C H A P T E R    T W E N T Y T W O

Titles and Tantrums

❄●❄

                  THERE WAS ABOUT a second before Louis did something that he knew he wouldn't be able to take back, but a plethora of things happened in that second, and it was beginning to feel like a lifetime.

                  First of all, Louis let his eyes close – which is standard, of course. He was about to kiss this beautiful boy whose lap he's sat on, and there was no way he'd do it creepily with wide open eyes. But with closed eyes comes thoughts and images that Louis usually reserved for when he slept or when he escaped to the bridge across town. They were the last things he wanted to see or think about now.

                  They were there, those damned blue eyes. Staring at him from a darkness so thick that Louis wasn't sure if they were accompanied by their usual array of horrible bits and bobs that made it impossible for Louis to pretend he had forgotten about it all. Probably. He rarely showed up alone.

                  On top of that, a second part of Louis' brain began to run through the pros and cons of kissing Harry right now, but it was doing it so quickly that even Louis couldn't keep up. He couldn't tell which list was longer; the words were blurring together. He felt himself growing frustrated, felt himself struggling to close what remained of the gap between them.

                  The one second of hesitation must have turned into more, because Harry noticed something was amiss. Louis felt him shift a little bit beneath him, and then he whispered, "Lou?"

                  No, Louis thought. This will happen.

                  The thing was, despite the seemingly endless list of pros and cons – no matter which list was longer – Louis really did want to kiss Harry. More than anything right now. He knew that of the two of them, he was the one who was still holding back. And Harry's been so patient, so undemanding that it constantly made Louis feel a little guilty on a daily basis.

                  The troubling part was that he was so ready, too. Sure, he still saw the blue eyes whenever he closed his own, but they didn't necessarily torture him anymore. They were just there. Louis felt like he could get better, felt like he already was. Harry had to be the reason, or at least part of it. Maybe Louis was doing it all himself, but he never had a reason to until now. He never really wanted to let the memories stop torturing him until now.

                  And perhaps he'd stop seeing them all entirely if he just kissed this boy. Kissing Harry meant moving on, and moving on meant freedom. Finally.

                  Still, he was hesitating. But he was pretty sure it was only because he'd already hesitated too much and now Harry had noticed and now things were awkward. Now Harry was staring at him, and Louis knew he should open his eyes and acknowledge what was happening. His pulse quickened at the thought of confronting this now, at the realization that he'd just ruined the moment and Harry was going to have to sacrifice even more of his patience and it was all because Louis couldn't just get his shit together for ten bloody seconds.

                  Harry's hand cupped Louis' face then, his thumb tracing softly over Louis' cheekbone a couple times. "Louis," he whispered again, but Louis couldn't open his eyes. Wouldn't. He felt shame turn his cheeks a bright red and he prayed it was too dim in the room for Harry to notice. "Louis, look at me."

                  Frustrated with himself and with the universe and even with Harry, Louis jerked his face away and clenched his jaw, fighting the sudden urge to start yelling. He usually never gets like this, even at his worst. He doesn't even remember the last time this happened. Whenever it was, he was probably all the way across the city at this point. So what are you still doing here? he asked himself.

                  Finally, he forced himself to open his eyes. Harry was staring at him, alarmed; his hand was frozen mid-air beside Louis' head.

                  And Louis hated himself for being angry with Harry even for just a second. "Fuck," he muttered, scrambling off the poet's lap. As soon as he was upright, he stalked toward the closet by the front door.

                  "Hey," Harry tried protesting, getting up and following him. "Hey, hey, wait."

                  Louis yanked on the coat Harry had given him forever ago.

                  "Where are you going? What... What's the matter? What can I do?"

                  Shaking his head with pursed lips, Louis stuffed his bare feet into a pair of old Toms that he hardly wore anymore and reached for the door handle. Before he could turn it, Harry reached forward and held the door shut until Louis met his gaze.

                   "Louis. Tell me what's happened." His eyes were wide, his nostrils a little flared. Louis could tell he felt helpless, unsure of what to do but wishing he could do something. "Please," he added shakily.

                  There were loads of things that Louis wished he could have said. He wished Harry knew the entire story, knew everything that haunted him so that he might understand why Louis was such an imbecile. He also wished Harry knew how certain Louis was that he was possibly the greatest thing to ever happen to him. Also that Louis was certain he'd somehow mess it up anyway.

                  So without saying anything, because he certainly couldn't admit all of that, Louis pulled the door open and Harry let him do it. He slammed the door behind him and hurried down the first flight of stairs.

❄●❄

                  LOUIS ONLY MADE it to the lobby of his building before he remembered that he was supposed to be babysitting his little siblings. He only stood in front of the main doors and stared through the glass at what looked like a very cold London night for about two minutes. Then he ducked his head and, at a much slower pace, went back up to his flat.

                  On his way, he thought back to the night he brought Harry to the bridge. He tried to tell himself the same stories that Harry had told him about the constellations with the hope that they'd help to calm him the same way they did that night. And he liked them, anyway. He liked knowing that Harry had an interest in the stars and thought that that was such a Harry thing to love.

                  His favorite story had been the one about the prince. He liked the idea of the prince sacrificing his ability to hear so that the triangular mark from the boy's face would be in the sky forever. Louis had a triangular mark on his face, sort of. He didn't like it. He didn't like those freckles that formed it because they were so concentrated in one place and they stood out.

                  In front of his door now, he froze. His brow furrowed, and he tried to really remember the way Harry had told that story. Did he ever actually name that constellation? Did he even point it out?

                  He was talking about my triangular mark. My freckles. Me.

                  Shaken, Louis leaned his forehead against his door and squeezed his eyes shut. His entire body felt warm and he felt like he could cry if he thought about it long enough, and if no one was currently inside his flat he'd probably start smashing his fists against the door. How had he missed that? How did he completely ignore the fact that Harry quite clearly spoke of him in that story?

                  How could he have left like that earlier?

                  He unlocked his door and snuck back into his flat. He wasn't sure what he was expecting – maybe Harry waiting for him on the chair or lying on the sofa. But Harry wasn't in the living room at all, and Louis could hear the twins crying.

                  Quietly, he removed his jacket and shoes and approached his bedroom. The door was half open, and through it Louis could see Harry's back facing him, sat on his bed with both twins in his lap. His body was slowly rocking, and he was trying to calm the twins down to no avail with the gentlest voice Louis had ever heard him use.

                  From where he stood, Louis could see that Harry's shoulders were slightly hunched. Was he crying as well? Surely not. Surely Louis didn't make him cry...right? The muscles in his back rolled like small waves beneath the tank top Louis had lent him every time his body shifted, and the black tattoos that decorated his left arm were dark as night. The only light came from a small lamp Louis had on a bedside table, but otherwise the entire room was awash in shadows.

                  "It's okay," Harry was whispering now. "Shh. I'm sorry. Shh."

                  Louis swallowed a lump in his throat and went to join Harry, who didn't realize he was there until he sat down beside him. Startled, Harry stared at Louis with those wide eyes that he always makes whenever he's even mildly shocked. Louis stared back at him regretfully.

                  "You're back," Harry said. His voice was thick, but Louis was on the opposite side of the lamp, so Harry's expression was impossible to make out.

                  "You're crying?" Louis asked. He heard his own voice crack and rise an entire octave by the end of the question.

                  In response, Harry sniffed and looked away. But then Louis heard what might have been a chuckle, and then Harry was shaking his head. "They rub off on you," he finally said.

                  Doris realized then that it was Louis who had joined them and reached for him. He took her, and she calmed immediately. At the sudden lack of sound from his sister, Ernie quieted as well and looked around curiously until he figured out what was going on.

                  Thankfully, both cats decided to come investigate. The bedroom door creaked as they bumped it open further before jumping up onto the bed. Dashing rubbed against Louis' back, and one of them meowed. Louis turned and set Doris down near them. Harry did the same with Ernie.

                  Free, Harry reached up and wiped under his eyes. Louis watched him and hated himself. He always knew he'd do something like this, always knew he'd be the one to ruin everything. Harry – strong, brave, always smiling Harry... Look what Louis had done to him.

                  Harry chuckled and shook his head again. When he was finished with wiping his face, he threw his arms around Louis – and, subsequently, most of his body weight. Surprised, Louis nearly fell over, but he clung onto Harry and made sure they were both stable before properly embracing him back. He felt the dampness of Harry's face pressed against his neck and closed his eyes, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair to keep him there a little longer.

                  "I'm sorry," Louis said, though at the same time, Harry said, "You didn't go."

                  They pulled apart. Louis's brow furrowed. "What?"

                  "I thought you were leaving. To go to the bridge." Harry sniffed again. "Which would have meant that you didn't feel you could talk to me anymore, which means...I screwed up somehow. You trusted me once, and... And for some reason, suddenly you didn't."

                  Louis shook his head rapidly. "No, no, no, no. Harry. No." He reached for Harry's hands and gripped them tightly. "This wasn't a you problem. This was a me problem. A huge one. This was me going back on all the progress I'd made – that you helped me make – because I'm a piece of shit and that's just what I do. Believe me. This wasn't you."

                  "You aren't a piece of shit. I should make you feel safer. I'm not doing enough to help."

                  "You're doing more than enough. Plenty. More than anyone has ever done for me before, and I don't want you to keep trying harder," Louis insisted. "I'll tell you everything. I will. It'll come out, and it'll be sooner than we both probably realize. I'm almost there. I just...I might have needed a wakeup call."

                  "What do you mean?"

                  "Like a reminder that this doesn't just affect me anymore. You've gone and made it your problem too, you wanker." Other than a small smirk, Harry didn't interrupt with a response, so Louis continued. "So... So now I know that I'm fucking capable of making you cry, and I'm never going to do it again because I feel worse about that than I do about anything else."

                  "Okay, as I said, I was crying because the twi—"

                  "Because of me. Because you thought I left, and you thought it was your fault."

                  Harry didn't say anything. He dropped his gaze, and his hair fell around his face like curtains. After one more sniff, he looked up again to speak, but Louis had something more important to do. He quickly leaned forward and pressed their lips together and – God, it's been so long. Was he even doing this right? He wasn't sure.

                  Thankfully, Harry didn't freeze for even a second. If anything, the kiss awakened him. Louis' eyes were closed, but he could feel Harry's body coming alive beside him. Firm hands gripped Louis' waist and pulled him so that they were sitting closer, and then those hands found Louis' neck and made it next to impossible for him to pull away. Not that he wanted to.

                  His own hands gripped the sides of Harry's tank top beneath his arms. He used that as leverage whenever he wanted to pull Harry a little closer, which happened a couple times, but it was most useful when Louis ran out of oxygen entirely and had to push Harry away.

                  Harry wasn't necessarily finished, so while Louis caught his breath, Harry pressed soft kisses along his cheekbones and then down his jaw and toward his neck. It was around then that Louis realized his eyes were still closed and there isn't a single image in his head that shouldn't be there. The relief that flooded through him was so wild that he dipped his head forward and rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder.

                  "Kids," Louis finally managed to say. Harry was kissing his way back up the other side of his jaw. "Babies. Babies present."

                  Harry paused, but he didn't pull away. Louis opened his eyes and turned to see what their audience might be getting up to. When he saw, he smiled and whispered, "Oh."

                  "Hm?" Harry asked, finally backing away so that he could see for himself.

                  The twins had fallen asleep again, both curled around one of the cats, who were also asleep. Well, Dashing was almost asleep. He was staring at Louis through squinted eyes like he could be sleeping if he so desired, but he wanted to make sure Louis knew he owed him one first.

                  "That cat," Harry began to say.

                  "I know," Louis nodded. "Little shit."

❄●❄

                  JAY ARRIVED EXACTLY when Louis said she would, but he still wasn't awake on time to make himself sort of decent before the shrill buzzing rang throughout his flat. It wasn't even until Harry startled awake beneath him on the sofa that he actually woke. And when he did, he pressed a hand against his forehead and hissed, "Shit."

                  He hopped off the sofa and ran into his bedroom after unlocking the lobby door. The twins were still asleep, though the cats had left them long ago. Louis found another beanie to hide the mop of hair on his head and darted into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he emerged, Harry wasn't in the living room anymore, but there was a knock at his door so he didn't have time to look around.

                  "Slept through your alarm again?" Jay asked, a knowing brow raised. She stepped inside without waiting for an answer. "I take it that means they've yet to be packed up?"

                  "They've yet to even wake up, actually. They're in my room if you want to fetch them. I'll start gathering everything else up."

                  "You need a better alarm!" Jay called to him as he returned to the bathroom to find all their diaper-changing accessories.

                  "Yeah, yeah," Louis answered, not bothering to admit that he didn't even set an alarm this morning. He got their clothes from his dryer and then slipped into the kitchen to begin packing the diaper bag.

                  Harry was there and had put a pot on to boil, though he was drinking a glass of milk himself. He smiled at Louis through lazy eyes. "Good morning."

                  The tank top of Louis' that he was still wearing was hanging slightly crooked; Louis could see more of his left collarbone than his right. Harry's bedhead was probably worse than Louis' had been, so after stuffing the twins' things into the bag, Louis hurried over and started rearranging Harry's hair as the taller boy remained leaning against the counter beside the stove, a brow raised.

                  "Looks like you're about to meet my mum," Louis told him.

                  "Is that why you're grooming me?"

                  "Yes. If she asks, you slept on the chair and your neck is killing you."

                  Just as Louis was finishing, Harry quickly pecked his forehead. And honestly, Louis wasn't quite used to that and would probably need some time to get used to it before he'd stop blushing like a thirteen-year-old boy with a crush, so he swatted at Harry's chest and returned to packing up the diaper bag, thinking that he couldn't wait until he was used to it.

                  "Louis!" Jay was calling in the living room. "Have you got their stuff?"

                  "Got it." Louis draped the diaper bag strap over his shoulder and went to join his family. He felt Harry on his heels and worked to steady his breathing. This was an entirely different kind of nervous than the kind he usually experienced with Harry. This was new-flame-meeting-your-mum nervous, and Louis was pretty sure it was the worst kind.

                  Jay was squatting in front of Ernie, helping him put his shoes on. Louis dropped the bag beside her, and then she looked up.

                  "Oh. Hello. Who's this?"

                  Harry held out a hand for her to shake. "Hi. I'm Harry. It's really nice to finally meet you."

                  Jay stood and took his hand. "Jay. Are you a friend of Louis'? Oh, are you the – "

                  "He's the mascot, yes," Louis blurted. "And he's my boyfriend. Also. Mascot and boyfriend."

                  Every single set of adult eyes in the room were on him. He couldn't see Harry's, but he could feel them. And his hand that Jay wasn't still holding and couldn't see pressed softly against the small of Louis' back, which was just the right amount of comfort to allow Louis to keep his cool while his mother stared at him like he'd just spoken another language.

                  Harry was the first to break the ice. "Would anyone like some tea?"

                  "I would, yeah," Louis said, clearing his throat. He looked over his shoulder to smile at his savior. "Thanks."

                  "None for me, Harry," Jay said. "Dan's waiting in the car. Thank you, though."

                  Harry nodded before disappearing into the kitchen, and once he was gone, Jay's eyes widened and she whacked her son on the chest the exact same way he'd just done to Harry a few minutes ago. Only probably harder.

                  "Ow! What the – "

                  "Why didn't you tell me?" she whisper-shouted at him. Louis was certain Harry could hear her anyway. "You should have told me when I dropped them off!"

                  "I wasn't..." he shrugged, unsure of how to explain himself. "It's whatever. I told you now. That's my boyfriend and I like him and I wanted you to meet him."

                  "I'm just surprised. I didn't know you were even thinking about dating again. How long?"

                  "Couple months, I think. There really wasn't a specific day or anything, it just sort of happened."

                  Jay put her hands on her hips. "So my two oldest babies have boyfriends and I've yet to properly get to spend time with either of them?"

                  Louis rolled his eyes. "Mum – "

                  "I want all four of you home for dinner. Soon."

                  "Mum, come on – "

                  "That sounds perfect," Harry suddenly said behind Louis. He handed him a cup of tea and then returned his attention to Jay. "And I'm sure Lottie and Tommy would agree."

                  Damn him.

                  Jay's lips twisted into a smile exactly like one of Louis', and he wondered vaguely if Harry would notice. Her gaze flickered between both men, finally landing on her son. She said, "Keep this one around."

                  Louis wanted to say something mean to get back at Harry for going against him, but he knew that he couldn't. That was a lie he simply couldn't tell after last night. He peeked over at Harry -- his boyfriend -- again and tried to match his mum's smile.

                  "I plan on it."