his movements from underneath the jacket. Harry struggled to resist the urge to open his eyes and see what was happening, but relaxed when a few seconds later he heard footsteps passing down the narrow aisle of the bus and moving past their seat. Shortly after, Louis loosened his grip on his hand but didn’t let go, instead guiding it and even steering some of the movements.

Harry loved feeling Louis twitch beneath the palm of his hand, especially knowing he had brought him to that point with so little effort. When he sensed Louis was about to come, from the way Louis pulled at his hair, he dared a slightly bolder movement than he had up until that moment, briefly pausing to shift Louis' waistband as far down as he could beneath his erection, realising only then that if he got stained, it would be a real mess.

Louis' fingers found his hand, guiding it where it was needed most, and the way he held his breath when Harry resumed stroking him made it clear how much he appreciated the absence of one of the layers of clothing. He came a few but seemingly endless minutes later, gripping Harry's hair as tightly as he could, as if he were his only lifeline.

Harry waited for his breathing to steady and when Louis let go of his hand, he gently tugged the hem of his shirt, using it to wipe at least the outside of his boxers and his fingers, before adjusting his sweatpants back into place.

"Tell me you didn’t actually do that," Louis muttered, so outraged that Harry had stained his shirt that he momentarily forgot Harry was supposed to be asleep.

"Shut up. Let me sleep" Harry scolded, unable to hold back a laugh, covering Louis' mouth with the very hand he'd just used to wank him.

If only he could, he would’ve licked his fingers just to provoke him further, but of course he didn’t and instead he simply opened his eyes and lifted his face to finally enjoy the effects of what he had just done. He knew those flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes all too well, loving every single nuance of his post-orgasmic face. He would have given anything to kiss him at that moment and probably Louis could read it in his gaze, because he moved the hand covering his mouth and tilted his face to speak in his ear.

"Later."

Harry let out an audible sigh, settling back in the hope of at least getting the last half hour of the trip to truly sleep.

"Comfortable?" Louis asked when Harry finally seemed to find the perfect position to hold him.

"Good enough."

"Good," Louis replied casually, pulling out his phone and starting to type a message. A few seconds later, he showed Harry the screen.

Get comfortable now that you can, because I guarantee that after tonight, you'll have trouble sitting for the next few days. Your ass has been warned...

Harry burst out laughing because his boyfriend was a real idiot, but at the same time he realised there was no way he’d ever manage to fall asleep now, not with that promise stamped in his mind.

Louis kept his word, as he always did, giving him an almost  transcendental experience. He’d surprised him from the very start by asking to borrow one of his bandanas - the blue one, his favourite - to blindfold him because, by his personal sense of poetic justice, since Harry had wanted to provoke him when anyone could see them, that night he would be the one unable to see what would happen to him.

There were few things Harry had never done when it came to sex and being blindfolded was one of them, because he had never trusted anyone enough to allow himself that way, to be at ease with completely surrendering control in an unspoken take me, do whatever you want with me, I’m yours in any way you desire.

Louis clearly knew what he was doing, because every touch seemed to spark something new in Harry, sensations he never even imagined he could experience. Being blindfolded amplified all his other senses so much that even the slightest caress felt completely different from anything he was used to.

The first time he came, that night, his erection hadn't even been touched. Louis had used all his skill to provide him with every kind of stimulation until he finally gave in. After kissing and caressing him for what felt like an eternity, waiting for him to be ready again, when Louis finally entered him, he felt it so much that he momentarily believed he had died and gone to heaven.

The next day, as promised, Harry had real trouble sitting down and would have gladly slapped the smug smile off his boyfriend’s face every time he noticed even the slightest wince of discomfort. But, in reality, he wouldn’t have traded that feeling for anything in the world, because he had never felt so thoroughly fucked and fulfilled. Which was a good thing in every sense, as the following week, Harry came down with a virus that kept him in bed with a high fever for two days, making it impossible for him to finish preparing for the exam he was supposed to take that Friday. Once recovered, he had no choice but to lock himself in his room and studying almost non-stop, barely getting any sleep.

He literally went from heaven to hell because for the entire week, aside from the times Louis had insisted on staying with him to take care of him when he was sick, they’d only seen each other at the gym for practice. Although technically that wasn’t true, Harry felt like he hadn’t seen Louis in days. He missed spending time with him or being cuddled by him, he even missed calling him at night because, with all the studying, he couldn’t afford to stay on the phone as long as he’d have liked. He had to settle for a quick goodbye before Louis went to bed.

The night before the exam, as usual when a day that caused him anxiety was approaching, his mind sank to its lowest point, triggering a breakdown without any real reason.

He was tired, he still hadn’t fully recovered from the fever, hadn’t slept properly for days, he was afraid he’d fail the exam because he hadn’t studied enough, he missed Louis and for the first time since they’d been together, he felt that his fear of not being able to handle their relationship wasn’t just a fear but it was becoming a reality. Even during this stressful period, Harry knew that every day he would still see Louis at the gym, but what would happen next year? When Louis would be in Italy and all they would have to stay connected would be phone calls, how would he handle that? How would they manage two completely different and full lives, each in their own way, without losing each other along the way? How long would it take before they stopped being each other’s priority? How much time would pass before, one excuse after another, their phone calls would be sidelined so many times that they couldn’t even remember why it was worth it anymore?

They’d never talked about it.

Harry had never been strong enough to ask him what would become of them once his gap year was over, just as he’d never had the courage to tell him that he’d known he loved him for a while. Louis kept telling him how brave he thought Harry was, with those damn snails that were scribbled even on his university notes, but at that moment Harry felt like the biggest coward.

When, half a pack of tissues later, Harry’s phone rang and Louis’s name appeared on the screen, he initially ignored it. He futilely hoped Louis wouldn’t call again, but he did. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and answered.

"Hey, babe," Louis greeted him, his voice soft and sleepy. "Am I disturbing you?"

"You ask as if you wouldn’t have kept calling until I picked up," Harry bit his tongue, taking another breath, and after a few seconds of silence he added almost in a whisper, "Sorry, I’m not upset with you."

Fortunately, Louis didn’t try to get an explanation, he just asked "Are you still studying?"

"Sort of."

"You’re tired, you should go to bed."

"Great idea, I hadn’t thought of that."

Again, that moment of silence hit him like a slap in the face and before Louis could speak, Harry continued. "Sorry," he rushed to say, feeling his eyes fill with tears as if he hadn’t already been crying for almost an hour. "It’s just…" despite his efforts, his voice cracked, "It’s just a bad night."

"Babe," Louis sighed, as if it truly pained him to hear Harry like that, "Has something happened?"

"No," Harry replied, "I’m just tired, I guess… and- I don’t know, so many pointless thoughts in my head."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, but then remembered Louis couldn’t see him so he sniffed, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and murmured a weak "No."

"Okay," Louis said, softening his tone even more, "But now, close everything and go to bed. You’re exhausted, you wouldn’t be able to study anyway and you’d only make things worse. If you still need to go over anything, you can wake up a bit earlier tomorrow and do it with a clear mind."

He knew Louis was right, so for once, he set aside his pride that told him he didn’t need advice on how to manage his life. "Okay."

"Shall we stay on the phone until we fall asleep?" Louis suggested.

"I still need to change and brush my teeth."

"I’ll wait."

Harry put the phone on speaker, even though he left it in his room while he was in the bathroom, because he always found comfort in hearing the sounds of Louis’s presence, the sound of bare feet on the floor, a yawn or simply him tossing around in the sheets. He picked up the phone again as he slid under the duvet himself.

"Lou?"

"Mh?"

"Thanks."

"For existing? I know," Louis joked, despite his voice still being half-asleep. "Modestly speaking."

As always, even in moments when everything seemed bleak, Louis became his personal sun and managed to pull a laugh from him that allowed him to start breathing again.

"Even for that," Harry admitted, unable to hide a pout at the thought of how much a hug from Louis would definitely make him feel better.

"Don’t make that face, I can see you even if I can’t actually see you," Louis teased him affectionately.

"Stop being creepy with this mind-reading thing."

Louis started laughing and for some reason this made Harry’s eyes tear up again.

"Am I pathetic if I say I miss you even though we saw each other three hours ago at the gym?" Harry sighed, hugging the pillow where he had placed the phone, hoping to fool himself into thinking Louis was really there.

"A little, but we’re a perfect couple precisely because we’re both pathetic together."

Another little laugh escaped him as he wiped away a tear he hadn’t been able to hold back. It was absurd that, in that moment, despite being in the middle of an emotional breakdown due to stress and anxiety, the love he felt for Louis still made him believe that tomorrow would be a better day, because it couldn’t be any other way when someone like him was in his life.

"Tell me what you did today," Harry said, yawning. Then, he closed his eyes and let Louis's voice lull him to sleep, managing to calm him despite all the thoughts that still kept bothering him.

The next morning, he woke up with the phone still on the pillow and Louis’s steady breathing through the speaker.

"Lou" he whispered, trying to see if he could hear him, but being careful not to wake him up. He was tempted to use this moment to whisper I love you, just to see how it would feel to say it for real. But he didn’t because, whenever it happened in movies, the other person always ended up hearing everything and he really didn’t want to risk it. He would tell him, he just needed to find the courage and the right moment because it would be the first 'I love you' of his life and he wanted it to be special. So, he was terrified, but a part of him couldn’t wait to say it.

He ended the call and sent him a message to wish him good morning and tell him how cute he was when he snored. Then, he got up and went to review the last chapters of the book before getting ready to go to university. When his turn finally came, hours later, he passed the exam without any trouble. He felt a bit silly when he thought about how unprepared he had felt the night before because, in reality, as Louis had repeated to him over the last two days, his emotional state had more to do with exhaustion than anything else. He hoped it was the same for the other thoughts that had contributed to his breakdown.

He went straight to the gym because, anticipating he’d finish late, he had already packed everything he needed in the car trunk. Training helped him release the remaining tension from the past days and once he got home he just prepared his bag for the game the next day before heading out again, while Louis was waiting for him at his apartment with two pizzas kept warm in the oven. It was all he needed to recharge and feel good again.

They took a bit longer than usual to have dinner because they couldn’t stop talking or sharing things with each other, as if they hadn’t seen each other for months. Then, they went straight to bed. They exchanged slow, lazy kisses before Harry fell asleep in his arms. The next morning when he woke up, finally calm and well-rested, he found the TV in the bedroom on with the volume turned low, as it always was when Louis stayed up later than him and never set a timer.

He stayed in bed for a while, enjoying Louis’s presence next to him, but when he realised that the TV was distracting him too much to fall back asleep, he gave up and decided to use the time productively. He searched for the remote under the blankets because he knew Louis too well to think that it was lying on the nightstand like it would for any normal person. Sure enough, he found it hidden under Louis’s pillow. He sighed as he turned off the TV, then gave him a light kiss on the shoulder before getting up, not bothering to put anything on top of his boxers except an apron, as he started preparing a proper breakfast.

He prepared the batter for both sweet muffins with chocolate chips and savory ones with cheese and bacon cubes. He would have liked to cook something more elaborate, but Louis’s pantry always had only the bare essentials for survival, so they’d have to make do. He knew Louis went crazy for pancakes, so he couldn’t resist the temptation to make those as well. After putting the bacon on to fry, while he was chopping the fruit into cubes, Louis arrived in the kitchen, dragging his bare feet on the floor and rubbing an eye with the back of his hand.

That sleepy look, with his face still puffy and his hair messy, would eventually be the death of Harry.

Louis stood still for a few seconds, looking around with a confused expression, sniffing the air as though he couldn’t quite put all the pieces together. “Why are you naked in my kitchen and…” He walked closer to the table to take a better look. “Are we expecting guests?”

Harry burst out laughing because it was clear from his face that he wasn’t joking. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at how domestic that sentence sounded, as if that were their home and Harry could just decide out of nowhere to invite someone over for breakfast.

“No guests” he replied, when Louis shot him a look for daring to laugh at him first thing in the morning. “I woke up early and was bored” he explained, turning low the stove to keep the bacon from burning. “I already know that as soon as you’re able to talk again, you’ll scold me because this isn’t a game-day menu.”

He turned to face him, finding Louis looking at him with a frown. Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back another laugh because he always found it so adorably funny how Louis’s mind, which usually worked at lightning speed, seemed to receive words on a delay when he was just waking up. It took him three times as long to process the information and come up with a response, in the rare instances when the final reaction wasn’t just a grunt.

“I’m not ungrateful,” Louis muttered in a hoarse voice, furrowing his brow even more as if he had taken it personally.

This time, Harry let out a giggle and when Louis stepped toward him to hug him from behind, while he poured the last spoonfuls of pancake batter into the pan, he instinctively relaxed against his chest.

“Thanks,” Louis kissed his shoulder. “And, uh, I’m not complaining, but why are you naked in my kitchen?”

Harry turned in his embrace, wrapping his arms around Louis’s neck. “I’m not naked.”

Louis’s hands slid down his back, caressing every inch of skin until they stopped above the waistband of his boxers, squeezing his butt. “Very naked.”

“You’re going to make me burn the last pancakes,” Harry pretended to complain, leaning closer to his face since he had noticed how Louis’s gaze kept falling on his lips. “Good morning.”

Louis kissed him gently before whispering against his lips, “Good morning, sunshine.”

Whenever Louis called him that, Harry always blushed because part of him struggled to accept that Louis could really see him like that, even though Louis probably didn’t place as much importance on the phrase as Harry did, due to that stupid song that had firmly settled in his mind.

“Mh, no” Harry replied, giving him another kiss.

“No?”

“I’m not the sunshine.”

“No?” Louis asked again, but this time in a teasing tone, smiling against Harry’s mouth. “Then who is?”

Harry huffed because he knew how much his boyfriend loved to tease him about this and also knew what his goal was.

“Come on,” Louis pleaded, pouting in that fucking way, “Please.”

Harry hated him, he hated him with all his heart, but he had no chance against that pout. He hid his face in the crook of Louis’s neck and softly hummed “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

Louis even had the audacity to chuckle as Harry made himself ridiculous for the millionth time for the same reason. And out of all the embarrassing things he had said or done over the months, it seemed that little song had stuck to him, with the sole purpose of making his life impossible.

“I hate you” Harry mumbled, but couldn’t continue insulting him as he wanted because the smell of something burning caught both of their attention and the moment was inevitably interrupted as they hurried to turn off the stove.

“This is your fault” Harry accused, throwing the burnt pancakes in the trash.

“Said the one who walks around naked in my kitchen.”

Harry started laughing. “Still with this story?”

“You don’t judge other people’s erotic dreams.”

“Erotic dream?” Harry raised an eyebrow, looking particularly interested as he took off the apron and sat down at the table, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Tell me more.”

Louis sat beside him and as Harry, as usual, turned slightly toward him and stretched his leg to place it over Louis’s. Louis rested a hand on his thigh.

“I’m hungry,” was all Louis said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Boring.”

They mostly ate in silence, with a low-volume Spotify playlist in the background, because Louis’s day couldn’t really start until he had listened to some music, while they casually commented on something they saw on social media or some of the latest news from the papers. When Harry stretched after finishing his meal, he couldn’t hide a grimace of discomfort.

“Your back?” Louis asked, immediately sensing the problem.

Harry nodded, it always happened when he spent too much time cooking. “A nice massage would be great,” he suggested.

“Don’t start,” Louis chuckled, affectionately pinching his thigh. “There’s a game today.”

“Exactly, you can’t make me play with a bad back.”

“You and your tricks won’t win.”

"Please," Harry huffed, laughing. “If I wanted to use my tricks, I’d remind you that I’m naked in your kitchen.”

“You’ve done worse things before.”

Harry shrugged, pretending to accept defeat, then got up to clear the table, making sure to accentuate his hip movements with every step, but Louis didn’t react. When he turned on the sink faucet, however, Louis came over and turned it off.

“I’ll do the dishes, you cooked.”

“If you want to repay me, I know a better way.”

“I’m not buying a dishwashing bonus with sex,” Louis laughed, pushing him aside with his hip to make space.

“Not with sex, with a massage,” Harry shrugged casually. “Seems fair.”

“It’s anything but fair, especially if it comes from you.”

Harry slipped into the space between him and the sink, looking him in the eyes with a fake innocent expression that clashed with the mischievous smirk on his face. “It’s just a massage.”

“It wouldn’t be just a massage, you know that.”

"Well, if you can't control yourself, you can't blame me," he tilted his head slightly, licking his lips.

"As if you didn’t know what effect you have on me," Louis placed his hands on the kitchen counter, trapping Harry against his body, "I haven’t touched you in a week."

"That’s your problem, I’m just asking for a massage."

Louis hesitated for a moment but, even before he could speak, Harry already knew he’d won that small battle.

"Just a massage" Louis murmured, moving his hands to Harry’s hips.

"For my back," Harry clarified.

"Where does it hurt?"

"I think it’d be easier to show you in bed."

Before he could say anything else, Louis chuckled, running his tongue over his lips. "Alright, let’s go to bed."

He barely gave him just enough time to register those words and then, catching him so off guard it made him scream, he picked him up by the legs. Harry clung to his neck with both arms to steady himself, bursting into laughter as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

"I’m a professional masseur, I can’t let my clients get tired."

"Do you touch all your clients’ asses like that?"

"Only the fucking sexy ones."

"I’ll cut off your hands" Harry threatened, nibbling on his ear, while Louis laughing turned from the hallway into the bedroom.

As soon as they reached the bed, Louis gently slid him down, easing him onto the still-messy covers. Harry shifted to the center before turning and lying on his stomach, placing a hand on his lower back. "It hurts here."

Louis moved his hand aside and placed a kiss on the same spot. "Better?"

"No," Harry laughed, smiling like an idiot with his face pressed into the sheets.

"Shit, I was sure that would work."

"You’re terrible as a masseur."

Louis laughed too, then, straddling Harry’s legs, he began applying light pressure with circular thumb movements on that same spot.

"Better?" he asked, as Harry let out a sound that was almost a moan. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Since they didn’t have massage oil, Louis’s hands didn’t glide as easily over the skin, but he still managed to do a good job. He started with simple movements to relax Harry’s shoulders, then focused on the knots from all the accumulated tension, working out every single one, including the most annoying one from the morning’s exertion. His favorite part, though, was when Louis placed his thumbs at the base of Harry’s neck and pressed them along both sides of his spine, following its contours down to his lower back. Every time he repeated that movement, it was like all of Harry’s muscles melted a little more.

It was probably obvious to the touch how much Harry had relaxed, because suddenly Louis’s touch became gentler, almost like a caress. He felt Louis lean forward until his lips pressed against Harry’s shoulder, then traced a slow path of kisses to the other shoulder.

"Is it better?" Louis asked softly, not breaking the peaceful atmosphere that had settled between them.

"Yes, but don’t stop."

Louis let out a cute giggle, before leaning forward a bit more to kiss his cheek. "Requests?"

Harry shook his head, as much as he could in that position. "Whatever you want."

He didn't want to seem demanding, but he loved being touched by Louis, whether it was for a massage, sex or just a cuddle. He loved feeling his hands on his body, the care with which his fingers caressed him, as if Harry were precious. He loved his attention and the way he seemed to worship every inch of his skin.

Louis took off his hoodie, remaining in his underwear, and left a trail of kisses down his spine, massaging his back with broad hand movements as he moved lower and lower. He lingered on the lower back, continuing to accompany each finger movement with kisses and small bites. 

"I think I have a knot here," Harry murmured, shaking his ass to grab his attention. 

"Oh, really?" Louis chuckled, promptly grabbing it with both hands. 

Harry nodded. "Feels too neglected lately." 

"Poor thing," Louis teased, starting to massage him. 

"It would be very professional of you to take off my underwear to do it properly." 

"The last thing on my mind is professionalism." 

"That’s because you only have one thing on your mind, unlike me."

Louis burst out laughing and Harry couldn't help but smile because he was utterly in love with the sound of his laughter. But when he felt Louis' hands pulling down the waistband of his boxers, he smiled even more. He lifted his hips to help him, while Louis shifted to fully remove them before straddling his legs again.

He let out a decidedly unmanly yelp when Louis teasingly bit his cheek, before beginning to knead it, spreading it wider with each movement. He slid his fingers deeper and deeper, until his thumb brushed just over his rim, continuing to tease without ever going further.

"Lou," Harry almost cursed when he was on the verge of losing his patience, "Do something or I swear I'll start screaming."

Louis taunted him further, applying more pressure but never actually letting his finger penetrate, because he always had to push him to the brink. But before Harry could truly rebel, Louis leaned over towards the bedside table to grab the lube from the drawer.

"Shit, it's empty."

"Christ, Louis. I can't believe it," Harry turned to check and saw that, no matter how hard Louis squeezed the tube, not a single drop came out. "How many times have I reminded you it was running low over the last few weeks?"

"I forgot to buy it" Louis replied, his voice an octave too high, defensive because he knew he was in the wrong.

"If you'd done it one of the thousand times I told you to, you wouldn't have forgotten" Harry snapped.

Louis sighed. "This doesn't seem like the moment..."

"Of course, it's never the right moment," Harry interrupted him, irritation clear in his voice.

"H, focus," Louis took Harry's chin between his fingers, guiding his gaze to his excited body. "Are you sure you don't have any lube?"

Harry really hated him in that moment, because it wasn't fair that Louis took advantage of the fact he couldn't resist him, but of course it worked again. He huffed, letting his head fall back onto the pillow, knowing he was hopeless. "I don’t know, check the gym bag."

Louis stood and went over to the doorway to check, while Harry muttered to himself, "I swear you did this on purpose. Pretended you wanted to have sex even though there's a game today just because you knew you were out of lube. I’ll bet my balls on it. I should leave you hanging just to stop your ridiculous rules and, most importantly, get you to listen to me when I say-"

He was cut off when he saw Louis come back through the door with the lube in one hand and a water bottle in the other. That water bottle.

"And this?" Louis asked, clearly amused. "I can’t believe you still have it. Where did you find it?"

Harry went pale from the shock, then flushed as the embarrassment made his heart race. How could he have been so stupid?

"It’s- it's not what it looks like."

"Harry?" Louis said, suddenly confused by his reaction, returning to bed with him. "Why are you acting like I’ve just discovered you’ve got a lover?" he tried to lighten the mood, holding up the bottle. "Are you cheating on me with her?"

"Because it’s embarrassing," Harry huffed, taking both the bottle and the lube from Louis’s hands, placing them on the bed just to keep busy and avoid looking him in the eye. "You weren’t supposed to see it."

"Didn’t you bring it out for me to see?"

Harry rolled his eyes, sighing at Louis’s innocence. "I’ve been hiding it since you joined the team."

"Why?" Louis asked again, but before Harry could answer, he cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. "You know, I don’t actually care" he murmured against Harry's lips, unable to stop a radiant smile from spreading across his face. "You’ve still got my water bottle after all this time."

"Stop gloating," Harry protested, giving him a light tap on the chest, though his heart wasn’t sure whether to melt from Louis’s reaction or stay annoyed. Louis, however, was unfazed, kissing his face all over, chasing him even when Harry tried to pull away, pinning him against the covers in an embrace that left him no escape.

"Stop" Harry repeated, unable to hold back his laughter. "This is so cheesy."

"Yeah, but it’s adorable," Louis admitted. "Just like you. Cheesy and adorable."

Harry flashed him the middle finger, almost shoving it in his face, but Louis moved his hand away and kissed him, while all Harry could think about was how much he wanted to tell him he loved him. It felt like his heart might burst if he didn’t say it right then, but he didn’t want it to seem like just a distraction from the awkward situation. It was too important to risk belittling it that way.

"I've been using it for all these years" Harry confessed, hiding his face against Louis's chest. "It’s been my bottle for longer than it’s been yours, so don’t start."

"So I’ve always been in your heart" Louis teased, speaking as though quoting a line from a cheesy movie.

"No, and- do you know I hate you?"

"You’re the one making it a tragedy," Louis laughed. "I’m just going with the flow."

Harry lifted his head off Louis’s chest just to give him a death glare and pulled away when Louis tried to kiss him, only to give in on the second attempt.

"It wasn’t about you, anyway" Harry explained, knowing he would never believe him. "It was- I don’t know how to explain it. It was a kind of reminder of everything you told me, because you pushed me to fight for myself and I knew you were right, but it wasn’t easy.

Louis gently caressed his face, brushing his hair from his forehead and looking at him like he really believed him, so Harry felt encouraged to continue.

"Then, uh... when things started to go well, I’d gotten so attached to it I kept using it," he shrugged slightly before pointing a finger at Louis's chest. "At least until this year, when you decided to come along and ruin everything."

They both laughed, then Louis pulled him even closer, wrapping a leg around his waist.

"Is that why you hated me at first?"

"No, I hated you because you were a prick and made my life impossible," Harry replied without hesitation. "Not that it’s changed much, actually."

"I always get emotional when you give me compliments," Louis joked, laughing. "But I’m glad I’ve been useful in some way."

"I don’t know how it’s possible, considering you’re an awful person, but apparently you’ve always found a way to be important in my life, one way or another" Harry said, absentmindedly playing with the stubble on Louis’s face while looking him in the eye. "Even when I had no idea how important you’d become one day."

Louis’s face was so close to his that Harry could feel the smile widen just a few millimetres away from his own. "Are you telling me I’m important?"

"You know you are."

"I can't read your mind, I can't know unless you tell me."

Harry paused for a moment, gazing into his eyes, wondering if this could at least count as a prelude to the I love you he would one day say. "You're important" he whispered, placing his lips at the corner of his mouth, "The most important."

Louis turned his head just enough to kiss him, doing so with such intensity that it made Harry's heart tremble and he returned the kiss with the same uncontrollable feeling. They continued as if they never had to stop, so entwined with each other that they seemed like one.

As the situation began to heat up and their erections demanded attention once more, Harry silently tugged down the waistband of Louis’s boxers, a subtle hint to get rid of them. For once, Louis didn’t protest, stripping off and retrieving the lube that had rolled away and hidden itself among the covers

“I know” Louis said, almost as if warning him, with the tube aimed at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Harry laughed, but before Louis could think better of it, he spread his legs in a clear invitation. He couldn’t believe that after weeks of trying to break that damn rule, it had taken the memory of an old water bottle to make it happen.

As soon as Louis lay back down beside him, Harry welcomed him into his arms, resuming kissing him while Louis with his fingers reached for his ass, carefully ensuring he applied as much lube as possible, lingering on one particular spot just a little too long for Harry's peace of mind. When even Louis seemed to have reached his limit, he lubed his own erection and placed Harry’s leg over his hip, making it easier to enter him.

They made love, gazing into each other's eyes with a thousand unspoken words passing between their looks and their mouths too hungry for one another to part for more than a few moments. Louis came inside him and that sensation, one Harry had never experienced before, was enough to push him past his own limits.

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms, cuddling, and it felt as if with every kiss Harry was pressing silent I love yous onto Louis’s lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asked suddenly, likely noticing how his boyfriend had become absentminded.

The truth was, Harry was seriously considering confessing his feelings at that very moment, but again he held back, not wanting it to seem as though Louis had pulled them out of him. Instead, he decided to take the opportunity to unload another heavy weight that had been in his heart for far too long.

“Do you already know where you'll be going next year?”

Louis’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the question. “No, not yet,” he replied. “I have a few interesting offers but… no, for now the only certainty is the Pre-Olympic.”

“The what?”

“The Pre-Olympic, the tournament.”

“Have you been selected?” Harry furrowed his brow, piecing the information together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t exactly a secret, the news is on the Federation’s website, and the roster has been published in all the newspapers,” only then did Louis seem to realise that Harry hadn’t heard about it. “I thought you knew and were avoiding the topic on purpose,” he hugged him a little tighter, “I’m sorry.”

Harry swallowed hard, trying to push aside the rising anxiety, telling himself that Louis had meant well, because it was clear from his expression that his words were sincere. He simply asked, “Did you think I wouldn’t compliment you if I knew?”

“I don’t expect compliments for everything I do,” Louis huffed, trying to lighten the tension.

“I would have given them to you,” Harry emphasised, feeling it was important to specify that every achievement of his deserved proper recognition. “I thought that, since you took a gap year… I don’t know, I thought they couldn’t call you so I didn’t even open the news.”

“You can give them to me now,” Louis chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Harry’s cheek.

“My boyfriend’s going to the Olympics” Harry exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, hugging him with all his strength and making him laugh.

“No, your boyfriend plays for a national team so bad it’s scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to secure a spot for the Olympics, which he’ll end up watching on TV.”

“Shut up,” Harry took his face in his hands to kiss him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Will you still be proud of me when we lose every game?”

“Always,” their laughter mixed in that last kiss before Harry asked, “Where’s the tournament?”

“In Cuba, at the end of March.”

There was just over a month to go, but after the initial shock, Harry began to think that it might be a gradual way for him to get used to what his life would be like next year. Louis would be away for a week or so, which seemed manageable.

“They still have to tell us the exact departure date,” Louis continued, “but I’ll have to go into retreat with the national team at the start of the month.”

Harry lost his breath for a moment, hit in the stomach by the weight of the news. “So- so you won’t be here for a month?”

Louis nodded. “More or less.”

“Okay,” Harry forced himself to keep his tone steady and not let his heart show how much panic was starting to take over. “Okay, it’s just a month, right? It’s nothing compared to what could be next year if you go to Italy and we’re still together and-”

“Babe, breathe,” Louis interrupted him, stroking his hair. “Look at me,” he waited for Harry to focus entirely on him before speaking, “I don’t like the idea of being away from you for so long either. You’re not alone, we’re in this together and we’ll figure out a way to make it work together.”

“But- but you’ll be in Cuba with a thousand things on your mind and-”

“And I’ll need you more than ever, because I’ll be stressed about the tournament, I’ll be alone, locked in a room most of the time with no chance to even go for a walk and I’ll miss you.”

For the first time, Harry took a moment to view the situation from Louis’s perspective and strangely his heart began to slow down and calm. After all it was true, Louis would be completely on his own, while Harry could rely on his friends even just for distraction or not to be alone.

“Promise me you’ll call me at any time” he said, brushing his fringe back with a caress. “And screw the time difference.”

“Screw the time difference,” Louis chuckled before kissing him.

For the rest of the day Harry tried to push the thought of Louis’s impending departure to the back of his mind. He knew it would return to torment him at the first opportunity, so he didn’t want it to ruin the time he had left with Louis. It took a while before the atmosphere returned to the lighthearted, playful mood that had characterised the start of the morning, but eventually things relaxed naturally and everything went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

Louis, for example, continued to joke about how he would get his revenge for being made to break one of his most sacred rules, but as long as they were at home nothing happened, so Harry eventually assumed he was just teasing.

After the match, however, while the locker room was divided between those who still needed to shower and those who were finishing getting ready to head out for Saturday night, Harry noticed Zayn and Louis whispering in a corner. At first he didn’t think much of it or at least didn’t pay it much attention, even when Zayn stepped away from his partner in crime and came to sit next to Harry.

“Got any exciting plans for the night?” Zayn asked, as he usually did.

“Nothing much, you?” Harry replied casually, despite being dressed up and bent over trying to add some volume to his hair.

“I’m going to the cinema with a girl,” Zayn let himself slump back against the bench. “By the way, do you know what time it is?”

“Mh, no. My phone’s in the side pocket of my bag, you can check.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Zayn unzip the bag, rummage inside for a few seconds and then pull out the phone. Zayn just activated the screen to check the time, then placed it on top of the bag, muttering to himself, “Still got time.”

Harry secretly sighed with relief because whenever one of the guys had his phone in their hands, he always feared they might find something they shouldn’t see, but he knew it would be even more suspicious if he suddenly acted mysterious.

He opened the front pocket of the bag and pulled out his favourite perfume bottle, but just as he was about to spray some on his neck, the phone screen lit up displaying a close-up of Louis’s face with that smug grin he always wore when he was being particularly mischievous. Just after, the phone started ringing at full volume with a ringtone that definitely wasn’t Harry’s.

When You Are My Sunshine blasted through the locker room Harry was so taken by surprise that he dropped the perfume bottle, shattering it on the floor, while Louis and Zayn laughed so hard they could hardly breathe. The rest of the team followed suit moments later.

“Louis!” Harry cursed and if the floor around him hadn’t been covered in glass shards, he would’ve surely stomped his foot.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Louis asked, concerned but still unable to stop laughing.

“I’m fine, but you might hurt yourself soon” Harry shot back.

“You should see your face” Zayn said, breathless, pointing at Harry who, among other things, was blushing uncontrollably.

Louis tried to approach, but Harry kept him at arm's length, holding his hand out to prevent him from accidentally stepping on any glass shards.

"I told you I’d make you pay for that" Louis gloated, his signature smug grin still flashing on the screen of the phone.

Harry would have liked nothing more than to slap him, but Michael distracted him by handing him the broom and dustpan he had gone to fetch from the supply room.

“I’ll do it,” Louis grabbed the broom, starting to sweep, while Harry crossed his arms over his chest glaring at him and the bristles of the broom became soaked with his favourite perfume, making the mess even worse.

“How romantic, Harry” Liam teased. “You’ve never put a custom ringtone for me.”

“You’re not his sunshine,” Mitch replied, then pretended to gag.

Matt elbowed Oli in the arm. “Louis might be a sunshine, but I hope he’s ready for the storm because Harry looks pissed.”

“Guys,” Louis called out with a chuckle, “You’re not helping.”

Harry raised both eyebrows, trying to remain serious and threatening. “Do you really think anyone’s going to help you?”

“If you say it like that, then no,” Louis flashed his most innocent fake smile. “But I swear I’ll take you to a perfume shop downtown tomorrow and buy you another one.”

“You’re so whipped,” Oli exclaimed, throwing a pair of crumpled dirty socks at Louis and hitting him on the shoulder, while the rest of the team burst into laughter and finally the phone stopped ringing.

The next day, when Harry stopped pretending to be offended by the prank, he tried to convince Louis that there was really no need to buy him another perfume, but Louis wouldn’t hear it and dragged him onto the Tube on a Sunday afternoon heading for central London.

“You’re lucky the Elizabeth line is my favourite, because you’d never have convinced me to get squashed by the crowd in a wreck,” Harry grumbled as they neared Bond Street, where they’d be getting off.

“Only you could have a favourite Tube line.”

“God help me” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Aw, poor thing, forced against his will to go shopping with his boyfriend’s credit card,” Louis teased.

“Buying a perfume doesn’t count as shopping.”

“You’ll like something while we’re out,” Louis shrugged, as though his reasoning was flawless. “Consider everything else a bonus.”

“For?”

“Do you really need a reason?”

“If you’re trying to buy me, just so you know, you won’t be my sugar daddy.”

They both burst out laughing and as they reached the bottom of the escalator, Louis pretended to think it over. “Doesn’t suit me, I prefer… what does Oli say?”

“Fucking whipped loser,” Harry responded quickly but when he turned to look at Louis, sure he’d start laughing, he nearly tripped on the first step of the escalator.

Louis instinctively caught him by the hips, making sure his boyfriend was still standing in front of him and not about to faceplant, then rested his forehead on Harry’s back and started laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I already feel like a total idiot without you making it worse,” Harry protested, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment and the lingering anxiety from nearly falling. Those tall steep escalators always made him a bit anxious.

“But I love you precisely because you’re an idiot” Louis said between laughs. “My idiot.”

Harry’s heart stopped for a moment, almost bursting in his chest. “You- what? ”

He spun around quickly, stumbling slightly from the sudden movement, but Louis tightened his grip and raised his eyebrows.

“Are you done trying to throw yourself under the wheels or do you have more to do?”

“I- Lou,” Harry stammered, starting to convince himself he had just imagined those words as his heart began to race again, this time like crazy. “You, what?”

For a moment, Louis seemed completely lost, then his eyes went wide when the realisation hit him, but it only lasted an instant before the sweetest smile spread across his face. “I love you?”

Harry gasped for a few seconds, words caught in his throat. “You- oh my God! You- I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks and you-you say it to me on the escalator in the tube when I can’t even kiss you?”

“That’s not quite how I imagined telling you” Louis mumbled embarrassed, stifling a little laugh with his hand before placing it behind Harry’s back to stop him from tripping again, since he hadn’t realised they’d reached the top. They moved a few steps through the crowd, onto the second escalator, and as soon as it started moving, Harry turned back to face him.

“Say it again.”

Louis blushed slightly but didn’t hesitate for a second. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry murmured, lost in the brilliant blue of those eyes filled with emotion, before grabbing the edges of Louis’s jacket hood and leaning in to kiss him.

It wasn’t how he’d always imagined his first I love you would be but, as always when it came to Louis, reality had far exceeded his imagination.

“Now try telling me you still don’t have a favourite Tube line.”

Chapter Text

“Do you know why I love being your teammate?”

Harry looked up at Zayn, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table munching on some peanuts, rather than crushing them as he’d been asked.

“Because I’m the nicest.”

“Cold.”

“Because I'm the best player.”

Zayn mimicked the classic wrong-answer buzzer noise from quiz shows. “Colder than the Arctic.”

“Because I’m not kicking you out of my house, even though you're finishing all the peanuts.”

“Warm.”

“Be useful or quit stealing the peanuts” Harry threatened, pointing at him with the dish towel he’d been using to dry his hands.

“Well, it’s definitely not because of your kindness,” Zayn commented unfazed, before tossing another peanut into his mouth. “Because when you’re supposed to bring the pastries to practice, you actually make them instead of buying that sawdust-like trash Matt brought the other day.”

Harry burst out laughing, swelling with a bit of pride. The unspoken rule in volleyball worldwide was that anyone who served so poorly that the ball went under the net had to bring pastries for the whole team to the next practice, and he always used the opportunity to try out new recipes.

“I hope you didn’t tell him, though, because his mum made those.”

Zayn widened his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Did you tell him?” Harry exclaimed, cupping his hands over his mouth before bursting into another fit of laughter, while Zayn hid his face behind his crossed arms on the table.

Zayn’s visit that afternoon hadn’t been planned, but despite Harry’s dislike for distractions while cooking, he was always happy when Zayn turned up at his door unannounced, hoping for some good food. It had been a while, in fact, so he’d turn a blind eye to the fact that if Zayn kept going like this, there’d be no peanuts left to decorate his desserts. A few minutes later, when Zayn went to the bathroom, Harry seized the opportunity to hide them.

“Sorry, but that…” Zayn murmured confused, upon his return, before poking his head again around the kitchen door just before addressing him. “Why do you have Louis' uniform hanging on the drying rack?"

Harry’s eyes went wide and he almost had a heart attack because he was so used to finding Louis’s clothes mixed in with his that he didn’t even notice them anymore.

Not that he hadn’t noticed the uniform, of course. The reason he’d had to wash it was that, after swiping it from Louis, he’d worn it under his clothes the night before to surprise him. They’d ordered Chinese food after training and, while kissing on the sofa, when Louis had pulled off his hoodie and seen the number 28 shirt, he’d completely lost it.

They’d played around for a while because Louis wanted to take pictures of him to remember how good the name Tomlinson looked on his back - or so he’d said - and then asked him to keep the shirt on while he fucked him from behind.

So Harry definitely knew why Louis’s uniform was on the drying rack but, as his whole life flashed before his eyes, he had no idea how to respond to Zayn.

“Oh- uhm… he- uh, he lost it” Harry stammered, hoping Zayn wouldn’t notice how panicked he was.

“He lost it?” Zayn repeated, looking at him in confusion, settling back down. “At your place?”

“No!” Harry hurried to clarify. “At the gym. He lost it at the gym and- uh, actually he was supposed to lend me some stuff, so he accidentally put it in my bag after the last match.”

“So, he didn’t lose it.”

“He thinks he lost it. It’s- I’m playing a prank on him.”

“And you… you washed it?”

“Uh, yeah. The match is tomorrow,” Harry replied as if it were perfectly normal, but he didn’t have the courage to look up from the bowl of flour where he was cracking the eggs to start preparing the shortcrust pastry.

Fortunately, Zayn didn’t comment or ask any more questions, instead swiping a strawberry and getting lost in a football video his mate had sent him.

That was one of the reasons Harry loved Zayn’s company, he wasn’t demanding. Not only because anyone else would’ve grilled him for answers, but also because they could spend hours chatting about nothing or sitting in complete silence and his presence would never be intrusive enough to stop Harry from concentrating on what he was doing. That was why Zayn was one of the few lucky ones allowed in the kitchen when Harry was busy. Louis, on the other hand, was at the top of the list of uninvited guests, overtaking Niall who had held the title for years.

Louis, though, had the remarkable ability to disturb him even when he wasn’t around, as he had an incredible knack for calling him at the worst possible moments. Even that day in fact his phone, resting on the table with the recipe photo displayed, began ringing just as he had his hands covered in eggs and flour. He wasn’t worried when he saw Zayn’s eyes light up and, without asking, answer the call and put it on speakerphone because it had happened a million times before.

“Hey!” Zayn greeted.

“Love, sorry.”

“Lou-” Harry almost shouted, but Louis interrupted.

“No love, I’m fucking late and just remembered I need to wash the kit.”

“Louis!” Harry cursed, because it was impossible that he couldn’t get it.

“H, what? ” Louis snapped, sounding annoyed. “The match is tomorrow and- let me focus, the t-shirt should be in your room but I don’t even remember where the fuck I took your shorts off. See if they’re near the sofa.”

Zayn probably realised how pale Harry had gone because, as Harry felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him, his friend intervened uncertainly. “Hi Louis, you’re on speaker.”

For a moment, there was complete silence, then Louis asked in a trembling voice, “Zayn?”

“Yeah, and… Harry, is everything okay?” Zayn jumped up to move around the table and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed.

Harry was in shock, feeling like he was living his worst nightmare combined with one of the worst moments of his life. It felt like his lungs had collapsed and were crushing his heart.

“I... I mean- I…” he stammered, his eyes welling up with tears because he wanted to reassure Louis or Zayn, who was looking at him like he was about to faint any second, but he couldn’t.

“Shit. Fuck! Harry, shit... sorry,” Louis exclaimed through the phone, which had been abandoned on the table. “Where are you? I- Harry, I’m coming over, okay? Shit, fuck this.”

“We’re at his place,” Zayn replied.

For a moment, Harry almost wanted to laugh at how surreal the situation was. He was standing in his kitchen, on the verge of tears, with his hands still stuck in shortcrust pastry, while one of his best friends stared at him like he was an alien. This was because his boyfriend, who was probably about to get himself killed on the street just to get to him as fast as possible, had unintentionally revealed something Harry had been hiding his whole life. And why? Because the night before Harry had experienced mindblowing unforgettable sex.

He really wanted to laugh at how comically tragic everything was, but instead, he started crying.

“Harry,” Zayn called out in a calm tone, but Harry kept avoiding his gaze. “H, if you’re about to have a heart attack over what just happened you can skip it, because I’ve known you were gay - sorry, queer or whatever - for years.”

Harry furrowed his brow, finally turning towards him. “What?” he asked, confused. “Wha- what?”

“Please, wash your hands and sit down for a second, because I can’t talk to you seriously with all that pastry stuck to your fingers,” Zayn joked in his usual gentle tone, managing to get a half-smile from Harry.

Harry nodded, wiping off what he could before going to wash his hands in the sink. It probably took him a little longer than usual, as he tried to use the time to calm his breath and, more importantly, come up with an explanation for Zayn. After all the years of imagining a thousand different scenarios in his head, there was an absolute void now. He had thought he’d be ready to face a disaster of this scale, but no… every rehearsed line was suddenly gone.

He swallowed hard when he finished drying his hands on a tea towel placed on the kitchen counter. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face his biggest fear.

But what was he actually afraid of? It was Zayn. He had seen how Zayn reacted to Louis’s coming out and he could see from his expression now that there was nothing to fear. And yet, he was terrified.

He sat down in front of him and Zayn, first thing, poured him a glass of water, waiting for him to drink before starting the conversation.

“Do you remember the barista from your university?” Zayn asked and Harry nodded. “He’s the brother of my sister Safaa’s boyfriend. Once, I was at their house to try out the new Xbox and this guy was shitting himself because he wanted to ask out a beautiful guy he’d hooked up with the night before, but he didn’t know how to go about it because he thought he had no chance and didn’t want to look like a loser. And then he showed me his photo... I mean, your photo.”

Harry remembered that guy perfectly, but he hadn’t known he was trying to ask him out again, as he’d never actually done it. That meant Zayn had really known everything for years, not just guessed from some of Harry’s behaviour.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Harry asked, maybe breathing a little easier for the first time.

“I was sure you’d tell me when you were ready,” Zayn shrugged casually. “I didn’t want to push you and honestly... what difference does it make?”

“Well, it does make a difference” Harry murmured, lowering his gaze.

Zayn relaxed against the back of his chair. “Explain then, I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know, okay? But it’s scary,” Harry stopped for a moment, trying to find a way to express what he had felt for years. “I’ve always been afraid that things on the team would change if the truth came out,” he tried to explain. “Teenagers can be cruel when they want to be.”

“And did it happen to you?”

Harry nodded. “When I was fourteen I met Louis at Royal Camp, just before he moved to Italy, and I developed a massive crush on him because apparently that’s all I’m good at in life,” he let out a half-laugh. “Some guys found out and- well, they were real assholes. I hadn’t come out to anyone except my sister and they humiliated me in front of him. It was one of the worst moments of my life.”

“Those fucking assholes,” Zayn spat. “And Louis?”

“You know him,” Harry rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and taking another sip of water. “We barely knew each other but he stayed there, calming me down until he was sure I was okay.”

“Now I get why he freaked out earlier.”

“He’s probably feeling guilty as fuck, especially because he knows how... how traumatic the first time was.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Harry would have liked to say no and shut the conversation down right there because he irrationally kept fearing that things might take a bad turn, but everything was going well and it was Zayn, so he nodded. After ten years of friendship, Zayn deserved some real trust.

“Any answer will do, I’m not here to judge anyone,” Zayn prefaced. “But when Louis came out you saw how the team reacted… why were you still scared?”

He raised a hand to stop Harry from speaking. “And I’m not saying you had to come out, because you’re free not to want to and that’s a whole other conversation, but you said you were scared we might find out.”

“When you get used to living in fear that one day your friends will find out who you really are and might turn their backs on you, at some point it doesn’t matter if it makes sense.”

“Okay,” Zayn thought about it for a moment before smiling at him with understanding. “I don’t think I can fully get it, but I still understand.” Then he raised an eyebrow, as he always did when he was about to say something deliberately silly. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’m speaking on behalf of the whole team, since we’ve already proven it with Louis.”

Harry knew the next thing was going to be a typical comforting line that would hold no real value but, honestly, at that moment even a few words of reassurance would have been good. So, he nodded to encourage him to continue.

“If you’re afraid that one of us might start looking at you weird in the locker room just because you’re attracted to guys, you already know that won’t happen, and you’ve seen it with your own eyes by the way our relationship with Louis hasn’t changed a bit.” He paused as if to make sure the message had landed clearly. “But I’m offended as fuck that you spent your entire adolescence seeing me naked and never got hard for me once,” he crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his mock hurt expression. “I mean, have you seen me?”

Had anyone else said it, Harry probably would have found a way to take it the wrong way, but it was Zayn, so Harry burst out laughing before he even realised it.

"I can't fucking believe it, you even have the nerve to laugh?" Zayn muttered, pretending to be more and more offended.

"Sorry," Harry chuckled, wiping an eye with the back of his hand. "You're just not my type."

Zayn looked up at the ceiling with that snobbish air that sometimes made him look almost like a cat.

"You don't understand anything."

"Probably not."

"Speaking of that," Zayn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and letting his eyes shine with curiosity, "So... are you with Louis?"

Harry felt his cheeks flush. "Uh- yeah."

"Is it one of those soulmate bullshit things like 'I knew it was you from the first moment'?"

"Stop it," Harry stretched his leg to kick him under the table. "And no, definitely not."

"Mh, sure. Everyone says that to sound less cheesy," Zayn commented, pretending to gag, "Didn’t you say you met as kids and it was love at first sight?"

"Fuck off," Harry muttered, flipping him off. "And I repeat, no. It didn’t happen like that at all."

Zayn was about to keep pushing, but was interrupted by the insistent sound of the intercom, and Harry finally sighed with relief.

"Open up before your idiot of a boyfriend knocks the door down with his shoulders, Christ," Zayn snapped, plugging his ears.

Harry headed toward the entrance, chuckling to himself because he knew that when Louis wanted, he could be even more dramatic than him. He pressed the intercom button and already opened the door, to avoid Louis clinging to the doorbell.

"I want to enjoy the show," Zayn said, peeking from the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. "Then I swear I’ll leave you alone."

"Are you going to give him a hard time?" Harry asked, feeling almost sorry for Louis.

"Until the end of his days."

Harry let out a half-laugh. "Don't be too hard on him, he's just..."

His sentence trailed off as two arms grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around before pulling him into a breath-stealing hug.

"Sorry," Louis squeezed him even tighter if possible. "I would never do something like this to you, you know that, right?" he asked, sounding alarmed before burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck and mumbling a never-ending series of "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Forgive me, please."

"Lou, it’s all okay."

"It’s not okay."

"Lou," Harry chuckled, even though he felt guilty because Louis seemed worse off than he was, "Calm down. I swear I’m fine."

At that moment, Louis seemed to finally notice that Harry wasn’t crying desperately or walking around like a zombie and pulled back just enough to look him in the face. He studied him carefully, maybe wondering whether to trust him or not, but before either of them could say anything, they were interrupted by Zayn clearing his throat.

"I’m going to smoke on the balcony," he announced, before disappearing as silently as a cat.

"Shall we go over there?" Harry asked and, as soon as Louis let go of him to take off his jacket, Harry took the chance to close the door, which had been left open.

They moved to the kitchen in a silence that Harry couldn’t quite interpret, but in a way it felt like he could hear the gears turning in Louis's head.

"I’m serious, I’m not mad at you" Harry mumbled, nervously fiddling with the edge of his hoodie.

Louis leaned his backside against the kitchen counter, then reached out to take his hand and gently pulled Harry towards him, giving him the freedom to decide whether to hide in his arms or not. Harry didn’t need to be asked twice and sank into the embrace he needed like air.

"Are you okay?" Louis whispered, pressing his lips against Harry’s temple.

"I’ve been better," Harry confessed, "But I feel... uh, lighter in a way."

"Well, it was a heavy secret to carry all this time."

"I think talking to Zayn helped."

Louis softly stroked his back. "Yeah?"

"I don’t know," Harry sank even further into his chest, "It feels... mh, kinda- less scary now."

"Really?"

"It doesn’t mean I’m ready to tell everyone," he hastened to clarify, realizing how his words could be misunderstood, but he relaxed as soon as he felt Louis’s soft laugh vibrating through his chest.

"I know and I don’t care if you never tell anyone else for the rest of your life or if you start opening up little by little. What matters is that you’re okay."

Harry nodded, murmuring, "I’m okay."

Louis held him even tighter, planting a kiss on his hair. "I love you, I’m so proud of you."

Harry kissed him on the chest, right where that heart had become his safe place in the world.

"My brave boyfriend," Louis added.

"Stop it," Harry chuckled, pinching him on the side.

"You know I mean it," Louis protested with a laugh, but the moment was interrupted by Zayn walking back into the kitchen.

They both reacted as if they’d just been caught red-handed, because Harry pulled away quickly and Louis jumped off the counter like he’d been burned.

"Please, you’re ridiculous. You’ve been all over each other for months and now you start acting shy?" Zayn huffed, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but my butt was freezing."

The three of them laughed, then Louis approached the table to take a look at the chaos that was spread across it.

"What were you doing?"

"I was making pastries for the training while Zayn ate all the decorations."

"Right, by the way, why don’t you get a move on?" Zayn urged, rubbing his still-chilled hands together. "I’m starving."

Harry glanced quickly at the clock on the wall, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking, because he was surprised and a little scared by the boldness of his own idea. But at that moment, he felt braver than he ever had before and didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

"I was thinking..." he said, his tone uncertain. "We could- uh, we could invite Liam and Niall for some tea and pastries, like in an hour," he  nervously tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from his bun behind his ear, "And maybe I could- I don’t know, but I could try to tell Liam."

It took a few seconds before the real meaning of that sentence hit everyone, noticeable by the way Louis and Zayn’s expressions changed as soon as they realised what Harry meant by wanting to come out to Liam. Harry knew that not being able to openly say that he wanted to come out to one of his best friends wasn’t a promising start, but for once it was more about superstition than fear. He was afraid he’d taken a step too big for him and when the time came he would regret it. But at the same time, he felt encouraged by that very same step, because it was the first time he found the strength to push himself that far.

"I think it’s a great idea," Louis responded, looking at him with eyes sparkling with love and pride, accompanied by that adorable pleased smile. "And if you change your mind, we can just have tea and pastries together."

Harry’s smile revealed both of his dimples because, as always, Louis had read between the lines, even the unspoken words, managing to sense his fears and say exactly what he needed to hear to feel safe. Maybe it was that detail that made him feel deep inside that he would really make it.

That afternoon, he would come out to a friend for the first time in his life and, although a bit of anxiety was still present, he felt ready. It was a wonderful feeling.

"Does that mean Niall knows?" Zayn asked, curious.

"He caught me too," Harry shrugged his shoulders while washing his hands before getting back to work. "I thought I’d always been a ninja, but apparently not."

"And I guess he knows about you two as well?"

"Unfortunately for him, yes," Harry chuckled, starting to knead as if his life hadn’t changed radically in the meantime. "He was the only one who put up with months of me venting when Louis reappeared out of nowhere deciding to torment me and all my paranoia when I realised I started liking him again even though he was a huge jerk."

"So, he knew about the past too?" Zayn asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

Harry nodded, blushing slightly because he had never fully confessed to Louis that Niall knew the story of the two of them before Louis came back into his life. "He knew there had been this guy from ages ago, but he didn’t know it was Louis" Harry explained, almost embarrassed, "At least until I freaked out on the first day of practice."

"Really? Niall knows that I was your first kiss?" Louis exclaimed with such pride in his voice that Harry wanted to slap him.

"The first- what? " Zayn interrupted, caught between surprise and feeling insulted. "Mr. definitely not one of those soulmate clichés didn’t tell me that."

Louis raised both eyebrows. "Soulmates?"

"Fuck off," Harry muttered before glaring at them both. "Now, either you stop bothering me immediately or I’ll throw you both out of my kitchen with a rolling pin."

They both burst into laughter, totally unimpressed by what should have been a threatening look from Harry.

"I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to leave him alone when he’s cooking," Louis said to their friend. "Let’s go, I’ll call Liam and Niall."

Zayn agreed, stealing one more strawberry before heading toward the door. As he got near Louis, however, his expression changed, as if something suddenly came to mind, and he gave him a playful slap on the back of his head.

"Dickhead, how do you not recognize my voice on the phone?"

Harry burst out laughing and, almost shouting to make himself heard while they left the kitchen, he commented "Now, let’s talk about that."

๑

When Louis left for the national team retreat, it was different from what Harry had expected. Less sad on one hand, because not even his fears could overshadow the excitement and pride he felt at the thought of Louis returning to the top levels of the sport, but on the other hand it was somehow more destabilizing, because he didn’t truly understand how deeply Louis had become a part of his life until he had to face the emptiness left by his absence.

Harry had known from the start that he would miss him. Just those few days over the Christmas holidays had been enough to make him realise it. What he felt in his heart was a different kind of emotion from what he had imagined, though. It was a bit like those persistent headaches that, aside from some particularly intense bursts of pain now and then, never became painful enough to stop you from getting on with your day, but at the same time they stayed there, constant reminders of a discomfort that showed no sign of going away.

The absence of Louis in the small things of everyday life felt like that, a vague sense of unease that was always present, almost unnoticed until something insignificant caught his attention, like one of Louis’ hoodies that he didn’t remember having in the wardrobe or a jar of his favorite yogurt that hadn't been eaten before he left and was now still sitting in the fridge. It would expire before Louis returned, so Harry was finishing them off since he liked them too, but somehow they didn’t taste the same if he couldn’t steal a little from Louis’ jar.

It was pathetic, he knew that.

No one could blame him, though, because anyone would feel the effects of missing someone like Louis in their life. It was a curse, but at the same time Harry felt lucky because Louis made him feel loved even when he wasn’t there.

He didn’t know when Louis had done it, since he hadn’t noticed anything and Louis had never hinted at confessing anything, but it seemed he had hidden tiny post-its everywhere. The first one he found was an at-sign, of course, scribbled on a yellow note that had somehow been slipped into the side pocket of his gym bag. After that, he found a 'Good morning, love' in the tea bags, an 'I love you' in the pocket of Louis’ hoodie which Harry preferred to wear, two more at-signs slipped into the phone case and between the pages of the book he was studying, a heart in his wallet and even an 'I 🥕 you' tucked between the little paws and the carrot of his stuffed bunny.

Every time Harry found one of his hidden messages, his heart would warm up as if he had just received a kiss from Louis, one of those sweet and affectionate kisses he gave him out of the blue just to let him know he was loved.

The worst moments, though, were those when the day hadn’t started off right and, for one reason or another, it kept getting worse with no one managing to have that innate ability that Louis had to lift his spirits with almost nothing. Not that Louis’ effect couldn’t be felt from a distance, but it wasn’t the same as having him there in the flesh. It mostly served to soften any negative feelings that had been clouding his day. Louis was still his personal sunshine.

The first ten days had been the easiest to deal with because, since they were still in the same time zone, they could talk to each other several times, even for short calls, in addition to Facetiming before going to bed. But when Louis flew to Cuba, everything became much harder to manage emotionally.

Their days had a five-hour difference, so when Louis woke up it was already almost lunchtime for Harry. During the English afternoon Louis had training, while during Louis’ lunch break, it was Harry’s turn to train. It never happened before two in the morning for Harry that they were both free and had a working wifi connection. Internet, for example, was a problem Harry hadn’t considered until he found himself running into it.

They had gone to Cuba a week before the tournament started to have time to adjust to the jet lag, unlike Harry who, in order to talk a bit with Louis, was living with the rhythm of multiple time zones at once and was completely exhausted. He tried not to let Louis notice, though, because he knew Louis would insist he go to bed.

The only positive thing about that week was that it was giving him a different perspective on what he would face when Louis would move to Italy because, at least there, they would only have a one-hour time difference.

This was what he repeated to himself in the moments of greatest despair, to make light of things and convince himself that in the end he would get used to it, when that absence became too overwhelming to ignore and the future started to scare him more and more.

"Why are you in the lobby today?" Harry asked as soon as Louis’ image appeared on the screen of his laptop, almost at three in the morning on the fifth day in Cuba.

"Hello to you too," Louis laughed, adjusting his headphones before fixing his fringe with his fingers as if they weren’t already perfectly in place.

"Hello," Harry couldn’t hold back a smile so wide it showed off his dimples as he rolled over in bed to lie on his stomach, facing the screen. "I missed you."

That confession brought out Louis’ first real smile. "I missed you too."

"Why aren’t you in your room?"

"Rich was starting to watch a movie and I didn’t want to disturb him."

"Oh, so your roommate really exists?" Harry joked, grateful that he was always busy elsewhere when the two of them spoke.

"Unfortunately," Louis rolled his eyes. "He’s nice, for sure… but he snores like a tractor."

"Well, you’re used to having the best roommate ever, you can’t expect everyone to measure up to him."

"Mh, I wouldn’t exactly describe Aleks that way, but I couldn’t complain back then."

"You’re such a little jerk," Harry accused him, laughing.

He shrugged indifferently, but with a pleased smile. "Lots of people tell me that."

"How was your day?"

"Same old routine. I wish I had something exciting to tell you, but no. Woke up ridiculously early, training, physiotherapy session, lunch, nap, training again, back to the physiotherapist, dinner and now finally it’s the best part of the day."

"You're embarrassing and cheesy," he pretended to complain, unable to suppress a yawn. "By the way, today I found a post-it stuck to the biscuit packet. Do you know anything about it?"

"So you were eating my biscuits?" Louis huffed. "I knew you'd do that, you're such a little thief."

Harry's mind wanted to respond that there was no satisfaction in stealing them if Louis wasn’t there, but instead what he said was "I deserve to be handcuffed."

Louis widened his eyes, whispering, "Harry, I'm in public!"

"It doesn't seem like it's ever been an issue," Harry teased, just to have a little fun.

"Well, if you were here it would be different."

Harry knew this was just part of their back-and-forth, the usual banter between them, but he was tired and he missed his boyfriend, so he couldn't help but let the hint of melancholy cloud his expression, to the point that Louis noticed it.

"Hey, are you okay?" Louis asked in a worried tone, tilting his head slightly to study him more closely. "Did I say something wrong?"

Harry shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, it's just that- well, I wish I was there. With you."

Louis sighed because it was clear he understood exactly how Harry was feeling and, after a moment of silence, he adjusted the computer on his lap. "Want to know what I think about every night when I'm in bed?"

"I don’t think that’s something we should talk about in the middle of a hotel lobby," Harry downplayed it, because he knew if he let Louis steer the conversation in that direction it would hurt too much.

But Louis knew him too well and, judging by the look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to appreciate Harry's attempt to deflect the conversation. So Harry sighed and rested his chin on his crossed arms on the bed. "What do you think about?"

"I think I just need to hold on for a little while longer, because in a year or two you'll be my roommate on the National team and these won't be weeks spent with half a heart… in fact, they’ll become the best experiences of our lives, together traveling the world."

It was too much for him. Normally, Harry could mask certain reactions, but the exhaustion he had been accumulating these days seemed to suddenly cancel out any filters, so he rolled his eyes.

"What?" Louis asked immediately, a hint of irritation in his voice, almost imperceptible but there.

Harry knew how much it bothered Louis when he reacted that way unless they were joking, so he tried to play the innocent card, because he didn’t have the energy or the desire to argue with him.

"I didn’t say anything."

"You didn’t, but your face did," Louis pointed out. "You don’t believe me?"

"It’s not that I don’t believe you."

"But?"

"I just don’t get why you keep talking about these unrealistic scenarios where one day we’ll be in Italy or on the National team together," Harry sighed again, rubbing his face with one hand. "Don’t get me wrong, in my ideal world everything you said would happen and - fuck - it would be amazing. At that point, I’d literally have everything I ever wanted, but it feels stupid to keep aiming for something that’s impossible just to end up even more disappointed when reality inevitably turns out differently."

"So, let me get this straight, the problem isn't what I believe in general, but the fact that I believe in you and you don’t?" Louis asked, his tone sounding sharp now.

"I didn’t say that," Harry replied coldly, because he couldn’t stand it when Louis twisted his words just to accuse him of something.

"Seems like you did," Louis retorted.

Harry was about to respond but stopped himself just before speaking. "Can we avoid discussing this right now?"

"Oh, sorry. If I’m bothering you too much, I’ll put everything on hold and we’ll pretend nothing’s wrong," Louis said with a half-laugh, laced with irony. "Unless, of course, you think that’s wrong too, in addition to my general way of thinking."

"What the fuck are you saying?" Harry exclaimed, looking up suddenly and furrowing his brow, confused as to why Louis was suddenly turning this into a drama. "I’m just asking you to talk about it another time, because I’m tired. It’s almost three-thirty in the morning here, for fuck’s sake," he snapped, despite trying his best to stay calm and suddenly he felt his eyes fill with tears. "I wait until this hour every day just to talk to you, because you’re the only happy part of these shitty days, not to argue when you’re on the other side of the world."

"Please don’t cry," Louis murmured in a voice so fragile that for a moment it didn’t even sound like his. "I’m sorry, you’re right" he added sincerely. "I don’t want to argue either, and- please don’t cry because of me when I can’t even hug you to make it up to you."

Harry sniffed, but he didn’t cry because as long as Louis continued to look at him with all that love in his eyes, he’d always have something to hold on to, even in dark moments like this.

"It’s not your fault, it’s just that I miss you so much and- and every time I think about it, I wonder how I’ll manage when you’re living permanently in another country, so as much as I love to fantasize about everything I dream for my life, when I do it just hurts more to face the reality afterward. I’d rather avoid it," Harry tried to explain. "That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in us or in this relationship."

"No, actually you just don’t believe in yourself, that’s exactly what I was saying earlier" Louis murmured, then squinted in a grimace when he realised he had done it again. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to start this again."

Harry dropped his defenses, resting his chin back on his crossed arms, but it was clear from the way Louis was nervously nibbling the inside of his cheek that he still had something to add. "What do you need to say?" Harry asked softly, hoping he was wrong.

Louis hesitated for a moment, probably considering the option of pretending nothing was wrong. "Can I ask you just one thing?"

He nodded, despite everything.

"Why did you turn down three offers from Italy two years ago?"

"I- what? " Harry furrowed his brow, not understanding what Louis meant. "What are you talking about?"

For a moment, Louis seemed as confused as Harry. "Didn’t you do that?"

"Do you think if I had gotten an offer from Italy, I’d still be here?"

"No, that’s why it seemed weird to me," Louis replied, although he still looked unconvinced, as if there was a piece missing in whatever reasoning was going on in his head.

"Can I ask who told you this?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"Do you remember Fabio, the sports director from Milan, the one I introduced you to at the Royal Cup finals?" He waited for Harry to nod before continuing. "He told me that day, but... I don’t know, maybe I misunderstood or he got confused with another player."

"The final?" Harry raised both eyebrows in disbelief. "So, you've been convinced for months that I turned down Italy and it never occurred to you to ask me?"

"We're talking about when you were- well, when you would have been eighteen, it wouldn't have been that crazy not to feel ready for such a step, I can guarantee it," Louis justified, even though Harry’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but more puzzled. "I wanted to ask you several times, to be honest, but I never did because you'd already told me that your dream was to play in Italy and- well, I thought you just changed your mind from a few years ago. It would’ve been normal  growing up."

Harry tried to understand the reasoning, but there was still something missing. "So why are you asking me now?"

Louis hesitated. "If I tell you, you’ll get angry again."

In that moment of insecurity, Louis seemed so small that Harry just wanted to put him in his pocket and protect him for the rest of his life. "I won’t get angry, I promise" he whispered, unable to hold back a faint smile, which clearly conveyed just how much he loved him.

"I wanted to understand if, uhm, if you simply don’t believe in yourself or if you believe in yourself but, deep down, that’s not the dream you really want to come true" Louis said, his tone still a bit uncertain, as if he feared he had crossed some line. He quickly added "And if that’s the case, it wouldn’t be a problem. We all have dreams that are only beautiful as long as they stay in our heads. I mean, I’ve always dreamed of being a rock star, but if they offered me the chance tomorrow, I could never say yes because it’s not the life I really want."

Suddenly, all the pieces seemed to fall into place in Harry’s mind. "You thought that my reaction earlier was a way to tell you that if I got an offer from Italy tomorrow, I’d turn it down - again at this point - because it’s not really what I want?"

Louis nodded, biting his lip. "It’s not about us," he clarified. "Because, okay, it wouldn’t be easy but it wouldn’t change what I feel for you or the fact that I dream of a future with you. But some dreams are made for two, right? And- well, if the dream isn’t the same for both of us, we just need to talk about it and find one that can truly make us happy."

For the second time that night, Harry was on the verge of tears, though for completely different reasons.

"The dream is already the same," Harry murmured, reassuring him without hesitation, and his heart skipped a beat when Louis responded with one of his beautiful smiles.

"Now I swear I’ll stop talking and let you go to sleep. It’s really late for you."

"I could start saying it’s actually really early" Harry joked, yawning. "But we don’t have to end it yet."

"Harry," Louis scolded, "You need to sleep or you won’t be able to stand tomorrow."

"I don’t have class in the morning."

"Doesn’t matter, soon you’ll have more jet lag than I do."

Harry let out a laugh but gave in, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Goodnight then," he sighed, smiling faintly at the camera. "I love you."

"Do you see that kiss?" Louis asked, pointing at his face on the screen and leaning in as if to look better, smiling when Harry instinctively bit his lip. "That one. Save it for when I get back."

"Only if you do the same," Harry replied, as always. As soon as Louis nodded, he blew a kiss at the camera, waiting for his boyfriend to do the same before reluctantly ending the call.

๑

"Our baby’s on TV," Oli pretended to whine, just as the cameraman did a close-up of the players standing side by side with their hands on their hearts while God Save The King played in the background.

A couple of days earlier Isaac had suggested that the whole team watch the opening game of the tournament together since it was on a Saturday night and Liam had offered his family’s countryside house as a base. They all knew it well because it had been the setting for some of the most unforgettable parties of their adolescence, so it felt almost like a trip down memory lane when that Saturday, after their match, they split into Liam’s, Mitch’s, Zayn’s and Michael’s cars to head to the outskirts of London.

Probably, if he hadn’t been with company, Harry would have spent the time before the game getting anxious, as if it were him stepping onto the court. But between food, laughs and a few beers, time seemed to fly by and, before he knew it, it was already half-past two in the morning, with only moments to go before the first whistle.

When, during the anthem, the camera lingered on Louis’ face, Harry felt his stomach twist from a mixture of so many emotions he couldn’t quite distinguish, but above all he felt such an overwhelming pride that he could have cried the moment - as he was sure would happen - his name was announced during the starting six.

That evening, they would face the home team and, although Cuba hadn’t been one of the most formidable national teams in recent years, they would still have to fight against a team that, on paper, was significantly stronger than the United Kingdom, and they would also have the support of the seventh man on the court, the crowd.

At first, it felt almost strange to see Louis playing as a setter and not as a libero, but Harry only needed to watch the first set for him to remember how magnetic it was to watch Louis in his role.

He didn’t play his best match, perhaps because he was still getting back into the high-level game rhythm after being off the court for so long or perhaps because he couldn’t find that reference point in any of his attackers to rely on. But it was all the more incredible to see how, despite things not going smoothly, he continued to be one of the best setters in the world. It was clear that he had that extra gear that set him apart from the rest of his teammates and that had, in fact, been his ticket to some of the world’s most prestigious clubs from the start.

They lost the first set, but in the second there was a significant change in pace that saw the UK fighting point by point with Cuba. The turning point came when, at the end of the set, it was Louis’ turn to serve. He hit the accelerator from the first ball, aiming for power and making the Cuban reception really struggle, while for his second serve he chose a less powerful but perfectly precise serve, placing it exactly at the corner of the backline, impossible to return, thus scoring his first ace of the match.

When he celebrated, just before his teammates swarmed him in a hug, he looked around for the cameraman at the sidelines and, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, tapped his hand repeatedly on the center of his chest, then pointed his finger toward the camera lens.

Harry couldn’t believe what he had just seen because, not even in his wildest fantasies as a fourteen-year-old with his first real crush, had he ever dared imagine Louis dedicating a point to him. He was almost convincing himself that he had misinterpreted the gesture when Matt commented "Now I want to know who he dedicated that ace to."

"To you," Zayn answered, probably to deflect attention from how red Harry had turned, "It was a way of saying 'One day you’ll learn to serve too or you’ll stay crap forever?'"

They all burst out laughing and Liam took advantage of the general distraction to turn to Harry, who was sitting right next to him on the sofa, and affectionately ruffled his hair before putting his arm around his shoulders as if he were proud of him, staying in that position until the end of the set, won by the United Kingdom.

Unfortunately, that was the only set they won, as the final score was three to one in favor of Cuba. However, they had played much better than anyone had expected at the start and it had been an exciting game to watch.

"Oh, shut up!" Mitch exclaimed as the guys started getting up to finally go to sleep. "Turn it up, they’re interviewing Louis!"

Oli didn’t waste any time, immediately turning the volume up a few notches and everyone froze in place to listen to what their friend would say. Harry would never be able to explain in words how strange it felt to see him on TV again, as he had done for years, but he was thankful that everyone was too focused on the screen to pay attention to him and his reactions.

"Can I say it’s a joy to see you back on the court?" began Arthur Baker, the BBC Sport journalist who had been commentating the live broadcast.

"Thanks, I’m really happy too," Louis smiled, before absentmindedly wiping the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Today we gave it our all, even though it wasn’t enough. But I’m confident because I think this group can achieve some great things."

"Without a doubt a great group, but I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the news came that you’d be on the roster despite your decision to take a sabbatical year."

"What can I say? It’s the National Team," Louis shrugged, letting out a little laugh. "We’re playing for the Olympics… how can you say no?"

"Rumors are circulating about your return to Perugia, some say you’re already heading to Trento or Modena. What can you reveal?"

"Nothing, actually, because I haven’t signed with anyone yet. I’m considering different options. But as soon as I have updates, you’ll be the first to know, okay?" he replied, teasing him a little, with the confidence that only someone used to being in front of a camera could have.

"I’m counting on it," Arthur didn’t hesitate to play along. "I confess that among the insiders there was a fear that this stop, right at the peak of your career, might close the doors to top-level leagues, like the Italian championships."

"The peak of my career?" Louis pointed out, raising an eyebrow with a sarcastic tone. "I don’t think so. I still have plenty of goals to achieve," he let out a little laugh before getting serious again. "But, if you think about it, to get higher you need to take a step back to get a running start, right?"

That determined and confident look made Harry’s heart skip a beat as he became more and more aware that he would fall in love with Louis again every day of his life. How could he ever resist someone like him?

"So, this sabbatical year was your step back to then take flight?" Arthur asked, trying to dig a bit deeper.

"In some ways yes, at least I hope it ends up being like that, but in others it’s been an intense year where I’ve learned a lot, even as a player" Louis explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I committed to a project where I gave it my all because I wanted to test myself and... you know when everyone asks you what you want to be when you grow up? My perspective had always stopped at a career as a player. I had no idea what I’d do with my life from the age of forty onwards- well, if I were being optimistic," he chuckled hiding his mouth behind his hand, then shrugged and smiled, "Now I know I’d love to coach, maybe even create my own club one day... who knows?"

The journalist nodded as he listened, but instead of delving deeper into that subject, he changed the topic. "Is it true you played as a libero this year?"

At first, Louis seemed almost caught off guard by the question, but probably only someone who really knew him would have noticed. "Don’t say it with that face" he laughed, pretending to be offended. "Yeah, it’s true. See? Maybe if I tell people I’ve learned to defend, more teams will call me."

Arthur laughed too, giving him a pat on the back and leaving his hand there, as if they were old friends. "Listen, last question because you know we’re curious. We saw a pretty particular gesture on that wonderful ace at the end of the second set, a dedication I’d dare say," he winked, playfully tightening his grip on Louis’ shoulder, "Is there someone special who’s stolen the heart of the very sought-after Louis Tomlinson?"

For a moment Louis widened his eyes, but he quickly tried to recover, scrunching his nose to hide his embarrassment, even though his cheeks were irreversibly red. "Special seems like the right word" he replied.

"I’ll take that as a yes" Arthur exclaimed, then turned to the camera, "Ladies, I’m sorry to break your hearts, but Tomlinson is no longer on the market."

Louis let out an embarrassed laugh, shrugging lightly. "Another positive thing that happened this year."

"What's her name?"

"Wasn’t that the last question?" Louis joked, placing his hands on his hips and arching an eyebrow in a threatening manner.

"Alright, I get it. It’s a secret," Arthur rolled his eyes, laughing, "At least tell us if she’s a volleyball player too."

"They play volleyball."

"At high levels too?"

Louis licked his lips, thinking for a moment before answering. "Not yet, but... um, they're very promising. I’m sure their time will come soon."

"Good luck to both of you then."

"Thanks," Louis smiled, giving a little wave to the camera before walking off.

When Oli turned off the TV, for a moment all Harry could hear was the accelerated beating of his own heart.

"I don't know if you noticed the smug look on his face as he answered all the questions without using any specific pronouns," Michael commented, laughing. "I’d have given myself away in two seconds."

"But since when has Louis found a boyfriend?" Isaac asked, almost thinking aloud.

"It’s crazy that he has a life outside this team," Niall teased, pretending to be shocked, "I feel hurt by this."

They all laughed, except Harry who, perhaps driven by that mix of adrenaline and sleep that clouded his mind, cleared his throat shyly. "It’s me," he confessed with his heart in his throat, but strangely sure of what he was doing.

"Oh, right! You’re right," Isaac scoffed, laughing. "Anyway, if I were you I’d feel hurt, considering he said he had a crush on you."

Harry bit his lip, barely holding back a laugh as he watched his teammates’ faces alternate between surprise at his revelation and exasperation toward Isaac, who was hopeless.

"No, I’m serious. It’s me, Louis and I are together" Harry said, this time with more determination in his voice. "I- uhm, I’m gay."

"Wait, you’re not joking, are you?" Isaac exclaimed, bringing both hands to his mouth.

"I'm not joking," Harry confirmed, nervously running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the faces of his teammates, trying to gauge whether the way they were staring at him was positive or negative. "I'm sorry I kept it hidden for so long."

"Hidden doesn’t seem like the right word," Mitch commented, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug. "Let’s just say we all kind of suspected."

Only then, when he started breathing again in his friend's arms, did Harry realise he had been holding his breath the whole time. "That I was gay or that Louis and I…?" he asked with a half-laugh, trying to hide that he was on the verge of tears because, for the first time, he felt free.

Part of him had wished with all his heart that Louis was there, but another part of him was happy this way because, in the end, this was something between him and his lifelong friends, so in a way it felt right that it had happened this way.

"Both," Mitch replied laughing and held him just a little longer before releasing the hug, allowing the others to reach Harry.

It was a completely different moment from Louis’ coming out with the team, probably because their relationship was deeper and longer-lasting. So that truth, confessed after all those years, carried an emotional weight that affected each of them differently. In the end, Harry couldn’t hold back the tears for long, because with every hug or question filled with sincere and affectionate curiosity, he felt more and more cherished, understood and finally light.

He decided not to tell Louis yet, because he had wanted to do it in person, even though keeping that secret from him for days had been almost torturous and seemed to slow down the already endless time that separated him from his return.

The tournament ended with two wins and two losses, unfortunately not enough to qualify in first place and secure a spot for the Olympics, but both the press and Louis seemed satisfied with the team's significant improvement compared to previous international competitions. Harry was a bit disappointed, because for a moment he had really believed it, but any disappointment vanished as soon as he thought about Louis finally coming home.

He was almost surprised when Louis didn’t protest the idea of Harry picking him up at the airport but, even if he had, Harry wouldn’t have listened because he wasn’t about to wait even a second longer than necessary before seeing him again. The wait between the moment when the board displayed Landed and the moment when Louis would finally step through the sliding doors of the terminal after collecting his suitcase seemed to last longer than the entire month they had spent apart.

However, as soon as Harry saw him, his heart exploded with a joy he didn’t think he had ever felt before, a happiness that made him realise that all the minutes of suffering from the distance didn’t matter at all, it had all been worth it. Always.

He didn't care if he looked like a fool when he ran towards him, literally throwing himself into Louis’ arms, barely giving him enough time to notice before hurriedly letting go of the suitcase handle so he could catch him in mid-air. The instant he inhaled Louis’ scent, it felt like he had finally started breathing again after a month of holding his breath.

"God, I’ve missed you so much," Louis exclaimed almost in a whisper, his lips pressed against his neck before turning to kiss any part of his face he could reach.

Harry slid down from Louis’ grasp just enough to take his face in his hands, studying every detail as if he feared he might have forgotten something during that infinite month. "Welcome back," he greeted him with the most radiant of smiles.

Louis leaned in kissing him and Harry, with his heart pounding in his chest, didn’t hesitate for a second before parting his lips and wrapping his arms around Louis' neck. He was sure that was the taste of happiness.

"Let’s go home," Louis said when he pulled away from his mouth, only to quickly give him another sweet peck on the lips.

Harry nodded, insisting on helping him with the luggage even though it was futile, because Louis categorically refused and, to get rid of him, started walking towards the exit without even knowing where the car was parked. Harry sighed as he caught up with him, but for once he wouldn’t complain because he had missed his stubbornness, too.

"How was the flight?" he asked as they walked.

Louis responded with something between a grunt and a groan. "Long, uncomfortable and full of turbulence."

"You must be exhausted. Are you hungry? I made something, but if you prefer we can stop and buy-"

"Honestly?" Louis interrupted, turning towards him. "Right now, I just want to take a shower and then lie in bed with you."

"Sounds perfect," Harry replied smiling and leaned in to steal another kiss, even though they were walking and it was awkward, because he simply couldn’t resist.

When they finally found themselves wrapped in the blankets of Louis’ bed, kissing tightly in each other's arms after making love, Harry felt as though that was his place in the world.

"I know we can make it" he suddenly murmured, only  inches away from his face, while absentmindedly brushing his hair from his forehead.

"Mh?"

"Us two," Harry explained. "It doesn’t matter how it will be when you leave again, we’ll find a solution. I’ve been thinking a lot about it these days and for the classes I don’t care, because it’s not a problem if I miss a few, but if I find a team, any level, where I can train when I’m with you, I could visit you once a month during the week and come back here for the weekend match."

"I know we’ll make it," Louis simply replied, leaning forward to kiss him.

Harry furrowed his brows, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. "That’s it?" he asked, puzzled. "I’m presenting my brilliant plan and that’s your only reaction?"

Louis chuckled, huffing when Harry playfully tugged at his hair. "We’ll have time to think about the practical stuff, we don’t even know where I’ll be yet" he said, rubbing his cheek with the tip of his nose. "But I know whatever happens we’ll make it work and that’s all that matters."

This time Harry didn’t pull back when Louis kissed him, sealing that promise of a future in which, one way or another, they would be together.

"I told the guys," Harry suddenly confessed, almost forgetting to share that news with him, caught up in the euphoria of Louis’ return.

"What?"

Harry laughed against his lips, because it was clear that Louis wasn’t really listening at that moment. "I came out to the team."

It took him a moment to pull away sharply and repeat, in a voice an octave higher than usual, "What? "

"It wasn’t planned, it was… just the right moment."

He would have told him everything, every emotion he felt and every phrase said by the guys, but at that moment the only thing Harry really wanted was to close his eyes and enjoy those little laughs while succumbing to Louis's barrage of kisses, who seemed to have suddenly gone wild with love and pride for him.

Chapter Text

When that final ball hit the ground, Harry's heart stopped for a moment.

The Blue Bees' season hadn't been easy from the start, with Niall's injury immediately putting their chances at risk and, despite Louis' help, it had been full of ups and downs. Several times throughout the months, Harry had found himself thinking that if they had Niall on the court, no one would have been able to stop their championship victory and promotion to the National Super League, the top tier of British volleyball.

Louis had kept his word when he agreed to substitute for him, gradually stepping back over the course of the season and working hard with Stan, even outside of regular training, to make him the player Louis firmly believed he could be. Perhaps he saw it as a personal challenge, a sort of test to see if coaching could really be a second career for him or maybe he just saw something in Stan that no one else had ever noticed due to Niall’s overwhelming presence, which would have overshadowed anyone standing next to him.

Stan wasn’t Niall and he probably never would be, simply because they were two players with deeply different characteristics. But Louis had still managed to bring out the best in him, allowing him to find the confidence he was missing to play like he already knew how, because his block was primarily mental. It hadn’t been easy for Louis, for the team or especially for Stan who, more than once throughout the season, had seemed on the brink of quitting for good. In the end, however, if Louis hadn’t insisted with his inimitable stubbornness and determination, the Blue Bees would never have had the chance to live that season finale.

They had made it to the playoffs by the skin of their teeth, fighting for the last available spot in the rankings and, just when it was time to give it their all without being able to afford a single mistake, Louis had to leave for the Pre-Olympic tournament.

He wouldn’t have played anyway, technically his absence wouldn’t have made a difference, but mentally that was a hard blow for everyone, because they knew that in case of an emergency, they would have to manage on their own. They couldn’t rely on the fact that, one way or another, Louis would always have their back.

Harry had secretly feared that this responsibility, at such a delicate time in the season, would be too much for Stan to handle, but he had underestimated the impact that those months of Louis’ relentless work had on their teammate. Because that was precisely the moment when Stan truly showed his character, setting aside his insecurities and demonstrating that extra drive he had never fully revealed when Louis was there as the second libero, allowing him to indulge a little.

They had faced the playoffs with only their own strength so, when Louis returned, he decided to step aside for good, taking on the role of coach again, even if just during the matches. In the end, they had won, advancing to the semifinals with the advantage of facing the fourth-ranked team instead of a stronger one.

So, when the ball that would have closed the semifinal hit the ground and Zayn, Mitch and Stan couldn’t save it with their dive, Harry wished he could rewind everything and go back to the moment the whistle blew at the start of the match, hoping things could have turned out differently.

They had lost.

After fighting tooth and nail throughout the entire season, they had let the semifinal victory slip through their fingers, just when they were certain that nothing and no one could separate them from winning the championship. This was supposed to be their year, the year of breakthrough and recognition among the best teams in the UK, but instead they had lost.

The atmosphere in the locker room was understandably not the best, but even though no one seemed to really want to, after showering they all started heading to the Booze, because that was their tradition, their way of facing disappointments together.

When Harry left the gym, Louis was waiting for him in the courtyard, one arm tucked into his hoodie and the other hand trying to widen the collar while he struggled to light a cigarette, shielding it from the wind. Harry rolled his eyes because he always told Louis he’d end up setting himself on fire if he kept doing that, but secretly Harry loved watching him do it. He found it fucking sexy.

Not so secretly, actually, since the wallpaper on his phone was a picture of Louis on Harry's kitchen balcony, lighting a cigarette under a white short-sleeve shirt, but Harry would never admit it out loud.

"When you set yourself on fire, I won’t even help you with a glass of water," Harry muttered almost to himself as he got a few steps closer, not looking up from the text he was typing on his phone.

Louis instinctively wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, as if it had become a reflex, and leaned in slightly to place a kiss on his temple. "Can we go?"

"No, let’s wait for Liam and Oli, they’re almost done."

Louis just mumbled a quiet acknowledgment with the cigarette between his lips, before pulling it away and blowing the smoke out. It wasn’t until he tucked his phone into his pocket that Harry noticed the other cigarette butt lying right near Louis' foot.

He turned to look at him more closely, trying to figure out if he was just upset about the game or if there was something else going on. "Everything okay?"

"Mm?" Louis asked, snapping out of his own thoughts.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Louis smiled faintly, "Well, I’m sorry about the game."

"Yeah."

Harry sighed, resting his head on Louis' shoulder and Louis absentmindedly kissed his hair. They stayed like that for a few minutes while Louis smoked in silence. He still seemed lost in thought and Harry had trouble believing it was just about the game, both because he knew all the nuances of Louis’ reactions after a loss and because, honestly, he had noticed something was off even before they got to the gym. He seemed too distracted, as if something was making him nervous, but Harry had no idea what it could be.

The only thing Harry hoped it wasn’t about was Louis' destination for the next season, because even though knowing the city wouldn’t change anything practically, it would still feel suddenly too final and real, so Harry was praying they could delay it for as long as possible.

He lifted his head from Louis' shoulder when a possible explanation came to mind. "Did you fight with Haynes again?"

Louis turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "No, why?"

"You’ve been acting weird all day."

"And you're just looking for an excuse to bring up Haynes again," Louis pointed out in a calm voice, without the slightest hint of accusation, sliding his arm off Harry’s shoulders and placing his hand at the base of his neck, gently caressing it.

"I was just trying to figure out what’s wrong with you," Harry sighed, even though by that point it was probably worth a try anyway. "And you promised we’d talk about it."

Louis raised an amused eyebrow. "You wanna talk about it now?"

"No," Harry grunted, because he hated when he had to admit Louis was right.

Louis chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek, ending the conversation. They had been together for six months now, yet Harry still blushed at those small pure gestures. Louis was always affectionate, but never excessively or overly sentimental, just spontaneous. So it often happened that, out of nowhere, depending on what was on his mind, Louis would give him a simple kiss on the cheek, making Harry feel like he had butterflies in his stomach as if it were still the first day.

Those kisses had become one of Harry’s favorite things in the world.

"Come on, lovebirds," Oli called, drawing their attention as he walked out of the gym with Liam.

Harry and Louis shook their heads in resigned amusement and walked toward the Booze with their friends. A few minutes later, when they turned onto the pub street, they found the rest of the team waiting for them at the corner of the sidewalk.

"Why are they still out here?" Louis muttered almost to himself, before raising his voice to address them. "Didn't anyone think to go inside and save seats for everyone?"

Harry wanted to laugh but bit his lip and managed to hold it in.

"It's too noisy inside," Niall replied.

"Exactly," Louis exclaimed, "That’s why, generally, the people who arrive first grab the seats."

Harry nudged him with his elbow to quiet him, otherwise they’d never get to the point, while Mitch as team captain, stepped forward and handed Louis a blue box with Blue Bees 2023/24 scrawled on the lid in silver marker.

Louis grabbed the box, looking around in confusion. "What’s going on?"

"This was the last game of the season," Mitch explained. "We wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us this year and wish you good luck for... well, whatever comes next."

For a moment, Louis looked genuinely touched, lost for words. "But- guys, I…" He furrowed his brows, glancing at the box again before looking back at the faces of his teammates, clearing his throat with an embarrassed chuckle. "You know we still have training on Monday, right? You don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily?"

Everyone burst into laughter, but it was Zayn who spoke first. "We know you’ll torment us until the last minute."

"Obviously," Liam huffed, giving Louis a pat on the shoulder. "But even if we'd won the semifinal, this would’ve still been the last home game, so it seemed like the right moment."

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off his boyfriend’s face, not wanting to miss a single detail of his reactions. He knew Louis too well not to recognize how much this gesture of gratitude and affection was affecting him deeply and how much it was also embarrassing him, because if there was one thing that made Louis uncomfortable, it was receiving gifts.

Louis lowered his gaze back to the box. "But you didn’t have to get me a gift."

"I said the same thing, to be honest" Oli teased, "I mean, we already gave you Harry, right?"

"I wouldn’t exactly call him a gift, considering I’ve lost ten years of my life just to win him over," Louis joked, turning to look at Harry with a playful expression, letting out a little squeal when Harry pinched him. "I mean, sure" he pretended to correct himself, "You guys were so sweet to give me Harry, but... do you still have the receipt?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, shooting daggers at him with his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, enjoy being funny now," he threatened in a calm tone, "Then I’ll have the last laugh when there are no more witnesses."

"Hot night at the Stylinson house," Matt exclaimed, making everyone laugh.

Louis put on his best outraged expression. "I’m a good boy, I don’t do that stuff before marriage."

Harry loved him. He couldn’t help but laugh, resigned to the fact that his boyfriend was an idiot and that he was hopelessly in love with him because of it.

"Hurry up," Harry huffed, nudging his shoulder lightly. "Open the gift."

"I’ve got just one thing to say first," Mitch interjected. "For the first time in the history of- well, I think ever… the choice of the card was the hardest part because there wasn’t a phrase that fit everyone and apparently no one wanted to just put a random signature like usual," he explained, causing a few chuckles here and there. "So each of us wrote a personal note and put it in there, but the rule is you have to read them only when you’re at home."

Louis’ eyes went wide. "You guys are crazy if you thought I’d read them here. I’m not going to cry in front of all of you."

A chorus of affectionate teasing erupted as Louis raised his middle finger to the group before finally opening the box. Harry stepped closer to help him, taking the box from his hands so that Louis could carefully pull out the contents, making sure not to let any of the cards fall out. Inside was a Mikasa ball, covered with signatures from the entire team.

Louis studied the ball carefully, turning it over in his hands before pulling it against his chest and looking at the faces of his teammates with emotional eyes. "It’s beautiful," he squeezed it even tighter, as if seeking comfort from it, "Thank you so much, guys. It means a lot to me."

Before Louis was swarmed with hugs from everyone, Harry managed to take the ball from his arms and carefully place it back in the box, stepping back to give the others space to properly say their goodbyes to Louis.

It wasn’t a real goodbye, they all knew that, but the bittersweet feeling lingered and even though this situation was hard for Harry - especially for Harry - he knew it wasn’t his moment.

"Can I just say you two looked more like a couple when you were pretending not to be?" Isaac suddenly said, slapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder and causing everyone to burst into laughter.

It wasn’t exactly untrue, because ever since they’d been out as a couple, they’d been very careful not to act like a lovey-dovey couple in front of their friends.

"We’re private people," Harry justified, "You’d complain even if we spent all our time making out."

"Yeah, but for over a month we’ve been asking for just one kiss," Michael tried to insist this time, "We deserve it after being dragged into this mess for months just because you were too stupid to confess to each other."

"Michael, I’m going to kick your ass with the ball," Louis threatened.

"Anyway, I’m sure I was the first to notice everything," Mitch crowed.

"Oh my God, not again" Harry groaned, while Louis casually draped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, because ever since the guys had found out the truth, everyone had been in a competition to see who had noticed it first and to highlight how little discretion they’d had.

Of course, Mitch ignored Harry’s protests. "So, Harry and I found a sweatshirt from the team uniform left on the bleachers while we were heading to the locker room and I was sure it was Oli’s, because if his head wasn’t attached to his neck he would’ve lost it years ago," He paused dramatically, enjoying the laughter in the background. "Then Harry, as if it weren’t completely weird, sniffed the neck of the sweatshirt and without even thinking twice said it was Louis'. The even more ridiculous thing is that it really was Louis’."

Harry didn’t remember the incident but didn’t doubt Mitch’s story for a second, because he could have recognized Louis' scent in a million people, so he blushed so deeply that he had to cover his face with his hand.

"Don’t embarrass my boyfriend," Louis defended him, clearly teasing Harry and earning a light elbow to the side from him.

"Come on, we deserve this goodbye gift," Niall chimed in, the traitor, returning to the earlier topic.

"Didn’t you reserve a table?" Harry asked, shooting a glare at him. "We’re gonna be late."

"We’re perfectly on time, I already knew we’d waste time out here," Mitch replied.

For once Louis was on Harry’s side, trying to change the subject. "A waste of time, now I’m really touched," he commented sarcastically.

"Come on, idiot," Zayn laughed, when he tried to hug Louis but was shoved away. "You know we have broken hearts over your departure."

Harry laughed along with the others, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that started screaming every time someone said something like that.

It was Liam who made everything go out of control when, hiding behind Matt and Zayn, he started a chant of "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Harry wished he could die on the spot, because despite his boldness in private and his tendency to take risks in public situations, he was incredibly shy when it came to displaying affection in front of people he knew, probably because he had always been used to hiding it. Louis wasn’t really the type either but, unlike Harry, he wouldn’t have made a big deal if it happened. Harry could feel Louis laughing beside him as he tried to lower the volume of the boys with a hand gesture.

"I hate you guys" Harry muttered, knowing their insistence was more about embarrassing him than anything else, but when he turned to see Louis’ amused and deeply loving gaze, he thought screw it. 

He grabbed Louis’ face, cupping his cheek, and kissed him, laughing at both the surprised sound Louis made just before reciprocating the kiss and at the applause and cheers from their idiotic teammates.

"Look at Louis’ face!" Oli exclaimed, bursting into laughter while pointing at his friend’s expression right after the kiss.

Matt and Michael dragged Louis forward, throwing their arms around his shoulders, one on each side, and started walking toward the entrance of the Booze. "Dude, you're completely screwed," Matt teased, "You’re in serious trouble."

"I know," Louis chuckled, not even trying to deny it.

Harry loved him more than he could express in words and, judging by the way Niall and Liam were looking at him, it must have been written all over his face.

They followed the others into the pub and took their usual seats at the table while Louis offered to get the first round. Mitch then surprised everyone by standing up with him, pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket that contained nearly three hundred pounds, explaining that he’d asked Coach Haynes if they could use the fines from that year for that night, rather than for the one marking the official end of the season.

"So basically, it's like I'm the one paying" Harry commented, realising that three-quarters of that money probably came from his own pocket due to those fucking fines Louis had given him.

Everyone laughed, especially Louis, who even tried to lean down to give Harry a kiss on the hair attempting to apologize, but all he got was a middle finger in his face.

When Liam asked if they should wait for the Coach, Mitch shook his head, explaining that Haynes had simply wished them all a good night and was heading home to rest. Harry wasn’t sure how many of them knew about what had happened between Haynes and Louis in the past few weeks. After all, he was the first to know only that they had a big argument, but he wasn’t surprised that Haynes had declined the invitation to celebrate the person he seemed to be getting along with the least lately.

That night, however, was one of the most fun they’d ever had at that pub, one of those nights Harry was sure he would never forget for the rest of his life. They left almost at closing time because none of them wanted it to end, maybe subconsciously projecting on that night the desire for everything else to last as long as possible.

Mitch had been sincere when he said that none of them wanted to settle for just signing a generic phrase, but when they had agreed to write individual notes, Harry never imagined that putting everything he had never had the courage to say to Louis into writing would be so intense. Of course, no one knew what the others had written, but when it came time to put everything inside the box, it was clear that Harry hadn’t been the only one to write a full-on letter.

In some ways, this comforted him because after spending years wondering why it had taken so little for Louis to have such a strong impact on his life, and seeing it happen again that year, Harry realised he wasn’t alone. He understood that Louis was just like that, one way or another his presence always left a mark. Louis made a difference.

Harry couldn't tell if it was this that made Louis special or if this happened simply because Louis was special, but he truly believed himself to be the luckiest person in the world for being able to call him his.

Even in that moment, as he pretended to be busy setting the washing machine at dead of night or tidying up the mess they had left in the kitchen before they left, all he had to do was watch him engrossed in reading those letters, holding the ball tight against his chest with tears in his eyes, to feel his heart swell with love for him.

As Harry passed by the sofa several times, he saw Louis wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie pulled up to his knuckles. He fought the urge to sit down next to him and hug him, simply because it was only right that Louis had his privacy. When Harry could no longer come up with excuses to keep wandering around the house, he walked over to the sofa, bending down to wrap his arms around Louis’ shoulders from behind.

“I’m going to bed” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before lowering himself further to press his cheek against his.

When he felt that Louis’ cheek was wet, he wanted to forget everything and pull him safely under the covers, even though he knew the tears were a good kind. Instead, he simply turned his face to kiss Louis’ cheek repeatedly, feeling his smile widen right under his lips.

“I’ll join you in a bit, I’m almost done” Louis replied, clearing his throat.

“No rush” Harry said, placing another kiss on his head before leaving him to read the last of his letters in peace.

Harry had been in bed for about twenty minutes when Louis entered the room, silently slipped off his hoodie and sweatpants, tossing them onto a chair, and slid under the covers, immediately seeking Harry’s embrace.

“I love you so much, I can’t imagine what my life would be without you” Louis confessed, their noses brushing gently together. “And I don’t even want to know, because when I close my eyes and imagine my future, I only see you.”

He kissed him before Harry had a chance to say anything, gently pushing his lips against his and allowing their tongues to meet.

Harry knew that, in a way, this was the answer to all the feelings he had poured into his thank-you letter, thanking Louis for changing his life more times than he could count, in so many ways, and giving him a love so profound it surpassed anything he’d ever dared imagine for himself.

“Good, because I have no intention of letting you go for any reason in this world” Harry replied, breathless, when they were forced to pull away to catch their breath.

“I love you” Louis repeated, as if he couldn’t think of anything else, before pressing their lips together again.

“Mh,” Harry mumbled, chuckling and playfully licking his upper lip. “I’ll write you letters more often if this is the result.”

Louis laughed just as he did, but instead of kissing him again, he said “I know it’s not the right time, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

Harry tried to mask how alert he had suddenly become, but was unsuccessful. “That’s never a good prelude.”

“No, I swear,” Louis whispered, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, his tone sincere. “It’s something good but important and… right now, I just want to kiss you, but I have to tell you today.”

Harry furrowed his brow, trying to understand what could be so urgent. “Is this why you’ve been acting weird all day?”

Louis nodded but, before he could speak, Harry was struck by the realisation of what it might be.

“Do you have to leave right away?” he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

“No!” Louis exclaimed, taking Harry’s face in his hands to make sure he looked him in the eyes and wouldn’t get carried away with who knows what thoughts. “No, absolutely not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

Louis couldn’t help but let out a chuckle but tried to make it up to Harry with a kiss, even though Harry pretended to push him away.

“Idiot, I said it’s a good thing,” Louis teased him. “Do you honestly think I’m going to tell you that I’m catching a flight to God-knows-where tomorrow morning?”

“Well, it would be a good thing if- uh, if you were called up for some tournament with the National Team that I somehow missed or, I don’t know, like to play the playoffs in Italy, like they did with Bruno a few years ago.”

Louis’ fingers continued to caress Harry, brushing the hair off his face as he looked at him softly. “It wouldn’t be nice to leave you,” he clarified firmly. “The departure date is still the same, May 13th for the VNL.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, taking a deep breath, still unable to ignore the fact that whatever Louis was about to say had been making him nervous all day. “So, what now?”

“So… tomorrow you’ll get a phone call. Actually, more than one, from what I know, but let’s keep our feet on the ground.”

“What? What phone call?”

This time, Louis furrowed his brows, as if he couldn’t believe Harry still didn’t understand. “Last night, my agent called to confirm that at least three Italian clubs are seriously interested in you, not just in words like we feared might be the case these past few months.”

Harry shot up, turning to face him with a confused and shocked expression at the same time. “What- what are you saying, Lou?” he stammered uncertainly. “I swear, if this is some fucking joke, I’m never speaking to you again, for life.”

“Do you think I could ever joke about something like this?” Louis asked, sitting up as well and shifting to face him.

He paused for a moment before responding but, in the end, he shook his head. “But what does that mean- you said months?”

“Please don’t get mad” Louis begged, placing his hand on top of Harry’s, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to create false hope. Before the Royal Cup finals, I sent videos from our matches so far to several sporting directors I know in Italy, knowing that during the final, they would definitely send someone to scout the players.”

Harry raised an eyebrow staring at him for a few seconds, mouth agape, unsure whether to feel grateful or unfairly favoured. “You sent my videos?”

“Not just yours, I never would’ve done that. I sent a video for each of you because I wanted everyone to have a real shot. With my connections, I could bypass the agents and go directly to the clubs.”

“So that’s why you turned down all the agents who contacted me during the final weekend?” Harry asked, rubbing his face with his free hand as he started putting the pieces together. “Oh my God, that’s why the sporting director from Milan already knew who I was when you introduced me.”

“None of those agents could have offered you better opportunities than what I was already trying to provide. I would’ve stepped back only if someone really important and trustworthy came along,” Louis explained. “And as for Fabio, I believed that too until he told me that actually they’d known you for a long time and wouldn’t make an offer because both you and Niall had already been pretty clear in the past that you weren’t interested in moving to Italy.”

“Niall too? This story seems more ridiculous every time I hear it.”

“It’s not ridiculous, H. Unfortunately, it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, I know he really told you that, but…” he stopped when he saw Louis shake his head, his expression filled with sympathy.

“Fabio told the truth, but I only found out after you confirmed that you didn’t know anything about it. When it comes to very young players, sporting directors are forced to contact them through their clubs if they don’t already have agents and… I know Fabio, okay? Besides being one of the few people I trust blindly in that world, he knows how to do his job fucking well, so if he says he made an offer to you and Niall a couple of years ago, it’s impossible he’s confusing you with someone else.”

Harry kept listening to Louis but he didn’t understand or, more precisely, his thoughts couldn’t keep up with Louis’ story because every word seemed to raise even more questions.

“When I got back from Cuba, I requested a meeting with Haynes and Campbell, the president, under the pretext of updating them on the National Team’s schedule that would keep me busy towards the end of the season, but the real reason was to take advantage of the situation and get some clarification on this whole thing because I was sure the responsibility lay with the club.”

“It’s not possible,” Harry muttered, feeling anger rise within him that he couldn’t even tell whether it was directed more at them, at Louis for keeping this from him or at himself for not having noticed anything sooner.

“I would have bet anything that Campbell was at fault because I know how these things work, I’ve seen them happen too many times not to recognize the signs, but instead he didn’t know anything about it and I was sure he was being honest because the way I brought up the topic would’ve exposed him even before we got to the core of the issue,” Louis continued explaining. “What neither of them expected was that Haynes had met Fabio during the two years he had to move abroad for work and that, when it came time to contact the Blue Bees, Fabio made the mistake of calling him to intercede both with the club and the players he was interested in.”

Harry’s heart stopped suddenly. “That’s not true.”

“I swear, love” Louis said almost in a whisper, squeezing his hand. “I know it sounds crazy now and that you've known Haynes since you were a child, that you've grown up with him, but this is the truth.”

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears, not only from the disappointment he felt towards one of the most important role models in his life but also because he felt stupid for never suspecting anything and angry because Louis had come back from Cuba almost a month ago and, despite what he had discovered, he had let Harry humiliate himself by continuing to show respect for the Coach as he always had.

“How could you keep this from me?” Harry snapped, pulling his hand out of Louis' grasp. “How- how dare you?”

“Harry-”

“Harry my ass,” Harry interrupted before Louis could even continue. “I can’t believe Haynes turned down Italy without even telling me and - God! - I kept laughing and joking with him after the truth came out, proving that I’m the fucking twat he probably always thought I was. You should’ve told me, fuck!”

“Love, please, listen to me” Louis begged. “Haynes is the only twat here and he knew I wouldn’t tell you anything until the end of the season. In fact, he had to promise the president not to say anything or he would’ve been fired on the spot.”

“Why? What the fuck was the point?” Harry almost shouted, even though it was almost two in the morning.

“Because I didn’t know how you’d react and- I’m sorry if it wasn’t the best choice, but…”

“How was I supposed to react?” Harry interrupted.

“It was obvious you’d react badly, who wouldn’t? I was the first one to lose my mind when I found out the truth, but I couldn’t know if it would’ve made you leave the team or if it would’ve upset you and everyone else to the point of ruining the end of the season,” Louis explained, looking sure of his choice. “And before you say you don’t care about the championship in the face of something like this, the point is I couldn’t let Haynes sabotage your careers again for the second time, you get me?” He tried to take Harry’s hand again and this time Harry didn’t pull away. “I know it wasn’t my business, I had no right to make this decision without consulting you or the others and I’m sorry I had to do it, but I won’t apologize because if I could go back, I’d do the exact same thing. The future of all of you- your future is worth a lot more than a ‘fuck you’ to that fucking asshole, because you can say that to him tomorrow and it’ll mean the same as it would’ve a month ago, with the difference that now he’s out of a job and you’ll have a fucking contract in Italy.”

Harry took a few seconds to process everything but in the end, despite the frustration of being kept in the dark, he had to admit to himself that if he had been in Louis’ place, he would have probably made the same choice. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before asking, "Was he fired?"

"The same day as the meeting with Campbell, with immediate effect from the last match of the season."

Harry took another deep breath, then let himself fall back onto the bed, slightly tilting his head to look at Louis more clearly. "So it’s all true?"

"What?"

"There really are Italian teams interested in me?" Harry asked, starting to realise it only now.

Louis smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand. "I feel sorry for Niall, because I think with his injury he’ll have to put everything off for a year, but there are already a couple of clubs keeping an eye on him. As for the others, honestly, I don’t know if anyone will be contacted or by whom," he said, shrugging slightly. "My current agent is a good friend of mine and he’s doing me the favor of handling this for me. I asked him to only give out the direct contacts of the players I provided him and to keep me updated on anything regarding you."

"And tomorrow they’ll call me."

"I know for sure that at least one call will come tomorrow, but I don’t know if the others will."

Harry pulled him by the hand and Louis didn’t hesitate to follow the invitation and lay down next to him again, never stopping to look him in the eyes.

"Am I going to play in Italy?" Harry asked, as if he still couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

"If the contracts meet your expectations" Louis replied, unable to hold back one of those huge smiles that made his eyes turn into mere slits.

Harry scoffed, turning onto his side and lifting his hand to cover Louis’ mouth. "Shut up" he chuckled along with him. "I think I’d accept even if they only took me to clean the bathrooms."

Louis wrapped his fingers around Harry’s wrist and moved his hand just enough to free his mouth, without pulling it away from his face. "What I love about you is that you’re always so ambitious" he teased, making Harry laugh.

"I can’t believe it," Harry whispered almost to himself, tangling one of his legs with Louis’ as Louis leaned forward to kiss him gently on the forehead.

"I have to confess one more thing" Louis murmured, his lips still pressed against his skin, and he let out a chuckle when he heard Harry groan in protest.

"More?" Harry exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist to pull their bodies closer. "Please, stop."

"I have to," Louis gave him another kiss on the forehead before continuing. "I’ve already signed my contract."

Harry jerked his head up quickly to look him in the eyes. "Where?" he asked, using his most determined tone because he was sure Louis didn’t want to tell him.

"Sorry, but I’m not going to tell you."

"Louis."

Louis kissed him right between his furrowed eyebrows. "You know I won’t give in."

"Louis, if there was even the slightest chance of us being on the same team…"

"In that case, I would have told you immediately," he interrupted without hesitation. "But the team I’m with isn’t looking for opposites and I haven’t received any offers from the teams that will contact you, so at least for this year it’s certain that we won’t play together."

"Then you can tell me where you’re going," Harry whined, pouting, and Louis kissed it away at once.

"No, because you need to choose based on what’s best for you, not based on which city might be closer to mine."

"God, I hate you so much," Harry sighed.

"Only because you know I’m right," Louis chuckled, kissing him again.

๑

Eventually the calls really came but, despite that, Harry still couldn’t believe that this was truly his life.

It started to feel a bit more real when he heard other teammates talking about being contacted by National Super League teams or clubs abroad, like Liam and Zayn who were negotiating with Poitiers in France, or Matt who was being eyed by a Polish team. However, the only one besides Harry who had received calls from Italy was Mitch.

Milan had actually renewed its interest in Niall but, of course, everything was still on hold while he fully recovered from his injury, so maybe something would really move for him during the course of the season. Mitch, on the other hand, was weighing between Verona and Lube.

The practice following that Sunday, when everyone had received at least one life-changing phone call, was nothing short of surreal. It began with an understandable metaphorical assault on Louis in the locker room to find out what the fuck was going on because, unlike Harry, none of the other guys had been informed in advance or knew how many months of commitment and work had gone into those developments. Louis tried to downplay his role, explaining that he had simply sent some videos and provided phone numbers, but Harry silenced him and told the entire story, including what had happened with Haynes.

When the Coach arrived that day at the gym, accompanied by the president, the whole team was already waiting, ready for a confrontation. Campbell took charge of the situation, distancing himself from what Haynes had done but taking responsibility for not discovering it earlier. Empty words, essentially, but they helped calm the initial part of what would become a long confrontation between the athletes and their coach. Former coach actually, because, as Louis had predicted, with the end of the season, his time with the Blue Bees had come to an end as well. For the remaining months of training – less than two now – the team would temporarily be handed over to the coach managing the club's women's section, while they searched for a new coach for the next season.

Not that it mattered to any of the guys, to be honest, because regardless of how things had turned out, even before knowing the truth it was certain that they were all leaving to finally try to make the leap they had dreamed of their entire lives.

Harry wasn’t sure if the others were as terrified as he was about how much their lives were about to change. They had grown up together, they had dreamed of this exact moment together, but suddenly they would all be separated and in the future it would be easier to meet on the court during some international competition than to grab a beer at the Booze. He was scared and excited at the same time, but in those days he was especially confused because he didn’t know which offer to accept.

He had been contacted by three teams, just as Louis had told him. He immediately discarded Vibo, because neither the technical nor the financial offer was comparable to the other two. Moreover, he had tried to figure out where the teams were geographically located and it was impossible for it to be anywhere near where Louis would play, as Vibo was located very far south and isolated compared to the other teams.

If Louis had known that one of the first things Harry did was check where the various clubs were situated within Italy, he definitely wouldn’t have reacted well, as he had been adamant about not wanting Harry to make a decision based on the possibility of being close. That wasn’t Harry’s intention, but he couldn’t ignore that it was one of the factors influencing his choice. And as the days went by and his confusion continued to grow, he became increasingly convinced that Louis’ insistence on this wasn’t at all fair to him.

They argued about that, and argued intensely, to the point that they didn’t speak to each other for almost two days after Harry accused him of not only being of no help, but also leading him to actually believe that this was just a strategy to push him away and that Louis didn’t care about seeing him frequently throughout the year. If he did, he would have done something to make life easier for both of them.

Louis didn’t take those accusations lightly and, instead of trying to reason with him as he usually did, he struck back sharply, saying that maybe it was Harry who, for some reason, wanted their life to be this complicated just for the sake of complaining or avoiding the difficulties of a long-distance relationship which, as he had been telling him for days, would have been there no matter what decision he made. He bluntly told him if he expected him to give in to all his whims just because he wanted to drive him to exhaustion or make Louis the one who in one way or another would ruin everything, he was dead wrong. Unlike Harry, he had never doubted their relationship or the strength of the bond between them. At least, not until that moment, because the only thing he was sure of was that without mutual trust, they wouldn’t have lasted half a day in the real world.

Harry cried all night after that argument, after Louis left his house telling him, with tears in his eyes but a firm voice, to take the time he needed to think about what he really wanted from his life and, above all, from their relationship. Because he, too, had fears and he, too, was suffering from the situation. He wouldn’t keep being accused of not doing enough for their relationship just because Harry needed to vent.

The next day, despite the headache that wouldn’t let up, Harry opened his laptop and set up an Excel table that could not only organize all the pros and cons of the offers he was considering, but also take into account all the information he had gathered and his feelings. He would never make a decision ignoring the part of his heart that kept screaming that he needed Louis, because that was his only certainty and the only thing he felt he had to give him credit for.

It was true that Harry had been wrong to doubt the value of Louis' feelings and not trust him, but it was also true that he wasn’t willing to passively accept that he couldn’t try to find a solution that would make both of them happy. And in a sense - and certainly with some effort - he respected that Louis cared about what should have been his priorities, maybe even more than Harry himself did. But since it was his decision to make, he would set the criteria. He would do it in his own way.

He created two identical tables on two different Excel sheets, placing them next to each other to have the screen divided in half between Piacenza and Verona, the two options he had to choose from. He started with the easy part, writing down everything he already knew.

Of the two, Piacenza was definitely the one that appealed to him more, the most prestigious team that would offer him the chance to live the dream a little closer, even if from the bench. Verona was still a mid-to-high-ranking team, even though it wasn’t one of the top teams, and it could have brought him closer to a different kind of dream, the dream of actually getting on the court, even if rarely and for a few minutes. Verona would have been the wiser choice, the more affordable one, but Piacenza still had the undeniable allure of the top seeds.

Another important detail he wrote in Verona's pros column was Mitch, because he had confided in him that he would choose that team, so he wouldn’t be alone, he’d have one of his closest friends by his side and that luxury should have already made Verona the clear winner.

He assessed all the factors that in one way or another would influence his life, from the nearest airport to the efficiency of public transportation in the city, from the possibility of continuing his studies to what the area had to offer. Only after finishing he opened a third file, naming it Louis, where he listed all the current volleyball market rumors.

Twitter and The Reckless Locker Room were talking about a possible return of Louis to Perugia - Harry thanked God that Andrea had been signed by Milan because he wouldn’t have handled that stress as well - while other rumors had him negotiating with Modena or Trento. To leave nothing to chance, he also cross-checked, mainly relying on articles, to verify which teams were officially looking for a setter. It wasn’t easy because the Italian league hadn’t finished yet, although it was in the final stages, so most of the behind-the-scenes movements hadn’t been made public yet.

He added Monza to the list but crossed out Perugia because they had just announced the signing of their new setter. After nearly two hours of research, he was left with three possible options: Monza, Modena or Trento.

“Fuck you and your stubbornness,” Harry muttered to himself, rubbing his face hard and stretching his back before opening Google Maps.

He tried every possible intersection between his cities and the ones where Louis could be, marking in the respective tables how long it would take to get to them by car or train. When he finished, he was so frustrated that tears welled up in his eyes because, fundamentally, he had just wasted time, energy and his mental sanity.

“Fuck off!” he exclaimed, slamming the laptop shut and pushing it to the farthest corner of the sofa, as far from him as possible.

He felt like an idiot, no, he was an idiot.

He covered his face with one hand, starting to cry, while in his head he could only hear Louis’ voice, which for days had told him over and over again to only consider his offers and not worry about anything else because, no matter what city he chose it wouldn’t make a difference, nothing would change for them.

He had spent days getting angrier and angrier with Louis every time he downplayed the problem, getting irritated because he wanted answers from him, not empty words of comfort. They had even fought in a way they never had before and in the end… nothing would change. Just like he had said.

Nothing would fucking change.

Louis had always given him the answer without even being that mysterious. He had said that a few minutes more or less by car wouldn’t change their lives, but Harry had never taken him literally because he thought Louis was just trying to be vague to make him decide with the fucking autonomy he was so obsessed with.

He sniffed, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and leaned forward to grab the laptop. The data was still there, exactly as he had written it, and in his head he felt the data laughing at him and the idiot he was. Both Verona and Piacenza were almost equidistant from Modena, Monza and Trento. Piacenza and Trento, actually, were the only ones that were very far apart - almost three hours by car and four by train - but all the others were only about an hour apart by car and less than two hours by train.

He highlighted the potential distance from Trento in Piacenza's cons column and, taking a deep breath, he decided to draw some conclusions. He reread everything several times, even though the differences were clear, because according to his files he should choose Verona. It had all the prerequisites to be the right experience for him, for growth and on top of that he would have Mitch, along with the guarantee of not being too far from Louis, since Verona would be close even to Trento. Yet, every time he confirmed to himself that this was the more logical choice, he ended up checking the Piacenza table again because there was a voice inside him that told him maybe he could find a way to make it earn more points.

The realization hit him suddenly, when he realised that this dissatisfaction with the table results simply meant that he had already made his choice. Despite the guaranteed bench, the absence of Mitch and the possible endless distance from Louis, Harry wanted to go to Piacenza.

The moment he understood he had made his choice, he suddenly felt lighter but most of all he felt the need to tell Louis immediately, even though since their fight neither of them had reached out to the other. He sent him a text asking if they could meet, then continued staring at the phone screen, nervously chewing on his nails or the strings of his hoodie, until he saw the two blue checkmarks appear and the message that indicated Louis was typing. He paused a couple of times before his response finally came.

Louis: I need to take Lottie to the station in half an hour. Can I come by after I’m done?

Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted as he read the text, which didn’t even seem like it was written by Louis, too cold and formal. He replied that it was fine with him.

When, after almost two hours, Louis still hadn’t arrived or contacted him, Harry convinced himself that he wasn’t coming. Before letting himself fall into a black hole of his own negative thoughts, he decided to try calling him, but it rang with no answer.

At that moment, he truly thought of everything, from the possibility that Louis was purposely ignoring him to a car accident, but he knew that if he lost the little bit of clarity he had left, he would start panicking. He convinced himself that Louis was simply avoiding him because he was still angry and disappointed, so he sent another message.

Harry : I would’ve preferred to talk to you in person, but you didn’t come... Lou, I’m sorry for how I acted. I don’t really think you don’t care about us and I could never doubt you because no one has ever made me feel loved the way you do
Harry : I’ve decided on Piacenza anyway
Harry : I wanted you to be the first to know

After the first twenty minutes of staring at the screen without seeing the blue checkmarks appear, Harry put his phone away and started seriously worrying, thinking the worst, because he knew Louis and he wouldn’t ignore him like that, even if he was mad at him. He was on the verge of calling Lottie, hoping she had news of her brother, when he heard the sound of the front door lock clicking and he rushed to the entrance, throwing his arms around Louis' neck with such force that it made him stumble from the impact.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he exclaimed, holding him even tighter.

“I…”

“Shut up!” Harry sniffed, “I don’t want to know anything. You scared the hell out of me, you- you disappeared for hours and didn’t answer.”

Louis wrapped him in his embrace, returning the hug and trying to comfort him. “I’m sorry, love,” he kissed his cheek, “There was a detour for an accident and I got stuck in traffic, but I left my phone at home so I couldn’t warn you.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’ll be more careful,” Louis promised with a half-laugh.

Harry let him go and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, because apparently that day all he could do was cry.

Louis placed a hand on his cheek, gently caressing it. “Are you crying because you were scared?”

Despite the hug earlier, it was clear from Louis’ look that he was still very tense.

"Partly” Harry admitted, “It’s been a complicated couple of days.”

Louis hesitated, as if he wanted to say or do something, but eventually he slightly shook his head and gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, lowering his hand as well. Harry picked up on the message and, without saying anything more, motioned for him to follow. After all, it was Harry who had asked him to come to talk, so he would have to act like the mature one.

They sat on the sofa, turning so they were facing each other but still too far apart compared to how they usually were, and Harry hated that they were both suddenly so nervous.

“Can I say something before we start?” Louis asked, waiting for Harry to nod before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for not telling you which city I’ll be playing in. My sister not so kindly pointed out that I’ve been the usual dictator, as she calls me, and that I can’t expect to decide how other people make decisions about their own lives,” he said almost sarcastically, as if he was accusing himself, “She also added that I need to learn to accept that the people I love might decide to take risks or make mistakes, that one day they might live with regrets and- well, I guess the concept is clear. I can’t protect you from everything, it’s not my place to do so and I need to stop being such a control freak.”

Louis' apologies, if they could even be called that, were much more than Harry had expected.

“Your sister is very wise, maybe you should listen to her more often.”

“I’m trying,” Louis sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.

“But?”

“But it’s not easy. I know that if I had told you about Modena from the beginning, we probably wouldn’t have reached this point and I’m sorry, but I also know that if I could go back, I’d still prefer to let you choose completely on your own.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, catching what Louis had said with a slight delay. “So Modena?”

He couldn’t tell if Louis had let it slip or if he had said it deliberately, because Louis simply nodded.

“I didn’t want you to be influenced.”

“By what? That’s what I don’t understand,” Harry asked. “At first I thought it was about the distance, but…”

“The distance doesn’t change,” Louis shrugged, finishing the sentence for him.

“Exactly, I just wish I'd figured it out sooner.”

Louis looked at him with a confused expression, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean? I told you a million times.”

“Well, I didn’t get it,” Harry murmured, lowering his gaze. “I thought- uh, I thought you were just minimizing my anxiety.”

“Well, initially yes” Louis said. “I mean, when Vibo was still on the table, I decided not to tell you about Modena because I didn’t want you to dismiss it just because it would be too far away, but when you crossed it off and I started to see how much this was affecting you, I told you specifically that, in the worst-case scenario, if we were an hour and a half apart instead of an hour and twenty, it wouldn’t matter because the distance between the cities we would live in wouldn’t make that much of a difference.” Louis started nervously playing with the seam of one of the sofa cushions. “At that point, I think I didn’t tell you about Modena anymore out of principle more than anything else, because I thought you were acting that way just to get on my nerves.”

Harry remembered those words Louis had said to him, probably just a couple of days after receiving the calls from the clubs, but he also remembered that when Louis said it doesn’t matter he had gotten so annoyed that, while Louis was still talking, Harry was already ready to tell him to go screw himself along with his mysteries.

“I thought it was just a general statement, I- uh, I didn’t get it. I thought every time you said it doesn’t change anything, you were just washing your hands of it and…” Harry stopped for a moment, thinking about how to continue because they could talk about it forever without ever getting anywhere. He sighed, closing his mouth, then speaking a few seconds later. “Look, we both messed up. There’s no point in beating around the bush. We didn’t understand each other and we were both too proud to meet halfway.”

“I know, I’m sorry” Louis confessed. “But I did it because I wanted what’s best for you.”

“Okay, but this isn’t just about me or you anymore, it’s about us. It doesn’t mean our decisions should depend on or be influenced by the other person’s, but there can’t be all these secrets.”

“All these secrets? What secrets are you talking about?” Louis asked, becoming defensive.

"The videos sent to the Italian clubs, the Haynes story, the fact that you signed a contract without even telling me you received an offer. You ask me to trust you and I'd give you my life in a heartbeat without thinking twice, but how can I be sure that in the meantime you’re not keeping other projects hidden from me, which I might find out about months later?"

Harry searched for his gaze because, for him, it was crucial that they understood each other this time without misunderstandings. He didn’t let Louis interrupt him, knowing that if he did, he wouldn’t find the strength to finish what he was trying to say.

“I don’t want you to choose one contract over another because of me. I just want you to keep me informed about new developments and not do everything on your own. I want to- uh, sometimes I feel like I’m not really a part of your life because you don’t ask me for advice on important things, you don’t share your fears with me and, I don’t know, it feels like you only tell me things because you have to, not because you want to,” he quickly wiped away a tear that he hadn’t been able to hold back, “I always feel like the center of attention when I’m with you, but at the same time I feel excluded. It’s like I have to earn a little piece of access to your life every single day.”

Louis looked at him as if he had just been slapped across the face. “You really feel like that?”

Harry nodded and when Louis opened his arms, signaling him to come closer, Harry didn’t hesitate. He melted into his embrace, feeling like he needed it more than air itself.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea” Louis murmured, his lips pressed against Harry’s forehead as he held him tightly against his chest. “I never meant to exclude you. I just... I don’t know, I guess I need to get used to letting go a little more. I just know I can’t wait to plan our life together, step by step.”

“Together, though” Harry emphasized, wanting to make it clear that he would not accept having to play investigator again just to figure out which part of Italy his boyfriend would be living in the following year.

“No secrets, together,” Louis kissed the tip of his nose. “In London, in Modena or in whatever city you decide to go.”

“Piacenza.”

“Mh?”

"I've chosen Piacenza" Harry repeated, lifting his face from Louis’s chest to look him in the eyes. “You’d know if you had your phone, since I sent you a text.”

Louis jokingly rolled his eyes, then tilted his head and kissed him on the lips. “Congratulations, love. I’m more and more proud of you.”

From that moment on, everything that happened felt almost like it was a product of their imagination, as if time had decided to fold in on itself, suddenly pulling them closer and closer to the moment of goodbyes.

In reality, Harry felt like someone was stealing minutes from under his feet, as he tried to move forward with his life.

The day after he cleared things up with Louis, he didn’t waste any time and contacted the sports director of Piacenza to give his final okay. They had sent him the final version of the contract to confirm the offer, but they had also given him the option not to sign immediately, not to make a hasty decision. Harry was a young athlete and it was his first experience in the A League, so it was probably a formality that protected both parties. They invited him to train in Italy with the team for a few days, allowing him to get to know the environment, do routine medical exams, have a small photoshoot in preparation for his official presentation and sign the contract in person.

He would leave a day earlier than Louis, who would be absent from mid-May to the end of June because the United Kingdom had received a Wild Card to participate in the Volleyball Nations League, an annual worldwide competition that would take him to a different country or even continent every week. At the end of the VNL, they might have had a couple of weeks to meet because then, after mid-July, Louis would be busy in Paris for the Olympics.

The English National Team hadn't qualified to compete, but BBC Sport had asked Louis to join Arthur Baker in commentating on the volleyball matches that would be broadcast on TV and, depending on how the experience went, they had already informed him that they would definitely need him for the Under-20 European Championships during the last week of August and the first of September.

Louis hesitated before accepting, but Harry had been firm and he would have been ready to argue again if Louis hadn't listened because he wouldn't let him miss out on an opportunity like the Olympics just to avoid ruining their first summer together. Sometimes, Harry couldn't believe how it was possible for the same person to have such different personalities: one rational at all costs and the other willing to sacrifice anything - even when unnecessary - for the people he loved.

Harry also hoped he could take advantage of the fact that his boyfriend was someone important to manage to see a game live or even just sneak into the Olympic Village and breathe in that magical atmosphere that every volleyball player began to dream of the moment they first wore knee pads. Unfortunately, BBC declined the request because the rules of the Olympic Committee were very strict and didn't allow the press privileges to be extended to anyone who wasn't part of the immediate family of the pass holder.

Harry would never admit to a soul that, when Louis jokingly told him that he would have to marry him before the 2028 Olympics, he couldn’t stop thinking about it for days on end.

Louis tried to convince him to join him in Paris anyway, to be together when he wasn't working, but Harry preferred not to because, in the end, it wouldn't make sense. Louis would have a hectic schedule so Harry, besides being a hindrance, would end up being alone the whole time.

However, for Harry, it was still a small big victory because for the first time Louis had made him a part of his plans, had let him truly into his life. They had decided together what would be best for them both as individuals and as a couple and they had made a concrete effort to meet halfway.

Looking at their calendars was a bit scary because doing the math, from the time they would part in May, they would only see each other for a couple of weeks in early July and for another two in mid-August, but Harry strangely felt confident.

It was true that he had given up following him to Paris, but it wasn’t a sacrifice in itself because Louis had proposed that they go on vacation together in France right after the Olympics to celebrate his first contract in top-level volleyball. Harry didn't immediately give in to the idea that it was a gift, trying to insist on paying his part, but it was impossible to convince Louis. So Harry told him that he would accept the gift only if he could use the money he was saving to buy tickets that would allow him to visit Louis in Greece or Serbia - depending on the schedule of Louis's commitments - during the weekend between the two weeks of the European Championships. Louis literally went crazy at the thought and that became their official summer plan.

Maybe Louis was a bit contagious with his obsessive organization, but knowing that every tough period would just be a long wait before they could finally see each other again helped Harry manage the anxiety and fear, at least when it came to their relationship. He knew that he would miss Louis terribly, especially because in the meantime he would have to take some huge steps in his life without him by his side, but he also knew it would be worth it.

No matter how well they had managed those last weeks in London before their respective departures for Italy and the VNL, nothing could make the last evening together before their lives changed forever any easier.

That night, with Harry's suitcase already packed on the floor of his room, there was no need for words because their hearts understood each other. It was clear from the way they looked at one another that all they needed was to feel the other's presence so, after finishing the last details, Harry closed the door to his room and turned off the light, as if that could erase the rest of the world and make him feel only Louis's love.

He didn’t even try to hide how his heart raced as Louis’s trembling hands touched his skin, as if time wasn’t slipping from their grasp in that exact moment. Every kiss was an open wound and at the same time its healing and, as they made love, they both let go of the emotions they had kept in for too long just to give each other courage.

Harry wanted to find the right words to say before having to separate from him, to make him understand how his heart could breathe precisely because of moments like these. He couldn’t hold back the tears because he wanted to scream at the thought of having to survive without him, but also because everything had happened so fast and his only wish was to be able to turn back time, to have that life just for one more day.

๑

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he headed towards the airport exit and, for a moment, he almost laughed because he still had to get used to that strange new feeling.

It had been an impulsive decision but one he didn’t regret, at least not yet. He had moved to Piacenza just over a week ago, starting a new life, and slowly he was trying to settle in. In the past few months, he had tried to learn a bit of Italian, but it had been strange walking around the city and not understanding anything that the people around him were saying. Before leaving he thought it would be fun, almost like feeling perpetually on vacation, but instead he felt even more disoriented. Perhaps that wasn't entirely due to the language barrier.

The club had provided him with a small apartment, just the necessary space for one person to live comfortably, and soon they would also give him a car, although Harry was a bit intimidated by the idea of getting used to driving on the opposite side.

Every time he walked into the gym, he felt like he was in heaven, even though it was never less than thirty-five degrees and they were still in the physical preparation phase - so they often didn’t even use the volleyballs - and muscles that until a few days before he hadn’t even known he had were aching. Harry was still happy, like a child on Christmas morning, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. In fact, even the teammates he had met so far never missed a chance to point out that he was the only one who always smiled.

They had taken a liking to him and he felt pretty good with them too, even though he still felt a bit awkward due to the typical embarrassment of the early stages of getting to know people. At least, he had been able to gradually integrate into the group because, for the first few weeks, there would be few of them, since those who had participated in the Olympics wouldn’t be back in the gym until late September.

Harry didn’t want to be ungrateful, because he was genuinely happy when he was training, but as soon as he stepped outside the gym it was as if the world crashed down on him. Emotionally he had not handled that first week in Italy well, because he felt like his life, apart from volleyball, was empty. He didn’t have friends, no one to go home to in the evening, no family and not even the chance to go to a pub or a park and try to make friends with random people because he would have felt like an idiot doing so without even knowing their language.

He felt alone.

He was alone and he knew it would be like that even before he moved, of course, but he hadn’t imagined it would be so difficult to separate from the life he had been used to, to start over from scratch.

It was while reflecting on this, walking home after training, that he had noticed out of the corner of his eye that he had just passed a barber shop. Without even thinking about it, he turned back, opened the door and stepped inside.

He had to start over from scratch, accept that the person in front of the mirror was a new Harry with a new life and the best way to do that was to make it official with a new haircut.

He covered his eyes with one hand when the barber gathered his hair into a ponytail with his fingers, then cut it off at the base. But he was still very happy with the final result and most of all, he finally felt different, lighter, more open, more like the Harry he had become.

He hadn’t told Louis, though, because he had made that impulsive decision the night before leaving to join him in Greece, so he decided to surprise him, even though at that moment, while looking for a taxi outside the airport, he wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing by not telling him beforehand.

What if he didn't react well? What if he didn't like it?

Harry knew that Louis would never hurt him intentionally, but the element of surprise could throw him off to the point that he wouldn’t be able to hide how much he actually didn’t like the change. After all, Louis had never hidden his love for Harry's long hair and he showed it every time he could, whether it was when he absentmindedly stroked it, as if doing so relaxed him more than it did Harry, or when he had fun braiding it simply because he thought it looked good or when he tugged at it roughly while they were having sex.

Harry, however, liked his new look. He was still getting used to the feeling of having his neck completely free or running his hands through such short hair and, to be honest, that little lock of hair that kept falling on his forehead was already bothering him, but overall he liked it. So, he hoped Louis would like it too.

As soon as he got into the taxi, he took a deep breath, thanking God for the invention of air conditioning, because just ten minutes outside the airport in the late August heat had him drenched in sweat. After telling the driver the name of the hotel, he checked his phone to see if Louis had read the text where he told him he had landed, finding a reply.

Louis: The second set just started… if it doesn’t end 3-0 you’ll hear me screaming from the hotel

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing, knowing how much Louis had taken it badly that he couldn’t pick him up at the airport because his plane had landed right during one of the matches he was supposed to be commentating on.

Harry: I’m in the taxi

Louis: How was the flight?

Harry: Fine… I just want to take a shower

Louis: Oh now I’ll definitely be able to focus on the game
Louis: Thanks babe
Louis: You’re always so helpful

Harry chuckled to himself because, if he hadn’t been so tired, he might have considered having a little fun by teasing him while he was on national TV. But he decided to let it go for the day.

He arrived at the hotel in about half an hour and, once he checked in, he went up to Louis' room. He took a long, relaxing shower, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait forever before he could see his boyfriend again. He didn’t bother getting dressed, just put on a pair of boxers and, as he picked up his phone to check where Louis was, he received a message from him.

Louis: Why is there a naked man in my room???

It took him a moment too long to realise he was talking about him and then Harry burst out laughing. But before he could text Louis that he was an idiot, he heard the beep of the keycard and instinctively turned toward the door.

"I’m going to complain to hotel security because this is unacceptable" Louis muttered dramatically as he walked into the room, distractedly slipping off his shoes, impatiently unbuttoning the collar of his shirt and closing the door, all at once. "What if my boyfriend finds out-"

Louis’s voice cut off abruptly as he turned toward the inside of the room and saw him. It was a matter of a few seconds, but in that timeless moment, Harry felt like he was about to pass out from anxiety as he watched Louis’s eyes widen almost comically and his surprised expression turn into a strange open-mouthed smile.

"Oh my God!" Louis exclaimed with an excited little squeal that thankfully left little room for doubt about his reaction, before running over to Harry and cupping his face in his hands as if he wanted to examine him more closely. "There’s a truly gorgeous and fucking sexy stranger in my bedroom."

"Do you like it?" Harry asked, biting his lip shyly but with his heart happily racing in his chest.

"Mh? What?" Louis pretended to be confused. "Did you do something to your hair?"

Harry burst out laughing and Louis took the opportunity to run a hand through his hair, letting out another strange, too-high noise that could barely be described as human when it slid through his fingers so quickly. "When the fuck did this happen?"

"Uh, yesterday afternoon after practice" Harry replied, absorbing all the attention Louis was giving him in that moment. "I felt like I needed a change."

"Well, welcome new ridiculously sexy and unfairly beautiful boyfriend" Louis said before kissing him.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh against Louis's lips. "What language are you speaking? I don’t think that sentence even exists in English."

He let out a small, surprised scream when Louis pushed him by the shoulders, throwing him onto the bed before climbing on top of him and trapping him between his arms while looking at him as if he was ready to devour him. "You can’t expect more right now, all my blood left my brain the second I saw you."

"So, do you like it?" Harry asked again with a mischievous look, running his hand over Louis’s chest while pulling at the fabric of his shirt to start loosening it from his pants.

"You’re gorgeous," Louis answered without hesitation. "You look like a completely different person, but at the same time you’re still my Harry. I don’t even know if that makes sense."

Harry felt his cheeks flush, partly from the compliments and partly because he kept finding it unsettling how Louis always had the ability to say the exact right thing.

"And now your stupidly perfect face stands out even more," Louis added before leaning down to kiss him deeply.

"So, you’re saying you didn’t like me this much before?" Harry teased, just for fun, while Louis was already struggling to manage his thoughts between the surprise and the obvious excitement.

"Shut up," Louis chuckled, immediately understanding what Harry was trying to do. "Don’t make it worse, my two neurons are occupied right now. One is mourning the loss of my beloved curls and the other is wondering why I’m not fucking you yet, considering you’re the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen."

"I’m wondering the same thing," Harry burst out laughing and, wrapping his legs around Louis’s waist, he flipped their positions, launching into a passionate kiss while desperately trying to undress him.

Needless to say, they didn’t leave the room that evening. Greece could wait.

That weekend with Louis was exactly the breath of fresh air Harry needed to face the upcoming week of training with a different spirit. After returning from Greece, for some inexplicable reason, everything seemed suddenly less scary, even the solitary evenings at home.

After the European Championship ended, with the exception of a brief stop in Modena to take possession of his new apartment, Louis spent his last few days off before starting training in Piacenza with Harry. It was his little secret because no one knew about the two of them yet, but for the time being, it was enough for him to go to the gym every day a little happier than the day before, cherishing those emotions for when they would help him through the tougher times.

When Louis finally moved to Modena, it wasn’t easy, but they managed to find a new routine that made them both feel good. During the week they never managed to see each other, but on Fridays, as soon as the last practice ended, one of them would travel to meet the other for the weekend and they would try to make up for the lost time. They knew that with the start of the league, maintaining those rhythms would be difficult if not impossible, because according to the schedule there would be many weekends when they’d be at opposite ends of Italy. But they promised each other that they would never let commitments and exhaustion keep them apart for too long. They would always find a way, even if it meant settling for seeing each other just for a few hours before having to leave again.

As October approached and with it the start of the season, Harry felt that anxiety growing inside of him, the kind he knew all too well, the anxiety of big occasions. He had improved so much since being in Italy, the team’s technical staff said he had made giant strides and he knew that he wouldn’t really step onto the court in an official match unless for some daring strategic change in serve, since that was his strength at the moment. However, he still felt that anxiety in his stomach for his debut in the Italian league.

His family would be coming to watch him and even Niall, unexpectedly, told him a few days before the debut to save him a ticket for the game because he had just booked his flight to come cheer for him. But despite Harry continuously telling everyone that it wouldn’t be necessary for them to fly all the way to Italy to watch him on the bench, he was genuinely happy that his loved ones would be there for him.

Everyone except Louis, of course.

The positive thing was that they would both play their first match at home, but the downside was that the games would be at the same time. So, even if Modena won in under an hour - on paper, their match was much easier - Louis would never make it to Piacenza in time to see even the end of Harry’s match.

Harry naturally felt bad, but he knew there was nothing either of them could do to change the situation, so he didn’t dwell on it, not as much as Louis at least, who psychologically seemed unable to accept that he couldn’t be there.

The week of the debut, they broke the rule and Louis came to Piacenza on Wednesday evening after practice simply because, as he said, he knew that Harry, with just over two days before the game, would be so nervous that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. And, most importantly, because he couldn’t let him face the debut without his little at-sign drawn on his wrist.

In moments like this, Harry still had trouble believing how lucky he was to be with someone like Louis, because no one else in the world would love him so much to drive an hour and a half after hours of practice, with a brand-new permanent marker on the passenger seat, just to remind him how immensely proud he was of him.

Louis didn’t even stay to sleep at his place because the next morning he would have to be at the gym by nine, so they just had dinner together. After an intense and necessary cuddle session on the sofa, Louis took his left wrist in his fingers and with extreme concentration - it had to be perfect because the occasion was too important - he drew a small at-sign on the inner side.

“If it fades too much before Saturday, let me know, and I’ll come over to touch it up” he said seriously, before kissing him one last time and heading back to Modena.

Harry just laughed, madly in love with the stupid idiot in front of him, and nodded, knowing that between sweat and showers that ink wouldn’t even last until the next evening.

The next day, unlike Louis, Harry didn’t have practice until late morning, but he still woke up early because he couldn’t shake the idea he had during the night. He did some quick searches on Google while having breakfast and then, without thinking twice, left the house hoping that since it was just a matter of a few minutes, he wouldn’t need an appointment. He was even prepared to beg if necessary, because he needed to get the at-sign tattoo Louis had drawn on him before the ink faded.

When, just over two hours later, he walked out of the tattoo shop with a gauze bandage on his wrist, after a nerve-wracking wait to use the first available slot that morning, he felt like he was floating ten inches off the ground. He had always sworn to himself that he would never get a tattoo related to a guy, but deep down he knew he would never regret that choice because, no matter what the future held for their relationship, nothing could ever change the importance Louis had in his life. He didn’t tell Louis, though, because even in that case, he wanted to do it in person. So he made sure not to show the bandage during their video calls or accidentally reveal his wrist in the next two days, keeping that little secret to himself, a secret that meant so much to Harry.

The Saturday of the match finally arrived faster than Harry had hoped or feared, because his heart was still deeply torn between the terror and excitement of finally seeing his lifelong dream come true in an official way.

Before going to the gym, taking advantage of the fact that no one could see him, he held his water bottle tightly to his chest because he wouldn’t be able to use it in the A League and, for the first time in his life, he felt like he didn’t need her anymore. He symbolically said goodbye to her, silently thanking her for everything it had done for him over the years. Then, he placed her on the shelf in his room, right next to Mr. Carrot, because he thought it was right for the two items that had given him courage throughout his life to be together.

Once at the arena, after kissing his family and Niall, who were waiting in line to enter as the gates opened and after replying to Louis’ good luck message, Harry put on his uniform and, from the moment he zipped up his sports bag, everything became a whirlwind of emotions that he knew he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

During the warm-up he could feel his heart beating in sync with the balls bouncing on the taraflex, while the music mixed with the noise of the crowd in the stands and Harry’s mind slowly began to find the concentration he needed to block out everything that wasn’t the ball he held in his hands.

As predicted, this was going to be a very complicated match because they were opening the season by facing the reigning Italian champions. Even though it was the first match of the season and no one expected top-level performances, the game was a true spectacle, not only for the audience that packed the sold-out arena but also for the players who gave their all in a fierce battle.

During a timeout called in the middle of the fourth set, when Piacenza was down by a set and trying to get back into the game and force a fifth, while giving instructions for the next moves, coach Anastasi quickly turned to Harry and said, “Get ready to step in for Ricci, to serve.”

At that moment, nodding to the coach, Harry thought that maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to know beforehand. He would have preferred to discover it in the moment of the substitution because that kind of serve change was a tricky thing to handle psychologically. It was meant to catch the opponent off guard at the most critical moment of the set with a serve different from the ones they had prepared for the match, but it also required taking risks with tricky serves from players who, coming in cold off the bench, often at scores like 24-24, could either score the turning point of the set or make the mistake that would end it.

Harry spent the next rallies almost holding his breath, praying from the warm-up area that Ricci’s rotation wouldn’t come too late in the set. Luckily, when the coach signaled for him to run to the substitution zone, the score was still 20-19 in their favor.

As he walked toward the baseline, he tried to calm his heart by taking deep breaths. He looked up at the girl sitting on the small stool at the corner of the court and raised his hand, waiting for her to pass him the ball, bouncing it on the floor. Then, he turned toward the court and prepared to serve with his heart in his throat.

He knew he had messed up the toss from the way the ball had slipped off his sweaty fingers due to nervousness, but luckily he managed to fix things a little to avoid the irreparable, internally celebrating when the opposing reception managed to receive the ball that would have otherwise gone out. He hadn’t managed to put them in difficulty, but at least he hadn’t given away such an important point because of his mistake.

It was a long rally and although Brizard, their setter, hadn’t called him into attack even once, Harry still managed to contribute with a save just before Simon’s winning block awarded the point to Piacenza.

When Harry headed to the service area again, he felt much more confident. He had risked a lot and he knew the mistake was still lurking around the corner, but at least he had broken the ice. He had the ball passed to him by the same girl from earlier, turned towards the court, bounced the ball twice, then took it in his hand and extended his arm in front of him.

As he looked at the ball, his eyes fell on the little at-sign tattooed on his wrist and for a moment he felt invincible. He focused on the ball, then on the area he intended to aim for and again on the ball.

Ball. Court. Point.

He took a deep breath and tossed the ball.

He would never forget the tension mixed with excitement during those endless milliseconds in which, as he descended from the jump, Harry’s gaze followed the trajectory of the ball until he saw it land on the opponent's sideline, marking the first point of his career.

Only after watching the footage of that ace at the end of the game did Harry realise how his teammates had overwhelmed him in celebration, because he was the little one of the group, so that point was important to everyone, regardless of how significant it was for the outcome of the game. Harry didn’t notice anything, too overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions at that moment, and he didn’t even care that after the third serve they lost the point due to a defensive error because, even as he left the court to make way for the libero, he felt happier than he had ever been before.

They secured the fifth set and eventually won the match after almost two and a half hours of play, but to Harry it felt almost like living in a movie because there was no way that this could really be his life. He would spend Sunday in the kitchen because he was definitely going to bring some pastries to Monday’s practice to celebrate his first point, but he would do it gladly because, simply, he couldn’t stop thinking about how happy he was.

Before going into the shower, he checked his phone to see if there were any messages from Louis and found one from him, sent less than an hour ago, telling him he had finished early as expected and was already in the car on his way to Piacenza.

When, just under half an hour later, he left the arena to meet his family and Niall in the parking lot, he signed his first autographs for fans who, although they were mainly waiting for Lucarelli, Simon and Leal, didn’t hesitate to approach him to compliment him and even ask for selfies.

“Can you sign an autograph for me too?” Niall teased when he finally managed to make it across the courtyard to join them in the parking lot.

Harry showed him the middle finger from behind his mother’s back, as she hugged him so tightly it almost felt like she was suffocating him, before passing the spot to Gemma.

When it was Niall’s turn, his best friend proudly said “I sent a ton of videos to the group chat, you’ll find a few hundred notifications.”

Harry laughed because he had caught a glimpse of the crazy number of texts in their old team’s group chat, but hadn’t had the courage or the time to check them yet.

“I still can’t believe it,” Harry mumbled dreamily.

After one last pat on the back, Niall broke the hug and checked his phone. “Any news from the Prince Charming?”

“Stop calling him that” Harry protested, laughing, ignoring how much his family had found it funny. “I just know he’s on the road.”

“Okay, I have fresher updates, because I heard from him while you were being a diva signing autographs and he said the GPS says he’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

He didn’t know if it was physically possible, but Harry’s heart did a joyful leap while he tried to act almost indifferent, nodding at the news. “Do you mind if we wait for him here?”

“Harry, come on,” Gemma scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Do you really think anyone was expecting us to go to dinner before Prince Charming arrived?”

"I don’t know about you, but I came to Italy just to experience the thrill of being in an empty parking lot at night," commented Harry’s mother, playing along. "Who cares about pasta, pizza and all the other things I could be eating when I know Louis is about to arrive?"

They all burst out laughing, including Harry, who covered his face with one hand to hide how much he was blushing. It wasn’t his fault he was in love.

Once his teammates had left and the small crowd of fans waiting for photos and autographs dispersed quickly, only Harry’s car and the one rented by his mother remained in the parking lot within ten minutes. They were watching the video of Harry’s point probably for the fifteenth time while he pretended to complain, when the headlights of Louis's car approaching illuminated their little group.

At that moment, everything else seemed to disappear for Harry and as soon as Louis stopped the car a few steps away and got out, Harry ran toward him, jumping into his arms. As always, Louis was ready and caught him, lifting him up while Harry kissed him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Mh," Louis chuckled into the kiss, surprised by the sudden attack. "I take it that went well?"

Harry slid down from his grasp, almost bouncing on the spot from how incredibly happy he was. "We won."

"It’s almost embarrassing" he heard Niall say a few steps behind, while his mother and sister laughed heartily, but Harry decided to ignore them because he was well aware of it and didn’t care at all.

"I saw the result," Louis confirmed, smiling proudly. "But I was referring to you, not the game in general."

He probably regretted saying it immediately because, in a high-pitched tone that Harry didn’t even know he was capable of, he replied "I scored an ace!"

Louis’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised. "Did you get in?" he exclaimed. "What- what? You scored an ace?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip in a futile attempt to contain his excitement. "He put me in at the end of the fourth set and- and I almost died, I almost messed up the first attempt but on the second serve I made the ace and-"

Louis interrupted his rambling by cupping his face with his hands and kissing him, but Harry couldn’t stop talking, so after the initial surprise, he tried to pull away to say, "And look at this!"

He raised his wrist, waving it near Louis's face to grab his attention. When Louis let out a resigned and amused sigh at the same time and gave up on the idea of kissing him again, he gently took Harry’s arm to stop him and take a look.

"What am I supposed to see?" Louis asked, laughing, as his gaze searched for something until it finally settled on the tattoo.

"But it’s…" he whispered almost to himself, furrowing his brow and leaning in closer to see better, as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. He gently ran a finger over the ink and then, perhaps finally realising that it was indeed a real tattoo, he placed his lips on that small at-sign to kiss it.

"I can’t believe it" he murmured with an emotional voice as he looked back at Harry’s eyes.

"That’s it, no more markers" Harry joked, unable to handle the intensity of Louis’s gaze.

"No more markers," Louis replied, smiling. "Now it’s forever."

Harry hoped that the meaning of those words wasn’t just about the tattoo, but judging by the way Louis kissed him, that forever meant much more.

That was their forever.

Chapter Text

Harry needed a coffee.

That morning he hadn’t heard the alarm, not any of the four alarms he had set. Or rather, he had heard them and kept snoozing each one in turn until the delayed ones overlapped with the ones set for later and the result was that his phone had started ringing about every two minutes until he turned it off because he didn’t have the mental energy to open his eyes and figure out how to deactivate the chaos he had created. Naturally, he fell back asleep immediately after.

At least, fortunately, Louis was already up because if all of this had happened while he was still in bed, he would have definitely killed him.

When Harry finally woke up for real, almost an hour later than planned, his first thought was coffee because he felt that the day wasn’t starting on the right foot and he needed to get it back on track while he could, especially since with all the things that needed to be done, he couldn’t waste his only day off of the week.

He walked into the kitchen, yawning, and almost by instinct bent down to leave a kiss on Louis’s cheek while passing behind him to turn on the coffee machine.

"Good morning," Louis mumbled with a few seconds of delay, as if he had been too focused on the article he was reading on his phone in front of a steaming cup of tea and hadn’t even noticed his greeting.

Harry knew that Louis had woken up earlier because he had an early appointment, although he couldn’t quite remember what it was. He imagined that Louis had already returned and, as usual, had skipped breakfast to grab those extra ten minutes of sleep.

They had been living together for more than two years now, so Harry could say that he knew him like the back of his hand, with all of his strengths and flaws.

It hadn’t been easy at the beginning for two strong-willed people like them to coexist, but love had helped them smooth out the rough edges to meet each other halfway and learn to fit together perfectly. As much as they might argue or complain about each other, they wouldn’t change what they had built together for anything in the world because it was exactly the kind of life they had dreamed of during the hardest times of their relationship.

The first year, in Piacenza, hadn’t been easy but somehow they had managed to survive the crazy rhythms of the A League. They lived just over an hour apart, but since they were also involved in two different European cups in addition to the regular league, it sometimes felt like they lived in separate worlds, unable to meet for entire weeks.

To balance out all the negative aspects of that season, however, there were also some of the best memories of his life, because that had been the year of firsts for him, both good and bad.

He would never forget, for example, the first time he played against Louis. It had been so weird not to cheer for him or shake his hand at the net during the greeting, because the idea itself of being against Louis had felt weird, even though Harry hadn’t stepped onto the court except, as usual, for a substitution during the first set and then again in the fourth.

His first time on the court had been a disaster because he sent the ball into the net and then returned to warm the bench. But when he was called up again, he had performed his task perfectly, scoring an ace. Harry had wanted to dedicate the point to Louis to tease him, but if he had done that the referee would have called him out for unsportsmanlike conduct, so unable to even celebrate toward the net, he had just kissed the at-sign tattoo on the inside of his wrist so that the message could reach only the person it was meant for.

That gesture, born partly by chance and partly for fun, over time had become Harry’s signature move because from that moment on, he started dedicating every ace to Louis.

If anyone had asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to explain why. Maybe it was because it was through the serves that they had started to put their misunderstandings aside, getting closer when Harry would stay in the gym after practice just to serve and help him work on reception, or maybe his mind had made some overly deep and sentimental connection about how Louis, being his first love, was also the love of his life - he had known this from the very beginning - almost as if he had made an ace in his heart.

Maybe there wasn’t a real explanation, but it had become such an automatic gesture that, even though no one but the two of them knew the meaning of that tattoo, even the fans knew that after every ace Harry would celebrate by kissing that small design on his left wrist.

A simple gesture that often didn’t even reach the person it was intended for, since most of the time he couldn’t be present or wouldn’t see videos of the moment, but it had become almost a lifeline for Harry during their toughest time. After the season in Piacenza, Harry had the chance to move to Latina, to a team of much lower level but where he could play as a starter.

It was Louis who had encouraged him to accept the offer when Harry had told him about it because they both agreed that after using the year in Piacenza as a springboard to get known, it was important for his career to prove his real capabilities. It hadn’t been easy for Harry to find the courage to put himself out there in that way and, especially, to move so far from Louis who, for that season, had finally given in to Fabio’s long courtship and signed a three-year contract with Milan.

He had also learned to live with the fact that Milan meant Andrea, because that year he and Louis were back to being teammates. The cherry on top of a cake filled with over four hundred miles of distance, packed schedules and crazy trips just to spend a few hours together before having to say goodbye again.

In hindsight, although knowing that they would manage and everything that happened afterward happened precisely because of that nightmare season in Latina, if Harry could go back he wasn’t sure he would make the same choice again because he wouldn’t wish anyone to live through a year like the one he had spent there.

The only positive aspect of those months had been volleyball because after struggling a bit to get the confidence needed to sustain that pace of play during the first matches, after a few missteps, Harry had finally found his rhythm, earning that starter spot which led to the offer that allowed him to start dreaming again. He signed a two-year contract with the Monza team without hesitation and this not only represented a significant step forward technically, but it also meant he could finally live with Louis.

That was the start of their first two years of living together in a small apartment on the outskirts of Milan, where they began building their life together, brick by brick.

They had created, not without difficulty, their little universe and although the idea of change and new experiences was stimulating, they were aware that nothing could be more valuable than the stability they had finally found. After those two years, however, with both contracts expiring, they knew it wasn’t certain that they would be able to choose not to separate again.

All of their uncertainties suddenly disappeared during the Christmas dinner organized by Fabio for his athletes because, even though Harry played for their direct rivals, he hadn’t passed up the chance to accompany Louis as his boyfriend. It all happened almost by chance when, between one toast and another, Fabio proposed they stop by his office in January to think about a long-term project that would begin with a three-year contract for both.

That very night, as they cuddled after making love, even before anything could be considered remotely official, Harry and Louis almost without realizing it began planning the rest of their lives together.

After a few months of searching and a ton of appointments in more or less every area of Milan, they had managed to find and buy their dream house just before the end of the sports season. So they had taken advantage of the summer period to do the necessary work, planning to move in when they returned to Italy after their commitments with the National Team, a vacation and a couple of weeks in England to visit their families.

Moving into a house that was truly theirs made that forever they had promised each other so many times over the years even more real, a forever they had never stopped believing in, neither when moving forward seemed almost impossible nor when, despite their perfect life, they ended up fighting over silly things like who had forgotten to replace the toilet paper roll in the bathroom or the fact that after almost six months in that house, they still hadn’t found a chandelier for the living room.

That morning, for example, when Harry noticed the kettle out of place and with the lid open, he took a deep breath to avoid arguing before even drinking his coffee.

“Lou, did you remember to call the gardener?” he asked while waiting for the coffee machine light to stop blinking because, looking out the window, his eye had fallen on the bare flower boxes in the driveway.

“The last time I checked, you had a phone too,” Louis replied.

“Louis ” Harry sighed, not even trying to hide a hint of irritation in his voice, “I reminded you three times in the last week.”

Louis finally put his phone down, turning toward him with a provocative little smile. “I already called him after the first time you told me.”

“What? And why didn’t you tell me?” Harry exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips with a threatening stance.

“Because I wanted to see how long you’d keep going before doing it yourself... I mean, forever,” Louis chuckled with a pleased expression.

Harry was sure that one day he would strangle him with his own hands, so to avoid ending up in jail before the end of the season, he decided not to respond and turned back to the coffee machine, pressing the button maybe with a little too much force.

“Don’t make that face” Louis teased him, laughing and getting up to hug him from behind, while Harry pretended to ignore him because Louis always made him angry when he acted like that.

Would it have been that hard to avoid making him unnecessarily upset for days by just telling him the truth right away? He didn’t think he was asking for the moon.

“You know I'm right” Louis added, kissing his shoulder.

“I don’t think so,” Harry replied with a sharp tone and a sarcastic laugh. “When is he coming?”

“Saturday morning.”

Harry quickly turned within his embrace and looked at him with furrowed brows. “But Saturday we were supposed to go buy the new bathroom cabinet.”

“Oops.”

He wasn’t going to be fooled by Louis’s innocent smile this time, so he decided to return the favor, putting on the most irresistible pout in his repertoire. “You did that on purpose.”

“You don’t have any proof,” Louis defended himself, shrugging slightly. “And, just so you know, if you had called him there wouldn’t have been this terrible misunderstanding.”

“I hate you.”

“Not true.”

Harry moved away when Louis, chuckling, tried to kiss him, mentally cursing himself because he could never stay truly angry with him. “Oh, I can guarantee it,” he huffed.

“It’s a real shame you’ve already agreed to marry me.”

That was a low blow and Louis was fully aware of it because their marriage was one of Harry’s soft spots.

Louis had asked him during their last visit to London. While Harry was looking around, lost in his thoughts, on the escalators at Bond Street Station on the Elizabeth Line, Louis had tapped him on the shoulder and, when Harry turned to see what he wanted, he saw that he had a little box with a ring in his hand.

He hadn’t prepared grand philosophical and sophisticated speeches about their love. He had simply told him that since they had been together he had made only two promises and that ring would help him keep both of them. One was that he would marry him before the 2028 Olympics and the other was their forever.

“I’m still in time to change my mind” Harry provoked, trying to sound convincing but failing miserably.

“You could never,” Louis replied confidently.

“And who says so?”

“Me.”

“And who are you?”

“The one you’d ask to make the calls to cancel the wedding.”

He wished with all his heart that he had the strength to resist, but probably the reason Louis was the love of his life was also the fact that he was an idiot. So in the end Harry burst out laughing and, when Louis tried again, he let himself be kissed without the slightest resistance, because he was hopelessly in love with him just as if it were still the very first day.