We almost Had it

**

Shortly after, Harry and Taylor broke up.

The internet exploded. Fans went into a frenzy, tabloids printed dramatic headlines, and social media was flooded with speculation. Some people mourned the end of the so-called power couple, while others celebrated, convinced it had been nothing more than a PR stunt all along.

Louis couldn't have cared less.

Because all he saw was Harry. His Harry.

And Harry was hurting.

Louis had seen it coming before it even made the news. He knew Harry well enough to recognize the signs—the quiet moments, the distant looks, the way his usual spark had dimmed just slightly in the weeks leading up to it. Harry wasn't the type to break down publicly, wasn't one to let the world see him struggle, but Louis had known. He always knew.

So when it happened, when the breakup was official and the whole world had an opinion about it, Louis didn't hesitate.

He was right there to catch Harry's fall.

Louis found him in his hotel room, curled up on the couch, a nearly empty glass of whiskey balanced on the armrest. The room was dark except for the dim glow of a lamp, and Harry didn't even look up when Louis walked in, like he had been expecting him.

Louis sighed, closing the door behind him. "Alright, rockstar, how bad is it?"

Harry huffed a laugh, but it was hollow. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking another sip. "Not that bad."

Louis raised an eyebrow, walking over and plucking the glass from Harry's hand, ignoring the halfhearted protest. "Right. That's why you're sitting in the dark drinking alone like some heartbroken film character."

Harry let out a tired sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "The internet's having a meltdown. Management's spinning a hundred different stories. And I—" He hesitated, swallowing hard. "I just feel fucking exhausted."

Louis softened, setting the glass down before sinking onto the couch beside him. "Breakups are shit," he said simply.

Harry let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet stretching between them. Louis wasn't going to push, wasn't going to ask if Harry had really loved her, if it had ever been real, if it was hurting for the reasons people assumed. That wasn't what Harry needed.

Instead, Louis nudged him lightly with his shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?"

Harry exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the couch. "Not really."

Louis nodded, unsurprised. He draped an arm across the back of the couch, close but not overwhelming, giving Harry the space to breathe. "Alright. Then let's not."

Harry turned to look at him then, his green eyes tired but searching, like he was trying to find something in Louis' expression. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because after a beat, his shoulders relaxed just slightly, the tension in his jaw easing.

"You always do that," Harry murmured.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Just know," Harry said, shaking his head. "You always know exactly what I need before I do."

Louis swallowed hard, forcing a small smirk. "It's a gift, really. Comes with the territory of being your best mate."

Harry huffed a laugh, but this time, it was a little more real. He shifted slightly, pressing his shoulder into Louis', seeking warmth, seeking comfort. And Louis, without thinking, reached up and ran a hand through Harry's curls, something soft and instinctive in the gesture.