posting this long snippet from the time travel fic i've been writing.. might not make any sense out of context but oh well. i think i'll also post a penn park snippet too. just to confirm for you all that i'm alive and writing lol
“This isn’t Back to the Future, Lou. Everything that’s meant to happen has already happened. Nothing you say can really change that. But it’s bad form and technically violates witch law for us to, like…tell you next week’s winning lottery numbers or something.”
“But it’s not against the rules to bring me here?”
“No,” Harry says. “It’s not like you’ll be going out or interacting with anyone else. You’ll be staying with us.”
Harry peeks at him. He hesitates for a while. “Um. Me…and my husband.”
Louis angles his body to face him. “Husband?”
Harry throws another skittish glance his way.
“So you’re actually…?” Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “When did you decide for sure you were…?”
“Gay?” Harry supplies. “Maybe it was when you kissed me.”
“You kissed me back,” Harry says. “Enthusiastically.”
“Whatever. Is that genuinely when you knew? You started snogging boys exclusively from then on?”
“Well, I was snogging a girl just now before we left, as you saw. And a boy,” Harry says. “But yeah, I guess…not long after that party, I decided to stick to blokes. Or just…one, really.”
Louis nearly misses that last bit. “What?”
Harry turns the radio up. “That’s enough questions for now. And we’re almost home.”
Louis goes on staring at him for a bit longer, wondering if he’s understood correctly. Did Harry meet his husband at that party? Was it someone he met the following week? Was Louis that stupid to step aside and let whoever it was take his place? Apparently so.
The mood grows tenser from then on, mostly due to Louis’ adamant silence and sour mood, neither of which he can justify. Did he expect Harry to never marry? Did he expect Harry to marry him?
Louis snorts aloud and sees Harry sneak a look at him. He sinks further into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and stares through the windscreen for the rest of the ride.
Within the next few minutes, the car slows and turns at the corner of a downward sloping drive. At the end of the drive, as Harry approaches, a garage door rises. Louis didn’t see Harry press any buttons but perhaps it’s automatic.
Then Louis sees him. Or himself. Or his older self. At first he doesn’t believe his eyes. He’s still expecting something dimension-shattering to occur when he’s face to face with a future version of himself. He expects to implode or for Future Louis to fade out of existence. None of that happens, but there’s no denying that the man standing at the door connecting the garage to the house is Louis, eleven years older.
“Trippy, isn’t it?” Harry says, as he cuts the engine. “Ready to meet your future?”
And well, Louis won’t say it aloud because he’d just sound like a dickhead, but his future is quite fit, so the answer is yes. He’s got an actual beard, as opposed to Louis’ vague facial hair. He seems more built and broad around his shoulders and torso. It’s hard to be sure when he’s backlit by the light flowing from the interior of Harry’s home, but even his hair seems shinier and softer. He’s wearing a dark grey knit jumper with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and Louis catches sight of several more tattoos, although he doesn’t get a good look at them before the Older Louis pulls his sleeves down.
Harry pushes his door open, so Louis does the same. And finally meets eyes with himself, unobstructed by the windscreen.
“Forgot how small I was,” Older Louis says and nothing more.
Louis wasn’t expecting to be best mates with his older self or anything, but perhaps they won’t be friends at all. “You’re not exactly Dwayne Johnson, mate.”
Harry snorts, pushing the car door closed. “Don’t start,” he says to Older Louis. He noticeably pats his stomach as he eases past him into the house. It registers as familiar or even flirty to Louis, which is odd but reassuring. At least in the future, in spite of Harry’s husband, they manage to retain their closeness. Harry’s husband must not love that, but clearly Older Louis can’t be arsed.
Louis hears a chorus of barks from further inside and moves more quickly and curiously, eager to see every aspect of Harry’s adult life.
“Shoes off,” Older Louis says to younger Louis at the door. He tacks on a smile. “If you’d be so polite.”
Louis narrows his eyes at him as he shoves his shoes off.
“Come on,” Older Louis says. “I’ll be your tour guide.”
“You don’t even live here,” Louis says.
Older Louis looks at him. “Right,” he says. “Harry just lets me kip here every night ‘cause I don’t have a home of my own.”
“The future is tough, mate,” Older Louis says gravely. But just as he turns away, there’s a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his lips that suggests he’d like to laugh.
Louis decides his older self is not to be taken seriously. He’ll get his facts from Harry. Speaking of whom, they find him when they enter the kitchen as he steps inside from the back garden.
“What happened to your dogs?” Louis asks.
“I let them out. Jasper is a senior and when he gets really excited, he wets himself,” Harry says. “And he’ll get really excited seeing two of you.”
“I gave him his meds,” Older Louis says. “Should be fine in a bit.”
“Thanks, babe,” Harry says. His gaze flickers suddenly to younger Louis like he forgot he was there. He clears his throat. “Um, do you want a beer? Or tea? Water?”
“Whatever you’re having,” Louis says.
“Do you like wine?” Harry asks. “I can’t remember if we drank wine at your age.”
“Never too early to start,” Older Louis says. “He’ll like the Malbec.”
“Malbec, it is,” Harry says and goes into a walk-in pantry where he ostensibly keeps the wine. Meanwhile, Older Louis gets three glasses from a cupboard above the sink. He’s really a bit too familiar with Harry’s home. Maybe he is here all the time. Maybe he really doesn’t have a home of his own. Compounded with his imminent death tomorrow, the future doesn’t seem all that bright for Louis. No matter how hot he is.
But his friendship with Harry is a lot to be grateful for. Louis watches Harry and his older self speaking quietly to each other as Harry fills each of the three glasses. He watches Harry laugh at whatever Older Louis says and slap his hand playfully against his chest.
Louis wonders again about Harry’s husband. He wants to ask where he is and when he gets home, but he also never wants him to come home. So long as he’s away, Louis can keep tricking himself into believing he doesn’t exist.
But then he spies the wedding ring on Harry’s finger as Harry hands him a glass of wine and he can’t stop himself from blurting, “Where is he?”
Harry’s brows crease. “Who?”
“Your husband,” Louis says, pointedly.
“Oh.” Harry chews his top lip for a moment. “Why don’t we get comfortable first? Come on.”
Then he takes Louis’ free hand and pulls him off towards the sunken living area. It hasn’t slipped his notice how posh the entire home is. The kitchen was a massive gleaming wonder of marble and bronze. There were five cars in the drive and the first room Louis passed upon entering the home was a gym. He didn’t get a good look at the exterior under the cover of night, but what he could see revealed an expansive upper floor and several outdoor decks.
The living area features two parallel velvet couches, a marble coffee table, and a large flat screen tv mounted above a two-way fireplace. Louis can’t quite tell what’s on the other side of the fireplace but it seems like a formal dining room.
“Your house is fucking amazing,” Louis says, plopping down in a plush leather armchair.
“Thanks,” Harry says, smiling. He sits on the couch across from Louis. “It’s the kind of house you grow into. That’s why we bought it.”
Louis nearly asks if that means Harry has kids, but he has a big greedy gulp of wine instead. He shrivels at the taste initially, finding it bitter and sharp. But then he has another sip and it’s not so much that he likes it, but that he finds it distracting.
Older Louis enters the room much to Louis’ disappointment and takes up the seat right beside Harry.
“I can still get you a beer,” Harry says randomly. “If you don’t like the wine.”
“No,” Louis says. “It’s fine.”
“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know,” Harry says. “I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable enough, Haz,” says Louis. “It’s just nice to see where you live in the future, and how well you’ve done for yourself. You deserve all this. The husband, too.”
Older Louis exhales a laugh. “Should I get a box of tissues?”
“Tell him to shut up,” Older Louis says. “This is embarrassing.”
“If you’re so embarrassed, just leave,” Louis says. “I don’t even get why you’re still here.”
Older Louis groans suddenly and loudly, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. “There’s no way you’re this daft. No fucking way.”
“Louis,” Harry says. “Please.”
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