You've Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes)

Chapter 7

A week before Halloween, Harry gets a text inviting him to a costume party on the 31st. The invite is from Cara and Ashley, who, having decided to spend some time in London with Cara's family, figured a last-minute Halloween party would be fun. The text is a chain to about fifty other people in Harry's contacts, plus a few more he doesn't know well enough, probably Ashley's friends.

Cara always hosts good parties, even if they are usually spontaneous, she somehow pulls it off as if months of planning went into it. She's also just one of those people who is friends with everyone, and even if you haven't seen her in a while, you can still count on her for a good time. It might be nice to have something like this to distract from the pressures of work, and of everything else Harry's trying not to think about.

On the other hand, Harry kind of hates Halloween. Not because the concept is bad – he absolutely loves an excuse to dress up – but because he never knows how much effort everyone else is going to put in. Considering this is short notice, people might not go for it. He doesn't want to be the guy who underdresses because everyone else couldn't be bothered. Or because he only had a week to find a costume. He'd rather not go at all, than show up without making an effort.

Before Harry gets a chance to answer, Louis beats him to it. He stares at the message in the chat, among others of a similar vein: "sounds siiiiick ! Will be there" and feels panic rise in his throat. It didn't occur to him that they had enough mutual friends, after all this time, to be invited to the same event outside of work gigs.

He hasn't seen Louis since last week when they tried to do trust-building exercises. They haven't spoken since. He can't categorically say that they ended things on good terms, because the whole thing had been so emotionally exhausting that when Harry got home he couldn't sort fact from fiction. Instead, he knuckled down on work, fine-tuning lyrics on some songs that didn't feel completely finished.

Now Harry has to tread lightly. If he says no, it'll look like he and Louis didn't coordinate. If he says yes, then he won't be able to simply enjoy a night out with mates, it'll turn into a performance. And above all, it would be shit to stay home, like a coward, just to avoid his fake boyfriend. He deserves a good night out, too.

And maybe, just maybe... a small voice in the back of his mind chimes in. Maybe he actually wouldn't mind seeing Louis again. Before the awkward way they left things, it felt as if they were actually getting someplace. They were best friends, once, after all. Before things got complicated. Maybe they can be friends again.

Fuck it, Harry thinks. So what if people don't go for it? He's not going to be the one between him and Louis to chicken out.

Count me in, he types out, and clicks send.

***

Louis doesn't text Harry over the coming days about the party, so Harry doesn't either. He doesn't want to be the first to reach out, not when he's made most of the effort so far. When the 31st approaches and Harry's already sorted out a costume, he figures he won't be hearing from Louis at all. Maybe he's not even going to go, Harry wonders. And he can't tell if the thought brings relief or disappointment.

The night of the party, Harry arrives in Mayfair to an extravagant Mews house. Flashing lights and booming bass pulse out onto the sidewalk. Cara's inner London place is nestled among the homes of the rich and famous, and there's an unspoken agreement about events such as these. There are no photographers, which means Cara must've made an effort to pay them off.

Although there's a sense of casualness because the party's at someone's home, rather than a massive booked out club or venue, that's about where the informality ends. There's a guard at the entrance, approving names, and once inside, there are cocktail waitresses in elaborate coordinated costumes, drifting through rooms with champagne and finger food.