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Larry Stylinson

The Architecture of a New Moon

Louis stayed leaning against the front door for a long, heavy minute, his lungs feeling as though they were filled with sparkling stardust instead of oxygen. He could still feel the phantom pressure of Harry’s hands on his waist, a warm, grounding weight that seemed to have permanently altered his DNA. The house was silent, his mother and sisters having long since retired to bed, leaving the hallway bathed in the soft, flickering glow of a single nightlight.

He moved like a sleepwalker, his Vans making no sound on the carpeted stairs as he ascended to his sanctuary. Once inside his bedroom, he shut the door with a click that felt like the final period at the end of a very long, very difficult chapter of his life. He didn't turn on the overhead light. Instead, he flicked on the string of warm fairy lights draped over his headboard and the small vintage lamp on his desk. The room bathed in a soft, amber hue that matched his mood perfectly.

He collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in a pillow that still smelled faintly of the laundry detergent his mum used, and let out a muffled, high-pitched shriek of pure, unadulterated joy. He kicked his legs out, his heels thudding against the mattress, before rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

His phone was burning a hole in his pocket. He knew he couldn't keep this in for another second. If he didn't tell someone, he was fairly certain he would actually spontaneously combust.

He pulled the device out, his fingers trembling so much he nearly dropped it, and hit the speed dial for Niall. It didn't even finish the first ring before the line clicked open.

"If you are calling me to tell me that you chickened out and we’re back to pining in the library, I am hanging up and driving to your house to pelt your window with gravel," Niall’s voice exploded through the speaker, loud and chaotic as ever.

Louis let out a breathy, shaky laugh, his hand coming up to cover his eyes. "Hi, Ni."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, the kind of silence that suggests Niall was leaning in, squinting at his phone as if he could see Louis through the waves. "Wait. Hold on. That wasn't a 'I’m sad and lonely' laugh. That was a... that was a weirdly wet, happy laugh. Louis? Talk. NOW."

Louis bit his lip, a massive, shy grin stretching across his face. He felt his cheeks heating up again, the blush reaching the very tips of his ears. "Um. Well. We went to the spot."

"And?" Niall prodded, his voice rising in pitch. "And then what? Did you talk about Physics? Did you look at the stars? Did he give you a granola bar? Tell me everything or I swear to God, Tomlinson—"

"We're together," Louis whispered, the words feeling like a secret treasure he was finally allowed to share. "He's my boyfriend. Harry is my boyfriend."

The explosion on the other end of the line was so loud that Louis had to physically pull the phone away from his ear. Niall let out a roar of triumph that probably woke up half of Mullingar, followed by a series of incoherent yelps and what sounded like him falling off his bed.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD!" Niall screamed, his voice crackling with pure delight. "OH MY GOD! LOUIS! FINALLY! THE SLOWEST BURN IN THE HISTORY OF MAN HAS FINALLY REACHED THE FINISH LINE! I’M CRYING! I’M ACTUALLY WEEPING!"

Louis was giggling now, tears of relief and happiness pricking at his eyes. "Shut up, Ni, you’re going to wake my mum."

"I don't care! The world needs to know!" Niall shouted, though he did attempt to lower his volume to a dull roar. "Now, spill. Every single detail. Don't you dare skip a second. I want the cinematic play-by-play. Start from the beginning. What was the vibe?"

Louis rolled onto his side, curling into a ball and pulling his "sweater paws" up to his chin. "It was... it was perfect. You know he brought that old wool blanket? The one his nan knitted for him when he was ten? He told me once it’s the only thing that actually makes him feel warm when the wind picks up on the hill. He spread it out, and we just sat there for ages."

"Did he bring snacks?" Niall asked breathlessly. "He always has snacks."

"He brought those fancy lemon biscuits I like," Louis admitted, his voice softening. "And a thermos of tea. He’s so thoughtful, Ni. He remembered that I hate it when the tea gets too steeped, so he took the bags out before he left his house. We just sat there watching the sunset, and he was being so... Harry. Just quiet and sweet, pointing out the different colors in the sky."

"But how did the confession happen?" Niall demanded. "Who cracked first? It was you, wasn't it? You've been a ticking time bomb of feelings for months."

Louis sighed, the memory of the evening playing back in his mind like a vintage film. "It was me. The sun was almost gone, and everything was that weird, beautiful purple color. He was leaning back on his elbows, looking like... I don't know, like a dream. And I just couldn't take it anymore. My heart was beating so hard I thought he could hear it from across the blanket."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I was in love with him," Louis whispered, the weight of the confession still making his chest feel tight. "I told him I’d been in love with him since we were kids. I told him about the granola bars and the way he looks when he’s thinking. I thought I’d ruined everything, Ni. I really did. He just... he froze. He didn't say anything for a literal eternity."

"He froze?" Niall’s voice dropped, sounding ready to go to war. "I will fight him. I don't care how many dogs he rescues, I will take him down."

"No, no!" Louis laughed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "I thought the same thing. I got up to leave, I was crying and everything, and I started walking down the hill. But then he ran after me. He caught my wrist and spun me around, and he just... he kissed me, Niall. Right there in the middle of the grass under the stars."

Niall let out another muffled shriek. "Was it like the movies? Tell me it was better than the movies."

"It was so much better," Louis said, his voice trailing off as he remembered the taste of mint and the feeling of Harry’s large, warm hands cupping his face. "It was soft and then it was just... everything. I felt like I was finally plugged into a light socket. And then he told me he’s been in love with me for three years. Three years, Niall! He said he’s been trying to figure out how to make me look at him the way he looks at me."

"I am going to punch both of you," Niall groaned, though he sounded like he was beaming. "Three years! I’ve been sitting between two pining idiots for three years! I should be charging you guys for therapy sessions."

"He called me sweetheart," Louis added, his voice dropping to a shy, reverent mumble. "And he said he’s had to restrain himself from hugging me in the cafeteria because he thinks I’m 'physically painful' how cute I am in my sweaters."

"He's not wrong about that, to be fair," Niall conceded. "But wow. Harry Styles, the varsity captain, is a total sap for the nerd in the vintage knitwear. I love this. This is the best day of my life. What happened after the kiss? Did you guys just stand there?"

"We sat back down on the blanket," Louis explained, his heart fluttering. "He held me the whole time. I ended up falling asleep in his lap for a bit because I was so emotionally drained, and when I woke up, he was just... stroking my hair. He told me I was a masterpiece, Ni. He said everyone else is just noise, but I’m the music."

"Oh, barf," Niall joked, though his voice was thick with affection. "That is the most Harry Styles thing I’ve ever heard. He’s so gone for you, Lou. I’ve seen the way he looks at you during Physics, like you’re the one who invented gravity."

"He asked me to be his boyfriend," Louis said, the reality of it finally settling into his bones. "He was so shy about it, Niall. He had that little dimpled smile, and he took my hands—he was fiddling with my rings—and he just asked. And I said yes. Obviously."

"Obviously," Niall echoed. "So, what’s the plan for tomorrow? Are you guys going to walk in together? Are we doing a 'Vogue' entrance? Do I need to walk in front of you guys throwing rose petals?"

Louis laughed, rolling onto his back again and staring at the fairy lights. "No rose petals, please. Harry said he’s wearing that blue hoodie I like—the one that matches my eyes—and he’s going to tell Zayn and Liam tonight. I think we’re just... we’re just going to be us. But, you know, together."

"I am so happy for you, Lou," Niall said, his voice finally losing its chaotic edge and turning genuinely soft. "Seriously. You’ve got a heart of gold, and so does he. You guys are like... the two halves of the world's most wholesome sandwich. You deserve this. You’ve deserved this for a long time."

"Thanks, Ni," Louis whispered, feeling a lump form in his throat. "I don't think I would have ever said anything if you hadn't kept pushing me. You’re the best friend I could ask for."

"Yeah, yeah, I’m a saint, I know," Niall chirped, his bravado returning. "Now, I expect a full report tomorrow after lunch. I want to know if there was hand-holding. I want to know if he kissed you by the lockers. I want to know if Liam Payne cried, because I have a feeling Liam is going to be very emotional about this."

"I'll tell you everything," Louis promised. "But I think I need to try and sleep now. My brain is basically just a loop of Harry saying my name."

"Go to sleep, you lovebirds," Niall teased. "I'll see you in the morning. And Louis?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad he saw what I saw all along."

Louis hung up the phone with a soft smile, his heart feeling so full it was almost heavy. He set his phone on the nightstand and pulled his covers up to his chin, the familiar scent of his room wrapping around him. He thought about the blue hoodie Harry promised to wear, and the way Harry’s green eyes had looked in the starlight, and the way his own name had sounded coming out of Harry’s mouth—like a prayer, like a promise, like home.

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, the dreams that came were exactly like the reality he was waking up to. As he drifted off, his last conscious thought was of a hill, a blanket, and a boy with curls who had finally, finally, caught him.