Chapter Text
It's hard to think about what we were, because admitting that it relates in past tense means it's just that. The past.
His smile was the first thing Liam noticed.
He was working behind the bar - a place badly lit at the best of times - but tonight with what lights there were focused on stage, it was a miracle Liam could see him at all. He must have been new. Liam and his band had played this bar on and off for the past year now, and he'd never seen this bloke before. Yet there he was, serving two girls a few drinks while Liam was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, waiting for Louis to get back from the loo so they could head into their next song.
He was good looking, in that scruffy pretty-boy type of way, long dark curls bouncing at his shoulders, cherry lips pulling into an easy smile that was framed by dimples. He was wearing the standard white tee that the bar staff wore, his left arm littered with black ink from wrist to elbow, disappearing under the cuff of his tee that cut into a toned bicep. Pretty all right. Not really Liam's type, but he hadn't exactly taken his eyes off this lad, either. Something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the other bloke, catching Liam out with a tilt of his head and a mouthed "Hello" that had Liam blushing.
Thank god for the near nonexistent lighting on the stage between sets.
Still, he lifted his hand from the fret board and gave the other lad a quick wave, feeling like a right tit the moment he did so. Even if the other lad waved back, he still did it with a laugh that Liam could hear clear across the room, which just made Liam feel even more embarrassed. He didn't have a chance to worry about it any further with Louis bounding back up onto stage headed to his keyboard. A quick tweak to Liam's nipple, Louis' trademark sign he was ready to start up once more. Usually, Liam could evade Louis' tactics but he had been otherwise occupied.
He shook his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and started them in on what was probably too soppy a number for this particular pub, but Liam had always been one to go with his heart. The same heart that was beating all the faster from sharing a look with a pretty lad across the bar.
They played on and finished their next set, then Louis thanked them all and threw in a plug for their EP (that was really no more than a few CDs they'd paid out the arse to have studio time to record. The bloody thing only had three songs on it, the owner had promised them five). Liam thanked a few of their fans – because they'd played enough around Manchester now to actually have familiar faces wherever they went – before packing up his guitar and heading toward the back door. His eyes might have lighted on the bar as he passed. He might also have pretended he didn't really care when he couldn't spot the pretty barman from earlier. If his smile did fade a bit, he could put it down to tiredness. That was all.
Niall was already out at the van, packing away their gear, when Liam got out there. Niall and Josh were always keen on getting everything sorted so they could start putting away pints and pulling birds. Liam mostly stuck around to be the designated driver, getting them all back home. He'd never been one for drinking, and it wasn't as if he had someone to go home to, someone waiting for him.
"Tommo's just finishing up with the owner getting our cash," Liam said, sliding his case into the spot at the side where it would fit up against Louis' keyboard when he finally got it out there.
Niall jumped out the back of the van, giving one last shove to their amp to keep it in place. He was already stripping out of his navy button-up to a black tee he'd worn underneath. Bloody sweaty lad that one, even if he didn't really move all that much. Liked to blame the lights, but Liam knew it was more to do with how nervous he was every time they got on stage. Still, a little bit of nerves never hurt anyone. The more excitable Niall was, the better he played in most instances. Liam wasn't sure how that would play out in the long run, if they were to play to places bigger and better than the Fox and Hound.
"You comin'?" Niall asked, pushing his hair up this way and that in the reflection of the back window. He'd definitely be looking to pull tonight, then.
Liam shook his head, holding up the cigarette he'd kept behind his ear since before they'd got on stage. It was ritual really. He liked to think he wasn't actually a proper smoker. Only liked to have a few now and again, and one most definitely after a good gig. Niall nodded and gave Liam a wink before heading inside, reminding him to lock the doors before he joined them.
Liam rolled his eyes and sat in the back of the van, leaning up against the amp as he patted down his pockets looking for his lighter. He’d had it earlier, maybe. He was sure he'd picked it up off the coffee table where he and Louis had shared a spliff the night before. Or maybe Louis'd grabbed it. He was still patting his chest, checking the pocket on his plaid overshirt, when he heard the door to the pub open and close. Some new Beyonce number spilled out along with the sounds of laughter for a moment before the alley was quiet again.
"Oi, Tommo, did you grab the lighter by any chance before we left?" Liam called out, not looking up as he lifted up half his arse, tucking his fingers in his back pocket.
"Not Tommo, but I think I might have one on me," another voice answered instead. Liam's eyes widened as he raised his head.
It definitely wasn't Tommo.
The lad from the bar wandered over, tugging his hair up into a knot on the top of his head. He smiled as he finished, the light from the street lamp giving the dimples in his cheeks more definition. God, Liam had thought he was lovely before, but as he stepped closer Liam noticed more. He was tall and lean, broad shoulders filling out that white shirt and obscene-looking thighs in the skinny blue jeans he was wearing. Liam had no idea how his hand could even squeeze into them as he wrested out a cheap-looking red plastic thing from the front pocket with a triumphant grin. His walk was pigeon-toed, and for some reason this just made him more interesting.
"Thanks," Liam said, taking the lighter from the other lad's fingertips.
The bloke shrugged and bit at his bottom lip in a way that made Liam have to look away, pretending that lighting his cigarette took a lot more concentration than it really did. He looked up again once it was lit, taking a drag that had him remembering why he both hated smoking and loved that first drag of nicotine into his system.
"D'ya mind?" the lad said, nodding to where there was space beside Liam in the van.
It was the least Liam could do really, offer a seat, considering there was nowhere else apart from a crate by the back door to rest on. He shook his head and answered through a breath of smoke, "Not at all."
The other bloke smiled a bit shyly and sat down closer than Liam expected, making Liam shift over to the right a bit. "'m, Harry," he said, holding out a hand that Liam took, pulling his smoke in closer to his chest to reach over.
Harry's grip was firm, skin cool to the touch, probably from handling drinks and ice inside. That was the only reason that Liam felt a chill run up his arm, his skin prickling with gooseflesh. Nothing else.
"Liam," he said in return, being polite. "How long've you worked here then?" Liam asked, rubbing his hand on his thigh in a way he hoped looked inconspicuous. If Harry noticed, he said naught. He was too busy looking at Liam's face anyway, which was something else entirely. Harry's eyes were a real proper green, Liam noticed, being this close. His lips a bit chapped-looking, but still a rosy hue and plump in a way that made Liam imagine he'd be really good at kissing. Amongst other things.
Fuck, how hard up was he if he was thinking things like this just sitting beside a decent-looking fellow?
Harry coughed, hiding it behind his hand, light glinting off the silver of his rings. "'bout four months? Usually do a few nights during the week, and some day shifts if Uni allows. Third time I've seen you lot, though."
Liam blew out another stream of smoke and Harry coughed again, hiding it behind his hand. "You’re almost a fan then," Liam said, tipping ash with the crook of his finger onto the ground below. He could almost feel the heat from how close Harry was sitting like a burn over his entire side. He wasn't sure if he wanted to shift away or closer.
Sitting still was pretty much his only choice.
Harry cleared his throat and scratched at his cheek and jaw. "Well, yeah? I love the cover of that Bruno Mars song you do and, um, Hotel California?"
Liam scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground, hunching in on himself a little. Of course Harry liked the covers, it was pretty much what they were hired to do here. But of late, Paul had let them add a few of their own to the set, to mixed review.
"Your own stuff, though," Harry said, laying his hand on Liam's thigh just above his knee, making Liam turn enough to see how serious Harry looked. "I really like your lyrics, yeah? Love how you all sound together."
Liam grinned, looking up at Harry from where he still had his head tucked into his chest. "Thanks." If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. "Um, what one do you–" He stopped, Harry's coughing interrupting the rest of his sentence.
"Are you all right?" Liam asked, swapping his cigarette to his opposite hand, patting at Harry's back where he'd leaned over.
Harry nodded, red-faced as he sat back up. "Asthma's playing up a little. Happens every spring without fail. Hay fever in the day, coughing fits at night." He grinned almost apologetically at Liam, squeezing his hand over Liam's leg where it still sat. "I'm okay, really. It's just the smoke, I guess."
Liam's eyes widened and he dropped the near finished butt to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his shoe as Harry went on about how it was "fine, really." Liam shook his head. "You should have said! It's not like I need it. I mean, I don't smoke all the time or anything."
He should have asked. Or at least tried to blow it away from Harry's face.
"You didn't know, and I'm like, I'm not even supposed to be out here?" Harry's voice went up at the end, making it sound like a question that Liam didn't think he was supposed to answer. "It's just, I wanted – I'm not supposed to have a break for another hour, I don't think."
"So why are you . . ." Liam led off, a tad confused. He ran his fingers through his hair a little nervously because Harry's cheeks had gone even redder than before.
Harry's nose crinkled up before he answered. "I saw you come out and I saw your band come in, and . . . ."
"Oh." Liam paused, feeling slightly flustered. Did he . . . did he mean he’d come out just for Liam? Like, just for him?
Harry nudged Liam's knee with his own. "So you were, erm. You were staring in there, right? Like, you were looking at me, not those girls at the bar?"
Liam nodded slowly in return. Harry was interested and Liam was a little lost because he hadn't done this in a while. His relationship with Danielle had ended badly after two tries to get it right, and Tom was fun until he fell in love with someone else. After that, Liam had decided to concentrate on the band. Harry, though. Harry had really lovely green eyes and a cheeky grin that, paired with where his hand still sat on Liam's leg slightly higher than before, spoke of a confidence that Liam hadn't quite picked up in how he spoke. It made Liam a little confident, too.
"Yeah. I mean, out of the three of you, it was definitely you I was staring at, yeah," Liam near mumbled, feeling a bit awkward admitting it. He'd fucking waved at Harry – of course Harry knew who he’d been staring at.
Harry's dimples deepened though, and he knocked at Liam's knee again with his own. Christ, he was so lovely. Liam was staring a bit at Harry's mouth, watching the way his tongue slipped out to wet his lips as he was about to say something, when the sound of the club door opening again had them both jumping apart.
Liam hadn't even realised he'd been leaning in. Or that Harry had, either.
"Wotcher, Payno!" Louis called, keyboard under one arm and a pint in his hand. Liam's heart was racing nineteen to the dozen as he cleared his throat to ask if Louis needed any help.
Louis snorted as he looked back and forth between Liam and Harry. If Liam was blushing a bit before, he was lit up like a ruddy furnace now. "I'll just leave this here, yeah? You're always better at fitting our gear in tight spaces," Louis said with a leer, taking a long drink of his pint, eyebrow quirking up in a way that only after years of practice reading Louis' ticks did Liam know meant a decidedly loud "Get in, mate!" as his blue eyes flickered between Harry and Liam.
Liam took in a breath to argue the difference, but ended up letting it out with a huff and a shrug. Louis sort of had a point. And the longer Liam could go without actually admitting it to his face, the better his life would be for it.
"Best leave you lovebirds to it!" Louis added with a tip of his head, spinning around and heading back inside the pub, leaving Liam and Harry in a much more subdued wake.
"I'm sorry about–" Liam started, at the same time that Harry said, "You leaving soon then?"
They stilled and Liam stuttered out a laugh, dropping the lighter with a muttered "Shit!" because he hadn't even realised he'd still been holding onto the bloody thing. It was a near comedy of errors as Liam and Harry both leaned over to pick it up, bumping their heads together. Both of them uttering apologies, one after the other, until Harry waved Liam off, getting his fingers around the red plastic and slowly sitting back up.
"So, um. Are you?" Harry said, and maybe that bump to the head was a bit worse than Liam had discounted it as.
He frowned. "Um, am I what?"
Harry bit at his bottom lip again, making the pink skin bleach out white. "Leaving. You've packed it all up now, yeah? Just waiting on that last bit your mate brought out?"
"Well, yeah, Louis' keyboard is the last of it, but I don't – I don't have anywhere to be."
Harry's smile could have lit up half of London with Liam's answer. He squeezed his fingers tight over Liam's. "I've got work and all, but you could keep me company at the bar or something."
Harry would be busy at the bar. He'd probably have to flirt with people that weren't Liam, too. All part of the job and that. The thought didn't really sit well with Liam. Not after the short amount of time he'd had Harry's attention.
"When do you get off?" Liam spat out. Shit, fuck. Blood rushed to his cheeks as Harry guffawed, loud and echoing in the quiet of the night. "I mean finish. Like, I think my mates'll be here 'til close."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here until then. Have to clean up a bit after, but it won't take long. Paul, the owner? He lets me leave a bit early, or I'll miss the last bus home."
"You could miss it on purpose, yeah?" Liam found himself asking, lost in Harry's big green eyes and the way one stray curl formed a ringlet just under his left ear. Christ, his stomach was lit with butterflies smashing about in hobnail boots. He hadn't done this in so long, but here he was anyway. "You could come back to mine?"
What the hell was he doing? He never took lads home like this. A quick blowjob in the loos or a handy in the back of someone's car, sure. But to his house? The shitty little flat he shared with Niall as well as two other lads that went to Uni together wasn't exactly the type of place he'd like to take anyone to. Yet there was something different about Harry. Liam didn't want to shag him – well, not right this moment – he just wasn't ready to let him go yet, was all.
Harry grinned slowly, his fingertips brushing against the back of Liam's hand, and slipped his fingers between the spaces of Liam's own as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I'd like that."
It always felt too easy in the beginning. Falling into you, into each other, into us . . . .
"Fuck," Liam swore, utterly out of breath. He threw his forearm over his eyes as Harry curled up beside him, one leg thrown carelessly over Liam's thigh.
Harry snorted. "Think we just did that and we did it well, if I do say so."
Liam laughed, eyes crinkling up as he twisted onto his side, wrapping himself around Harry. "And you say so, do you?" Liam asked, rubbing slowly over the sweat-tacky skin of Harry's spine.
Harry's lips were a light press to Liam's chest three times before he answered. "Yes. You were there – how would you rate it then, Mr. Payne?"
Liam took a long breath and let it out slowly, unable to hide his smile. Fuck, it'd been three days since they'd moved in and they'd hardly left the bedroom. Then again, they'd hardly left each other’s side since that night at the pub. Liam had never felt like this before with anyone, ever.
Six months of this and he'd given up waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Harry made him so unbelievably happy, he couldn't think of a time when he'd ever felt like this before. He curled his arm over Harry's waist, pulling him in closer, brushing his lips over Harry's curls. God, he loved him so much. Harry made Liam so happy just by being there. It was almost unfair how great Liam felt. Harry'd quit his job at the pub once the band's contract had come through a month ago. He still had Uni, but he'd told Liam that he'd be happy to commute on the weekends and such. Harry'd see about transferring somewhere closer for his last year. It would be worth it if he could be with Liam.
"I really fucking love you, you know?" Liam blurted out. Harry snorted, nipping at his chest after.
"I really fucking love you, too," Harry answered, pushing Liam over until he was on top of him, legs spread over Liam's hips as he slipped his hands under Liam's pillow on either side of his neck. Harry was grinning, that one that Liam liked to think of as his and his alone. Dimples deep and lips pulled easily apart, his eyes big and green and happy. As happy as Liam felt.
"I do, though, you know? I love you so much and you make me . . . you make me smile all the time. Louis keeps teasing the shit out of me for it," Liam said, scrunching up his nose as he remembered how Louis had pelted him with chips at Nando's after they'd found out they'd got their recording deal with Sony. Liam was banging on about how he couldn't wait to tell Harry, how excited Harry would be for them. It didn't take Louis long to start in on how ridiculous Liam's face was, all lit up and fucking glowy. Louis and Niall had given him a fair bit of stick, making Liam's face flush almost as red as the Henley he was wearing.
And Harry had been ecstatic. He'd dragged Liam into his bedroom and had Liam's cock down his throat before Liam had even got the door closed, much to Niall's amused catcalls from the hall. Harry'd been nothing but supportive ever since.
Harry's curls were hanging about his face now, a fuzzy tangle from when Liam had had his hands in it earlier. It had started out in a bun, but that was before Liam had walked back in from talking to his mum out on the balcony overlooking the Thames and London's famous city skyline. Eight bloody floors up and all paid for by the record company, just so they would feel "comfortable" making their album. The other lads were all on the same floor. Liam hated to think how much this was costing – or if it would come out of their earnings later. He'd said something to Harry along those lines, but the conversation was put aside when Harry shushed him, dropping to his knees and tugging Liam's joggers down just enough to get his cock out before sucking him down. Messing up Harry's hair had come later still, when Liam used it to hold on to while he fucked Harry's mouth. The elastic had split when Liam had become a little overzealous, Harry's curls tumbling everywhere while Liam finished in his mouth.
They'd only made it to the bedroom because Liam didn't want Harry's knees getting sore while he had him on all fours, eating him out.
"Louis' just as bad when Eleanor's around. Probably jealous that she's not, really." Harry looked thoughtful. Liam knew it was a bit strained between his band mate and Louis’ longtime girlfriend ever since they'd had the chance to move to London and she'd stayed behind in Manchester. Unlike Harry. Liam hadn't even wondered if Harry would come or not. Harry'd been just as excited about the move and the record deal as if it were his own.
Liam reached up and pushed some stray curls behind Harry's ear, sliding his hand down to cup Harry's cheek. "Harry . . ." he started, then stopped, too overcome with emotion to say anything else. He was just so bloody thankful for having Harry in his life. For being able to share with someone who wasn't in the band all of the crazy that his life had become since Simon had signed them. For having someone who was there for him, just for him.
Harry blinked slowly, dark lashes dusting his cheekbones as he leaned in close and rubbed the tip of his nose against Liam's. "I'm here, though," Harry said softly, echoing Liam's thoughts.
Liam sighed. "I know it's a lot. I do. You've school and your last year and–" He stopped as Harry shushed him, whispered Liam's name pressed into his hand. "I'm very glad you are here, you know. It means so much."
Harry shrugged, dropping his gaze from Liam's for a moment, focused somewhere on Liam's chest. It was a look Liam couldn't quite read, maybe didn't know enough of Harry's looks for him to work it out. It was gone in an instant, though, the smile he loved best blooming back across Harry's face.
"No place I'd rather be."
I never expected you to actually do it. You were always the one who said it. Threw that out there when things got tough or weren't working the way we both wanted, we both hoped.
I guess we both wanted different things in the end.
"If you're going to go, just go," Liam sighed, throwing himself on the sofa and rubbing at his eyes with closed fists. He was tired. So fucking tired. Of this. Of them. Of what they'd become.
He'd been home a week this time and Harry'd basically given him the silent treatment since the minute he walked in the door. It was ridiculous and childish and it all had to do with Liam being home more, but why would he even want to if this was what happened when he was here?
"Don't think I won't, Liam. Don't think I won’t pack it all in and leave you."
Liam took a deep breath before he answered. "You say this every time. Every time we fight you say this and yet–"
"I'm still here! I'm here and I keep coming back because I–" Harry paused and Liam felt the unsaid I love you tear at his own heart. "I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot to think things will change. That you will change. I should just go, you're never here anyway, it's not like you'd notice!"
Liam opened his eyes and looked up, saw how upset Harry was. How their shouting, the endless circle of this argument had affected Harry, too. The tears that stained his cheeks, how red his eyes had become, the fight leaving his body as his shoulders slumped, and Liam couldn't sit there any more. He was up and pulling Harry in, just holding him close. It made something heavy take hold in his chest, hearing Harry think about him like this. Liam just . . . he loved Harry. Loved him and this band and this life. It was hard, though, balancing it all, and he’d thought he could. Maybe, maybe he wasn't doing this as well as he had thought he was.
"I'd notice, of course I'd notice, Haz," Liam whispered, pressing his lips to the curls at Harry's forehead. He hated fighting. Hated fighting about this in particular. It wasn't his fault. Not entirely. Harry was struggling through his last year of Uni, having shifted from Manchester to London to be closer to Liam. It helped a little. He was at home when Liam got in from recording their first album, was around when they started doing a little promo. Then the single took off to number one and life as they knew it changed forever.
Small gigs turned into larger ones, radio interviews turned into playing on Chatty Man and that Irish program where Niall was treated like a superstar. It got to the stage where even Liam couldn't remember the last full week he'd spent in their home. Harry tried to be there, but it wasn't as if he could come out to every show. The last few times when he would have been able to because they were playing close, Harry'd had exams and Liam understood why Harry couldn'tcome along. He did. Even if it hurt to look up and not see Harry mouthing along to the words, doing his dumb dance moves at the front of the crowd. He just wanted Harry to himself, was all. It was irrational to be annoyed that Harry couldn't be there all the time, no matter how much Liam wanted him to be.
Harry finally wrapped his arms around Liam's waist, his forehead resting on Liam's shoulder as he let out this broken sound. "I don't want to fight any more," he whispered.
Liam swallowed hard before answering. "You think I do?" he said softly. "I hate that we've been like this, that we are like this every time I’ve come home for the past year now. It's not supposed to be this way."
God, there were tears prickling at his eyes once more as he spoke the truth. Laid it all out like he'd been trying so hard not to with every visit home, with every fight they’d had time and time again. It was hard, being on the road and promoting their first album as much as they were. Not having Harry as twenty-four/seven as he had become accustomed to through writing and recording as they had done was difficult. It wasn't easy, when he was so used to waking up to Harry singing in the shower or making breakfast in the nude, or just hearing Harry's voice in the next room instead of over the bloody telephone. Liam missed him a lot and he knew the feeling was mutual, but it didn't stop the arguments when he was home. Lately, it seemed like arguing was the only thing they did do together.
Harry was quiet and Liam was too. His last words felt almost like they were hanging in the air surrounding them. No one else seemed to do it this hard. No one else seemed to fight as much as they did. Not any of their friends, famous or not.
Liam wasn't sure how to fix it.
Harry pulled away first, slid out from Liam's grip and took one step back, and then another. He took in this shaky breath as he slid his fingers through his hair, tucking wayward curls behind his ear. Liam felt each shift away like a string tugging at his heart and it hurt. But what didn't lately?
"No," Harry said with a shake of his head, hair falling back over his eyes. "No, it's not."
He turned and headed toward their bedroom and the door snicked closed, a loud sound in the quiet of their flat.
It probably should have been telling, then, that Liam didn't follow.