Larry AU where one of them, let’s say Harry, goes up to The Cinema, and has to watch the newest reincarnation miss all the tiny little opportunities to meet Louis.
Took a step to the right instead of the left, never smacked right into him in the hallway.
Picked to have Chinese instead of pizza where Louis works as the delivery guy.
Left the library just a tad too early, missed the Louis that was going to sit beside him.All The Harrys are like “OMG ALIVE HARRY WYD!!!!”
And then, Harry starts asking all the other Harrys how they met their Louis, and it turns out, they’re all tropes. There’s Historical AU Harry, and Roommate Harry, and Friends With Benefits Harry.
There’s Enemies to Lovers Harry in the front row, heckling.
Single Dad Harry shaking his head and telling everyone to calm down, Alive Harry has A LOT going on and no time for romance.
Pining for 20 years Harry sitting in the back, saying ‘It’s just a slow burn okay??? It gets good, I swear! Stop pressuring him!’
Soulmark Harry loudly complaining that ‘how is he ever supposed to KNOW if he doesn’t have a mark in this life, hmm? Just gonna let him “figure it out?” PSHHHH. Amateurs.’
So The Harry starts to watch intently, trying to figure out which AU Alive Harry is in, but Alive Harry just keeps missing Louis - missing him, missing him, missing him - and it’s driving Harry nuts. Until BAM!
They meet. The screen blacks out. Annoyed groans from All The Harrys because ‘That’s It????!!!! WTF WAS THAT????’
Credits go up, title flashes: “The 135843 Times Harry Missed Louis, and the One Time He Didn’t.”
Harry’s heard theories about what happens after death when he was alive–there’s the stereotypical heaven and hell, the reincarnate-into-something-else-in-the-universe, hell, even Underworld with the Greek God Hades–but never in his wildest dreams did he think that after death, he’d end up in a cinema.
A literal cinema. Complete with a large screen in the front of the room, an overhead projector, and a bunch of comfortable movie house seats.
You’d think life after death would be a lot more exciting, he thinks incredulously as he looks around, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do next. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not alone–there are a bunch of other people littered throughout the cinema, murmuring with each other and sitting on the seats. But before he can get a proper glimpse of their features, or at least, try to find someone he knows, the house lights dim.
Made it right on time, then, Harry thinks, still a bit confused about where he is and what he’s supposed to do. He’s never really been particularly religious–he’d say he was much more a spiritual person, the type to ascribe to certain aspects of different religions than just one, but. Really. Stephen Hawking made him think that the universe was more…adventurous, at least. More Big Bangs and multiverses and black holes.
Hell, Harry’ll even take being reincarnated into a plant. He thinks he’d do a decent job of being a rose.
He looks around again, but the people around seem to have quieted down, clearly ready for whatever’s going to be playing on the screen. A film, probably. And Harry’s always been quite the film junkie, even back when he was alive, so he figures it can’t hurt to just sit and…watch the film, just for a little while. At least until he figures out what he needs to do.
It starts off quite boring; it doesn’t take long for Harry to realize that he’s watching someone’s life, watching their first foray into the world and their formative years. However, it takes him until the woman on screen says, Harry, don’t put that in your mouth, does he realize that the person on the screen is him. Or at least, some variant of him.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “That’s me.”
Now, Harry thinks he’s led a decent life–grew up with his mum and his sister, went to school, then sixth form, then uni, got a job as an intern in a well-respected newspaper in England, then got hired by said newspaper, and rose through the ranks until he was the Editor-In-Chief. Fell in love with Louis, one of his co-workers, got married, adopted two kids, and then retired in a house by the countryside, surrounded by butterflies and a flower garden. It was a nice life, but Harry doesn’t think it’s particularly film-worthy.
Oh well. It’ll be nice to revisit it, though. Maybe he’ll even get to see Louis again.
Except, it doesn’t unfold that way. The Harry-on-screen doesn’t take that amazing writing class in secondary, like Harry did. In fact, the Harry-on-screen doesn’t even seem to like reading, choosing instead to spend more time playing the guitar and attending concerts.
“What the hell,” he says out loud, when the Harry-on-screen picks up The Little Prince, one of Harry’s absolute favorite books, and promptly sets it down like it contained something contagious. “What the hell is this?”
“Shh,” the person next to him scolds loudly, making Harry jump in his seat. He wasn’t even aware that there was someone beside him. “Let Harry make his own choices in life.”
“But I’m Harry,” Harry replies indignantly, pouting. “He’s messing up my life.”
The person turns to him, and the light from the screen illuminates his face, just enough that Harry can recognize his own features staring right back at him.
What the fuck.
“Well, I’m Harry too,” he says nonchalantly. As an afterthought, he adds, “we’re all Harry here.”
What the actual fuck.
“W-What?” Harry stammers, suddenly scared. “What the actual fuck?”
The person–Harry, Harry’s mind supplies–shrugs. “I don’t know either,” he says. “But you learn to roll with it in time.”
In time?“In time?” Harry asks. “How long have you been here?”
Other Harry shrugs again. “I don’t know, two..maybe three lifetimes? I think I watched your lifetime too.”
“You what?”
Other Harry shushes him again, turning back to the screen. “Wait, shut up, it’s about to get good!”
On screen, Harry is hanging out with his friends–Niall and Liam, Harry realizes with a jolt. Niall and Liam is in this Harry’s life too. What the actual fuck.
But before he can open his mouth to ask Other Harry about Niall and Liam, On Screen Harry speaks. “Nah,” he says. “I kind of feel like having Chinese right now.”
And all of a sudden, boos erupt from all over the room.
“What the hell?” Harry asks Other Harry, his eyes wide. “Do we not like Chinese food?”
Other Harry shakes his head. “It’s not that,” he says, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’ll get it eventually.”
“Get what?”
But Other Harry doesn’t answer, and Harry crosses his arms, resigns himself to watching On Screen Harry’s life.
It’s about two more cycles of booing and heckling before Harry sees him.
He’s just as beautiful as Harry remembers, his eyes a bright blue, his fringe soft, lying prettily against his forehead. There’s a sudden ache in Harry’s heart, and his hands curl into fists as he remembers what it felt like to have Louis in his arms, to go to sleep and wake up next to him, to carve a small, simple life with him. Remembers what it was like to hear that bright, beautiful laughter, remembers what it felt like to kiss him every single day. Remembers what it was like, loving Louis so fully, so whole-heartedly.
“Louis,” Harry murmurs, his eyes welling up with tears. “It’s Louis.”
Other Harry laughs, and Harry thinks he can hear a tinge of sadness in it. “He was the love of my life.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling. “Me too.” He waits for On Screen Harry to look at Louis, to feel some kind of pull to him, the same kind of pull Harry felt when he was still alive.
Except, On Screen Harry just walks past Louis.
What the hell.
“What the hell?” Harry explodes, unable to help it. He turns to Other Harry, confused. “He fucking ignored Louis?!?!”
Other Harry opens his mouth to answer, but gets interrupted. “Fuck you, Harry!” Someone shouts, and another chorus of boos and heckling goes up.
And then Harry gets it. “We’re just waiting for them to meet, aren’t we?”
“Correction,” someone says from behind them, and Harry turns around, finds another Harry staring at him. “We’re waiting for them to fall in love.”
“How sure are you that they’re going to fall in love?” Harry asks, a bit confused.
Behind Harry shrugs. “It’s written in the stars, I think,” he answers. “It’s happened in every other lifetime so far.” He shrugs. “In my lifetime, we met in uni. I was part of a fraternity. He liked to crash frat parties.”
“I met Louis in the coffee shop,” someone else speaks up, and Harry turns to find that the Harry sat in front of him has decided to join the conversation as well. “He came in, ordered tea, said that I made shit tea then commandeered the coffee shop.”
Harry blinks. “So you all have your own Louis stories?”
Front Harry smiles. “Like Harry behind you said, it’s written in the stars.”
On Screen, Harry decides he doesn’t want to go to the frat party, choosing instead to stay home and study for an exam. Behind Harry scoffs loudly. “This Harry is an idiot,” he says.
“Give him a break,” another Harry from the other side of the room replies. “He’s just got a lot on his plate, that’s all.”
Other Harry leans towards him. “That’s Single Dad Harry,” he elaborates. “He met Louis in the preschool, when he was enrolling his daughter for daycare.”
“Honestly, this is really dumb,” another Harry speaks up, from somewhere in the back. “How the fuck are they supposed to find each other without marks?”
Other Harry rolls his eyes. “Soulmate Harry,” he says. “They had soul marks around their wrists or something. I don’t know, I don’t get it either.”
“Harry should go on a study abroad to Connecticut,” another Harry says, from the front. “To meet Louis.”
“Why the fuck will he meet Louis in Connecticut when we literally just saw him on screen in England?” another Harry replies. “Harry should join the X-Factor. That’s where he’ll meet Louis.”
“Study Abroad Harry and X-Factor Harry, respectively,” Other Harry murmurs to him. “You can probably guess where they met Louis.” He pauses for a moment, his face scrunched up in thought. “You met Louis…in the office, right?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, completely overwhelmed by this influx of information. In the film, On Screen Harry walks past the offices of Harry’s old building, not once paying attention to the Interns Wanted poster hanging out front. “I…yeah. We met at the office. On Screen Harry just missed his chance.”
Other Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “They’ll meet eventually. We really just have to be patient.”
Behind Harry must overhear that because he bursts out laughing. “That’s easy for you to say,” he says, amused, pointing at Other Harry, “considering how you met Louis.”
Harry furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
Behind Harry gestures to him. “Come on,” he says. “Go ask him how he met Louis.”
Other Harry rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says, turning pink. “If you must know, I met Louis when I was five years old. In primary. We were best friends.”
“Oh,” Harry says. “That sounds nice.” Harry had always wondered, when he was alive, what it would be like if he’d met Louis much earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have wasted as much time as he did, dating other people who weren’t Louis. Maybe he’d have spared himself the heartbreak.
“Yeah,” Behind Harry agrees, mischievously. “Now tell him how long it took before you two got your shit together.”
Other Harry’s face turns even more pink, and he murmurs something that Harry isn’t able to make out. This, however, is enough to send Behind Harry into laugher again, tears springing into his eyes.
“What?” Harry asks.
“God, okay,” Other Harry’s face is a shade of crimson at this point. “Twenty years. It was twenty years.”
Harry blinks at him. “Twenty years?!”
“It was a hard time, alright?” Other Harry says defensively. “I’d been in love with him since I was little, and he…took a while to catch up with the program.”
“God, okay,” Harry says. “Let’s hope it doesn’t take this Harry twenty years too.”
“Hopefully not,” Behind Harry says, and Harry turns back towards the film. On Screen Harry is jogging, completely immersed in a song playing in his earphones. He takes a right turn, and–
he completely runs into someone.
“Harrys are always so clumsy,” someone complains, but it doesn’t last long because–
Blue eyes. Gorgeous, familiar, blue eyes.
Louis.
“Oh, sorry about that,” On Screen Harry says, apologetically. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“It’s alright,” Louis says, and smiles brightly, familiarly, that it makes something in Harry ache. “Wasn’t paying attention either.”
Louis begins to walk away, and something in Harry’s chest twists, his brain screaming please don’t fuck it up please don’t fuck it up, and–
“Wait,” On Screen Harry says, “you look familiar. Do you go to Manchester University too?”
“Yeah!” Louis responds. “Majoring in Drama. I’m Louis Tomlinson.”
He extends out a hand, and Harry’s heart melts as On Screen Harry takes it easily. “Harry Styles. Majoring in Music.”
And then the screen goes dark.
It’s silent for a few moments, and then, “What the hell,” someone says, clearly frustrated. “That’s it?”
“Maybe the power went out,” someone replies diplomatically.
“I don’t think there’s power in the afterlife,” someone else responds. “Quick, someone do something, we’re missing the good part!”
“Wait,” Other Harry speaks up, and Harry turns to him, finds his eyes still glued to the screen. “I don’t think it’s done yet.”
And Harry turns, just in time to see the title credits roll on the screen.
Ten Times Harry Missed Louis, it says, And the One Time He Didn’t.
“Well, fuck.”