The house is already loud when we arrive, bass thumping through the walls, laughter spilling out every open door. It’s one of our friends’ places in London, big enough to disappear in, which is exactly why we’re here. No cameras, no fans, just music, drinks, and people who know us as humans first.

I shrug my coat off as I greet everyone, feeling that familiar buzz settle under my skin. You’re right next to me, like always. We’ve mastered that, standing close without it looking like anything. For three years in the band, we’ve been tactile anyway, arms slung over shoulders, heads leaned together on sofas. That’s how it started. Somewhere between the X Factor house and touring the world, it shifted. Quietly. A look held a second too long. Falling asleep against each other on buses. A couple of months ago, it finally tipped over into something we couldn’t pretend wasn’t there anymore.

We didn’t tell the lads. Not because we didn’t trust them, but because this is ours. I’ve got a reputation, and I know it. Womaniser, flirt, elder women, headline bait. But with you, it’s different. It’s steady. It grows.

Niall’s already got a drink in each hand, grinning. Louis shouts something sassy across the room. Liam’s trying to keep some order that doesn’t exist. Zayn leans against the wall, amused. I catch your eye and tilt my head toward the kitchen. We move together easily, like we always have. I hand you a drink, fingers brushing yours, a small, secret thing that makes my chest feel too full.

As the night rolls on, the house gets warmer, messier. Music changes, people dance, confetti appears from somewhere. I feel good, loose, happy. Every so often I check where you are without meaning to. You’re never far. That alone tells me everything.

Someone starts shouting about midnight, and the whole crowd funnels outside into the backyard, coats half-zipped, breath fogging in the cold. Fireworks are already popping somewhere over London. We squeeze through bodies until we’re standing together under the open sky, fairy lights strung above us.

The countdown starts, voices overlapping, arms thrown around shoulders. I’m aware of everyone and no one at the same time. All I really see is you. The way you look up at the lights, the way your hand finds my wrist like it belongs there. Ten. Nine. My heart’s banging like it wants out. Eight. Seven. I think about mornings where it's just us, about quiet dinners, about how easy you feel in my space. Six. Five. I’m done hiding. Four. Three. Two.

Midnight hits in a rush of noise and colour. Cheers explode around us. And something in me just goes, that’s it. I turn fully towards you, hands coming up without thinking. I cup your face, thumbs warm against your cheeks, and lean in. The kiss is there and real and unapologetic. It’s not rushed. It’s us. Fireworks crack overhead, people shouting, and for once I don’t care who sees.

When I pull back, the lads are right there, whistling, cheering, laughing. Louis yells, “About time!” Niall looks genuinely chuffed. Liam’s smiling soft like a proud dad. Zayn gives me that knowing nod. No shock. Just happiness.

I laugh, breathless, forehead resting against yours. Everything feels settled, like a door finally opened. I don’t overthink it. I just say it. “I love you.”