Archive of Our Own

Liam’s phone vibrates on the bench next to him as he frantically re-ties his boots. Stupid traffic. Stupid, endless security lines. Stupid boots. Stupid Christmas special. Stupid last-minute editing meetings. Stupid Ben.

Well, not stupid Ben, Liam thinks, reminding himself that Ben was the one who was paying for this flight home in the first place.

He spares a quick glance down at his phone screen as he shoulders his bag and his chest deflates in sudden relief. It’s a notification from the airline, his flight is delayed thirty minutes.

He’s going to make it, thank god. He doesn’t even have to sprint through the airport like one of those frantic, miserable people he always feels so sorry for.

He checks his phone again for his gate assignment, and in the ten seconds since he’s last looked the delay has gone from thirty minutes to an hour. That’s fine with Liam; he’ll have time to catch his breath, maybe grab a drink and unwind before the ten and a half hour flight.

Liam heads for the nearest bar, tucking his boarding pass and phone into his back pocket. Might as well knock back a few- maybe he’ll actually be able to sleep on the plane for once. Even though he’s exhausted to the bone from weeks of early mornings and long nights trying to put the Christmas special together (on top of keeping the rest of the show going), Liam is doubtful his brain will stop racing long enough for him to get any sleep at all.

He settles in at the bar, nudging the leather carry on Meri’d bought him a few years ago for his birthday between the stool and his ankles. Those doomsday airport loudspeaker warnings really work- no one is slipping a bomb into Liam’s bag.

“Hi gorgeous, what can I get for you?”

Liam looks up at the middle-aged blonde woman behind the bar. Her name tag says Jackie and she’s giving Liam that indulgent, motherly look he’s so used to getting from pretty much every woman he’s ever met in his life. There’s something about Liam’s face that just makes people want to take care of him. It’s weird.

Liam smiles up at her and requests a whiskey Coke. Jackie takes a moment to ooh over his accent before busying herself with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Liam pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his calendar for the next couple of weeks, then scrolling through Ben’s as well. Just to make sure no one’s touched anything.

He’s peering closely at a meeting three weeks in the future, wondering if he should add a different production coordinator to it, when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey man, is this yours? It was on the ground back here.”

Liam turns to see a handsome man in a suit brandishing a boarding pass; it must have come out of Liam’s pocket with his phone. Liam blushes a bit, embarrassed, as he takes it from him and murmurs a thanks. The man settles at the other end of the bar and pulls out his laptop.

Liam sets his boarding pass on the bar in front of him, determined not to lose it again, just as Jackie comes back with his drink. She slides his boarding pass toward herself so she can read it and her eyebrows furrow.

“Sweetheart, it looks like you’re booked first-class. Why are you paying for drinks in here when you can get them for free in the lounge?”

Liam pauses with his drink halfway to his open mouth.

“What?”

“Honey, if you’re in first class you can go to the first class lounge up on the next floor. They’ll have a nice quiet bar there and some food too, if you’re hungry.”

“Oh… I didn’t realize.” Liam’s ears burn a bit. He feels naive and silly as he fumbles for his wallet to pay for his drink. He’s never flown first class before; he doesn’t know the rules. Jackie is looking at him like she wants to take him home and feed him a good meal.

“No rush, hon.”

She’s looking up at the departures board over Liam’s shoulder.

“It looks like your flight’s delayed anyway.”

Liam slides his money to her and takes a gulp of his drink. Maybe the first class lounge will have free wifi too, so he can get online and check in with Ben, maybe get a little work done before takeoff. He finishes the drink in just a few long pulls and waves to Jackie as he leaves. She’s busy helping the good-looking businessman at the other end of the bar, but she throws him a wink and motions with her head toward the stairs to the first class lounge.

Liam feels, absurdly, that somehow they’ll know he doesn’t belong and refuse him entrance, but he just shows his boarding pass to the nice woman with the immaculate chignon at the reception desk and she waves him through to the lounge, telling him that if he needs anything to please let her know.

Liam’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting inside the lounge, but once they do he alights on a quiet corner with a couple of damask armchairs and, ah, there it is. Airport manna: a power outlet. He settles in and plugs his laptop in, scanning the room again. There’s a buffet off to the side, a bar directly in front of him.

There’s a man sitting alone at the bar, a massive shearling coat wadded up on the stool beside him, and something about the way his hair curls behind his ears, the particular hunch of his shoulders, rings familiar to Liam. He squints a bit just as the man holds up a few fingers, silver rings gleaming, to motion for another drink. Liam catches sight of just the slightest edge of the man’s profile and recognition hits him like a bolt of electricity.

That’s Harry Styles over there, elbows leaned on the bar, white t-shirt stretched over his shoulder blades. Harry Styles, the international pop star and actor with three number one albums, two critically-acclaimed films, and the highest-grossing tour of last year. Harry Styles, who, in another place in another lifetime, won Liam’s season of the X Factor, thereby possibly altering the trajectory of Liam’s entire life.

It feels weird to see him sitting all alone; Harry’s at that preposterous level of fame now where Liam would expect him to have a coterie of security and PAs buzzing around him at all times.

Liam wonders if Harry would even remember him.

They were friends during boot camp, but then Harry seemed to be friends with everybody. Big cow eyes and even bigger hair, he was a proper little show-off who looked great on camera. This, of course, made him a particular favorite of the production team (and every contestant in the Girls group, it seemed). But then, Liam ended up being their favorite as well, didn’t he?

Ben Winston, an executive producer during Liam’s season, hired him fresh out of sixth form. Kept in touch with him to make sure he was getting on with his A-levels alright and everything. And production work is quite good, Liam thinks. Kind of glamorous, running around Los Angeles trying to find hats funny enough for Bruno Mars to try on on-camera. It’s not performing, but it’s still... It’s close, Liam thinks. He’s still contributing.

He knows he’s lucky, he’d never want to seem unappreciative- Ben gave him the opportunity of a lifetime, hiring him like he did. Liam would probably be shoulder-to-shoulder assembling plane engines with his dad in the factory back in Wolves if it weren’t for Ben picking up on his interest in the cameras and sound equipment during X Factor filming.

Not, of course, that that would be so bad either… Liam has a sudden urge to text Geoff to apologize for not wanting to work in the factory with him, even though Geoff never expected him to.

Liam shakes his head and opens up his laptop to check his email. There’s a notification, right up at the top. His flight to London’s delayed another hour. Liam groans gently and thumbs open a text on his phone to Ben.

flight’s a bit delayed
in the lounge now, feel proper fancy
u can call for the next few hours if theres anything I can help with
thx again for arranging the flight for me :)

Ben’s reply comes back almost immediately.

All fine here. Have a drink, enjoy your flight. Give Karen my love xx

Liam sighs. Things are almost certainly not all fine. When Ben finally pushed him out of the office and into an Uber earlier that afternoon it was absolute chaos at the studio and no one could find Reggie for the voiceovers he was supposed to do. Liam wonders if anyone’s thought to check the roof yet; Reggie likes to smoke his secret cigarettes up there sometimes. He wants to text Ben back and argue, but Ben won’t like that and he won’t change his mind either.

Liam checks his estimated arrival time in London again and pulls up the timetable for trains to Wolverhampton. He should still make it just in time for Christmas Eve dinner, as long as he doesn’t get delayed again.

A waiter in a crimson waistcoat approaches and leans down to ask if he can get Liam a drink, his voice hushed. He calls him Mr. Payne and Liam flushes at that, feeling like a fraud, like he should let this poor waiter in on the secret that he’s just a lowly production assistant, not important like Harry Styles or whoever else is waiting for their flights here.

“Just a club soda, I think. Thank you so much.”

He slides down in his seat a bit as the waiter heads back to the bar to get his drink, absently pulling up the show’s latest press mentions to compile into a PDF to send to Ben and James.

He’s completely engrossed in an Entertainment Weekly article about the viral power of Drop the Mic when he’s startled by a yelp and a splash of wet across his ankles.

“Oh my god, Mr. Payne, I am so sorry! I tripped over the cord and-“

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Liam hunches over to pick up the now-empty glass tumbler rolling at his feet and hand it back to the waiter.

“It’s no problem, honestly.”

“Here, let me help.”

Liam glances up to see Harry Styles, in all his disheveled glory, standing in front of him with a stack of bar napkins in his outstretched hand.

Turning to see Harry standing there, the poor waiter seems doubly flustered now.

“Oh, thank you Mr. Styles. Um, Mr. Payne, I’m so, so sorry.”

Harry grins broadly at the waiter, his dimple a familiar divot in his cheek.

“It’s no problem, Jonathan. Mr. Payne here will live.”

The waiter- Jonathan, Liam supposes- nods gratefully at Harry and turns to Liam again.

“I’ll bring you another club soda right away, Mr. Payne-”

Harry narrows his eyes briefly at Liam and cuts across Jonathan.

“Make that two whiskey gingers actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Mr. Styles.”

Jonathan scurries back to the bar to fetch their drinks and Harry sinks down into the armchair across from Liam. Liam dabs delicately at his ankles, feeling awkward and caught-out for no good reason.

“Liam fucking Payne, as I live and breathe.”

Liam’s eyebrows rise practically to his hairline and he snaps his head up to look at Harry.

“You’re kidding. You- you remember me?”

“Of course I do,” Harry says smoothly. “I’ll remember those big brown eyes for the rest of my life. Have to admit, I couldn’t figure out where I knew you from till he called you 'Mr. Payne.' I miss that Beiber-swoop, Liam. Though the new hair suits you as well.”

Liam runs his hand over his buzzed scalp self-consciously. He doesn’t pay as much attention to his hair as he used to. The buzz cut keeps things simple- he can do it himself in his bathroom. He makes a job of closing his laptop putting it back into his bag, half expecting Harry to be gone by the time he’s done. But when he sits back up, Jonathan has come back with their drinks and Harry is still sitting, gazing placidly at Liam across the small cocktail table between them.

“I like, um. Your hair looks good too,” Liam tries.

Harry’s grown his hair out over the last few years, the longest pieces now brushing the tops of his shoulders, curly and lush.

“Thank you, Liam. Do you work out?”

Liam barks out a startled laugh as he reaches for his drink. It’s strange, how familiar Harry still feels, after all the time and all the massive things that have happened since the last time they saw each other. It feels, in a way, like no time has passed at all.

“Yeah, you know, when I can. I work a lot, but I try to get to the gym a few times a week.”

Harry reaches over and gives Liam’s left bicep a stout pinch through his jumper.

“Yeah, I can tell. You must be doing alright for yourself at work, then. In the first class lounge and all.”

“Oh, the ticket was a gift from my boss,” Liam says as he rubs at his arm. “He kind of felt bad I was having to cut it so close getting home for Christmas. But what about you? Isn’t there some fancy new terminal for people with private planes or whatever?”

Harry scoffs.

“I don’t always fly privately. This was actually kind of a last-minute thing. I was going to stay here for the holidays with-“

Harry cuts himself off and shifts a bit in his seat. Liam grimaces in sympathy- he scrolled past an article about Harry’s messy breakup with Kendall Jenner not five minutes ago while putting together the press clippings for Ben.

“-with some friends. But anyway that kind of fell apart and I decided I wanted my mummy. My PA got me the last seat on this flight a couple hours ago; I didn’t even have time to pack a bag. Well, I guess I did, actually, since it’s been delayed… But that’s alright, I’m sure my mum still has some of my old clothes stashed away somewhere. It’s so funny, I always worry so much about forgetting things when I travel. But it’s not like you can’t buy a new razor, or socks or whatever pretty much wherever you go, you know?”

Harry wraps up his ramble by shoving a handful of cashews into his mouth. It should be gross, but Liam can’t help but be endeared.

“Razors? Can’t believe you actually have to shave now.”

“Excuse me, Liam. My facial hair is extremely robust.”

Liam grins at Harry and takes a sip of his drink. Harry claps his hands together in delight like a child. Or a performing seal.

“So you can drink. I knew all that griping about your kidney was a front.”

Liam is staggered that Harry remembers that much about him after six years. He affects an affronted tone to cover his surprise.

“Excuse me, Grizzly Adams, I’m not a liar. My kidney functions much better now than it did when I was a kid.”

“Well I’m pleased for you. Cheers!”

Harry reaches over to clink his glass against Liam’s, and they both take long pulls, the whiskey settling warm and comforting in Liam’s stomach. He thinks back to this time last year. He remembers reading then, about Harry and another girl, another breakup. Being left in some tropical paradise alone, his girlfriend ditching him for the hometown boyfriend she never fully gave up, right in the middle of their holiday. There were rumors at the time that she’d been more interested in getting Instagram followers than actually being Harry’s girlfriend. Liam remembers seeing Twitter trends about her for weeks and it was such an odd thing, to know something so personal about Harry that he had never chosen to share.

Liam’s always paid a bit more attention to Harry’s career than anyone else’s. Being knowledgeable about pop culture was part of his job, but with Harry he had to admit that there’s always been that element of looking at his own life through a funhouse mirror. Wondering, when he read about Harry, could that have been him? At the time, the gossip, the photographers following him around the island so they could capture him looking dejected in small yellow shorts and a white singlet, all seemed like just the price Harry had to paid for all that he got in return.

With Harry sitting right in front of him, warm, alive, and real, it’s harder for Liam to think that way.

“So,” Liam ventures. “How has everything been for you? You’ve done so well, I really liked your last album.”

Harry snorts.

“Sure you did. I remember what you were into back in the day, DJ Payno.”

Liam laughs, despite himself.

“Still love Usher, of course. But I’m serious, I really loved your last album. Felt a bit like early Oasis, with some Kings of Leon in there as well.”

For emphasis, Liam hums a few bars of Where Do Broken Hearts Go and Harry’s eyebrows climb upward.

“Why, I’m flattered, Liam. Can’t believe a cool guy like you would be caught dead listening to a Harry Styles album.”

Liam scoffs at Harry’s attempt at self-deprecation.

“Surely you don’t need me to tell you it was good. Haven’t you got a hundred million Twitter followers to let you know? Or GQ, even? I saw you were on the October cover.”

Harry smirks.

“Only got the seventy million; fuckin’ Beiber’s still got me beat. You been keeping up with me then, Liam?”

Liam shrugs one shoulder and takes another long pull from his drink.

“They did an article about my boss in that issue of GQ.”

“Oh, really? Who’s your boss?”

“He’s the EP on the Late Late Show with James Corden. Actually, you might remember him from the X Factor. Ben Winston?”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead again, his mouth drops open.

“Ben Winston?”

“Yeah, do you remember him?”

“Oh, Liam. I remember him,” Harry’s grin flashes dirty across his face as he takes another sip of his drink.

“I remember him at least once, sometimes twice a day.”

The implication takes a moment to land, but when it does Liam recoils in disgust.

“Harry!”

“What! He was well fit. How’s he held up? Has he still got that beard?”

“He’s my boss. I don’t think of him like that!”

Harry is already digging his phone out of his back pocket, tapping quickly at the screen.

“I’ll just have to find out for myself then, won’t I?”

Liam puts his head in his hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Ooh, like a fine wine, he is,” Harry murmurs, shoving a picture of Ben in a tuxedo at the Emmys in Liam’s face, wiggling his phone to make Liam look.

“You work with him, Liam? See him every day?”

“Please stop.”

“Come on now, don’t get shy on me. Have you guys ever… you know?”

Liam glances up and Harry’s grinning lasciviously again, clearly delighted with Liam’s discomfort. It feels all too familiar, like they’re kids again. Harry hamming it up for invisible cameras, Liam bumping hard up against that instinct just between joining in and drawing away.

Liam covers his face again, talking from behind his hands.

“No, never,” he answers flatly. “I’ve known him since I was sixteen. He’s married, Harry. They just had a baby.”

Harry clucks his tongue in dismay.

“I’m heartbroken. I was completely convinced I was gonna marry him back during X Factor. I had the most disgusting crush, Liam. You can’t even imagine.”

“Is that why you never noticed all the people tripping over themselves to get to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone else’s disgusting crushes were on you, Harry.”

Harry’s rolling his eyes, but Liam doesn’t plan to let him get away with that one.

“Oh, come on! Don’t pretend you didn’t know!”

“Wait, wait... now when you say everyone, Liam, does that include you?”

Liam shrugs easily.

“What can I say? I love the curls.”

Harry smiles smugly and leans back in his chair. It’s so curiously familiar, even though they only knew each other for a little while, a long time ago, Liam feels his heart trip inside his chest. The Harry Styles Effect doesn’t seem to have lost any of its power over Liam. Harry might be taller now, but he still feels the same to Liam.

“Married with a baby, huh? Well, I’d love to see him again anyway. Think you could get me on the show?”

“Yeah, of course! We’ve tried before, you know. But they said, like-”

“Yeah…” Harry fluffs out the front of his hair uncomfortably. “I’ve kind of been taking a break from, you know. That kind of stuff.”

“Sure,” Liam says gently, trying to put Harry at ease. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Harry’s basically dropped off the map in the last several months. Liam thought he might be filming a movie or recording an album or something, but maybe not.

“Well whenever you’re ready, just let me know. Ben would be well pleased. Might even give me another fancy ticket home for Easter if I bagged Harry Styles.”

“Bagged me, Liam?”

Harry’s smirk is back. Liam rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Anything for Ben. And you, of course.”

Harry twists in his seat then, waving a bit to get Jonathan’s attention. He makes a gesture for two more drinks and Jonathan nods. Liam is surprised to find that his own glass is nearly empty.

Once they’re settled with their new drinks and a little dish of mixed nuts Jonathan’d brought over, Harry leans over to tap Liam on the knee.

“Do you still sing? You were such a little professional back during X Factor; everyone thought you’d win for sure. We were all so intimidated by you.”

Liam huffs out a breath.

“No you were not. Apparently you were too busy wanking over Ben to even notice me.”

Harry leans forward to lay his hand over Liam’s knee again. Liam can feel his warm palm through his jeans and it sends a gentle pulse through his gut.

“Oh, Liam… are you jealous?”

Liam grins slowly, glances up at Harry through his lashes. He’s not seventeen anymore. He knows how to flirt now.

“Maybe a little,” he admits.

Harry’s dimple pops out again and he reaches for his glass.

“So, singing? Do you still?”

Liam leans forward and swirls a fingertip through the ring of condensation Harry’s drink left on the table in between them.

“Does karaoke count? I love some good karaoke. Actually, Carpool Karaoke was basically my idea. But no one ever gives me credit.”

Harry’s lips are pursed, disapproving.

“Karaoke definitely does not count, Liam.”

Liam lifts one shoulder, lets it drop.

“Well, it’s what I’ve got.”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting over the rips at the knees of his jeans.

“What made you decide to stop? Back then, I mean. You weren’t on the show the next season. I watched.”

Liam shifts a bit in his seat, Harry’s protracted eye contact getting close to uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, Harry. It was all I had ever wanted at the time but it wasn’t, you know... that life’s not the only good one you can live. I suppose at a certain point you kind of just have to accept yourself for what you are? It wasn’t going to happen for me.”

Harry looks entirely nonplussed.

“Liam, you were sixteen.”

Liam thinks back to that strange, empty time after being told, again, that he wasn’t quite good enough. Coming home to his sympathetic family and his indifferent classmates, wondering what was supposed to happen next. Back then, he couldn’t help but let his mind take him on wild hypotheticals. What if he was just a little bit taller? What if he was wittier, more charming, what if he hadn’t straightened his hair? What if he could play guitar, what if his voice was just a little bit better?

What if Harry had never auditioned, thereby filling that season’s quota for a cute teenage boy with a big heart people could really root for?

At the time, it seemed like Liam was destined to always fall just short of the finish line- he didn’t make the Olympics, didn’t make the live shows… No matter what he did, it wasn’t ever quite enough. It was a feeling Liam took years to shake.

But it’s not Harry’s fault that he was chosen over Liam back then. It’s not his fault that Liam didn’t carry on singing, and he’d hate to make Harry feel like it was.

“I was seventeen, actually. The second time around.”

Harry rolls his eyes again.

“I know, I know. But it was my second time on the show and it just got harder after that, you know? To muster up the enthusiasm, to keep begging to sing a couple songs at a fair or a coffee shop or whatever. I needed to grow up, I think.”

Harry nods, his eyes still fixed firmly on Liam’s face like he’s looking for something there that Liam’s not saying out loud.

“Do you think you’re happier now? Than you would have been otherwise?”

Liam bites at his lip, trying to decide how to answer.

“I was so lucky that Ben gave me this job. I’ve gotten to see the world, and meet so many interesting people. I’ve gotten to work on so much cool stuff, it’s a job that a lot of people would kill for. I’ve been really lucky, honestly, it’s just not the luck I thought I’d have when I was a kid. I don’t want to sound like I’m ungrateful for what I have, because I’m really not. And I don’t think it’s that simple, you know? That you could look at one or the other and say this one’s better and that one’s worse? They’re just…”

Liam fumbles for the right word.

“Different,” he decides.

“It’s just so crazy to me, that you didn’t end up in music somehow. You were so… Liam, you were the most driven teenage boy in the entire country.”

Harry puts his hand back on Liam’s knee.

“I’m not trying to say that what you do now isn’t amazing, but I always assumed you were in a studio somewhere, writing songs or doing remixes or something. Or like, a proper underground DJ playing raves in Paris with like, a huge cult following but nobody knows your real name and you wear a helmet the whole time you perform.”

Liam smiles even as his throat tightens a bit at the idea of Harry bothering to think about him in such depth over the past six years. It seems almost unimaginable that he’d devote brain space to wondering what Liam Payne from Wolverhampton has been up to.

He kind of likes Harry’s vision of his future. Maybe especially the bit about people not knowing his real name.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is, like- do you regret any of it? Would you do anything differently if you could go back?”

Harry’s voice is soft, curious.

“Honestly? I don’t think so. I really do love my job, even though it’s crazy and really hard sometimes. And it’s not like music isn’t part of my life anymore, you know? I do still write a bit and do remixes sometimes, but it’s just for me, like before I went on X Factor. It’s like- it helps me unwind and stuff. It doesn’t have to be for everyone to be important.”

Harry furrows his brow and nods like Liam’s said something very profound.

Liam chews on his lip again. He’s desperate to ask Harry about his life- what it’s really like to do what he does at the level he does it, how it feels for everyone in the world to know your name. But he doesn’t want to be too pushy, there’s nothing he’d hate more than being just another presumptuous person trying to get the inside scoop on Harry’s life. But he thinks he’s entitled one question, seeing as Harry had started it.

“Is there, um. You know, is there anything you’d do differently, do you think?” Liam asks tentatively.

Harry pulls at his lower lip, takes his time mulling Liam’s question over, and when he speaks his words are slow and unsure.

“Back before I went on X Factor, when I was still in school, I used to be a baker. Like, on weekends I’d go in so early in the morning. Absolutely exhaust myself kneading the dough and stuff, but then I’d get to put everything in the ovens and watch it bake. It sounds weird, but I think that was like, probably the most peaceful time of my life? Like, people wanted bread or cakes or cookies, and it was such a simple thing. I could make them, put them in a box, hand them over. No one wanted anything I couldn’t give them.”

Harry pulls at his lip again, thinking.

“And when I went home that was the end of work for the day, you know? Like none of the customers really cared what I was doing once I left the bakery. I wasn’t the baker anymore, I could do whatever I wanted.”

He hasn’t really answered Liam’s question, but Liam doesn’t push. He thinks he gets what Harry’s saying anyway. It makes a new kind of sense now, why Harry seems so interested in Liam’s life, in how he feels about it.

Maybe he wants to know too, what it could have been like if things had gone just that little bit differently. If he didn’t have the scrutiny of the entire world on his every move, if he wasn’t having to constantly be aware, on alert.

It hasn’t escaped Liam’s notice, the long stares other people in the lounge have been leveling at Harry. Harry has been able to at least pretend he doesn’t notice. Or maybe he really hasn’t. Maybe he’s had people looking at him so long he’s become desensitized to it, immune.

“Mr. Payne? Mr. Styles? Your flight will be boarding in ten minutes.”

Liam is startled out of his contemplation by the chignoned woman from the front desk, her hand a light pressure on his shoulder. He smiles up at her, relieved that there were no more delays while he was engrossed in his conversation with Harry. He hadn’t even thought to check. He thanks her and begins sorting through his bag, making sure he’s got everything where he needs it.

Harry tells him he’ll be right back and disappears back toward the reception desk. He returns just a couple of minutes later, two freshly-printed boarding passes in his hand, just as Liam is sending off a text to his parents with his new arrival time.

“I asked them if they could seat us together for the flight, I hope you don’t mind.”

Liam grins at him, finding he doesn’t mind at all.

--------------------

It doesn’t take long once they’re seated for the first young girl to approach Harry, phone in hand. She’s followed quickly by another, then another, asking Harry for a picture.

Harry gives them a megawatt grin, declining photos so gently he practically makes the girls think it was their idea that he sign a few airsickness bags for them instead with a Sharpie Liam produces from his bag.

Only a moment after the girls retreat back to their own seats, a guy in a backwards snapback walks by slowly, his phone held at a conspicuous angle, the lens of the camera pointed at Harry.

Liam glances over to see if Harry’s noticed. He obviously has, his expression dark, but when he notices Liam looking at him he unfurrows his brow and rolls his eyes.

“That must happen to you all the time.”

Liam cocks his head to the side, appraising Harry. Sitting this close, he can see the way exhaustion tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth, the gentle purpling of the skin under his eyes.

“I guess. Nothing really to be done about it, is there? I really don’t mind it, usually.”

“You’re good at that though, you know. Like, talking to those girls. Making them feel special.”

Harry grins softly.

“Just takes a bit of practice, I suppose. Anyway, you better not get sick, we’ve got nowhere to put it.”

Liam’s still laughing when the flight attendants begin their safety instructions.

By the time they’re in the air and settled with their dinner and drinks, Liam’s eyelids are drooping. He fights it as he picks at his salmon and wilted spinach salad, finding himself not wanting to miss any of Harry’s low, quiet running commentary on the relative merits of the different components of his cheese plate (he appreciates the Camembert, but wishes the almonds weren’t candied). Once the flight crew has collected their dinner things, Harry fumbles in his bag for a sleek little gold MacBook.

He’s almost shy as he asks Liam if he’d like to watch Love Actually with him.

“I watch it every year at Christmas. Ended up watching it by myself the last few, but if you’re interested-”

“Definitely,” Liam assures him. “I love that film, but it's been ages since I’ve seen it. I think I’ve got a headphone jack splitter around here somewhere.”

“Of course you do, boy scout. I’m sure you’re always prepared.”

“I use it a lot at work. Like, when we’re on location and stuff.”

“Mmm, you and Ben all huddled up together-”

“Stop that!”

Harry gives Liam another dirty grin and then they’re settling into companionable silence, Harry’s laptop bridging the gap between their tray tables, their shoulders resting against each other. It’s like being back in the X Factor house, huddled up on a bottom bunk watching Skins on Liam’s laptop together. Liam quite likes it.

He makes it through almost the entire movie before drifting off. He remembers seeing that iconic kiss at the holiday pageant, but he’s been working long hours for weeks now and he can’t help closing his eyes, resting them, just for a second.

When he awakens, disoriented and groggy, his seat has been converted to a lie-flat bed and there’s a blanket tucked neatly around him, a pillow under his head.

Liam can’t help but smile to himself a bit; this must have been Harry’s doing. Liam’s normally a fairly light sleeper- always ready to wake at a moment’s notice to answer an urgent call, to run down to the studio, but Harry had somehow managed to tuck him in without waking him. Liam feels strangely serene up here, safe in this little box hurtling through the sky, Harry snuffling quietly just beside him.

He swipes at his eyes and raises his seat back upright. He catches the attention of a flight attendant as she bustles past and whispers, not wanting to wake Harry.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know how much longer till we land?”

“Less than an hour now. Can I get you something to eat? We’ve got some sandwiches and crisps in the galley.”

“That would be great- would you mind bringing some for him as well?” Liam gestures toward Harry. “I’m just about to wake him up.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Liam leans over the arm rests in between their seats and gazes down at Harry. His face is soft, vulnerable in sleep, and Liam feels a deep well of affection open in his chest. Harry looks so peaceful, he almost hates to wake him, but it’s been a long flight and Harry should probably eat and drink some water before they land.

He reaches his hand over, runs his knuckles down the soft, stubbled side of Harry’s face, whispers his name.

Harry blinks open his soft green eyes and looks up at him.

“Liam?”

Liam grins down fondly, his fingertips working gently through the tangles in Harry’s hair, almost without his permission.

“Yup.”

Harry yawns widely, Liam can see the shine of his molars at the back of his mouth, his wide pink tongue.

“Thought maybe I dreamed you,” Harry slurs, his eyelids fluttering shut.

It’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to say, and Liam’s not sure Harry wasn’t actually still asleep when he said it, but his breath still catches in his throat anyway. He considers tugging a bit on Harry’s hair until he wakes up properly, but in the end he decides to let him sleep. He can put a sandwich in Harry’s coat pocket for later.

He keeps his hand in Harry’s hair though, drawing gentle circles on his scalp until the flight attendant comes back with the food.

--------------------

Once they're off the plane, stretching and groaning in front of an airport Costa, Liam feels a tug of melancholy somewhere in his chest. They'll go their separate ways now- and it might be another six years before they see each other again, if ever. He finds that he hasn't quite gotten enough of Harry yet.

They're walking together toward the exits, hands swinging between them, occasionally brushing together, both studiously ignoring the long stares Harry’s getting from their fellow travelers and the whispers that follow them as they pass, when Harry stops short.

“Liam, how are you getting up to Wolverhampton?”

Liam marvels, again, that Harry’s been carrying Liam’s hometown in his head all this time.

“Taking the train up. God, I've got to get over to Euston. I don't even have an Oyster card anymore.”

“You know,” Harry says conversationally. “Wolverhampton is basically on the way to Holmes Chapel. And I happen to have someone dropping off a car for me in about-” Harry checks his watch. Liam can't help but notice it's a Hublot. He feels a deep pang of longing; he's always wanted a Hublot. “-ten minutes ago. Wanna hitch a ride, Payne? You can even sleep in the back if you want, I'm sure you're still tired.”

“Wolves is definitely not on your way. I don't want to delay you even more.”

Harry waves a dismissive hand at Liam, coming dangerously close to slapping him in the face.

“It basically is. Come on,” Harry whines. “I could use the company. You can help me stay awake!”

Liam chews on the corner of his mouth. It really is a tempting offer, heading straight to a warm car and more of Harry’s company instead of a cold, crowded tube ride toward an even colder train ride home.

“Come on, Liam. Don't think, just say yes. I can't face that drive alone. Say yes, come on. Say yes, say yes,” Harry chants.

“Well…” Liam hedges. “I mean, if you're sure it’s not a bother.”

“I am sure. The surest.”

Harry pulls Liam’s bag off his shoulder and slings it over his own before grabbing Liam by the wrist and tugging him onward.

“Alright, alright, I said I'd come!”

Harry sends a quick grin back at Liam over his shoulder.

“Sorry, just want to be sure.”

There's a black Range Rover idling at the curb when they make it outside, the wintry air a shock to both their LA-acclimated systems. It’s barely six o’clock but it might as well be midnight, the sky overhead dark and foreboding. Harry bounces over to the driver’s side where a small man in a black cap is sliding out from behind the wheel.

“Thaaaaank you, Leonard,” Harry singsongs as the man holds out a clipboard where Harry scribbles down his signature.

Leonard swiftly whacks Harry on the arse with his clipboard as Harry climbs into the driver’s seat.

“It’s snowing all the way up the M40. You be careful, Harry.”

“I will, I promise. Happy Christmas, Leonard!”

“I don’t give a shit about Christmas. Be careful. You going with him?”

Liam freezes when Leonard rounds on him, glaring.

“Uh, yes? Sir?”

“Good. Make sure he pays attention. He’s a terrible fecking driver.”

Liam groans inwardly as a faint “Heyyyyyy!” comes from inside the car.

“I’ll do my best, sir. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, son.”

Leonard strides off and Liam slides into the passenger seat. He heaves a great sigh before buckling his seatbelt, conspicuously looking Harry over to make sure he’s done the same.

“Leonard worries; you don’t have to, Liam.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I swear, you flip one snowmobile one time…”

Harry continues grumbling as he pulls away from the curb, and Liam settles back into his seat, fiddling with his phone. Harry allows only a couple minutes of silence before he’s reaching over, trying to poke Liam in the cheek.

“What are you doing over there, Mr. Payne?”

Liam bats his hand away.

“Give me just a second; I’m almost done.”

“Liammmm, tell meeeee.”

“Pipe down. Eat your sandwich; I can hear your stomach grumbling from over here.”

Harry’s brow furrows.

“I haven’t got a sandwich.”

“Yes you do, check your pocket.”

Harry pats around his waist with one hand, and comes up with a ham sandwich wrapped in plastic.

“Liam, you’re an angel,” he beams.

“Yes,” Liam responds thoughtfully. “That’s true.”

He leans forward to plug his phone into the auxiliary jack and adjust the volume on the stereo.

“And I am an angel who has taken a sacred vow to keep you awake.”

Liam tips his phone screen into Harry’s line of sight so he can glance down to see the name of the playlist Liam’s just put together: Liam and Harry Are Staying Awake!

Liam taps the screen again and, to Harry’s gleeful delight, Anaconda starts blasting through the speakers.

--------------------

Uptown Funk is just winding down when Harry lowers the volume with the steering wheel controls and gazes over at Liam thoughtfully.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice, Liam. It’s a shame no one else gets to hear it.”

“Eyes on the road, Styles.”

“I’m serious! It’s a great unkindness you’re perpetrating, Liam.”

Liam can’t help blushing a bit.

“I’m nothing special.”

“You’re wrong there, Liam. There’s not too many people who can do what you do. I watch people try every day.”

“Oh, stop.”

Harry grins keenly.

“You love it.”

Liam rolls his eyes, tips his warm cheek against the cold window.

“You do. I can tell. If you wanted, I could introduce you to one of the A&R guys at my label. They’re always looking-”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, Liam! Why not?”

“I’ve already got a job, Harry! That I love! I don’t have time.”

“What about open mic nights?” Harry tries. “Have you ever done one of those?”

“Not since I was in school.”

“My best friend Niall runs one at this space in West Hollywood. You’d get on great with Niall; funny little Irish guy. He’ll play guitar for you if you want. Will you do it? When you get back?”

“No.”

“Just once Liam, and I’ll never ask again. Just try it out; it’ll be fun!”

Liam turns in his seat so he’s fully facing Harry.

“Let me ask you this, Harry. If you were me, would you do it? Try to get back into it all again?”

That seems to take the wind out of Harry’s sails slightly.

“I’m not saying you have to ‘get back into it’ again. It’s just an open mic night.”

“Fine, but I still want to know. Like, if things had turned out differently back then. Do you think you’d be happier, doing something else? Making people bread or something?”

Harry’s eyes are, for once, focused straight ahead. His jaw is tight and he takes a moment before he responds.

“I don’t know. I think about it all the time and I can’t ever decide. And it’s so- I’m lucky, I know I’m lucky,” Harry sounds frustrated now, desperate to be understood.

“I don’t feel sorry for myself; I love what I do,” Harry says fiercely. “I love it. But what did you say earlier? That it wasn’t the only good life to live? You not wrong, but this is the only one I’ll ever get to have now. It’s too late; I don’t get to just go back to the bakery. People are always going to want more from me and I’m not sure I’ll always have something good enough to give them.”

Liam feels a surge of sympathy for Harry then, and it’s unexpected. He never in his life expected to feel sorry for Harry Styles.

“If it helps at all,” Liam begins softly. “I don’t think you have to be sure right now. You’re young still, and things could go a million different ways from here. You might not be as trapped as you think.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “You’re probably right. And I don’t feel trapped necessarily, maybe just… restricted? And I still haven’t, like… I’m still learning how to deal with it all.”

After a quiet moment, an old Usher song playing softly in the background, Liam reaches over to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’ll do the open mic night, when I’m back. I’m not sure I want like, a music career or anything like that. But it might be cool to get up in front of people again and sing some songs again.”

“Really?” Harry asks, sounding cautiously pleased.

“Really. Could be fun, who knows. I might wear a helmet though.”

“Voice of a damn angel, everyone will love you,” Harry coos, a grin returning to his face.

“Please shut up or I’m not doing it.”

Harry carries on as if Liam hasn’t spoken at all.

“Ben Winston’s going to be so upset with me, luring his assistant into my sleazy Hollywood lifestyle. Ooh, Liam, d’you think he’ll punish me?”

It’s a bad idea, smacking Harry’s arm while he’s driving in the snow, but Liam doesn’t regret it.

“Owww, I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

Harry smiles with his entire face and glances at Liam out of the corner of his eye.

“He wasn’t really the one I had a crush on anyway,” Harry says nonchalantly.

Liam bites down hard on a smile, tries to keep his voice neutral.

“Oh no?”

“Nope.”

--------------------

They pull off a few minutes later at a service station so Harry can fill up the car; apparently Range Rovers are more of a “looking sick” option than a “good gas mileage” option. Liam runs across the dark carpark to get coffee inside the shop, snow catching in his hair and eyelashes, cold in just his Adidas jumper. While he’s checking out he notices a Christmas-themed reggae CD beside the till and slides it onto the counter in front of him as well. Harry will need something to keep him motivated on the way to Holmes Chapel once he’s dropped Liam off.

Back inside the warmth of the car, he presses it into Harry’s hands along with a paper cup of coffee.

Harry’s brow furrows.

“A Merry... Reggae Christmas? What’s this for?”

“For after you drop me off. Thought the smooth stylings of Ainsworth Rose might help keep you awake till you get home. Well, I mean. That and the coffee.”

Liam rubs at the back of his neck, feeling slightly bashful. “Tonight’s been… I don’t know, it’s been so cool seeing you again, Harry. I was kind of dreading today and you like, made it really fun. And I can’t thank you enough for the ride- I just wanted to get you something.”

Harry’s face goes soft, as if he’s genuinely touched by Liam’s £3 reggae Christmas CD. He turns it over in his hands and then looks up at Liam, the streetlights reflecting in his eyes, making them shine.

“The pleasure was all mine. Honestly.”

It’s not long before Liam is directing Harry through the familiar streets of Wolverhampton, right up to his parent’s driveway. There’s a near-painful clenching in his gut, and Liam knows it’s not just the long day of travel.

Harry insists on walking Liam all the way to the front door, carrying his bag for him again.

“I guess this is it. I hope you have a really happy Christmas, Harry. Thank you so much for driving me. I would have never made it in time for dinner taking the train.”

Liam shakes his head.

“This feels weird. I’m so happy to be home finally, but if you told me you wanted me to get back in the car and keep driving till we hit Scotland, I would. I don’t really think I want you to leave, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes are shining again.

“I don’t really want to either, but…”

“Yeah, of course, obviously. Your mum is waiting for you too.”

Harry nods, then very carefully, very deliberately places Liam’s bag on the ground at their feet.

“I’ll be back in LA on the third,” Harry says, bringing his hand up to cradle Liam’s jaw. “What about you?”

Liam swallows hard, feels his body drift almost unconsciously toward Harry’s.

“The fifth.”

“See you there?”

“Yeah,” Liam breathes gratefully, finally closing the gap between them.

Harry’s lips are chapped but his mouth is warm and wet, tasting slightly of coffee. He kisses Liam back immediately, gentle and sweet, like Liam’s something fragile.

When they break apart, Harry tips his forehead against Liam’s and whispers, “Yeah, definitely. Gonna be seeing you.”

He pulls his hand away from Liam’s jaw only to give him a gentle slap on the side of his face before he turns and starts trudging back through the snow to the car.

“The fifth, Liam! The fifth! I’ll pick you up at the airport!”

Liam laughs breathlessly and then, feeling fearless and thrilled, shouts, “Hey, Styles! Wait!”

Harry turns back just just as Liam launches himself at him, feeling wild and light and wide open. They tumble into the snow, Liam landing hard on top of Harry and kissing him breathless while Harry flails and tries to shove snow down the back of Liam’s jumper.

He gives up after a few moments, opening his mouth for Liam and sighing into the kiss, pushing his warm tongue back against Liam’s, running his cold hands up Liam’s neck to the back of his head so he can scratch at Liam’s scalp. Liam is giddy and cold and exhausted, and it’s been a long time since he’s felt anything quite this good.

When he finally lets Harry up and helps him brush the snow off his back, Harry is flushed and grinning, his hair a disaster.

“Well, then,” Harry clears his throat. “Won’t be falling asleep at the wheel after that, will I?”

Liam is gratified to hear the slight hoarseness of Harry’s voice. He throws his arms around him, squeezing him close for just one moment more, his head bowed, cheek pressed tight against Harry’s shoulder.

“You better not.”

Harry steps back and holds Liam’s face between his palms, his eyes huge and fixed on Liam’s.

“The fifth, Liam. I’m serious about picking you up; text me your flight information.”

Harry blows Liam a kiss as he backs out of the driveway; Liam watches his taillights till they disappear.

The fifth. He can wait till then.