Over Again | larry stylinson

four | dude, we're getting the band back together!

Louis awoke to the sound of the kettle the next morning, which was a pretty speedy reminder that he hadn't miraculously left Princess Park in the night and ended up in his own bed, but was in fact still on the sofa.

"Sorry if I woke you," Harry's voice floated from around the corner, "I forgot how you like to sleep in-"

"It's fine," interrupted Louis awkwardly. He pulled up the blanket that he'd taken from Harry's room - their shared room, he reminded himself with a jolt - and sighed quietly. So it was real, then.

"If you're making hot drinks, could you grab me a coffee?" he asked with a rub of his eyes. Might as well be up now that Harry is, he thought.

"Sure. Milk, sugar?"

"Nope, just as it comes. Same as always. Thanks."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "How did you sleep?" Louis offered.

"Not great," said Harry.

He brought the coffee through and set it down in front Louis, as if he was avoiding their hands touching. Louis was oddly grateful for this.

"Me either," he said.

He yawned and ran his hands over his hair, which he knew was sticking up in irregular tufts the way it always did first thing in the morning. "Do you feel up to talking about things yet?"

Harry chewed on his lip. "I suppose we have to," he nodded. "I don't know what the plan is for today, but I'm slightly concerned that sooner or later we're going to have to actually see other people. Starting with Liam and Zayn."

"Fuck," Louis said by way of agreement. "Suppose we'd better bite the bullet on that, then? Sooner rather than later?"

"Probably for the best."

Each took a slurp of their coffee, thinking.

"I should probably text Niall," said Harry, at the exact same time as Louis said, "Reckon I could smash nineteen-year-old Zayn in a fight."

"Louis!" Harry had to force himself not to laugh, horrified. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?!" Louis flexed his hands, looking at them rather admiringly. "Do you remember the fucker at nineteen? He looks like a cross between a twig and a fuckin' Ken doll."

"Yes, I've seen him more recently than you have, of course I know what he looks like. And obviously you physically can fight him," Harry rolled his eyes, "But you aren't allowed. We agreed not to tell him about the band stuff, remember?"

"I don't remember agreeing anything, Styles," Louis frowned, "And I still want to punch the bastard."

"He's nineteen, he hasn't done anything to you yet," Harry reminded him. "Look, just - just don't punch him, alright, Louis? For me?"

"Fine," Louis sulked. "I won't hurt him. But I'm not hugging him either."

"Fine," Harry sighed. "No one was going to make you do that. But keep in mind that it's 2012 and he thinks you're his best friend, and also that we don't know how this time shit works so if we create too many ripples, it could be a disaster."

"Alright, Mr. Kindness," Louis said with a small smirk. "I'll just act normal with him. Happy?"

"Happy," Harry agreed. "Now, the next thing - obviously we aren't going to tell them about the band breaking up-"

"Obviously."

"-And I wasn't thinking of telling them that we had to break up, either."

"You were serious last night? You're going to run with that?" Louis was shocked.