not mentioning your boxer au 😭 may she live fondly forever in my dreams
im sorry 💔💔💔 i wish i had the energy/will power to work on it. i had such cute ideas for that fic 💔💔
like..... they were gonna go back to the national gallery on their 'official' first date and harry was gonna buy a print of van gogh's sunflowers for louis.......
here's the snippet if you want:
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“Wait!” Harry exclaims as they walk past the museum shop. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” he repeats, stopping in his tracks and Louis has to stop too since they’re still holding hands.
“What?” he asks, pouting and pretending to be annoyed. He’s so happy he could burst. Briefly, he wonders what the other museum goers would think if he just… snogged Harry right and there. Then, he wonders if that’s a normal impulse to have in the middle of a busy public place, if it’s just because it’s so new – their first date – or if this is just how Harry is always going to make him feel.
“Wait for me here,” Harry instructs, grinning, and when he tries to walk away, Louis holds on to his hand a little too tightly, stopping his escape.
“Don’t buy me a gift in there,” Louis warns, both a little thrilled and a little embarrassed at the thought.
Harry snorts. “What makes you think I’m going in there for you?” he says a little too sarcastically, green eyes twinkling. Louis is falling so hard sometimes he forgets to be scared.
“I’m serious,” he insists, tugging on Harry’s arm where they’re fingers are still intertwined. “Do not buy me a present.”
“Oh my god, self-obsessed much,” Harry laughs.
“Harry,” Louis says in his best serious big brother who means business voice.
“Louis,” Harry echoes, sounding like the bratty younger sibling in every way. “Let me go to the shop.”
They stare at each other sternly for a few seconds before it turns a little playful and they’re probably making a scene in front of all the nice tourists who just want a souvenir from the National Gallery. And yet, Louis doesn’t even have it in himself to care. In the moment, staring into Harry’s eyes, wanting to win this silent contest so bad, wanting to kiss Harry’s stupid face so bad, he just feels free. Free to do this, free to feel this, for the first time in a long time… For the first time ever really.
Finally, after probably way too long, Louis sighs and let’s go of Harry’s hand.
“If you buy me a gift, I’m breaking up with you,” Louis threatens just as Harry is about to walk away.
He gets a loud squeaky laugh in response, his favourite of Harry’s just because it sounds so ridiculous coming out of him, and it makes Louis’ inside melt.
“Please don’t break up with me on our first official date,” Harry says, tilting his head down to press a small kiss on Louis’ forehead, before he disappears into the shop.
Louis scrunches his nose, trying to fight off a smitten smile and he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone to fiddle with while Harry most likely shops for something for him.
When he opens his phone, a text from his mother waits for him.
Tell me how it goes! ❤️
Louis smiles seeing it before biting his lower lip, trying to find a way to describe how well this has been going, how good Harry makes him feel.
He’s still worried. He’s not naive enough to think it’s smooth sailing from now on just because he acted on his feelings. But there’s something about the way they have fun together that feels really precious and special to him. Even at their best, his previous relationship wasn’t like that… Shaking his head, Louis chases the ghost away from his mind. He doesn’t deserve any power on a day like this, when it’s all going so well.
Instead of focusing on the past, Louis starts typing a response to his mother.
I’ll call you after! is what he sends first. Then, after a second of deliberation, he adds: It’s going great. He waits a second, to see if she’s going to reply straight away. It quickly becomes clear that she isn’t going to, but, impulsively, without really thinking about it, Louis adds He’s great ❤️ , presses send and pockets his phone again.
It’s good timing too because just as he does it, Harry walks out of the shop holding a thin paper bag.
Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “Found what you wanted?” he asks, so happy he doesn’t even want to fake petulance.
“Yep,” Harry replies, popping that p extra hard.
“Can I see?” Louis asks, only fishing for confirmation it’s for him a little.
“Nope.” There’s that p again.
Louis narrows his eyes. “Why not?”
Harry shrugs, grabbing Louis’ hand and starting to lead him towards the exit.
“It is for me, isn’t it?” Louis insists, leaning a little on Harry’s shoulder.
“I’m neither confirming nor denying it’s for you.” Harry waits a beat before adding: “I wouldn't want to risk our relationship like that.”
“Relationship?” Louis echoes. “Big word for a first date,” he adds softly, looking at the ground.
Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ fingers. “Small word for what feels like the 50th date, to be honest,” he says and when Louis looks at him, he seems a little sheepish. Then, he seems to sober up, shaking his head and stopping in the middle of the corridor. “This isn’t me trying to put pressure on you,” he explains, looking soft and vulnerable, and Louis knows that Harry has been feeling that way from the start.
He’s not stupid. Harry felt it that first night in his sister’s flat, the two of them squished together at that dinner table. He asked him out straight away, Louis hasn’t forgotten. More importantly though, Louis has been there right alongside him, even if he didn’t have the courage to say so yet. So he understands. He really does.
“You don’t have to explain,” Louis interrupts what seems like it’s going to be a rather long speech. “You don’t have to hold back or…” Louis sighs. “I know you’re all in,” he admits. And he wants to say he’s all in too. He certainly feels it. But the fear, the fear of getting hurt again, the fear of losing himself again, the fear of nothing being stable enough for this, is still there. It might always be.
“I am,” Harry says and it still feels like an admission, even though they both knew it. “I hope it doesn’t freak you out too much. We said we were taking it slow.”
Louis sighs, holding Harry’s hand even tighter. This isn’t exactly where he wanted to have this conversation. Slowly, he pushes Harry’s body slightly out of the way, towards the wall so they can have a bit of privacy. They should probably just leave the building and talk about this outside, but it feels important for him to get this out now.
“It’s not that,” he says with all the sincerity he can muster, looking into Harry’s eyes. “I’m not freaked out about that. It’s just.. It’s complicated. And I…”
For a second, he imagines himself saying it, letting the whole sordid story out, exposing his soft underbelly to Harry’s mercy and hope against all hope that he won’t see him differently after it.
One day, he thinks he’d like to do it. One day, he thinks Harry might be the one to receive it with kindness. But the truth of the matter is… He’s not ready.
“It’s this stuff, this relationship stuff in general that… Well, you know I don’t really do it and I have my reasons and I’d like to tell you one day, but I’m just not… I’m not ready yet. And I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course it’s alright,” Harry whispers. “I can’t pretend I get it, but I hope you know I’m not the kind of guy who’d hold you not wanting to talk about it straight away against you.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Good,” Harry says, looking relieved.
“And I’m in too,” Louis adds, sneaking a hand around Harry’s waist, holding him. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Mostly because I never do anything without about a hundred million percent certainty,” he says jokingly, even though it’s true. Alright, kissing Harry the exact way he has had a little bit of spontaneity to it, but he’d let the idea build in his head for a long time while Harry was away, making sure it was exactly what he wanted to do.
The joke lands, Harry’s dimples showing up and something settles inside Louis. It’s going to be okay, he thinks. Once he tells Harry.
“Does that mean I can give you your gift?” Harry asks, a little hesitantly, but he’s still smiling big, clearly teasing.
Louis groans, letting his head thud against Harry’s chest, pressing himself against him in a hug. “Fine,” he mumbles in Harry’s jumper, not letting go of his waist yet, gripping the material of his jacket for a second before finally letting go. When he looks up, taking a small step back, Harry still looks a little triumphant.
“Go on then Styles,” Louis goads, letting go of Harry’s hand too, placing his hands between them, awaiting the dreaded present.
Harry grins, placing the thin paper bag in Louis’ hands and, suddenly, he knows exactly what it is.
It doesn’t change the way his face softens when he reaches inside the bag and pulls out an A5 print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.
“I quite like the imperfect,” Harry says kindly and, for one horrifying second, Louis thinks he might cry.
He doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything really, just look at the print, remembers that first afternoon, the two of them fitting together in ways Louis didn’t want to examine yet, remembers feeling like he’d said too much in front of that painting, feeling like he’d revealed part of himself to Harry that day.
Harry who remembered, who might have been thinking about it this whole time. Harry who is all in. Harry who likes imperfections, who probably sees Louis’ no matter how hard he tries to hide them, who sees beauty in it all and buys Louis gifts to remind him.
God, he’s fallen so far down already he doesn’t know if there’s a way back up.
“Are you breaking up with me then?” Harry asks him when he’s clearly been silent for too long and what else can Louis do but kiss him?
Inside the National Gallery, near one of the exits, clutching a Van Gogh print, Louis wrap his hand against the nape of Harry’s neck and kisses him.
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and then the epilogue would have been louis moving into harry's loft and they would have FRAMED the print and put it on harry's WALL as a symbol of their relationship or whatever and the last sentence would have been something like this:
Once upon a time, Louis wanted to hold all the pieces of the puzzle that make this wall, wanted to know the story behind each print, wanted to know why they were up there, wanted to know Harry fully through it. So much has changed since then. He knows most of the answers to his questions now, knows the tale behind every image. But he didn't just collect all the pieces of the puzzle, Louis thinks as he smiles the wall, at the painting Zayn gave them as a housewarming gift, at the print of Van Gogh's sunflowers Harry gave Louis after their first real date; he became one.
ANYWAYS rip tbow, you could have been something......
