7 Up

stops to look directly at Louis, the blue of his irises bold. “If this isn’t something you want
anymore, tell me. But please don’t let insecurities about problems that don’t exist get in the way of
us.”
Louis nods. “‘m being stupid. You’re always so fucking patient with me. Jesus.”
“You’re not stupid.” He pauses to kiss him. “Just trust me, and we’ll be together in the end. Okay?”
Louis’ voice is small when he murmurs back, “Okay.”
They finally fall asleep after that, and Harry tosses and turns all night.
It’s less than a month later - a month of very limited contact on Louis’ part and a steady buildup of
nerves on Harry’s - that Harry gets the phone call. Louis is crying on the other end before Harry
can even say, “Hi, baby,” and that’s when he knows it’s over. He wants to say he knew it was
coming, that he knew his boy well enough to know something was wrong, but it hits him like a
truck, and he doesn’t eat for a week.
Now, Harry tries not to think about Louis at all. It’s been over a year now, and he was slowly
getting to the point of not looking back. The Up Series set him back significantly, and now that
James and Ellis know, he feels completely exposed, even though they haven’t asked him about it
since the interview.
The weekend before winter holidays, Harry gets absolutely pissed. He’s so drunk, he can’t stand up
without swaying, and his eyelids feel heavy when he tries to blink.
There are about 15 people milling around his flat, and Harry can’t focus on a single one of them.
Ellis steadies Harry in the kitchen, grasping his elbow.
“Mate, are you okay?”
Harry hiccups. “‘m fine.”
Ellis squeezes Harry and drops his hand. “Known you for a while now and usually you’re pretty
good about holding your liquor. Might wanna slow down, yeah?”
“Can’t slow down. When I slow down, I have time to think. I don’t wanna think anymore, El. ‘m
just very tired.”
Ellis nods. “I understand. I might be able to understand more if you told me a little bit about what’s
been going on with you in the past year or so?”
“I don’t know if I wanna talk about it,” Harry slurs, eyes closing briefly.
“That’s okay, mate. Whenever you’re ready.”
Harry decides he’s ready - or ready enough - the next morning, incredibly hungover, mind cloudy,
and somehow able to remember his conversation from the night before with Ellis in the kitchen.