C H A P T E R    F I F T E E N

Lyrics and Luck

❄●❄

                  IT WAS SOMEHOW both amusing and frustrating for Harry to have so few possessions to pack and yet have such a hard time packing. Where on earth had he stashed his gloves? His hat? Did Louis still have his thicker jacket? He'd freeze if he got back to the North Pole without something heavier than his old coat.

                  At the top of the list of things he couldn't currently find was his cell phone. He could hear it vibrating consistently somewhere – not with text messages, but with phone calls. Was it Ed again? Louis? Perhaps he buried it inside his half-full suitcase. Perhaps he left it in the fridge or something. It could have fallen from his pocket while he was in the bathroom maybe.

                  He could always get back to Ed, and he'd see him in due time anyway. But if he was missing calls from Louis, it might be important. At least, the kind of important he was willing to let fill his head right now. Ed's kind of important was not the same kind. It will have to wait until Harry gets there. Gets home.

                  And so he searched, first in the kitchen and then the bathroom. It wasn't currently vibrating either, so he was looking for it blindly. He emptied his suitcase, careful to keep everything folded and neat, but it wasn't in there either.

                  "Damn it all," he mumbled to himself, putting his clothes back into the suitcase.

                  The vibrating sounded again, and Harry was determined to find it this time. Listening closely, he crept into his living room and paused for a moment. It's definitely in here.

                  He began lifting the sofa cushions, though he couldn't recall the last time he actually sat on them. But there, beneath the third one, was his still vibrating cell phone. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he picked it up, ready to answer Louis' call.

                  However, it wasn't Louis. Or Ed.

                  "Hello?" Harry answered, wrinkling his brow.

                  "Harry?"

                  The voice sounded familiar, but Harry definitely didn't recognize the number. "Uh, yeah. Who is this?"

                  "Hey, mate. It's Zayn."

                  "Zayn." The surprise was completely evident in Harry's voice, and he knew that, but he couldn't seem to stifle it. "What's up? Did you get my number from Louis?"

                  "Lottie, actually. Louis doesn't know I've called you."

                  "Oh."

                  "Yeah... I was wondering if you were free today before we start working on your song tonight."

                   Harry frowned, lowering himself onto the sofa slowly. He didn't remember making plans with Louis for the earlier hours of the day, but that didn't mean he didn't want to spend them with him anyway. He was probably going to get ahold of him after he finished packing, honestly. It's not that he didn't like Zayn, but...they really didn't associate outside of the nights Harry accompanied Louis to their little writing sessions. And even then, he spent most of the time with Louis in a corner of the room away from the others. This was definitely unprecedented.

                  How would he say no, though? He couldn't. He'd feel awful if Zayn knew Harry turned him down just so that he could spend more time with Louis.

                  "Yeah, I think I'm free," he said. "Why, what'd you have in mind?"

                  "Just wanted to talk a bit. We could grab lunch somewhere maybe."

                  "That sounds great. I'm just packing for a trip home, but once I'm finished I can meet you somewhere?"

                  "There's a pizza place at the corner near Louis' place. Know which one I'm talking about?"

                  Harry didn't, but he figured it wouldn't be hard to find. "Yeah. I can be there in an hour if that works."

                  "That's perfect. Thanks, mate."

                  "No problem."

                  And that was it. For a few minutes, it was sort of hard for Harry to remember that he needed to finish packing and then change out of his sweats. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his phone, unsure of what to make of that call. What did Zayn want to talk about it? Harry felt like he was reading too much into it, but... But then why would Zayn get his number from Lottie instead of Louis? Aren't they close friends?

                  Was Zayn going to ask Harry to back off? Was he getting jealous that Louis was spending all of his free time with Harry instead of Zayn lately? Oh, God. He wasn't prepared to handle that. He never meant to ruin any friendships by becoming infatuated with the guy with the glass cheekbones who sat at the back of Gibson's almost every night. He never meant to spend every second he could spare with that guy. He never meant to become quite close with that guy's sister either, or invade on that guy's band writing sessions.

                  What if Zayn was calling to talk about the song? Maybe none of them liked the idea of turning one of Harry's poems into a song, but they were too afraid to tell Louis that. Maybe Zayn is going to ask Harry to break the news to Louis so that it won't be his fault (or Liam's or Niall's) for hurting his feelings.

                   Or maybe Zayn wanted Harry to stop coming to those writing sessions. Which is totally understandable and Harry would do his best not to be offended if that was the case, because really, he isn't a part of their band. He sort of just intruded every single night because he wanted to be around Louis. And he supposed that wasn't fair on the others.

                  Worrying about it now won't make anything better. With a distressed sigh, Harry stood and returned to his bedroom so that he could finish packing before having to face almost certain, imminent doom.

❄●❄

                  HARRY WAS NEVER more thankful for his overactive imagination than he was in this moment, sitting across from Zayn in a window booth while they waited for their cheese pizza to arrive. If he hadn't agonized and terrorized himself for the last hour about what it was Zayn wanted to talk to him about, he'd have never felt the sense of bone-melting relief he was experiencing now after discovering that everything he'd managed to conjure up as a possible scenario was far worse than reality.

                  "I wanted to talk to you about something I've been picking up on recently," Zayn was saying, looking as nervous as Harry had felt just a little while ago. "Please don't feel awkward; I swear, your secret will be safe with me. I won't tell a soul."

                  Harry raised a brow. "What secret?"

                  "You and Louis. Have I got to say more than that?" he asked, a small, knowing smile replacing the straight line his lips had been since they got there.

                  "Um," Harry started, chuckling awkwardly once. He glanced at the table. "Maybe. I'm not sure I'm following."

                  "Do you have feelings for him, or have I completely misread your heart eyes for the last month and a half?"

                  Well. Shit. An ear-to-ear grin split Harry's face right before he was able to bury it in his hands with an embarrassed groan. "This is mortifying."

                  Zayn laughed. "Don't be embarrassed. He's hard to resist. If he wasn't, I'd probably be free of him and my life would be stress-free and I wouldn't be in a constant state of suffering."

                  Harry knew that was a joke, but he dropped his hands in surprise anyway. "I wouldn't call it suffering necessarily."

                  "He's great," Zayn acknowledged, nodding, suddenly more serious. "I know that. And you're obviously quite smitten, which is why I just wanted to – "

                  "If you're going to warn me that if I break his heart you'll break my face, worry not. I don't think he feels the same way about me, and anyway, even if he did, I don't think I'd be capable of breaking his heart. I'm probably not capable of doing anything that wouldn't work in his favor somehow, to be honest."

                  "Christ, Harry," Zayn muttered, rolling his eyes. "Don't make me vomit before we've even eaten."

                  Harry felt himself blush, so he didn't run his mouth any more than he already did.

                  "I wasn't going to threaten you at all, actually. I was going to give you a different kind of warning."

                  "Let's hear it, then."

                  Zayn became completely serious suddenly. Not only was he no longer amused, he was almost...dark. His eyes looked like they'd disappeared behind clouds, and he sort of tucked his chin and spoke to the table rather than Harry. "I've been friends with Louis for a really long time, and before you get in too deep – if that hasn't already happened – I just wanted to let you know that he's... Well, he's kind of broken. Like, he's literally like a broken toy. You can buy as many new batteries, order as many new parts as you want, but no matter what you do he just doesn't work as well as he used to."

                  Harry felt his own heart rate start to increase at the thought of something or someone damaging Louis in the past beyond repair, that even now he's still suffering from it. "What do you mean? What broke him?"

                  "I feel like I can't say. It's his secret, and I just don't want to... I don't want you to look at him any differently on my behalf before he's ready for you to know. But until that time comes, I figured I could warn you about a few things that are touchier subjects for him. You don't have avoid them when you're with him, but maybe just...be gentle. And open, if he says something that might seem like it makes no sense."

                  Unable to open his mouth for fear of pressing Zayn for more information than he was entitled to or deserved, Harry simply nodded quickly, ready for him to go on.

                  Zayn clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly like really was about to tell Harry about Louis' big secret. "You might have noticed this one already, especially since it's around that time of year that the whole world starts to celebrate the holidays, but Louis one hundred percent abhors Christmas. There are so many reasons why. And Lottie's mentioned a time or two when you've both discussed secretly decorating their flat while Louis is away, but I beg you not to. You won't convince him to enjoy Christmas, whether you fill his home with tinsel, baubles, and fairy lights or not. He won't like it."

                  Harry felt every single day that he teased Louis about attending his Christmas Eve party at work come back to him with a crushing blow to his skull, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt so guilty.

                  Unaware of Harry's internal suffering, Zayn went on. "Another thing is his inability to confide in anyone about his problems. As I said, we've been mates for ages, and I can barely recall a time when Louis would just sit and rant about his problems to me. It's been years. It's like he physically can't do it, I don't know. Instead, he'll disappear entirely and no one will be able to get ahold of him or know where he is for sometimes hours. One time he dropped off the planet for an entire weekend, and I was minutes from calling the police before he showed up at my doorstep with a thirty pack and the new Fifa game and acted like nothing was wrong."

                  Harry knew about this one as well. When he'd hardly known Louis, he offered advice about how to apologize to Lottie for that night he went missing. "Why does he do that? To just...wallow in his own despair?"

                  "I'm assuming," Zayn shrugged. "He doesn't like to talk about it after the fact, so I don't really know. I just know that... He's definitely still struggling. He likes to pretend he isn't; he's got that whole 'fake it til' you make it' thing going on. But I don't think it's been working."

                  God. Harry dropped his gaze to the table and exhaled slowly through his nose. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to go find Louis, wherever he was, and pull him into an embrace that would last for an eternity so that he could protect him from the rest of the world. Harry wasn't sure if Zayn was trying to scare him off with this stuff or not, but if so, it didn't work. It just made him want to be with Louis even more.

                  "That being said, though," Zayn continued, and his voice was so much lighter that Harry blinked up at him. "I have to admit that he's gotten better since you started coming around. He disappears less. Maybe you make him feel better somehow, so he feels like he doesn't have to anymore. I don't know. I've never asked him about it. But I wouldn't count out the possibility that he likes you too."

                  Before Harry could respond in any way to that, their pizza arrived. The waitress set it on the table between them and took Harry's glass of lemonade to refill it, and then he wordlessly pulled two slices onto his plate while Zayn did the same. His heart rate had increased again, and despite knowing the pizza was too hot to eat, he took a bite anyway to avoid speaking for a little bit longer.

                  Mostly he couldn't stop thinking about how Lottie had told Louis something similar, that he's gotten better since Harry met him, and that this could maybe mean Louis just might have feelings for him as well.

❄●❄

                  "HAROLD, WILL YOU hand me my notebook?"

                  Grateful that Louis' gaze was busy elsewhere so that Harry could continue to stare at him unabashedly, he handed over the notebook.

                  "All right," Louis breathed. Harry realized that he'd forgotten to do that himself and quickly recovered with a cough. "I've rearranged some lines here and there to turn McSteamy into more of a song than a poem, but obviously if you guys have any other ideas, throw them out there. Otherwise we've officially got a start here, boys."

                  Zayn, Liam, and Niall all crowded around the island in Louis' kitchen to peer over at the notebook page with Louis' scribblings around Harry's own handwriting – that was the page he'd rewritten his poem on. He was curious about the nearly finished product as well, but he took this opportunity with the rest of the lads distracted to look over at Louis, who was already watching him.

                  "Thirsty?" he asked softly so as not to disturb the others.

                  Harry smiled. You have no clue. "Sure."

                  "Good. I have a surprise. Hold on."

                  He slid off the stool where he was sitting beside Harry and danced around the others to get to some of his cupboards. Harry couldn't see everything Louis was doing with three other bodies in his way, but he saw Louis get a glass of milk, heard the microwave running, and eventually heard a spoon clanking against glass, so he sort of had an idea. The glasses-clad boy returned to his stool with a proud smile and set a large sand-colored mug with a big 'L' on it in front of Harry.

                  "There. Secret recipe. You're welcome."

                  "This is incredible, guys," Liam declared, backing away from the island to lean against the counter behind him. "I think it will work really well with the melody we started working on yesterday."

                  "I think it will work really well regardless," Zayn agreed, glancing between Liam and the notebook. "I feel like it'll put everything else we've come up with to shame, honestly. None of the rest of our lyrics sound like that."

                  Niall lifted his beer in response. "It's true. But so be it, then. Makes it more special."

                  Zayn met Harry's gaze just as Harry brought his mug up to his lips to taste whatever it is Louis had just created for him. It looked like hot cocoa. He was grateful he had the mug to hide most of his face, because Zayn's look made his cheeks begin to burn.

                  And speaking of things that burned, it was obviously too soon to test the drink, but he had gotten the hint of a taste before his tongue was burned too badly. "Peppermint?"

                  Louis beamed. "It's your favorite, right?"

                  Harry couldn't say anything. He returned Louis' expression probably, but he knew they had an audience and he didn't want everyone to figure it out the way Zayn already has. So he cleared his throat and simply nodded.

                  "Let's go see what we can do with this thing, shall we?" Zayn said quickly, clapping a hand onto Liam's shoulder and nodding towards the living room for Niall's benefit. The three of them were off.

                  Louis slid off his seat again, and Harry followed, mug in hand. "Thank you," he finally added.

                  "Don't say I never did nothing for you."

                  "I'd never."

                  Harry also grabbed the notebook and decided to finally read Louis' new arrangement. It must have been the poem that tipped Zayn off. It really is obvious. Harry can see that now. But whatever. Perhaps it's for the best that Zayn found out, because Harry would have never known the things he knows now about Louis, and maybe he might have screwed up down the road if it weren't for Zayn's warnings.

                  Either way, it was a good night already, he's one step closer to hearing Louis sing a song about himself (whether he knows that or not is another matter in itself), and he's got the best peppermint hot cocoa he's ever had in his life. He couldn't complain. With a content smile, he focused on the notebook.

[V1]

Your edges are fire

Curves a tidal wave

I'm oxygen and expensive parchment

And you're going to ruin me

You exhale like ice

I melt you with my tongue

You're lethal and lithe

A flicker of the sea

And you're going to ruin me

[CHORUS]

You're going to ruin me like I'm a starving artist

You're going to ruin me 'cos you whisper inky poisons

Your whispers are glass slivers

Pierce my elastic lungs

Ruin me like destruction with white knuckles

You're going to ruin me

[V2]

I'm picture perfect porcelain

And your fingers tremble

An earthquake of fire

You're going to ruin me

We're dancing on tar

Beneath star corpse spotlights

A disaster in a sweater

Here to wrong all my rights

And you're going to ruin me

[CHORUS]

[CHORUS 2]

You're going to ruin me like I'm a starving artist

You're going to ruin me 'cos you whisper inky poisons

You're going to ruin me with blue lips just like a secret

You're going to ruin me 'cos stars don't have any regrets

You're going to ruin me

You're going to ruin me

[OUTRO]

Cheekbones like anchors

And if I don't cut your ropes...

You're going to ruin me

❄●❄

                  AN HOUR OR so after the others had gone, Harry found himself desperately wishing he could stay longer. But he knew he had to get back to his place and get some sleep so that he wouldn't miss his alarm – and subsequently, the train – in the morning.

                  Louis was being the human equivalent of a kitten on the sofa beside him, though honestly, Harry wasn't entirely sure why. He usually only got this way after he had a slight buzz going on, but tonight there'd been no alcohol consumption for either of them. Of course, Harry didn't mind at all. He'd take sober Louis half asleep on his shoulder, watching Harry doodle in one of the back pages of Louis' notebook over buzzed or drunk Louis doing the same thing any day.

                  "Give it a mustache," Louis demanded somewhat laughably, his voice sounding more like a purr than anything else. "Curl the tips."

                  "You get bossy when you're sleepy," Harry mused, following Louis' wishes by drawing a curly-tipped mustache onto his little pig doodle.

                  "'M not sleepy. I'm in a euphoric state. Like after sex, but better." He turned so that his entire back was resting against Harry's body now; there's no way he could see the notebook anymore. "We created something magical tonight, Harold. Let me be proud of it."

                  "I'm happy about it too." And he really was. He was just happy about a lot of things currently, and it was hard to focus on just one of them. "I can't wait to hear you sing it."

                  Louis chuckled. "I bet you can't."

                  Harry grinned, but then it began to fade as a realization dawned on him. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't really want to, to be honest."

                  At the mention of Harry's looming trip, Louis sat up so that he could look over at him. "Is it so important that you absolutely have to go? I mean if you don't want to, then... I don't see why you should. Stay here. Make it so that I never have to find out if I can manage without you."

                  Harry was so fond of this human that he was certain the entire world must know. There's no way he's gone a day since laying eyes on Louis without unintentionally sending out some kind of Batman-like signal into the sky declaring his adoration.

                  "Plus I could make you loads more of that hot chocolate. I'll even call in sick tomorrow. We could watch more movies or something," Louis continued.

                  "It's important, unfortunately. Or urgent, anyway. I don't know. I was just told I'm needed back at home as soon as possible."

                  Louis sort of pouted, but Harry couldn't tell if he was doing it ironically or legitimately. "Right. Of course. When do you leave tomorrow?"

                  "Early." Harry wrinkled his nose. "I should actually, um..."

                  "Be heading out?"

                  "Yeah."

                  He really didn't want to go. Like really really. He wanted to call Ed back and tell him they'll have to deal with whatever the issue is on their own, that he's happy here and he's got a life and he wants to keep living it uninterrupted. But he couldn't do that. What if his mum is sick? What if something happened to Gemma? He had no clue what they wanted him home for; he had to go. He knew that. He just didn't like it.

                  After a short moment where the two boys sat in silence, both trapped in their own heads, Louis crawled off the sofa and went to fetch Harry's coat. Harry stood and grabbed his mug from earlier to bring into the kitchen. He rinsed it out slowly, pursing his lips, trying to drag things out.

                  Louis was waiting by the door. Harry pulled his coat on and then slipped his feet into his boots. When that was all settled, Louis offered him a small smile. "You've got a cell phone now. So use it."

                  Harry hoped he reciprocated the smile well enough. "I will. Don't get yourself into any trouble while I'm gone."

                  "I'm a saint. I've no clue what you're talking about."

                  "Feed your cats."

                  "If I forget, there's always Lottie."

                  "Feed Lottie."

                  "She's an adult."

                  "Feed yourself."

                   Louis shrugged halfheartedly. "Eh."

                  Amused, Harry shook his head, laughing. He reached forward and gripped the pocket of Louis' Adidas sweatshirt to pull him into an embrace. He felt Louis freeze at first, clearly not expecting it, but he loosened up just as quickly and hugged Harry back tightly.

                  Though it was muffled by Louis' hair, Harry said softly, "The song's perfect, Lou. I can't wait to hear the finished product."

                  "You wrote it, mostly. It's your song," Louis said into Harry's shoulder.

                  "No, it's yours." Suddenly motivated, Harry pulled away from Louis far enough so that he could place his hands on the sides of Louis' face. Boldly, he brushed his thumbs over the skin just beneath Louis' wide, surprised eyes. "Cheekbones. That's what it's called." And then he dropped his hands and opened the door, leaving a frozen Louis with one final smile before he stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

                  See you soon.