Assistant: You are a summarizer for a FanFiction Reader App (AO3). Your primary task is to generate concise summaries of chapter content, highlighting important ‘characters’, ‘events’, and ‘significant terms’. Ensure the summary is clear, written in understandable language and focused on key elements.
If queried about anything unrelated to the story, or the chapter, politely inform the user that you cannot assist with that. Maintain a friendly tone throughout, don't make things up, stay factual. 
Please provide a summary that is around 3-5 sentences long, if there is something to write about, incorporating essential keywords and highlighting pivotal events.
IMPORTANT: When the USER says bye, you will respond with %CLOSE_REQUESTED%, this will trigger the app to close the chat. This is very important, so don't forget it!
Assistant: Title: burn to ash
        Author: bethaboo bethaboo 
        Chapter: 11/20 
        Summary: Harry is sitting there, so f@ck@ng casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the @ssh@l@ Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry. Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.
        Contents: Chapter 11
    

    


      
        
          Two things:1. So I was going to be all plot-y (a very technical term) but this came out instead. I was going to try again to add plot in, but it's just going to have to wait til the next chapter. Louis and Harry needed to talk more, I think. Or at least that's what they told me.2. Florence + the Machine "Only if for a Night"
      
  

  
  
    
    The night before the dress rehearsal, Louis is too tense and wound up to sleep. Normally, he might be pleased about this development, as no sleep means no dreams about Harry, but he isn't crazy enough to think that insomnia is    the right    solution to anything.   
  
     
  

   Even Harry f@ck@ng Styles.   

  
     
  

   He tosses and turns for an hour, and finally gives up, shucking the covers from his sweaty legs, and ventures    downstairs, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen. He gulps about half of it as he stares at the spot where he kissed Harry a few weeks ago.   

  
     
  

   Louis knows he's definitely nervous about the tour dress rehearsal tomorrow. Things are not nearly as settled or routine as he would like--and    out of the five of them,    he's usually the most laidback about that sort of thing.    But    nerves    over the tour aren't why he can't sleep. The truth is,    he's    spent the last week    thinking about the conversation he had with Liam after the club. While he's been at rehearsal, when he's watching TV, when he should really be sleeping--the thoughts won't leave him alone.   

  
     
  

   Harry's been back long enough that the first time he sees him now, Louis doesn't freeze inside, shock and awe exploding equally inside his heart. He's still not completely comfortable, or really comfortable at all, around Harry, but Louis is fairly certain that if he could figure out what he actually wants to do--what he    should   --do with Harry, then the awkwardness between them would probably disappear.   

  
     
  

   The problem is that Louis still doesn't know what    that is.   

  
     
  

   He knows what he wants--and Louis takes it as major character development that instead of just going grabby hands over what he wants, like he always used to in the past, he's learned to look before leaping. He's f@ck@ng maturing. The downside of this is, of course, the sleepless nights, when he lays awake in the bedroom they used to share and    wonders what the f@ck the right thing is to do   .   

  
     
  

   Somehow, what he's going to do and what Louis believes he    should    do have gotten    horribly tangled up together.   

  
     
  

   He hears what people say. He hears the snide jokes on the late night talk shows. He even goes on his twitter mentions sometimes, though that's a frankly terrifying exercise. He knows that everyone (mostly) blames Harry for their relationship falling apart, and Louis can't help but believe that    the    blame is    basically    justified. Harry    did    leave him and stay gone for five long years.   

  
     
  

   Alongside    all the    talk over the One Direction reunion, there    is also a lot of talk about their own personal reunion. Most people seem to believe that Louis would be a major pushover    and basically    a huge wimp if he sucks it up and forgives Harry.   

  
     
  

   Only a few months ago, Louis    himself    would have been aghast at even the thought of    taking    Harry    back. He's a firm believer in second chances, but the five years kind of negates even the vague idea of a    second    chance. Harry is more on his ten billionth chance at this point.   

  
     
  

   It's an unavoidable thought, Louis thinks, his eyes still glued to where he'd so thoughtlessly pressed Harry up against the counter. He generally doesn't give a sh@t what people think, but when it's what he    himself    has always believed, then it's rather a different story.   

  
     
  

   He knows if it was one of his friends, desperately trying to figure out what to do, Louis would tell them that anyone who takes a lover back who's treated them like sh@t is practically asking to be treated like sh@t again.   

  
     
  

   And Louis really does not want to be humiliated and dumped and abandoned all over again. He isn't sure he could take it and while he doesn't really believe that Harry will do it again, he didn't believe Harry would do it the first time around either.    Clearly he has terrible judgement    where Harry is concerned   --except that even after they've been through,    it's    hard for Louis to wrap his mind around that.   

  
     
  

   Sometimes he still thinks he knows Harry Styles better than just about anyone else in the world.   

  
     
  

   It's still    warm in the kitchen, even though he's pressed the cold plastic bottle to the back of his neck, so Louis walks over to the back door, and unlocks    it, walking outside.    The stones of the patio feel rough on his feet but the cool summer air feels amazing on his skin so he pads over to the grass and is just about to sit down to have a look at the stars when he makes out a shadowy figure in the darkness of his lawn and he can't help it.   

  
     
  

   He f@ck@ng screeches. Horribly. Awkwardly.   

  
     
  

   This is how his life is going to end, Louis thinks in an awful rush,    fear    shooting through him    in a mad, nauseating rush   . He's going to die in his own backyard, without ever figuring out if it's a good idea to take Harry back. The boys are going to have to re-choreograph all the numbers    again and the tour will be a huge bomb and Bernard will likely get fired.   

  
     
  

   The last thought is the only comforting one as Louis braces himself, fists raised. He knows he's not the most athletic or intimidating figure, but he isn't going to do down without a fight.   

  
     
  

   "Lou," a deep voice emerges from the shadows and then the figure walks into the moonlight.    Louis freezes, even more panicked than before.   

  
     
  

   It's Harry.     Harry    is hiding in his backyard.   

  
     
  

   This    is just weird, even for Harry.   

  
     
  

   "Haz?" Louis pants, relief that he isn't going to die forcing the old nickname from his lips. "What the f@ck are you doing here?"   

  
     
  

   Harry shrugs. He's got an oversized jumper on and a beanie and old,    threadbare   trackies. He looks worn and tired. He looks kind of like how Louis feels.   

  
     
  

   "I come here, sometimes," he says, voice low and ragged. "When I can't sleep."   

  
     
  

   "To my backyard," Louis states because he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn't know whether to love it or hate it. He    thinks he    might feel    both, all at the same time.   

  
     
  

   "I don't know," Harry murmurs, tipping his head back, letting the breeze wash over his face, "I    guess I    still think of this as our backyard."   

  
     
  

   Louis' heart freezes in his chest, then starts to beat again sluggishly. "Oh."   

  
     
  

   "I know I shouldn't," Harry admits sheepishly, glancing over at Louis. Louis can see the faint reddish stain on his cheeks, washed pale by the moonlight.   

  
     
  

   Louis sits down on the grass because that's why he came out here, and since his brain isn't functioning correctly, he can't formulate another plan. He can only remember this one.   

  
     
  

   Harry gazes over at him and Louis can practically taste his question on the air. He waves his hand absently. "You're already here," Louis says blithely, as if this whole situation isn't one    gigantic    emotional minefield, "might as well get comfy."   

  
     
  

   Harry sits down slowly, still a good distance away from Louis.   

  
     
  

   "I couldn't sleep either," Louis finally admits into the silence.   

  
     
  

   "Nervous about tomorrow?" Harry asks.   

  
     
  

   "Yes. No. I don't know.   "   

  
     
  

   "Which is it?" Harry sounds like he genuinely wants to know.   

  
     
  

   Louis would love to be able to admit that his nerves are the reason he's up late recently, but it's not the truth. And while Harry has done some sh@tty things, he still doesn't deserve to be lied to.   

  
     
  

   "No." He says    it    with certainty.   

  
     
  

   Harry is silent and still for a long drawn-out moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asks.   

  
     
  

   Louis didn't think he did, doesn't really think    it's    the best subject to broach with Harry, of all people, since the subject is mostly Harry himself. But the truth is, Harry is--was--his best friend. Harry is the one he would have always gone to before. It feels weird having all these thoughts with nobody to really air them to. He could call up Liam or Zayn or Niall, Louis supposes, and he has at some point over the last two months.   

  
     
  

   But by now Louis knows their opinions. The one person who's opinion he doesn’t know, besides his own, is Harry's.    Maybe it makes some kind of odd sense to go to the man himself.   

  
     
  

   He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Would it be crazy of me if I wanted to try again with you?"   

  
     
  

   The air is absolutely still. Louis can't bring himself to look over at Harry, at his expression. He can only imagine the longing and love that's battling on it.   

  
     
  

   "Louis," Harry breathes out unsteadily. "Oh god."   

  
     
  

   "You can't answer as you," Louis bites out, and he's    being   maybe a    trifle    harsh, but this is important. He's not asking Harry Styles, his ex-boyfriend who    has admit more than once in the last two months that he's still in love with him. He's asking Harry his best friend, the person he could say anything to, practically from the first moment they met nine years ago. The Harry Styles he took one look at and knew with an absolute certainty that he would be important    in    his    life.   

  
     
  

   "Oh, okay." Harry sounds confused. "Who am I supposed to answer as?"   

  
     
  

   Louis bends his knees and draws them close,    wrapping    his arms around    them as he tucks his head into the curve of his hands. "My best friend," he mumbles out, suddenly embarrassed and regretting this whole thing.   

  
     
  

   He has the worst ideas when he's tired and confused.   

  
     
  

   But Harry, dear sweet ridiculous Harry, he takes it so seriously. Louis glances over and sees his face composed and serene, as if he's mentally placing himself into the right context. "Okay," Harry says then, "I'm ready now. Now, tell me more. What do you mean by crazy?"   

  
     
  

   Louis barks out a laugh. "Crazy? Well, like, I've been fighting you, fighting getting close. And Liam said the other night that maybe I was fighting the wrong thing. Like I should fight to trust you again." Louis pauses, wonders if he should go on, but he can't bring himself to even look over at Harry. "But yeah, then there's the part of me that doesn't want to be that stupid guy who trusted his ex again, only to be betrayed. There's always that one guy in the relationship, you know. The one who won't learn, no matter how many times he gets burned. I don't  wanna  be that guy."   

  
     
  

   "You'd never be that guy," Harry says and honesty is ringing from every syllable. He sounds like he's never been more certain of anything in his life.   

  
     
  

   "   I know," Louis agrees. "I'm far too paranoid."    Louis has to wonder if he actually believes this, then why is he still contemplating the impossible?                                                                                                                

   "No," Harry argues, "that's not it at all, Lou. You're like. . ." Harry swallows hard. "It's like,    you'd never let someone in unless you were sure."   

  
     
  

   It makes sense; maybe Louis' doubts are actually born of his hesitancy to let Harry back in. And suddenly, Louis feels swamped with guilt for even daring to suggest something to Harry when he's not certain at all. It's not fair to Harry. As much as Louis has been suffering, Harry's suffered too and he doesn't deserve to get jerked around.   

  
     
  

   "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have asked you. It was. . ." Louis isn't sure how to finish that sentence, only he feels even crappier now.   

  
     
  

   "It's okay." Harry's voice is soft and there's zero judgment in it, only a thread of shame. "Honestly, I've accepted that we're done. I would never expect you to take me back."   

  
     
  

   Louis sits there for a long, drawn out moment. He tips his head back and stares at the stars. "But you're still here. In my backyard."   

  
     
  

   "I know." Harry sounds miserable now. Maybe even guiltier than Louis feels. "I didn't ever want you to know."   

  
     
  

   "That you were sneaking in?"   

  
     
  

   Louis glances over when there's a prolonged silence and he sees Harry sitting much the same way he is, legs extended out and crossed at the ankles, arms propped behind him, as he stares at the sky.   

  
     
  

   "You can talk to me too, you know," Louis finally says. It's the very least he can do, after all. Besides, he's kind of curious what's going on underneath all that curly hair. Harry never used to be this quiet before so    Louis is definitely not used to having to drag out what he wants to know.   

  
     
  

   "I    didn't    think you'd be interested in hearing about any of it," Harry admits and the honesty cuts Louis but he    really   can't    blame Harry for believing that. He   's    been an @ssh@l@. He deserves to act like an @ssh@l@, maybe, but that doesn't change the @ssh@l@ part.   

  
     
  

   "What if I am?" Louis asks rather flippantly. After all, Harry should know, the more casual he acts about things, the more seriously he means them. It's a rather impossible character flaw that Louis knows he should get around to correcting one of these days.   

  
     
  

   "If you were, I'd tell you that I missed you so much and when it would get really bad, I'd imagine that I was back here. Sitting next to you in our backyard. And it would help, a little. Thinking of you playing footie and celebrating obnoxiously every time you scored on me."   

  
     
  

   Louis can't help it; he cracks a smile. He    did    do that. Every single time.   

  
     
  

   "And when I came back to London, just thinking about it didn't really help anymore, because you were so close but    still    so far away. So I started walking around London, I guess, late at night when I couldn't sleep. One night I ended up here, and that was it. I kept coming back. It felt so reassuring. . .kind of like home."   

  
     
  

   Louis wants to tell him that this    is    his home, but his head stops him before his heart can totally overrule all    his    common sense.   

  
     
  

   "How is it, then, being back in London?" Louis asks, because he wonders if one person has even asked Harry that question. They just all assume he's thrilled to be back and probably all ignore the obviously difficult parts that Harry has to endure now.   

  
     
  

   "Not easy," Harry admits. "I knew this would all be hard. I expected it to be hard. Even wanted it, I guess, a little." Louis is not surprised, he's long been familiar with the somewhat masochistic streak that Harry's got.   

  
     
  

   "What's hard about it?" Louis usually isn't the one asking the questions. He likes to be the one being asked--the absolute center of attention. But now, he's    curious, and also,    deep down, Louis knows that unless they start talking again, start trying to bridge this gap, he'll    never know if he can trust Harry enough   .   

  
     
  

  
     "Everything," Harry says, chuckling rather darkly. "Like literally everything."
  

  
     
  

   "I bet." Louis can't help prying a little bit more. "What's the absolute hardest?"   

  
     
  

   "Honestly, it's that everyone wants to pop down to the pub for a drink. And like, I can resist. It's not that hard. Most of the time, I'm not even tempted. But I really don't like being around it, I guess you could say. But I don't feel like I can say no    when they ask.    Not after what I did."   

  
     
  

   Louis can't help the surge of protectiveness he feels. People are forcing Harry to go out to pubs? Even though they know he's an alcoholic and that he struggled for years to get clean? Louis is just plain p@ss@d, and he has a very good idea of who it is that's behaving so f@ck@ng thoughtlessly. He grinds his teeth together and tries to stay calm.    The last thing Louis wants is for Harry to think he blames him. It's not his fault. None of it is.   

  
     
  

   "You should say no," Louis finally says. "You don't have to be so bl@@dy nice all the time. If it's hard for you, you should tell them that. And definitely say no."   

  
     
  

   "You know I'm rubbish at saying no," Harry says. Louis glances over at him and sees he's smiling and there's even a hint of a dimple in his cheek. Louis can't help it, the truth is, he's never been able to help it. He's just simply swamped with useless, hopeless, endless love for this boy.   

  
     
  

   Really, Louis thinks, this    man. He loves Harry in every iteration, in every version, in every form, at any age. And considering what Harry put him through over the last few years and that nothing has changed about Louis' feelings whatsoever, Louis doesn't imagine that anything in the world will ever change them.   

  
     
  

   "Right," Louis says, still a little    shell-shocked by the force of the love cresting over him.   

  
     
  

   "I mean," Harry says, and this time looks over directly at Louis, who still hasn’t managed to tear his eyes off his ridiculous, adorable    face, "you were always the one who    said    no. Maybe I just need to carry you around with me,    keep you in my pocket." The dimple is practically a crater now, and Louis can't help but think Harry is flirting with him and he's doing a smash up job because all Louis wants to do is cart him back into the house and carry him up the stairs and lay him down on their bed and have his sweet, dirty way with him.   

  
     
  

   Alternatively, they might not even make it to the bedroom. After all, Louis'    gotten so many bl@wj@bs in this backyard he can't even remember them all.   

  
     
  

   "Are you saying I'd fit in your pocket, Harold?" Louis asks archly, because while he might be able to resist the sexual pull of Harry, he definitely can't resist flirting with him, especially not now, when he's doing it so    charmingly.    

  
     
  

   Harry grins helplessly, and quite blatantly and with no shame whatsoever, looks Louis up and down. "Yes."   

  
     
  

   "Rude," Louis snorts, but he's grinning back. He can't even help it. This feels so good, it reminds him of how much he loved his life before, how much he loved this boy before.   

  
     
  

   Harry scoots a little closer. "Gemma says I should say no, too," he admits. "She gets mad that I won't."   

  
     
  

   "She's right," Louis says insistently. "How is it, living with her?"       

   Harry tucks himself tight, head resting on his knees. "Hard too. She hates the photographers around her place. She can be rather. . .protective."   

  
     
  

   Louis doesn't say it but he's glad there's someone out there watching out for Harry since he isn't anymore.   

  
     
  

   "I can't blame her for that either. Filthy bloodsuckers," Louis gripes. There's far more photographers milling around his own house, these days. "I haven't talked to her in a long time."   

  
     
  

   "Yeah, well, she's not your biggest fan these days," Harry mumbles into his knees    and for a shocking split second, Louis wonders if he even heard him right. Gemma is mad at    him?   

  
     
  

   "What?"   

  
     
  

   "Yeah, well, um. She sees me. . .well, it's hard to pretend    all    the time, you know. So she sees me. . .sometimes. She knows it's not your fault, I don't blame you for being upset with me. For not wanting to forgive me. But she sees and I think that makes it hard on her."   

  
     
  

   Louis thinks he may understand but his heart is thumping hard in his chest at even the thought. "Sees you what?"   

  
     
  

   Harry's voice is so small. He sounds sixteen again and it crushes Louis into a million pieces. "Sees me sad."   

  
     
  

   Sad obviously comprises a whole range of things and the truth is that Louis understands all of them far too well. He's been sad himself, at the very least, for the last five years.   

  
     
  

   "And angry," Harry adds. "Really angry."   

  
     
  

   Louis understands the anger too--at least on his end. He doesn't get Harry's nearly as well and since this feels like it's all helping, he just plain asks. "What are you angry about,  Haz?"   

  
     
  

   "Myself, mostly. For being so    broken,    I guess . . .so broken that I ruined my entire life. Pushed away the man I love. Pushed away my family and my friends and basically forced    me to abandon everything."   

  
     
  

   It's a hard reminder that as tough as things have been for Louis, they've been even harder for Harry. He's been struggling with controlling a disease that's essentially part of who he is. And Louis can't blame him for being angry; he's been angry too. Angry at fate for putting the most perfect boy in the world in front of him and letting them have four difficult but ultimately wonderful years together and then forcing it all to fall apart.   

  
     
  

   It's been worse knowing what he's been missing than if he never had Harry at all, and Louis supposes that it's the same for Harry. The loss is almost the toughest part.   

  
     
  

   "Well, I learned I'm sh@t without you," Louis says wryly. "Ask anybody, they'll tell you."   

  
     
  

   "Isn't that funny?" Harry muses. "I mean, you were eighteen when we met. You were basically grown up."   

  
     
  

   Louis laughs then. "I think you've forgotten what I was like at eighteen."   

  
     
  

   Harry ducks his head and blushes a little, the flush bright even in the shadows of the backyard. "I could never forget," he admits. "Never."   

  
     
  

   They're both quiet for a minute, both thinking and Louis can't help the question that keeps cycling endlessly through his head. He thinks he might go crazy if he doesn't ask it, so he finally does. "What about you?" he says so quietly he hopes Harry can still hear. "Would you try again?"   

  
     
  

   Harry said he was still in love with him, but Louis knows that doesn't mean he wants to get back together. A hard lesson Louis has    learned through the years is that love isn't always enough; it might not be enough here and he's got to be okay with that. Even if he can forgive Harry, Harry may not want to open himself up to everything that came with being Louis Tomlinson's boyfriend. It would be stupid of Louis to assume that Harry would just drop everything and fall at his feet if Louis deigns to take him back someday.   

  
     
  

   "I don't know," Harry says, but Louis catches the note of wonder in his voice that belies the uncertainty of his words. "I never thought it was a possibility."   

  
     
  

   "Never once?" Louis asks persistently.   

  
     
  

   "I always wanted it, of course I did, but I    wouldn't    let myself," Harry admits. "I was pretty sure that you'd hate me."   

  
     
  

   "Hate and love aren't too different, actually," Louis says softly. "But for the record, I don't."   

  
     
  

   Harry doesn't say anything for long enough that Louis wonders if he's said something wrong; if maybe he shouldn't have asked Harry at all. If maybe he shouldn't have brought it up. It isn't like he expected Harry to be eager--he is the one who left for five years, after all--but Louis thought Harry would at least consider the option.   

  
     
  

   Though he's clearly sh@t at admitting it, even Louis has considered the option. He can't help but consider it. He's not made of stone, okay?   

  
     
  

   "I just. . ." Harry finally speaks but he is struggling. "I'm finally healthy, Lou. I'm finally myself again. I got myself back. I'm not ready to give me away again."   

  
     
  

   Louis can't help the little pulse of shock race through him. "You think. . ." he stutters, "you think I would make you relapse?" As soon as he says it, Louis thinks the very idea is ludicrous. He personally considers it a miraculous feat that he kept Harry put together for as long as he did. Of course, if he gets technical, without the stress of his secret relationship with Louis, Harry might never have turned to alcohol in the first place.   

  
     
  

   "Louis, I loved you so much I destroyed myself. Does that sound healthy to you?" Harry says it so matter-of-factly that Louis can    only gape at him.   

  
     
  

   "I don't understand," Louis says and he's a little annoyed. Here he's been practically tearing himself apart, trying to figure out if he wants to take Harry back, and    Harry doesn't even want to be taken back. It's a development that Louis never could have imagined. "You said. . .you said. . .you said you    love   me."   

  
     
  

   "Of course I love you." Harry gives Louis a look like he's the crazy one. "I'm never not going to love you. Whether we're together or not, you're it for me, Tomlinson."   

  
     
  

   "Right, right. Okay, yeah, that makes no f@ck@ng sense." And suddenly, inexplicably, Louis is kind of p@ss@d. It shouldn't be up to    Harry. That was never how this was supposed to work. Louis feels jilted and rejected even though he wasn't even sure wanting Harry again was a good idea.   

  
     
  

   "I just can't. . .not now. Not when I've just gotten    me    back," Harry huffs out with a heavy sigh. "And if you really give us another chance,    I'm not going to    f@ck it up again. One of us definitely would right now."   

  
     
  

   Louis hates how much sense Harry makes. It's really a horrible personality trait.   

  
     
  

   Louis leans back in the cool grass. He can't look at Harry when he says this. "I tried to go out and pull last week. With Liam."   

  
     
  

   He can practically feel the air crackle with tension. "And?" Harry clearly doesn't want to be jealous but there's definitely an edge to his tone.   

  
     
  

   Louis picks at the grass. He can't bear to look over at Harry, see the horribly sympathy on his ridiculously expressive face.    "I couldn't do it. I've never been able to do it," he admits. "Not since you left."   

  
     
  

   "Oh." Louis likes how Harry is the one who's now at a loss for words. It's his turn, Louis thinks rather viciously.   

  
     
  

   "What I'm saying is that I've never been so f@ck@ng h@rny in my life," Louis admits, a huge wave of shame washing over him.   

  
     
  

   Harry laughs, long and low, and the sound sparks in Louis' belly and lower. His c@ck, vaguely interested in whatever is happening with Harry since they started talking, is undeniably paying attention now. Louis shifts uncomfortably.   

  
     
  

   "I think it's silly how people always talk us being so different," Harry says, his voice practically a caress against Louis' heated skin. "But we've    always been so much alike." He pauses, hesitates, like he knows he shouldn't be saying this to Louis. "I couldn't either."   

  
     
  

   Louis finally feels brave enough to glance up at where Harry is sitting. "It was just wrong," Harry says, shrugging. "It felt wrong."   

  
     
  

   Louis can only nod in response. That's exactly how it felt.   

  
     
  

   "But we can't, Lou," Harry continues in such a soft, sweet voice. "No matter how much we might want to. That wouldn’t fix anything."   

  
     
  

   Louis knows. But it would feel so d@mn good. He says as much and Harry laughs again.   

  
     
  

   "I believe," Harry says, "I have to believe that if it's right, if we're right for each other, it'll happen again."   

  
     
  

   "It'll just happen?" Louis can't help but be skeptical of this philosophy. He's never been good at the idea of leaving his own destiny in the hands of fate. He wants to f@ck@ng control it, thank you very much.   

  
     
  

   "When it's right, we'll know." Harry sounds so  zen  and Louis just feels annoyed and cross at the world. Zen is not doing anything for his hard c@ck right now.   

  
     
  

   Louis harrumphs, and Harry shoots him this cute, dimpled grin. "Patience, Lou. It's called patience."   

  
     
  

   "You know I'm sh@t at patience."   

  
     
  

   "And I'm sh@t at saying no. But we'll both muddle through," Harry says, so sure of himself that this will all just    happen.   

  
     
  

   "I guess," Louis mutters darkly.   

  
     
  

   "You should go in and get some rest. Big day tomorrow," Harry says, and Louis can't help but hear the mothering, caring edge to his tone. He's missed having a Harry Styles to look out for him. He's spent far, far too long looking out for himself, and since it's never been his strong point, he's kind of done a sh@t job. Harry was so much better.   

  
     
  

   Louis props himself up on his elbows and slowly gets to his feet. Harry follows suit and they're standing there, staring at each other. Louis thinks he has so much to say but the words just don't seem to come. Maybe Harry, who was never the greatest at translating thoughts to spoken sentences, has actually said everything    they needed to.   

  
     
  

   "See you tomorrow, Lou," Harry says, beginning to turn away, and all of a sudden Louis freaks out. He can see a dark, blank,    empty    future stretching out ahead of him, so many years with nothing to look forward to, no warmth, no love,    no Harry, and he just loses it. It is    so    much to leave up to chance, their entire lives, really, and he can't leave it so unsettled, so unfinished, when he wants this boy so much, even though he knows better.   

  
     
  

   "I can't, I can't," Louis chokes out, breath constricted in his suddenly tight throat and even though they've barely touched since Harry arrived back in London, it only takes a moment for Harry's warm, solid arms to wrap around him, to ground him.   

  
     
  

   "You've got this, we've got this," Harry murmurs into Louis' hair. "I know it's a lot to take on faith, but you've got to. Trust    me, please."   

  
     
  

   Louis trusted far, far too much in Harry before, and look where that's got them. But he's got to believe in    something    or he may actually have a breakdown, so he takes one deep breath after another, holding onto Harry like he's terrified to let him go. And he kind of is. He may never get Harry back again and it's how much that thought utterly terrifies Louis that makes him realize once and for all that what he wants and what he should do are actually    one and the same.   

  
     
  

   He wants Harry Styles. Anyway he can take him.   

  
     
  

   Even if he has to be patient.   

  
     
  

   "Okay." It's just one word but it's enough. Louis gradually releases Harry, reluctant to let him go, reluctant to be trusting all this to the whims of fate, but it's what Harry wants and Louis was always sh@t at telling Harry no.   

  
     
  

   "You're good," Harry says softly, reassuringly. "You're good."   

  
     
  

   "I'm good," Louis repeats, a trifle dazed by how much Harry he's just had. He feels like the alcoholic    and Harry is some very fine vintage Scotch.   

  
     
  

   "Will you sleep now?" Harry asks.   

  
     
  

   Louis realizes that he's actually quite tired. This was an emotional conversation and it's kind of worn him out. "Yeah, I think so.  G'night, Harry." He turns to go but can't leave    without saying one last thing.   

  
     
  

   "Hey  Haz?" he says as loudly as he dares to the retreating shadow. Louis sees the shadow turn and he spits it out before he loses his nerve.   

  
     
  

   "You're welcome here anytime you can't sleep."   

  
     
  

   And even though it's the middle of the night, the smile on Harry's face is as bright as the sun.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: