Larry, Actually.

Four: December 4th

"'Lo?" He mumbles. 

"Louis? Why on earth are you asleep at two in the afternoon?" Harry says. His phone rang a few seconds ago, and Louis answered while still half asleep.

"Not asleep. You woke me up." Louis mumbles, burrowing into the bed after putting it on speaker.

"Fine. Why were you asleep at two pm?" Harry sighs.

"'M hungover."

"Why, exactly?" Harry asks.

"Because, genius, I don't have work today and I went out last night." Louis says. "Anyway, why are you phoning?"

"Because you're supposed to be over here right now." Harry says.

"What? Harold. You're on your honeymoon. Why the fuck would you want me to join you?" Louis asks. He's confused, and this thinking isn't helping his hangover.

"No... It's the 2nd of December. I got home yesterday. You're supposed to be over here." Harry says.

Fuck. Shit shit shit shit. "Its- it's what?"

"Its the 2nd. Just get here soon, alright?"

"Do you really want me there?" Louis asks, stumbling out of the bed. "I mean, you just got married, mate. You just got home from your honeymoon to the house you're gonna share with your wife. Do you really want me there?"

"Yes, Louis. Because guess what, you're my best friend." Harry says. "I want to see you. Alright? Stop getting insecure about like... Intruding on the marriage. We're close, we've been friends since we were kids. Louise knows this. Get your ass over here."

"Right- give me twenty minutes... Or so."

Harry hangs up the phone, and he spends a few seconds screaming into his pillow before starting to get ready.

***

"Lou!" Harry exclaims, hugging him. He looks annoyingly happy. And tanned. And healthy. He has this glow about him, and it's making Louis feel even shittier. 

"Hey, H."

"Why so sad?" Harry asks. "Its Christmas! You can't be sad at Christmas!" 

"Eh, maybe you." Louis shrugs. "Loneliness is just getting to me."

Harry hugs him again, large hands against his back. Louis sighs.

"Um... I have a co-wo-"

"No, Harry. You're not setting me up with anybody, ok?" Louis says. "I don't need my best friend to play matchmaker. Alright?"

"Fine." Harry sighs. 

"I know you love playing matchmaker." Louis says. Harry nods, and they go into the house.

Louise hugs him, and he represses the urge to bitch slap her. 

***

Dinner is torture, the heterosexuality and the love between the two is disgusting. Louis really wants to throw up.

It's just disgusting. The PDA is simply too much to bear, and he has nowhere to look, and spends the entire time staring intensely at the lasagne.

"So, Louis. Do you think you'd get on any dating apps?" Louise asks. 

Louis swallows, trying not to sneer at her. "Um... Not sure."

"There's some great ones." Harry chimes in.

"I'll think about it... And, anyway. Isn't getting on an app the lowest you could be? You're that lonely?"

"Not really." Harry says.

"You wouldn't know, Harold. You're married, and you didn't meet her on an app now did you?" Louis snaps.

Louise narrows her eyes at him, and Louis looks away, instead turning to look (stare) at Harry.

He glances back at Louise, who's face has taken on this surprised looking expression. There's something like understanding glimmering in her eyes.

"Well, there's plenty of gay bars around." She comments, and Louis wheels round to look at her.

"You told her?" He asks.

"What? No-"

"No. I figured it out. It's kinda obvious." She says. It feels like she's putting a lot of emphasis on it, but Louis' too hungover to figure out what.