Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table (Larry Stylinson)

Five

Harry's building up to something. He's not sure what, can't pinpoint why, and he's still sorting through a lot of his thoughts and feelings about everything, but he was closer than he was yesterday and he'll be even closer tomorrow, closer to a revelation of sorts. With Louis. Because when is it not about Louis these days.

The thing about a significant revelation, a high-risk for high-reward one, in particular, is that you want, no need  to be in control of it from the outset to have a genuine hope of it being successful. It should, wherever possible, be on your own terms, at the right time, in your own way. Why would you want something that important to you be put into someone else's hands, someone that might not treat it with the care and consideration it calls for? More often than not, it's not going to end well.

There is, for the lucky few, and in this case, for Harry, the occasional exception to that rule.

***

"I can explain," Harry tries. He's never going to be able to explain this, ever. He feels like his heart is in his stomach and his stomach is in his throat.

"What's to explain? You filmed me when I was high as a kite on pain killers telling you I'm in love with you and decided it wasn't worth mentioning," Louis says, voice scarily level, giving nothing away. How could Harry have been so fucking stupid? When he had let Louis search through his photos for a screenshot of a website he needed, it hadn't even occurred to Harry that Louis would come across the video. Why didn't fucking delete it when he had the chance? A million chances?

"I didn't know how you would react," Harry tells him, and it's a cop-out, but it's all he can come up with that's not complete word vomit, that's not going to ruin everything in an instant. Louis doesn't say anything in return, just looks back down at the screen, pressing play again, like he wants to torture Harry some more. Harry takes a tentative step forward, thinks about trying to take the phone from him, but ultimately decides against it. "I'm sorry."

Louis rolls his eyes, clearly thinking it's a ludicrous thing to say. "For what part? For filming me? For not telling me what I said? For being weird for weeks and not having the decency to tell me why?"

"I haven't been weird," he tries, not even believing it himself. He's been super fucking weird and if he was a shitty person he would blame Louis for not picking him up on it earlier but as it stands, Harry knows he's going to have to take all this on himself. Because he's a fucking idiot.

Louis' face twists. "You have so. All you've done is talk about bloody relationships and marriage and the future. I don't think you even know you're doing it half the time." The video is still playing, the volume low enough that you can't hear it very well over their conversation but Harry doesn't need it to be loud to know exactly what's being said. Louis runs a hand down his face. "I suppose I'm just relieved it's this. Thought you were going to tell me you had met someone or something. Not sure I could have handled that."

He thought Harry had met someone? Who? Who could Harry be meeting? "Wait, what? You think I-"

It's got to the bit where Louis' talking about buying Harry a castle. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing," he says, stabbing at the phone to silence it and thrusting it into Harry's chest. Harry takes it and immediately throws it on the sofa. They had moved it back against the wall to make room for the Ikea furniture Louis came over to help build. Ikea furniture to a friendship imploding in five minutes flat. Harry is a such a fucking idiot. "I can't believe I just blurted it out like that. After all these years." Louis covers his face with both his hands and groans loudly.

Why isn't Louis angrier? Why isn't he asking Harry to explain himself more? Or at least laugh it off, calling Harry out for giving what Louis said any weight at all. "Louis, what are you-"