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Louis gives them a once-over, noticing that not all of them are

watching the girls. “Jealous of who?” he says wryly.

Eyes bugging, Harry looks back at his players. “You don‟t think—

interesting,” he says. Louis just hopes the redheaded one learns to keep

his eyes to himself if he wants to be anywhere near subtle.

Before Harry can say anything else, it‟s their turn. Zayn looks only

moderately homicidal, both his cheeks colored by several layers of

lipgloss and lipstick, until he looks up to see who his next customer is.

The absolute despair that comes over his face when he sees them makes

Louis extremely proud of himself.

“Get it over quick, would you,” he says, with the air of a man

condemned.

“My love!” Louis cries, setting the bear on the ground. “So long we

have been parted, but no longer! At last, I have found you again, and

from this day forth we shall never be separated.” He drapes himself

across Zayn‟s booth, and Zayn‟s hands fly into the air like someone‟s

just spilled something unpleasant on him.

“Swear you shall set these, these pretenders aside and remain with me

forevermore,” Louis continues, gesturing expansively to the bemused

members of the line behind him. Harry, for his part, is laughing

uproariously. “Swear to me, my one and only. Light of my life, fire of

my loins, my Zaynlita.”

Zayn looks down at him with an impassive face that would be

frightening if Louis weren‟t congenitally immune to threats from men

with lip imprints on their face. “I will dedicate my life to making sure

that the remains of your body are as small as possible,” he says.

“Good enough for me,” Louis says. He stands up, tears a ticket off, and

holds it between his teeth. He raises his eyebrows at Zayn and looks

down at the ticket suggestively. God, he is hilarious.

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“Not a fucking chance,” Zayn says, and snatches the ticket with his

hands. He grabs Louis by the cheeks and kisses him roughly on the

forehead before shoving him away. “Next!”

Louis stands aside as Harry walks up, sedately hands Zayn his ticket,

and then leaps over the booth to tackle him to the ground. Watching

them wrestle in the dirt as scandalized fair-goers look on, Louis

commends himself on his choice in friends and retrieves the bear.

When Zayn finally breaks free, he‟s roughed up but smiling. He shoves

Harry out from behind the booth and into Louis, who catches him by

the shoulders with the arm that isn‟t holding the bear. His fingers curl

into the collar of Harry‟s coat, and Harry looks him right in the eye as

they both try not to fall over laughing. Yeah, Louis maybe likes these

people a little bit.

Zayn goes to sit back behind the booth but is stopped by one of the

maths teachers from the second floor corridor in Louis‟ building. His

name begins with a B, but Louis can‟t quite remember it with Harry

ducking under his arm. Bradley? Bennett? Benjamin? Whoever he is,

Zayn looks thrilled to see him.

“Your shift‟s up, Malik,” he says, clapping Zayn on the shoulder. There

is an audible groan from the gathered crowd, and Louis sees one girl

violently throw an ice cream cone to the ground as Zayn stands and the

maths teacher takes his place. Bernard? Barry?

“Thanks, George,” Zayn says, and okay, you can‟t win them all. “Good

luck.” George gives a salute as Zayn walks past Harry and Louis.

“Oi, where are you going?” Louis calls after him. Zayn turns but keeps

walking backwards.

“I‟m going to, uh, check out the rides. Make sure they‟re up to safety

code, you know,” he says, coloring. “Just in case.”

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“You‟re no fun anymore!” Louis yells at his back. Harry, still under

Louis‟ arm, just blows a raspberry. Louis, for reasons he can‟t explain,

lightly headbutts Harry in the temple. “Where to next, then?” he asks,

and Harry shrugs.

“You haven‟t won me a prize yet,” he points out idly, and Louis tips his

head back and groans.

They wander back towards the games, and Louis spends about half an

hour and most of his tickets discovering that he is, apparently, not good

at any of them. Harry is supremely unhelpful, whispering into Louis‟

ear while he tries to shoot ducks and standing in his way during pin the

tail on the donkey. Blindfolded, Louis walks right into him, and Harry

just laughs.

Louis sighs and pulls the blindfold up. “You know, you might actually

get something if you stop messing with me. You‟re working against

your own interests, here.”

Harry grins and pulls the blindfold back down. “I‟m a complicated

man,” he says, spinning Louis around again.

“You‟re a complicated dick,” Louis mutters, but he flails around for the

donkey anyway.

Finally, several failures later, Louis is on his final ticket. He holds it up

to Harry. “Last shot at a prize. How shall I waste it?” Harry looks

thoughtfully at the ticket, but then shakes his head.

“No prize. Come on, let‟s find the others, I want to get a photo of

everyone.”

Harry texts Niall and Louis texts Zayn, and five minutes later they‟re

assembled in front of the Ferris wheel. It‟s lit up now, lights blinking

against the darkening evening sky. Louis remembers how shoddy it

looked a few hours ago and wonders when exactly it started to seem

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appealing. He turns to Zayn to remark on it, but is distracted by the

morose expression on his face.

“Christ, what farted in your cotton candy?” he asks, poking Zayn in the

stomach.

Zayn sighs. “Nothing, it‟s just—I checked this whole place over and

everything‟s up to code. These guys, they really know their stuff.” He

glowers up at the Ferris wheel. “Not even a fucking rusty bolt, much

less a fire hazard.”

“Sorry, mate,” Harry says, “On the bright side, Louis is absolute

rubbish at fair games.”

Louis nods. “I truly am.”

He swears he can see Zayn‟s quiff perk up. “Really?”

“It‟s an embarrassment to the human race,” he admits.

“That does cheer me up,” Zayn says. Harry claps him on the shoulder.

“Good, can‟t have you crying in the pictures.” Niall says. Harry flags

down a passing student and hands her his camera. The four of them line

up, Zayn next to Louis next to Harry next to Niall, arms around each

others‟ shoulders, though one of Louis‟ is occupied by the bear.

“Three, two, one…” the girl says, and as the flash goes off, Louis hoists

the bear up in front of his face.

Harry cuffs the back of his head. “Tosser,” he says affectionately, and

goes to retrieve his camera, thanking the girl. He looks at the digital

display and laughs. “Oh, this one‟s going on the wall.” When the other

three try to sneak a look at the screen he hides it, batting them away.

“You‟ll see it when I give you prints, get off.”

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Niall stretches and lets out a small burp. “All right, lads, I‟m headed

home.” He goes down the line and pats all of them on the head, even

the bear. “I am going to sleep for a very long time, and it‟s going to be

fucking amazing. See you on Monday!” He waves and walks toward

the carpark as the others chorus their goodbyes after him.

“I think that‟s it for me, too,” Zayn says, shuffling his feet.

“Aw, Zayn,” Harry wheedles. “I‟ll let you beat me at the test-your-

strength thing if you stay.”

“Appreciate the offer, but nah.” Zayn pulls a packet of cigarettes out of

his jacket and puts one between his lips. “I‟ve had enough excitement

for one night, I think.” He lights up and takes a weary drag that Louis

knows for a fact he‟s practiced in front of a mirror.

“If you say so,” Louis says. “Just know that if you burn your flat down

in a melancholic fury I‟m not letting you sleep on my couch.”

“Cheers,” Zayn says, and heads off.

They watch him slouch off. “A hundred people queued up to kiss him

today and he‟s still miserable,” Louis says. “Not sure if I should be

annoyed or impressed.”

“Nah, I get it. Doesn‟t really count unless it‟s the right one.” Harry

says, a smile at the corner of his lips. “You ready to spend your last

ticket?”

“I was born ready, Harold,” Louis says, bumping Harry‟s shoulder with

his. “What‟s the plan?”

Harry just points up at the Ferris wheel, and Louis‟ stomach twists like

a balloon animal. “Seems like a fitting end to the night, yeah?” Louis

just nods.

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The queue moves quickly enough that he doesn‟t have time to try to

remember the last time he was actually excited to ride a Ferris wheel.

When they reach the ticket-taker, she stops them. “It‟s three to a car.”

Harry grabs the bear from Louis‟ arms. “He‟s our third.” He hands the

girl two tickets from his tape and walks briskly by, holding Louis‟ arm,

and Louis has just enough time to hand her his last ticket before he‟s

dragged past and into a car. Harry puts the bear in the far seat and

claims the middle for himself, leaving Louis the seat on the end.

“Cozy,” Louis jokes, settling himself in, and the ride operator locks the

bar over their laps.

The wheel starts turning, lifting them up, and Louis is once again

thrown into a moment of extreme, acute awareness. This time, though,

he‟s not worried about what any else thinks. Every part of him focuses

instead on this narrow bench on a Ferris wheel and Harry‟s solid

weight pressed up against his side and the fact that there‟s nowhere for

him to run, not even a spare inch of space between his body and the

side of the car. Just himself and Harry and a giant bear and all of the

things he‟s afraid he can‟t keep quiet.

“You‟re not afraid of heights or anything, right?” Louis looks over to

find Harry looking back at him with concern, and he‟s confused until

he realises his hands are clenched in his lap, knuckles white.

He forces himself to relax. “No worries,” he says brightly, and the slow

spread of Harry‟s smile has him in pieces. He‟s not afraid of heights,

but he‟s been in too many shows not to know nerves when he has them.

They sit quietly, looking out at the view as their car climbs higher and

higher and the sounds and colors of the fair grow fainter below. Louis

places his hands on his knees and keeps them still, eyes fixed on the

loose way Harry‟s hands hang over the bar spanning their laps. They‟re

so close, and it would be so easy to just reach out and tangle their

fingers together. He can imagine Harry‟s palm broad and warm against

his, his fingers sugar-sticky on the back of his hand, and, God, when

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was the last time he wanted to hold somebody‟s hand? Suspended in

this tiny, contained space, he can‟t keep ignoring what he‟s been

feeling all night. Louis is sitting on a carnival ride with a boy who

makes him nervous, and he has not felt like this since he was seventeen.

When they reach the top, the wheel creaks to a halt, and they‟re alone

with the stars and the lights of Manchester. Louis looks out to the city

skyline and soaks in the warmth of the person next to him and thinks of

how strange it feels to not want to be anywhere else, or with anyone

else. He doesn‟t know how to handle it. Maybe he used to, but he

doesn‟t anymore.

He clears his throat loudly, and Harry looks over at him. “Penny for

your thoughts?”

“Why?” Harry asks, as if Louis has an answer for why anything

anymore, especially with him.

“Bit boring, sitting here in silence,” Louis says, trying to keep his tone

light. He should have known better than to trust his voice, as weak and

wavering as the rest of him.

Harry just shakes his head softly, eye contact like a tether. “I‟m not

bored,” he says, and looks back out across the city, a smile playing

across his lips. “You aren‟t bored.”

Louis stares at a point on the horizon and tries to ignore the uneven

drag of his own lungs. “I suppose not.”

He braves another look at Harry, and it almost knocks the breath out of

him. He‟s in profile next to Louis, looking out into the distance,

immediate and warm and so fucking beautiful. The lights from the

Ferris wheel hit him just right, touching the ends of his lashes and the

dip of his lower lip and the place where his hair falls across his temple

and curls against his cheekbone, casting a halo around his curls in

bright pink and yellow. Louis wants to kiss him more than he‟s ever

wanted to kiss anyone in his life.

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The ride shudders back into motion and Louis pulls his eyes away.

They don‟t speak for the rest of the ride. Every nerve ending in Louis‟