Wear it like a crown

Chapter 2

Harry had only just settled into Zayn’s mid-sized island of a sofa when his phone rang. Accepting a beer, he used his free hand to fumble the phone out of his trousers, surprised to see Louis’ name flash across the screen.

It had been a mere ten minutes since they’d talked. Surely Liam hadn’t found anything quite this quickly? Oh God, had they found something? Was there a chance this nightmare was over before it had truly begun?

Tucking the beer between his thighs, Harry picked up the phone and struggled to think of a casual opening, something that wouldn't make him sound too desperate. “Miss me already?”

Oh, great. Now he’d come across as a different kind of desperate.

If anyone had the skill to make silence seem loudly unimpressed over the phone, Louis Tomlinson was that person. Harry cringed. Sure, Louis had been a bit of a judgmental prick throughout part of their meeting, so it wasn’t as though he could complain too much about Harry skirting the edges of appropriate behaviour, but—uh. Two wrongs didn’t make a right.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled when five seconds had passed and Louis had yet to utter a word. Zayn flicked Harry a curious glance as he dropped onto the sofa next to Harry, poking him with a foot.

“I believe,” Louis’ tone was as dry as the Sahara, “we’re still at that stage in our acquaintance where I can go ten minutes without talking to you. In addition, I’m a strong, independent woman, and you may have the curly locks of Prince Charming, but I have yet to see you ride in on a white stallion. This is not that fairy tale.”

“I’ve got a white mare,” Harry told him, and really, he should stop and direct this conversation back onto normal territory. He didn’t know what it was about Louis that tempted him to act out. “Surely that should count? Otherwise, it would be sexist.”

To Harry’s surprise, Louis gave a quick, curling laugh. “All right, Princeling. I’m sure you’re a fantastic rider. Far be it from me to question it. Them. Your, ah...” A tiny pause. “Riding skills.”

Had Louis just–-really? Were they suddenly caught in a round of Innuendo Bingo? Shit, how was Harry supposed to come up with a good retort when his brain was wiped blank, heat pooling low in his belly at the thought of straddling Louis’ hips, holding himself up above him and–-no. No. Harry needed to stop. There was a good chance he was reading more into this than he should.

He’d likely been silent for too long, because Louis spoke again, tone brisker than before. “Your collection of horses aside, I’m actually calling with a question. Can you give us a list of people who know you’re gay?”

The way Louis said the words as though they meant nothing—you’re gay; the grass is green; look, it’s a rainy day in London, now there’s a surprise—settled strangely in Harry’s chest. Louis made it sound so easy, so inevitable, when there were nights Harry had fallen asleep wishing he’d wake up normal, would meet a nice girl and fall in love, get married in a splendid ceremony at Westminster Abbey and live up to expectations.

No such luck, of course. And while puberty had been hard, he’d mostly come to accept what he couldn’t change. Hearing a near-stranger casually put it out there was new, though. Not necessarily in a bad way, just... new.

“Yes, of course.” Harry sucked in a breath to counteract the tight clench of his chest. “Not many people know, so it will be a short list. Give me five minutes, and I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks, that would be helpful.”

“Okay.” Hesitating, Harry wondered whether there was anything else, but he couldn’t think of a reason to keep Louis on the line any longer. Louis had things to do anyway, and Zayn was studying Harry with an amused quirk to his mouth, wiggling his naked toes against Harry’s thigh.