When Harry told Louis he usually didn't go to the company Christmas party, it was a tiny fib. He had been to a couple in the past. Since he had interned at Loving Heart during university, he knew a few people from each department who were around when he first started. It was always a pleasant evening with food and wine and holiday cheer. There was nothing wrong with the party itself. It simply got tiring year after year to watch all the people he interned with show up with spouses (who were lovely) and then their children (who were also lovely) while listening to them talk about their busy lives together. It wasn't as though he was jealous of his colleagues or bitter. He was thrilled that so many people seemed to have found their match and were starting beautiful families together. He just wondered why his time had not come yet. His colleagues did, as well, and every one of their good natured comments about his handsomeness or success or how much of a catch he was did not help lessen the sting of another holiday season single.
Making a career out of romance didn't line up with the lack of romance in his real life. He couldn't ignore the sad tilt to his colleagues' eyes when, each year, he put on a smile and said he was still looking and on all the dating sites and who knows what the future will bring? Eventually, he stopped going to the party. He didn't have the heart to tell his colleagues that he had deleted most dating apps years ago when they proved to be as fruitful as his attempt at having a houseplant. His love life was dead, as were the withered herbs he tried to grow on the windowsill of his flat.
Then he was thrown together with Louis and the flicker of hope he had snuffed out years before came roaring back. The plants in his kitchen started to grow under Louis' dutiful watering and his dreams of a future were no longer for his characters alone.
As he got ready for the party, he took extra time on his hair and wore a new deep emerald velvet blazer Louis had held up against his chest while they shopped. Louis declared that greens always looked so nice on him. Harry had spent countless nights getting ready for dates or events with the hope that someone would notice or care about what he was wearing or what he looked like. He would then return home alone in said special outfit, feel desperately foolish for wasting the time getting ready and hoping it would make a difference, and have to shove the article of clothing in the back of his closet before he donated it in his next charity bag.
His mind ran wild all day with possible paths the evening could take, paths the rational part of him knew it never would, and he had gotten lost with writing scenarios for his future characters. The document wasn't in his shared folder with Louis. The other man would never need to know that each featured a romantic lead with blue eyes, cold hands, a sweetly raspy voice, and a quick tongue that always made his counterpart laugh.
He was so caught up in writing that he arrived at the restaurant for the Loving Heart holiday party a bit later than he planned. The restaurant was large enough to also double as a wedding venue, with its large ballroom and outdoor cocktail area, but it was crowded in the lobby; full of people who worked in every aspect of television, including some of the actors regularly featured on the network.
Upon entering, he spotted an old internship friend and her husband in the main room staring lovingly at each other. Their army of children were dancing around them, all wearing Santa hats. While waiting in line for the coat check, a man came up to the woman in front of him, handed her a warm cocktail that smelled like peppermint hot cocoa, and muttered, "Fiona said Joshy had diarrhea but seems okay now." He saw one of the actors from a film he'd written standing under mistletoe with his partner, both leaning in for a quick, smiley peck.
Marriage and kids were not for everyone, and not at all a requirement for a happy life, but the overwhelming slap in the face of domesticity and couples and partnership made Harry's chest tighten. All the voices in the room swelled to a crescendo of chatter, none of which was directed at him. He took one step back and looked for the door, but someone gripped his shoulders and he was pulled forward.
