“So, I guess we’ll go?” Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. We could make it an adventure.”
Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He’s fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry’s gaze–he probably knows that Harry’s mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he’s not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.
But he’s also Harry’s best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he’d still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He’s got Harry’s back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they’ll be able to get out of this situation, together.
Harry sighs. “We’re going,” he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.
Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.
“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”
Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.
“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”
And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.
[harry is a photographer who’s trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]