Chapter Sixteen

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Louis was happy. 

He was happy that his mum knew, or at least understood in that way that only mothers could – in that way that relaxed him but also encouraged him. He was happy that his sisters had met Harry, that they had become completely infatuated with him but in a way that was quite unlike the rest of the girls that were bound to fall in love with him, that they had both fallen for and approved of the boy with the beautiful green eyes and the voice that could turn knees to honey. And he was happy that Rosie could fall asleep in arms that weren’t Louis’, that she could love someone’s hair more than his and that she could lie there without a care in the world with only the knowledge that she was cared for and that she was loved. 

Louis was happy. But something was missing. 

It didn’t take long to figure out what was missing; if anything, he might have known all along what he needed in order to be completely…happy. And not just in the sense that he could be content, that he could be perfectly satisfied with how his life was going. No, the kind of happiness he wanted and craved was the kind of happiness that could compel someone to swing through trees, scream from rooftops, and jump into oblivion without thinking twice. 

And he knew how to fix it. He knew it was there. He could feel it there in his chest, slow and burning and powerful and threatening and all these forces that he knew could destroy a person from the inside out if kept concealed and buried for too long. It was a burden – such a sweet, wonderful burden – that he needed relief from. It was nothing and everything all at once. 

He thought long and hard about how to do it, how it might finally happen. But every time he brought himself a little closer to doing it, the words were trapped. His tongue wrestled with itself and the sides of his mouth got sticky and he thought he might choke if he pressed it any further. 

He didn’t want to do it out of nowhere, like it was something spontaneous or fleeting or something that could only happen in the moment. He wanted it to have meaning; it needed to have weight behind it. And it almost felt like a physical rejection whenever he tried doing it otherwise. 

So he decided to wait. 

He decided to wait just like Harry said he would wait. Perhaps Harry always knew it would happen, or maybe he always knew that it was there just as Louis had recently realized. 

And suddenly, just like that, there was no pressure. It would happen when it decided to happen, when it felt like the right time, when he couldn’t hold it anymore. Because Harry had said it and that was enough for now. So whenever Louis came to terms with it, whenever he could bring himself to that same inevitable moment –

It would be perfect. 

***

As it turned out, perfect would have to wait. The night after they returned from their weekend getaway and Louis’ family had left, Harry received a simple text from Liam that told him the release date for their single had been moved up an entire week – next week. 

“That means we have to promote it,” Harry said after telling Louis and rereading the text several times through. “Which means…” 

“You’ll be gone again,” Louis said, completing the thought. 

“Not for as long a time, but yeah.” 

They were in the living room after having simultaneously read Rosie a story from her fairy tale book and putting her to bed. Even though they had already spent the past few days together, it didn’t really seem to matter that Harry was there anyway.   

“It’s rubbish,” the younger boy said, throwing the phone to the floor and collapsing on the couch. “That’s complete shit.” He buried his head in his hands, slowly coming to terms with the new information. 

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