Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The summer rushes by in a whirlwind of laughter, parties, trips back home and all consuming joy. The feeling of waking up sandwiched between Niall and Zayn after stumbling home at four in the morning, of barbecues on their small balcony and of his sisters’ laughter as they tackle him to the ground in tickle wars. Louis feels so good, so content for the first time in ages. It’s easy to ignore the sadness as he’s passed another beer and laughter rings fresh in his ears. It’s easy to just push it to the back of his mind, always keeping himself occupied with new activities, new distractions.

He finds himself taking pride in the fact that he’s become a skilled liar, making not only himself believe that he’s happy, but also Niall and Zayn. They’re his best friends, the two people who know him almost as well as he knows himself and he’s made them believe he’s coping somehow, that these aren’t all beautiful lies and excuses to cover up the weight dragging him down, to cover up for his hollow bones.

-

Then suddenly, the school year’s starting back up and Louis finds himself fitting into the routine that’s so carefully been constructed for him. He goes to school, does his work, comes back home - but it’s as if he isn’t there, as if he’s going through the motions for the sake of it, because they’ve been worked into his system, infiltrating his mind and making them impossible to shake.

He doesn’t connect with his own life and that scares him more than anything. It scares him how easy it is to separate - the life he feels like he’s living from the one he actually is. How they’re two different things and how the gap between them keeps growing, keeps growing too fast for him to do anything about. Some nights he lays awake and replays the day in his head, tries to make himself feel something, tries to make himself look at it differently, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to force closeness and affection for mundane things like everyone else seems to be able to. And it scares him, scares him to the point where it’s all a blur of feelings and pounding anxiety flitting through his veins.

///

Summer’s never felt further away than when he’s sitting in a pale classroom, listening to the sound of tapping pencils and his professor going on about Freud in her monotone drawl. Long gone are warm summer nights with the casting sun, making the world a light pink, everyone’s faces shadowed by the flickering flames of the bonfire. Gone are the fast bike rides and impromptu adventures, everything transforming itself into shades of grey as the clouds blocked the sun. It’s all a dull thrumming against the walls of the room, echoing back and forth, taking over his vision, turning the summer into hazy memories, flittering in his mind.

He blinks the world back into focus, storing away his memories and turns his attention to the board. The teacher is still talking in big gestures, her voice booming across the room, filling up every corner. And the thing is that he wishes he cared, he does. He wishes he could find joy in discussing the many wonders of the human brain, but he just can’t make his mind slow down enough to focus on one thing, enough to take in every word she’s saying and turn it into some kind of useful information. The words just rush by him in stuck together sentences and it’s all too complicated for his blinking eyes to understand.

Next to him Liam’s tapping away at a rapid pace and hanging on to the teacher’s every word, nodding in agreement and humming to himself as he continues taking notes. They’re all neatly written with words underlined and clear headlines, nothing like Louis's own. His are full of doodles and messy scribblings that make little sense, even to himself. But then again Liam’s always been better at that - sorting out his thoughts, tuning out the world and focusing on one task at a time. He’s probably the only good thing to come out of the required psychology class, Louis figures. If it wasn’t for his kind eyes and need to help others, Louis probably would’ve flunked out already.

They’d met on the first day, when Louis stumbled in a few seconds before class was supposed to begin, flushed and heart banging inside his chest. He meant to be on time, had planned it all out the night before to be sure he’d make it out the door and not get stuck in bed. He even set his alarm so he’d have another extra thirty minutes in the morning, but ended up oversleeping and woke up with a hard weight sitting on his chest, dragging him down. He did his best to ignore the weight but it still grew with every passing moment, every fleeting second, until he just couldn’t anymore. Zayn was the last one out of the apartment with a kiss to Louis's cheek and a good luck slung across his shoulder. And it wasn’t until the moment the door slammed shut that he gave in. He let his body sag against the bathroom wall and slide down until he was sitting on the floor, his toes curled against the cold tiles.

He gave himself ten minutes to cry, to let it all out. He banged his fist hard against the floor, creating bruises to mirror the ones on his heart, felt the tears leave marks across his cheeks and then he just stopped. It was his first day back , he told himself. He had to make it at least this one day, that not going would be giving up, giving in to everything he’d let himself ignore and forget about for so long. The anxiety was still crippling him, following him with every step he forced himself to take but he got up and made it to class and counted it as a win.

Upon arriving he stumbled his way across the room, eyes scanning the rows for free seats. With his eyes jumping from seat to seat, he missed a bag sitting on the floor and went tripping forward, dropping his backpack. Books and papers flew everywhere, scattering across the aisle and flying off in different directions. With a sigh, Louis picked up his backpack and dropped it on the seat he’d been about to take before bending down to collect his things. He was surprised when he a second later was met with another pair of hands, and looked up to see that the boy next to him was helping him in silence.

“Thank you. God, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful,” Louis rushed out to the boy, pursing his lips into what he hoped resembled an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright, mate. Don’t stress it,” he returned with a warm smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

Louis let out a shaky yeah in response and let himself have a good look at the boy for the first time. He scanned his face, taking in the small details of it, everything from his kind, brown eyes to the birth mark placed on his neck which stood out clear against his pale skin. Louis collected it all, storing it in his mind and trying his best to remember all the bits and pieces he knew about him.

Meeting his look and giving him a lopsided smile, the boy placed a hand on Louis's shoulder. He squeezed gently, sensing Louis needed the small act of encouragement, before removing it and wiping his hands on his jeans.

After he stood up, he reached out a hand for Louis to take and said, “Of course. I’m Liam, by the way.”

-

They’d hit it off right away, Liam a warming presence whenever Louis felt his anxiety take over and whispering lies into his ear, giving him a sense of comfort that made his bones settle down. He never asked questions, just accepted that sometimes Louis wouldn’t pick up his phone for days and would drop off the face of the earth, becoming unreachable and distant. He always gave him the same warm smile as that first day whenever Louis felt good enough to interact with people again, to let people back into his life. He always seemed to understand somehow, keeping his calm even when Louis felt his entire world falling apart around him. He’d place a hand between his shoulder blades or give him a small smile when he saw Louis getting antsy and fidgety, looking for a way out, for a way to run. Liam always let him knew he understood and accepted Louis's need for space without ever using his words, without ever pushing or making Louis feel as if he was in the wrong.

When Louis introduced Liam to Zayn and Niall, they accepted him right away. It took them a night of footie and beers and suddenly the four of them were seamlessly slotting together, Liam becoming a quick addition to their former trio. It seemed so easy for them to accept someone new, as if all it had taken was for Louis to tear some of his walls down, as if that was all they had been waiting for. He thinks that they could see how important having someone else in his life was, and how important it was for him to let himself have someone else in his life in return. Having someone else to call his friend, someone else to call when he needed a distraction from the constant buzz of his mind. Someone else that knew and that still stuck around, that still chose to be a presence in his life.

/// ★

He’s on the kitchen floor.

Louis doesn’t know for how long he’s been sitting there, only that time stopped moving after the first set of tears rolled down his face and he managed to slide down to place himself against the counter. Pressing back into the hard surface, he drags his knees up and places his head in between them as his hands dig into the back of his thighs. He can feel the slightest bit of jabbing pain from his hardening grip, but all he sees is darkness as he closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. It’s coming out shaky and he can feel the panic settling into his body, taking root.

He draws his knees tighter around his head as he takes a deep breath and holds it in for a few seconds, trying to settle himself down, to get himself to relax. He releases it and repeats the motion a few times - inhale exhale -  until he can feel his breathing slow down. He waits in silence, waits for his body to calm itself down from the rush, listening to his heart beating fast. Ta-thump-ta-thump , it goes, like the beat of one of those songs he dances to in clubs when he’s drunk on alcohol and the feeling of being surrounded by sweaty bodies. Louis always likes it then, likes the way it vibrates against his skin and fills him up, makes his mind go hazy and blurry. Now it just gives him a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn’t associate it with letting himself go, but with feeling trapped in his own body, the feeling of his skin itching.

He opens his eyes and stares at the floor for a couple of beats, trying his best to ignore the loud ringing of his own heart. Ta-thump-ta-thump.

He isn’t doing this , Louis tells himself. He isn’t gonna let himself go again. It’s been two weeks, he can’t be doing this. Not anymore. Not when he’s doing so good.

He squeezes his eyes shut for one, two, three more moments before pushing himself off the floor and onto his feet. His legs wobble underneath him, threatening to give in as he tries standing up straight. His body still shaking, unable to let itself calm down. He arches his back, feels it pop and tilts his head back, taking deep breaths that make his chest rise and fall in tune to his heartbeat.

Louis looks around the kitchen, looks at the books and laptop on the table, the pile of mail that’s sitting unopened and how forgotten it all looks. How it’s all sitting and waiting for someone to come bring it to life, to spark the colors back into their pale facade. His vision is blurry as he lets his eyes roam his surroundings and he feels the room start to spin again, the dizziness from standing up kicking in. He feels around for the counter behind him, suddenly needing something to steady him so he doesn't fall. He finds the edge and circles his fingers around it, gripping so tight he can feel his knuckles whitening, shooting pain spreading through them.

He needs to snap out of it, get his body to settle down.

Louis doesn’t know for how long he stands there, repeating the words to himself in low mumbles, time passing without him noticing it. Somewhere far away, he hears the faint sound of keys rattling and a door opening. Someone kicking off their shoes and cursing as they step on something. The sound of sock clad feet hitting the floor, approaching, until they stop abruptly.

Louis hears all of this but everything else is so overwhelming, so much, that he doesn’t fully register it until there’s words spilling out into the quiet space. The words are too loud for the small apartment, they bounce off the walls and hit his body, pounding against him from every side.

“Louis, Lou, Lou, what happened, are you- fuck, are you okay? Lou, look at me, talk to me, what happened.” He’s stumbling over the words, repeating them in a fast hurry until they melt into one another and Louis can’t make them out. All he hears is Zayn’s voice growing more panicked, more scared with every spoken word.

Zayn takes four large steps towards Louis while rushing to get the words out. He wraps his arms around him in one swift motion, clutches onto the fabric of his shirt tightly and burrows his head against his shoulder. It’s Zayn’s warmth, his strong body pressed against Louis's that finally makes him push out the deep breath he’s been holding in, the one he’s been dreading to release from the walls of his body. He finally feels himself let go entirely as he sags in Zayn’s arms, loosening his grip on the counter and letting his arms fall to his sides, crushed underneath Zayn’s. Louis rests his head against Zayn's chest as he releases another breath and allows the tears to stream down his face at last.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, barely audible over the broken sobs spilling from his mouth.

“For what,” Zayn asks and Louis can feel his chest stiffen the slightest bit, his shoulders going tense.

“For giving in.” For letting it win.

///

September enters with leaves that color the ground and leave the trees bare. The summer’s gone and so are the easy lies and denial Louis's kept within him. He’s become accustomed to school, studies, and hectic days. The air of recklessness and freedom he associates with summer flew away as the first cold breeze made its way over London, taking with it the last bit of hope Louis carried around.

It’s in September that he loses his hope and regains a small bit of it again.

In September, Louis meets Harry.

///

It’s eight thirty on a Tuesday morning, meaning it’s about four hours too early for Louis to be sitting in class, halfheartedly copying the teacher’s notes from the board about the human brain - a crucial part of psychology, he’s sure.

The thing is that Louis doesn’t particularly care. He doesn’t care about school, or early mornings or about the fucking nervous system. He finds all of it to be so dull, so pointless, this entire routine he finds himself in. He can feel his breaking point creeping up - the point where he just gives up and gives in. He finds that routine tires him out, drains him and he wishes he could fix it somehow, that he was wired differently. Wired so he could handle the stress and routine that comes with school and studies. He figures that at least he hasn’t broken down - not yet, it’s still peaking out behind the corner, collecting in his subconscious, slowly pushing its way forward, day by day.

He finds himself giving up on pretending to care after about ten minutes and drops his pen on top of his open notebook. Instead he turns to Liam, who’s focused intently on the lesson, paying no attention to Louis. He pushes forward on his elbows and draws a smiley face in the corner of Liam’s notebook, causing him to stop writing for a second to bat at Louis's hand and give him a harsh glare. Louis growls quietly at him and pinches the skin on Liam’s hand, who quickly counters by kicking Louis's foot underneath the table with a hissed pay attention. He turns around in his seat again, ending their interactions with a low grumble under his breath.

“But, Leeyum ,” Louis whines, dragging out the obnoxious nickname, jabbing at Liam’ bicep with his pinky in quick succession “I’m just gonna copy your notes anyway, so what does it matter.”

“The fuck you are,” Liam says, shoving at his side, causing him to topple backwards and lose his balance momentarily. Louis cries out quietly and throws his hands in the air, nudging Liam who just spares him a look of pity before going back to his notes, his fingers running around the page to try and cover what he’s missed.

Louis sticks his tongue out at him before turning back around in his seat. He quickly draws a sloppy stickman meant to resemble Liam in his notebook with the words i’m a twat written next to it. He applauds himself on his artistic abilities as he balls up the paper and turns towards Liam again, taking aim and then hitting him right in the temple.

Liam rubs at his head as the ball goes rolling down the floor, lost underneath a desk. He gives Louis an annoyed look, mouthing the words fuck off and cocks an eyebrow at him. Louis chuckles quietly to himself, waggling his eyebrows in reply and breaking out into a sly smirk. Liam just gives him the finger underneath the desk and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he has to deal with it.

They’re interrupted by the teacher clapping her hands to get the class’s attention. She’s stopped writing things on the board and is now stood in front of her desk, hands clasped in front of her, a blank expression on her face.

“Alright, class, your assignment for the following two weeks is to make a presentation on the given chapter and to present it to the class when the time is up. You’re going to be reviewing it in groups of three, which will be made following the alphabetical order,” she explains before turning around and grabbing the roll call from her desk.

Louis groans internally and rolls his eyes at Liam who’s staring straight ahead, his eyes glistening in excitement. The teacher’s words bore their way into Louis's mind as her voice rings clear and he let’s his mind wander as she calls out names, pairing them up quickly. He looks around the room at the other students, most of them wearing tired and bored expressions across their faces, their eyes hooded from the lack of sleep yet with a slight perk to them from the three cups of coffee they’ve probably downed by now. They all look as dull, as pale as the walls of the classroom.

Louis’s head snaps up once he hears his name called out a few minutes later and he focuses his attention back on the teacher as she speaks up. “Martin, Mitchell, Nealey - you’re one. Payne, Styles, Tomlinson - you’re one as well,” she says, trailing off, calling out the rest of the students.

Louis turns to Liam, secretly thankful their class is short on people who share the first letter of his last name, waggling his eyebrows and says, “Guess I’ll be looking at those notes after all.”

“Shut up, ” Liam groans and turns in his seat, craning his neck and scanning the room. “Now, where’s Styles, have you seen him today?”

“Li, I’ve never met this kid, I don’t even know what he looks like, how am I supposed to know whether he’s here or not,” Louis deadpans as Liam ignores him in favor of continuing his search around the room. His back is to Louis as he looks through the crowd of students now getting out of their seats and shuffling around, finding their assigned partners.

“Ah, there he is,” Liam calls out after a few seconds, bringing his hand up to wave in the air. “Harry, mate, here!” he says, beckoning the boy to come over to where they’re sitting in the far right corner of the room.

Louis follows his line of vision and is met with a tall, lanky boy making his way through the crowd. He’s kind of beautiful, Louis thinks, with his brown curls and radiant green eyes. And Louis isn’t really shy, but he’s also not used to new people. He mainly hangs out with Niall and Zayn, both of whom he’s known for years, and sometimes Liam. He’s loud and spontaneous and should probably work on his brain to mouth filter. But he also doesn’t know how to work around new, shiny people. He hasn’t made a friend in a long time and without the buzz of alcohol running through his veins he isn’t as bold and forward as he knows he can be.

“Um, hi, I‘m Harry,” the boy says when he reaches them, giving a sheepish wave in greeting. He speaks through a slow, raspy drawl, each word tasted on his tongue before spoken. He’s got this glow, this unspoken beauty about him that draws Louis in, making him want to get to know him. It makes him want to know his favorite color, what makes him tick, if he finds birthdays to be stupid and everything in between.

“I’m Liam, hey,” he says, extending a hand and making the casual air turn a bit stiff due to his politeness. Harry shakes it and gives him a smile in return, a dimple peeking its way onto his cheek. “And this is Louis,” Liam says once their hands fall apart and gestures to Louis on his left.

“We can skip the handshake, if that’s alright,” Louis laughs weakly, aiming for casual, but his voice rings shaky and unsteady to his own ears. Harry gives him a nod and tightlipped smile in response, the dimple creeping back to Louis's sudden disappointment.

“So, we should get started then, yeah,” Liam says once Harry’s dragged a chair to their desk and sat down, their books open on the table in front of them. He then claps his hands, already rambling on about study schedules and outlines before either of them has time to chime in with a reply.

Louis sneaks a glance at Harry while he listens to Liam speak. Harry’s eyes are trained on the words spilling through Liam’s mouth at a quick pace and he’s got his brow slightly furrowed, toying absently at his bottom lip. He nods his head slightly at Liam, shaking his curls and Louis doesn’t know how Harry did it, but already he can feel himself getting nervous, getting flustered in his presence. Louis lets out a quiet breath as he tries telling himself this won’t go as bad his mind is telling him it will, that he isn’t already fucked.

///

Louis finds himself becoming friends with Harry after a while. He doesn’t know when they cross the line from people who occasionally see each other to friends with an undercurrent of i secretly want to kiss you for hours , but somehow they do.

They exchange numbers right away but for a long time all of their communication goes through Liam who sets up their study sessions and makes sure they all know when and where to meet. They send one or two texts at most throughout the first week, only asking about a piece of information or if the other one’s heard anything from Liam. It’s weird because in class and during their study sessions they get on so well, the conversation flowing easily and always laughing. But it’s as if their friendship is restricted to the four walls that surround the school, as if outside of class they forget each other’s names and everything that goes along with them.

One night Harry texts Louis by accident, meaning to send a text to his friend Lou and hitting the wrong number. It starts out with a few texts back and forth - Louis claiming Harry’s a shit liar and secretly meant to text him all along and Harry doing nothing to deny it, to Louis's satisfaction - and from there on it just never stops.

They don’t see each other that often with class only being twice a week but they’re constantly texting. Harry will send Louis song lyrics, awful jokes, and pictures of funny looking bananas with random emojis, which makes no sense, but it makes him laugh and he finds himself enjoying how different Harry is, how unapologetic he is about all the things that make him stand out. Louis sends Harry snippets of conversations with Niall, random things he says that make little sense out of context, live commentary on episodes of Breaking Bad even though Harry's never seen it, and selfies with his tongue sticking out and face scrunched together.

They just never stop -  it's every unfiltered thought that springs into Louis's mind, every interesting thing he sees, everything that reminds him of Harry - all of it’s so random. Things normally so lost in his day to day life, he now finds himself savoring and instead storing as memories.

After texting back and forth for a week and being constantly glued to his phone, Louis figures that yeah, they're probably friends.

///

With less than a week left to finish their project, Liam cancelling because he has a date is a little bit inconvenient, Louis figures.

He’s already out the door and dragged himself halfway across campus when Liam sends him a text saying sry mate got the days mixed up. date is tonite, that alright ? to which Louis groans and runs a nervous hand through his hair before sending off a quick sure no prob, even though being alone with Harry is a really fucking big problem.

The thing is that Louis knows Harry’s attractive, that he’s one of those people with effortless looks and that he’s been blessed with good genes. But at the same time Harry manages to be different than the countless of attractive people he’s met, because it isn’t restricted to just the physical attraction this time. They click, they play off each other so well and it’s easy to forget about everything else when they’re together, immersed in their own world.

Louis's had crushes in the past, lingering ones as well, but something about Harry makes him stick to every cell in Louis's body, flood his bloodstream and infiltrate every thought running through his mind. He can’t seem to shake him and doesn’t know if he wants to either.

He sends off a text asking Harry if they’re still on for tonight as he continues walking to the campus library. It’s nearing on seven in the evening with the sun hanging low in the sky, a darkness being cast upon the buildings and passing people filling his vision. They all wear tired, blank expressions on their faces as they go to their halls or to get some studying done, their books clutched tightly to their chests and bags slung over their shoulders.

Less than a minutes later Louis's phone buzzes with a new text from Harry saying that they’re still on. He’s just about to type out a reply when a new text pops up on his screen - you could come over to mine if you want ? my hall’s pretty close to the library - and another one a few seconds later - if you want, it’s fine if you don’t.

Louis finds a smile creeping onto his face as he reads the messages, stupidly endeared by Harry and his way of always being so kind, so accommodating, before he shoots off a reply.

are you propositioning me dear harold ? is this how you get all the fit boys ?

Harry’s reply comes within seconds as if he’s sitting with the conversation open, waiting for Louis's texts to arrive.

are you calling yourself fit

Louis scoffs and sidesteps a couple making out in the middle of the sidewalk, seemingly unaware of the people around them and how they might be a safety hazard.

what are you trying to say don’t you agree

must say i’m a bit offended

Harry replies a few seconds later with a series of random emojis and a sheepish ...no to Louis's deligh. That pushes a small laugh out of Louis as he keeps walking, his eyes trained on the glowing light of his phone, illuminating his face in the dark.

They exchange a few more texts back and forth with Harry giving him directions to his hall before Louis finds himself outside of Harry’s door, knocking lightly. He fidgets with the phone in his hands nervously while he waits for Harry to open up. His ears pick up on a few muffled grunts and the sound of feet hitting carpet before the door swings open and Harry greets him with a wide grin on his face.

“Loui, hi,” he says excitedly as he opens the door wider and Louis steps inside, giving him a half smile, one of the corners of his mouth tilted up.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Louis says as he takes a few steps inside, his eyes scanning the room.

“It’s not much, but we try,” Harry says with a nervous chuckle and shrug of his shoulders. Louis gives him a small smile, his eyes crinkling as Harry ducks his head and directs a smile at the floor.

“Ehm, my roommate’s out, if that’s alright,” Harry adds hesitantly a few seconds later, as if he’s asking for permission.

“Yeah, no worries. Will probably be easier to work without him here anyway,” Louis replies, distracted by his surroundings as he walks around the room in a small circle.

“Oh, okay, good. Yeah, he’s not around much, really. ‘s why I’m almost never here,” Harry offers quietly. He’s so direct, so open about his emotions, always voicing what’s on his mind and how it makes him feel and Louis wishes that being around Harry didn’t make his heart beat rapidly against his ribcage, didn’t make him as scared as it made him brave.

"You don't enjoy the space?" Louis asks, casting Harry a glance with raised eyebrows.

"Not really, 's a bit too quiet for me," Harry says and a few beats later Louis swears can hear him quietly whisper gets pretty lonely under his breath.

Louis hums, nodding his head as his eyes finally wander around the room properly and pick up on all of its details. It looks a lot like his freshman hall that he shared with Niall - two beds, each pushed to one side of the wall, two nightstands, two desks and two dressers. It all comes in pairs, designed for two people, for two bodies to fill out the space with bits and pieces of themselves, to mark it up and claim it as their own.

The bed he assumes is Harry’s has various posters of bands lining the wall above it, a world map with several post cards pinned to it, and a few black and white polaroids of Harry and his friends grinning into the camera. There’s a bunch of books placed on the nightstand, stacked together in a neat pile with a phone placed on top of them. There’s also a framed photo of Harry with his arms around a woman and a girl, who Louis assumes are his mum and sister judging by the similar cuts and shapes of their faces, and a few other random things scattered around - stray pens, crumpled post its and a pair of tangled headphones.

The other wall is empty in comparison to Harry’s. There’s nothing but a Liverpool banner hung on the short side of the wall and the bed is made, a dark blue comforter thrown over it. The nightstand only holds a closed notebook and a pencil - the canvas blank, anonymous, without a story to tell of the person who lives there.

“That’s my roommate’s,” Harry explains when he catches him staring with a nod towards the bed and the side of the room Louis's facing.

“I must say, mate, he’s got rubbish taste,” Louis says as he turns around and walks across the room to sit down on Harry’s bed. He shuffles so he’s pressed against the wall and pushes his knees up to his chest, draping an arm around them, holding them in place.

“I know, always fancied myself more of a Man U fan, if I’m being honest,” Harry replies and joins him on the bed. The bed dips as he sits, making Louis jump slightly. A light laugh bubbles up in his chest at his own surprise, escaping his body before he can control it. Harry peaks a glance at him, the corners of his mouth tilting up into a small smile.

“Me too, even though Donny Rovers will always be my team. Hometown glory and all that,” Louis explains with a swift motion of his hands as he talks. Harry lets out a low hum of agreement at his words.

“You from Doncaster then?” Harry asks, sneaking another glance at Louis out of the corner of his eye. He gives Louis a sheepish smile, his lips pursing together when he’s caught and then averts his gaze down to the bed, running his hand in small circles across the bedspread. He tilts his head and a few stray curls fall into his face, shadowed across his forehead and Louis wishes that he could reach out, brush them aside and place a small kiss on his forehead, that it wouldn’t be weird or cause tension, but they’re just getting to know each other. They’re taking small steps towards a proper friendship, one outside of school, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast, by making a sudden move and scaring Harry off.

“Wha- Yeah, born and raised,” Louis quickly recovers and says with a proud hand to his chest. He feels a blush sneaking over his cheeks, painting them a light pink as he ducks his head, following the movements of Harry’s fingers that are tracing invisible patterns.

“That’s nice, I‘m from Holmes Chapel. Ehm, Cheshire,” Harry explains when he’s met with the blank expression on Louis's face. “S’not very big, but I like it. The city can be so loud, it’s nice to get away from it all sometimes.”

Louis picks up on his thread of conversation and continues, “Yeah, I know what you mean. It gets a bit too much at times, you just need to get away and relax.”

“Exactly,” Harry murmurs in agreement and they spend a few seconds in content silence, the energy in the room light and without a trace of the heaviness surrounding awkward silences. “So, you’ve got a big family then?” Harry asks, steering the conversation onto a more safe topic, one that doesn’t have the possibility of ending in things their relationship isn’t ready for yet.

“Yeah,” Louis says with a warm smile, remembering his family back home. He misses them. He hasn’t seen them since he went back this summer. School’s got him hooked again and he doesn’t call and skype nearly as often as he should, leaving him with a sense of guilt and of not trying hard enough. “I’ve got four sisters and mum just had another set of twins, a baby girl and boy. So, six of them in total.”

He sneaks a glance at Harry who’s got another big grin plastered on his face, his cheeks dimpling. “That’s so lovely, Lou. I always wanted a big family, ‘s just me and my sister, Gemma.”

“Oh, is that her,” he asks, gesturing towards the framed picture on the nightstand. Harry looks over and nods his head, the smile still stuck on his lips. “Yeah, it’s just the three of us, but it’s nice. Wouldn’t change it for the world,” he says quietly, his eyes shining bright as he keeps them locked on the picture.

-

The books lie abandoned on Harry’s desk as they talk about their families, their childhoods, how insufferable sisters can be and how great they can be in return. They find comfort in sharing stories of their families separate divorces and Louis even tells Harry a bit about how hard it was having the man he considered his father walk out on him. He doesn’t tell him about how his mum cried on the floor for a month straight, how he basically had to carry his family through it all with him being the eldest of his siblings, how he was forced to grow up too fast, never really savoring his last years of being a kid.

He’s never opened up to someone as easily before. Zayn was there through it all and Niall knows bits and pieces that he’s let slip over the years of their friendship, but he’s never let him see the full picture. He figures Niall knows enough, knows what questions not to ask and that Louis isn’t comfortable talking about every hidden emotion in his body.

It isn’t until several hours later that Louis says goodbye to Harry with a lingering hug and a smile over his shoulder, clutching his books close to his chest. The sound of Harry’s laughter rings fresh in his ears as he makes his way home in the dark of the night, the streetlights casting shadows as his feet hit the pavement, matching the beat of his heart.

///

As they spend more and more time together, Louis finds himself noticing small things about Harry, cataloguing them, storing them in the back of his mind. Things like the sound of Harry’s laughter and how he laughs so deeply, so bright that his entire body shakes in tune to it, how he takes his cereal - cocoa puffs with skimmed milk, how he still claims High School Musical is a cinematic masterpiece and and how he always smells of vanilla and apples.

Louis notices the smaller things too, the ones that go unnoticed to most eyes. Like how Harry will slightly twitch when he’s asked an uncomfortable question, one he doesn’t seem to have an rehearsed answer to, one that’s maybe too personal for the early stages of whatever they are at the moment. He notices the way Harry blushes and flutters his eyes closed when complimented on something he’s proud of, and the way his mind seems to drift off to unknown places when he talks about the future and his plans for it, always in vague, soft question marks that trace each word.

/// ★

It’s late. The only light in his room is coming from the clock on his nightstand displaying the numbers 03:42. The glowing light fills the corners of his eyes, making the backs of his eyelids shine a light blue, bordering on white. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the fluttering colors coming from outside, from the passing cars and streetlights. It’s just him and the darkness, his darkness. He knows he should be asleep with having classes in the morning but it’s like something has been switched on inside his brain, making it impossible for him to settle down and drift away, to let sleep take him under.

Everything’s shit. Again. Louis can feel everything he’s worked so hard to build up falling apart one piece at a time and it scares him. It scares him how easily he gives into the pain, how easy it is to ignore that the past few months he’s felt almost happy, just so he can feel that stabbing ache in his chest again. How he almost longs for it, seeks it out to give him some twisted sense of comfort. Somewhere in the back of his mind there’s a rational voice telling him that he shouldn’t give in, shouldn’t let it consume him again, but he can’t find the strength on his own to shut it out, to tell it that it’s wrong.

He clutches the duvet closer, dragging it up so it’s pulled over his head and sinks deeper into the pillows he’s got lined up on the bed. He tries to make himself relax and concentrate on falling asleep, on letting his body sag and mold itself against the bed, but knows deep down that he won’t be getting any sleep tonight. He’s spent too many nights like this to know the drill by now. No matter how much he tries to ignore the emptiness filling out every inch of his body, taking it over bit by bit, it’s not going away. It’s taking root, etching itself to his bones, making it impossible to remove, making it impossible for him to fall asleep.

Instead of sleeping, he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them as he drags them closer to his body. He lets his head fall on top of them and pushes into his forehead until he can feel the slightest bit of pain, a faint bruise being made. His breathing turns shaky and he can feel his body growing tense, more panicked by every passing moment. In the quiet room, his shaky breaths seem loud and impossible to escape.

It’s all so fucked and he doesn’t know how to escape it anymore, how to keep on running, how to keep on pretending he’s fine for the benefit of others, for the simplicity of not having to answer questions.

He wants to go to bed and sleep for a million years because it’s in his dreams where he feels the most content, the most at ease. Where he lets his body relax entirely and drift into a state of total bliss. Where he can escape the looks and the words that go unspoken, the stabbing ache in his chest that at the best of times get replaced by the empty and numb feeling of his bones. A place where he can just let his body drift away and separate itself from the mess that is his mind, the messes untangling themselves and growing blurry as he lets his body go further and further.

“Fuck ,” he whispers, barely audible, into the quiet of his empty bedroom.

///

Louis can feel his skin itching, trying to break itself into a million molecules, pushing and pulling at him, asking, begging for permission to free the beating emotions hidden within his skin.

He doesn't know where it came from, all he knows is the feeling of sadness, of anxiety is pooling in the pit of his stomach, slowly seeping its way through his body and rushing over him like a tidal wave. It’s so untriggered that he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lets it wash over him. It consumes his body and his mind, and he feels himself slowly give in.

Louis’s never been good at taking the rational route, letting logic steer his decisions. His feelings have a hold on him, they’ve got him twisting and turning with every emotion that enters his body to the point where it’s all consuming. He’s doesn’t know how to feel less, how to make his body shut the emotions out so they don’t cloud his judgement and darken his vision. Doesn’t know how to not feel.

///

He agrees to go out with Liam and a couple of his friends one night. It’s a spur of the moment get to together, thrown together by one the guys in Liam’s economy class. Louis doesn’t really know many of the people going but agrees nonetheless. School is taking its toll on him and he figures he could use a night out. He hasn’t had more than a casual beer in front of the tv for ages and he needs the release that drinking, of being drunk, gives him. The feeling of letting himself go entirely, of giving up control of his mind and body, of letting things play out on their own, be it good or bad.

He aimlessly takes part in conversation with Liam and another guy as they make their way to the pub, chiming in every now and then, not really bothering or trying too much. The night’s dark, streetlights casting shadows as they walk down the sidewalk. The rain is creating a vibrating echo as it falls against the pavement, colliding with the sounds of their feet as they crash against the ground in uneven beats. They walk in a big group with Louis stuck in the back, their bodies painted yellow by the flickering lights, lines of silver clashing against the darkness. He watches the others walking in clusters around him, separating themselves into pairs as time passes. There isn’t really that many of them, but there’s still a faint drumming of anxiety in his bones. The only thing calming him down is the thought that soon he’ll replace it with the buzz of alcohol running through his veins instead.

When they reach the pub there’s already a few people huddled outside, ignoring the falling rain. Some of the boys stop and hug them, greet them, shake their hands and wrap them up in warm hugs. The rest of the group gives the stray boys nods and pile up as they squeeze through the door and into the heat of the pub, leaving the dark of the night behind as the door closes after them.

It’s fairly full despite it being a school night, Louis recognizing several people from his classes and the halls of school. They’re all seated at round tables or in the booths lining the walls. There’s a few people sitting on the stools by the bar, playing around on their phones or scanning the room for potential hook ups. Music’s playing softly in the background with raspy vocals and strumming guitar strings. It strikes Louis, the way it’s so different from how it usually is when they stop here on the weekends. Then it’s usually loud, thumping music with the bass vibrating against their chests and filled with the chatter of people, nothing like the quiet air filling up the room tonight.

Liam bumps their shoulders together as he passes and gives Louis a small smile, nodding in the direction of an occupied booth in the right corner. The rest of the boys are already heading over and taking their seats around the table, laughing and shouting at each other as they try to squeeze all of them in. Louis gives him a reassuring nod in return and follows his lead, trailing along behind as they weave their way through the room.

He ends up on the far left next to a cute guy he’s briefly talked to during a few parties. His name is Eric and he’s nice. He laughs at all of Louis's jokes and pays attention to his stories. He’s sweet and doesn’t ask too many questions, doesn’t push when Louis pretends to fiddle with his phone when something he says strikes a bit too close to the core and leaves him flustered in its place.

As the hours pass, he ends up drinking a lot - downs beer after beer in his attempt to pretend as if the thrumming behind his bones isn’t still there, to keep thoughts of curls and raspy voices out of his head. He turns to Eric, let’s him serve as a distraction and flashes him a big grin, laughing at something he says, pushing everything to the back of his mind. Eric gives him a smile in return and his cheeks turn a flushed pink, visible despite the dim lighting of the pub. As he continues with his story, he keeps sneaking glances at Louis through his eyelashes and fiddling with the handmade bracelet around his wrist.

Louis knows Eric’s obviously flirting with him by the way he lets his fingers brush against Louis's own for a beat too long when he hands him his beer, squeezes his wrist when Louis gets startled by the sudden movement in the small booth, and keeps flashing him wide smiles. He keeps touching him through trailing fingertips and giving him long stares laced with lust. And he knows Eric’s hot and probably up for a quick blowjob in the bathroom but his mind is stuck on a loop of harryharryharry, making it so much more obvious through every lingering touch or stare that Eric isn’t Harry and never will be.

-

A few hours in Louis's got a good amount of alcohol in his system and has himself plastered against Eric’s side, his body producing words he isn’t registering. He can hear his voice babbling on about the way Niall’s snores are loud enough to wake the entire building and he feels a laugh bubbling in his stomach. Eric looks over at him when he starts laughing hysterically but doesn’t comment on it, just gives a small laugh and knocks his knee against Louis's underneath the table. Louis stops abruptly at the movement and furrows his brow as he looks down on where their knees are touching, achingly aware of how there isn’t any sparks or burning flames lingering on his skin from the contact.

“You okay,” Eric mumbles, tapping at Louis’s thigh with two fingers. Louis perks his head up, meets his stare for a beat before pushing the corners of his mouth up into a harsh, tightlipped smile.

“Yeah, ’m fine,” he replies and gives another laugh just to see the momentary confusion washed over Eric’s face disappear. They quickly move onto another topic and Louis scoots closer, burrowing his head into Eric’s shoulder. He listens to him talk and ignores the way he smells like lemon and cheap body wash and nothing like apples and vanilla.

-

“You’re ’ice, Eric,” he mumbles a few hours later. “Eric, Eriiicc ,” he tastes the word on his tongue, but it doesn’t sound right. It’s too fast paced, too harsh. It doesn’t give him a warm, content feeling, just all sharp edges instead of soft corners.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Eric says with a small laugh as his shoulders shake, startling Louis. He grumbles and glares at him through his alcohol induced vision. The room’s gone a bit blurry, spinning in circles that are too fast for the slow pace of their conversation.

“You’re hair’s doing that loopy floop thing, you know the-” he stops and makes a spinning gesture, twisting his wrist in circles and points to the fallen quiff on Eric’s head with a laugh, his eyes squinting through the flickering lights and the blurry corners of his vision.

“It’s all funny, ‘s stupid, looks a bit sad.” He tilts his head to the side, inspecting his hair and thinks about how it’s too light, how it shines too bright against the dim lighting, how it doesn’t fit into the image of messy, dark curls he’s got stored in his mind. How the contrast against dark and light is too sharp, feels too out of place.

“It’s just so yellow- like the sun, too bright, hurts my eyes,” he mumbles, his thoughts a string of words slotting together in the wrong order, making it all confusing and hard to figure out.

“Hurting me too, my eyes and me-” he stops as it it suddenly hits him where he is - next to Eric, at the pub and how he can’t do this anymore. He can’t force laughter and smiles with Eric and lead him on when his mind is filled with thoughts of kissing Harry, his smell and the color of his hair, everything leading back to him somehow.

“‘S not you, it's Harry,” he says, staring into Eric’s eyes that lack the vibrant green he’s become so accustomed to. “Harry, Har- where’s he- Liam, Liam.” His words come out too loud, making him flinch as he spins around fast in his seat, making grabby hands at Liam who’s sitting on the other side of the booth. “Li. ”

Liam looks up from where he’d been typing out a text to meet Louis's panicked stare, his eyes darting to where Louis's plastered against Eric’s side, jumping from body part to body part. “Lou, what’s wrong, you alright?” he asks in the soft tone his voice gets when he’s worried, his brows furrowing.

“Harry, Harry, I’ve got- gotta see him, Li,” Louis says, nodding his head, his eyes wide and serious. It makes perfect sense in his mind, the need to see Harry, be around him, have them breathe the same air and get trapped inside their own world, their own bubble. Liam, however, looks confused for a moment before his face softens and he sends Louis a warm look, his eyes suddenly filled with a lingering look of sympathy.

Liam mumbles something to the guy on his left as he slides out of the booth and walks over to where Louis's sat. Eric goes to stand up but Louis grabs a hold of his sleeve, tugging him down.

“No, don’t leave. Bring me Harry, please, ‘ric,” he pleads, staring intently at Eric, who meets his eyes for a beat before flicking his stare down at the table, a flash of sadness passing through it for a fleeting moment. “I’m sorry, Louis,” is all he says as he goes to stand up.

That’s all he remembers before Liam’s hoisting him up against his side and walking them out of the pub. He doesn’t remember moving, just remembers small bits and flashes. He remembers the dark engulfing them as they step outside, the rain splattering against their heads, making his hair stick to his forehead, wet and heavy. Remembers talking about green eyes and curls in soft mumbles, Liam whispering small words into his ear as they stumble down the street. He remembers hugging him tightly and whispering a quiet harry into the leather of his jacket. Remembers it all as blurry and spinning, spinning, spinning.

He doesn’t know how he ends up in front of Harry’s door but he’s got his body leaning against Liam’s, his cheeks sticky from tears he doesn’t remember crying. Liam knocks softly once, twice on the door before it creaks open slowly to reveal Harry. He’s in a pair of trackies and a white t-shirt that’s wrinkled and riding up on one of the sides, revealing a flash of porcelain skin that Louis aches to reach out and touch, drag his fingers across in slow movements.

“What’s happening, Li? Lou? Why’re you here, ‘s the middle of the night,” he grumbles quietly as he runs a hand through his unruly curls, his eyes hooded and worried.

Louis keeps staring at Harry while Liam speaks next to him, the words passing by him in tune to the spinning world around him. Eventually he stops speaking and Harry gives a small nod. He shuffles forward and untangles Louis from Liam’s side, pressing him close to his own. Louis leans his head on Harry’s shoulder, burrowing his head into the soft fabric of his shirt and letting the familiar scent fill him up. Harry mumbles something to Liam before turning back to Louis and pressing a gentle kiss to his hair.

“C’mon, Lou, ‘s alright, I’ve got you,” he whispers and wraps an arm around his waist, walking them into the quiet room. Louis melts into his side, feels their bodies slotting into place, becoming one. He hums out a reply and shuts his eyes, letting Harry lead him.

They trudge over to Harry’s bed, Harry letting go of Louis for a moment and causing him to let out a small whine from the back of his throat. Harry looks at Louis from where he’s bent over the bed, rearranging the pillows to make space for another body and shoots him a small smile over his shoulder. He straightens and walks over to him, wrapping arms around his waist in a bonecrushing hug. Louis leans his head against his shoulder, fisting his hand into Harry’s shirt. Harry brings a hand up to brush the hair out of his eyes, the movement gentle, his fingers leaving ghost touches in their place. Louis feels the anxiety slowly seep its way out of his bones, his body going lax and pliant instead. His shoulders sag and he lets out a shaky breath that rings loud to his own ears. Harry trails his fingers up his spine to the junction of his neck, placing his hand there and tugging at the hairs of his nape. Louis removes his head from Harry’s chest and looks up at him, their eyes staying locked for a moment.

Harry thumbs under Louis's eyes, over his tear-stained cheeks, over the sharp bone of his nose and down to his lips. He traces Louis's lips with his thumb, his eyes tracking the movement and the only thought stuck in Louis's mind is the one of how much he wants to kiss Harry and feel their lips slot together, of what he tastes like, of how it’d feel.

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry mumbles at last. He searches Louis's face before settling on his eyes, one of the corners of his mouth tilting up into a smile.

Louis nods in response and Harry brushes a soft kiss to his forehead, dropping his hand to wrap it around Louis's shoulders, pressing him into his side. He gives Louis a light squeeze before removing his hand to to pull the covers away, letting Louis stumble into bed. Louis let’s out a content noise in the back of his throat once his head hits the pillow and he melts into it. He can hear Harry shuffling around the room for a few more minutes, making sure the door's locked before he climbs into bed as well and pulls the covers up over them, trapping the heat underneath. He seems to hesitate for a beat, his body tensing up before he shuffles forward on the small bed and wraps Louis up in his arms. Louis's body reacts instantly, curling itself around Harry’s, their limbs tangling together.

“You’re so good to me, Harry, too good, always the best, the bestest ,” Louis mumbles, his mind still drunk, into Harry’s shirt where he’s got his head pressed against his chest, the slow ta- thump-ta-thump of Harry’s heart right underneath his ear.

“Love you so much, so, so much, you’re the best, love you so,” he mumbles as he let’s his eyes flutter closed and tightens his grip on Harry’s waist, pushing their bodies closer together.

Harry lets out a slow and shaky breath, the air ruffling a few strands of Louis's hair before leaning down to press a series of small kisses to Louis's cheek, eliciting a light giggle from him.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles with a smile in his voice, pressing a final kiss to Louis's cheek. Louis's skin sending sparks of flame from where the feeling lingers. “Love you too, Lou,” he says before they both let their breaths even out and fall asleep, wrapped tightly around each other.

///

Louis ends up skipping the next day and sleeping, letting his hangover fade away with each passing hour. He turns his phone off after one too many missed calls, not wanting to bear the weight of his guilty conscious when he leaves them unanswered. Instead he finds comfort in the warmth of the sheets and burrows his head into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and trapping the bad thoughts inside his head, not wanting them to escape and spread through his body.

The memory of waking up in an empty bed with a post it stuck to his forehead, a morning lou i'm in class see you later xx. scribbled down in Harry’s messy scrawl with a small smiley face, stuck in his mind. Louis had smiled through the jabbing pain and folded the note, sticking it into the pocket of his jeans which were still on from the previous night. He’d stayed in bed for a while after that, memories lingering of soft words whispered between their bodies, a spinning world and his brain stuck on a loop of harryharryharry as he watched him in the dark through hazy eyes. But the only thought sticking in his mind was the one of kissing Harry, tasting him on his tongue, and the way he’d feel with his mouth against Louis's.

-

He’s awoken a few hours later by the screeching sound of the doorbell. It rings clear in the quiet of the apartment, making its way into Louis's cocoon of comfort and peace.

Louis ignores it at first figuring it’s Niall or Zayn, probably too lazy to look for their keys in their bags, but after the fourth or fifth buzz he gives in. He pulls the covers away and topples out of bed, still wearing his pyjamas - a ratty t-shirt and a pair of sweats he out grew about four years ago.

After picking up a sweatshirt that’s slung over a chair and tugging it on over his shirt, Louis pulls the sleeves down over his knuckles and hunches his shoulders, trying to savour the warmth. As he pads to the door, he lets out a small yawn and brings a fist up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

When he opens the door he’s surprised to find Harry on the other side. He looks out of place in Louis's hallway, outside the brickwalls of school. He’s got a plastic bag in one of his hands and the other one up by his neck, scratching at it sheepishly. He looks up quickly and meets Louis's stare. The eyes that meet his look a bit scared, almost as if Harry regrets being there.

“Harry, hi,” he greets, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Uhm, hey, hi,” Harry replies quickly. He’s a bit flustered, his eyes opened wide, making the green faded in the the dim light of the hallway. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, making the words come out a bit muffled.

“What’s up, mate,” Louis asks carefully, still unsure where they stand after last night. He remembers bits and pieces but it’s mainly a blur if he’s being honest.

“Oh, nothing really. How’s your head?” Harry asks, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Louis hurries to give him a warm smile before replying, “It’s seen worse days, I reckon,” at which Harry gives out a breathy laugh and his shoulders sag a bit with relief.

“You wanna come in or do you prefer it out there in the hallway,” Louis asks as he pushes away from the wall and opens the door further so Harry can step inside. He turns around and walks into the apartment without waiting to see if Harry follows him. He feels like he has the upper hand somehow, even though being around Harry scares him. He’s got so many sides to him and Louis's never knows what to expect. Is he gonna be an excited puppy with his glowing eyes and wide smile, a cheeky bastard with his smug smirk and stupid words or as he is today - nervous, soft and pliant, seemingly out of his element.

Harry mumbles a quiet thanks as he follows Louis into his apartment and shuts the door behind him. He goes to remove his beanie, his curls springing free. They’re tousled, sticking up in every direction and Harry runs a hand through them, making them stand up on the top of his head in a weird variation of a quiff. He kicks off his boots, still damp from the walk over and shucks his jacket. He hangs it on the hanger before turning to Louis for the first time since they walked in.

They stand quietly in the small hallway, one or two steps between them, just looking at one another. The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the wind outside, rattling the balcony door. The space between them feels like it’s stretching on for days and days, separating the two of them and leaving them both on different sides. It’s so different from when they’re in school because there they’re surrounded by the loud chatter of other students, their voices filling out the classrooms and hallways, never leaving them this exposed. Even in Harry’s dorm there’s a different kind of air surrounding them, one less charged with the tension of last night hanging between them. The silence rings loud between them, punching at Louis's chest, making him feel the anxiety stretching itself through his body.

“Lou, I’m sor-” Harry starts, breaking the silence, but Louis quickly cuts him off with a hand in the air and a shy smile to match.

“Love, it’s alright, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he says, watching relief wash over Harry. “I should be the one apologizing really. Reckon I made a real fool of myself,” he says with a tilt to his head and a laugh that feels a bit too forced.

“‘s not like I really remember that much, but I usually get a bit, uh, chatty and stuff after a few drinks,” he tacks on with a smirk. Harry laughs and nods, accepting Louis's lie. Because of course Louis remembers. How could he forget that how every time he’s so much as in the same room as Harry it all just seems to slow down to a halt, every detail of it all etching itself onto Louis's memory.

“Uhm, so I hope it’s alright I’m here,” Harry says, leaving the sentence open, making it into a question. His voice comes out slow and raspy, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid he’s overstepping something with his presence.

“Of course it is,” Louis says as he turns and walks towards the open living room. “So, why are you? Here, it is,” he asks, quietly scolding himself for his inability to create proper sentences in Harry’s presence. He wonders if that’s something that’s ever gonna go away, if the whirlwind of emotions inside of him whenever he’s around Harry will ever settle down.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, you weren’t in class and you weren’t answering your phone, so,” Harry replies from where he’s following behind Louis. The words i came to check up on you go unsaid but are left hanging in the air, both of them picking up on them.

Louis turns to sit down on the couch, crossing his legs and looking up at Harry who’s still left standing by the edge of it. “What are you doing, c’mon, sit down,” Louis says with an amused smile, tugging on his lips as he taps the cushion next to him and beckoning Harry over.

Harry gives him a small smile in return, a dimple poking out, as he puts his bag on the coffee table and goes to sit next to Louis. As he falls back against the cushions, the tension in his shoulders seems to fade away a bit. He lets out a quiet, content noise in the back of his throat and flicks his eyes over to look at Louis, who’s sitting on his left.

“So, what’s in the bag,” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow at Harry and looking at the plastic bag out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, right,” Harry says, sitting upright again. “Okay, so well, I figured you were probably really hungover or you know, needed cheering up, so I made these banana chocolate cupcakes and brought the Harry Potter films over. Figured we could have a marathon or summat, “ he finishes. His eyes have gone from the fading green to a radiating, light one as he’s been speaking. Louis can tell he’s excited and a bit nervous because he’s fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“No homework then? You haven’t gotten a psychology book stashed in that bag of yours? Freud quotes sprinkled all over the cupcakes?” Louis teases, waggling his eyebrows at Harry. He lets out a loud barking laugh in response, clasping his hand over his mouth when he realizes what he’s done and Louis chuckles at him.

“Well, I mean, I did bring a flash drive,” Harry says sheepishly, ducking his head as he fishes one out of the pocket of his tight jeans. “But you know, just because you missed class and stuff,” he tacks on as an afterthought.

“Love, it’s alright. But if you don’t mind I’d rather not study,” Louis says, shutting him up and turning his face into a grimace and sticking his tongue out at Harry. He laughs and nods in response, the smile still stuck on his lips.

Louis nudges his thigh with his bare toes and gives Harry a warm smile in reassurance. “But about the movie stuff, that sounds great, Harry.” Thank you for caring. Thank you for sticking around. “Let’s get to it, yeah.”

-

Thirty minutes later they find themselves perched on one end each of the couch, both of them facing the tv where the first movie in the series is playing. The movie has just begun - Harry’s fighting with his Uncle and Aunt while a gleeful Dudley opens his presents and it’s still a bit awkward, the tension laced through the air they both breathe, but it’s more relaxed like this, neither of them feeling the need to talk for things to keep happening, for the situation to keep evolving.

As the movie progresses Louis finds himself inching closer and closer towards the middle of the couch and he can feel Harry doing the same with every dip and rustle of movement. When he catches Harry staring at his profile out of the corner of his eye he pretends he doesn’t, just like he pretends to not notice when Harry slides further down the middle to grab a cupcake that’s entirely within his reach or how sometimes Harry stops talking mid sentence, just as he trusts Harry to pretend he doesn’t notice when he does the same things in return. It’s a weird game they’re playing, of back and forth, of tiptoeing around each other, neither of them wanting to break this unspoken bond of something that they have.

They’re halfway through the movie when Niall comes home. He yanks the door open, dropping the keys in the bowl and kicks his sneakers off, seemingly making as much noise as possible.

“Hey lads, whatcha up to,” he greets them, taking large steps into the living room, the floorboards creaking underneath him.

“Niall,” Louis greets him coldly, secretly hating him for interrupting whatever this was supposed to be. A date, friends hanging out? He wishes he knew.

“Mate,” Niall says enthusiastically, saluting him as he moves into the kitchen. “So, who’s that on the couch with you?” he asks, sticking his head inside the fridge, shuffling things around, looking for something to eat from the sounds of it.

“Ehm, I’m Harry,” comes Harry’s meek voice and Louis turns to flash him a tightlipped smile that he tries his best to make convey i’m sorry for my idiot roommate and i really like you, please don’t leave .

“Oh , so you’re Harry then,” Niall says, peeking his head out of the fridge with a bucket of chicken in his hand. He kicks the door shut and walks into the living room while munching on a chicken breast. “I’ve heard lots about you, mate,” he says, his voice muffled by the chewing.

“Niall ,” Louis hisses, raising his eyebrows, darting his eyes back and forth in Harry’s direction, trying to make him shut up. “Don’t you have places to be, people to meet, food to eat or summat.”

“Nah, I’m all good,” Niall replies, unfazed, as he comes up to them and squeezes in next to Louis on the tiny couch, making Louis end up sandwiched between him and Harry.

“Erhm, hi, nice to meet you,” Harry says, untangling a hand that’s squished between his and Louis's bodies and extends it in a greeting to Niall.

Niall goes to return the handshake but Louis quickly bats it away with an eye roll. “Ni, your hand is all greasy, don’t touch him with that.”

“Oi, being possessive are we,” Niall snickers and lifts his eyebrows before turning back to the movie still playing in the background, forgotten in the midst of things happening.

“Harry Potter, sick. My favorite!” he says, an excited tone to his voice. “And cupcakes !” he exclaims, grabbing one with his clean hand and munching on it, the chicken in his hands seemingly forgotten.

“Is he always so, uh, happy,” Harry asks in a hushed whisper, crouching the slightest bit to whisper in Louis’s ear. He keeps his mouth there, his breathing ringing clear, the puffs of air tickling him and sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so close, is the thing. Their bodies pressed together from shoulder to feet, small sparks of energy flitting from where they're stuck in between. The air is heavy with unresolved tension from earlier, the closeness making it hard for Louis to breathe.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, mentally shaking himself and he cranes his neck slightly to meet Harry’s wondering stare. When he turns he realizes just how close they really are. Harry’s lips are right in front of his and he can’t help but trail his gaze down to stare at them. They’re a dark shade of pink, slightly chapped from the cold and once again he finds himself wondering what they’d taste pressed against his own.

His thoughts are interrupted by Niall’s loud laughter from next to him, startling Louis out of his trance. He flinches and ducks his head, avoiding Harry’s look as he plays with the hem of his shirt before flicking his head up to continue watching the movie, pretending he doesn’t notice Harry’s lingering stare, his eyes searching for Louis's.

///

The memory of that night lives on in both of their minds, two different stories being kept apart. They don’t really talk about it. They go on as if nothing happened, not really ignoring it, just dancing around it, neither of them bringing it up on their own. It lingers in the back of Louis's mind, blurry memories he tries his best to untangle from the haze surrounding them. He knows it was big, that him coming to Harry in such a vulnerable state, intentionally choosing Harry is a big thing. That even when he’s shaking, crying and far too gone he’s always choosing Harry. He’s saying that even though Harry isn’t his, he’s Harry’s.

///

A few days after the awkward day after something seems to loosen between the two of them. It’s like something suddenly snaps into place as both of them start accepting this newfound side of their friendship that comes with being more comfortable in each others presence, more affectionate through casual touches and less thought out words. There isn’t the stiffness hanging around from the first weeks, now it’s all carefree laughter and banter. With every passing motion or word it’s as if there’s a small sound of click click click in the background, everything coming together while still painfully creeping on the edge of something more.

///

It’s Thursday and his last class just finished for the day. It’s been a long day with boring classes and there’s nothing Louis wants more than to go home and take a nap at this point. He quickly collects his books and pushes his way through the crowd of students, not wanting to spend anymore time in the room than he has to. He drags himself out of the classroom, through the door and into the hall to an awaiting Harry. He’d texted Louis earlier, demanding some friend time since they’d both been busy all week and Louis had given in after reading the first word. Who was he to tell Harry no, really.

“Hi, babe,” he greets when Louis walks over to where he’s stood, leaning against the wall opposite the classroom, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder with a few text books peaking out of it.

“Hi,” Louis drawls out in response and gives Harry a weak smile. “I’m a bit tired,” he explains to Harry who nods and opens his arms in response.

“C’mere,” he says as Louis steps forward and let’s Harry’s arms wrap him up in a warm hug. Louis links his arms around his lower back and buries his head in the crook of Harry’s neck. He whispers a quiet, muffled thank you into Harry’s curls and smiles to himself. He thinks he can hear Harry whisper a love you before he presses a light kiss to his temple and unwraps his arms. Louis does the same and takes a step back, looking up at Harry’s face. He’s got a beaming smile plastered across it and his eyes are glowing as he meets Louis's stare.

“Alright, let’s go, I’d rather not spend another minute here,” Louis says as he rolls his eyes fondly at Harry, who laughs in response.

“Whatever you say, Lou,” he replies and bumps their hips together as they start walking down the hall.

They fall into step easily as they keep walking and chat lazily about their separate days. Harry’s telling him excitedly about his classes, explaining them in great detail. Everything from how he likes his teachers and the other students to the things they discuss in class. He lights up at every new thing he remembers, his skin radiating with every word he speaks.

He’s so beautiful like this, with the soft light shining through the windows and framing his profile from the springy curls around his ear to the light stubble casting shadows around his jaw. Everyone now and then he’ll turn to Louis midstory and catch him staring at which Louis just hurries to look down at his hands until Harry turns back around, continuing his story with a smile on his lips.

They’re almost at the end of the hall and close to the exit when they round the last corner and Louis finds himself face to face with Eric. The Eric who he almost hooked up with. The Eric who was flirting with him all night. The Eric who he told he wasn’t Harry. Eric.

Louis stops in his tracks, Eric doing the same in front of him. Their eyes lock for a brief moment, a small storm playing out between them, Louis being unable to tell what Eric’s eyes speak of, what they want to tell him, what words they hold.

"Erm, Louis, hi," Eric finally speaks up, his eyes still staring deep into Louis's own, not budging.

Louis offers him a weak wave in response and a tightlipped smile before he replies a "Eric, hi, nice to see you." He casts a glance at Harry out of the corner of his eye who’s stopped as well, his story interrupted abruptly by them running into Eric.

"You too," Eric says, following Louis's line of vision to Harry, looking over at him, his eyes narrowing in curiousity.

"Who’s this?” he asks, a small bit of resentment in his voice that doesn’t match with the version of him Louis has painted in his memory. He gives Harry an obvious onceover, a smirk tilting the corners of his lips upwards. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”

"No, don’t think so. Hi, I’m Harry" he says with a wide grin, painfully oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between the three of them. "Nice to meet you," he says and offers a hand for Eric to shake. Eric does so reluctantly, removing his hand a bit too fast, but Harry keeps on smiling even after their hands part.

"Oh, Harry, " he says with a smirk and a glance in Louis direction, nothing subtle about it. Harry’s eyebrows twitch slightly but he doesn’t say anything, just nods and keeps on smiling.

"Yea, he that’s him and, uhm, we really should get going,” Louis rushes out, his eyes shooting back and forth between Harry and Eric who are still watching one another, a silent battle being fought.

“Already,” Eric asks sarcastically, his brows furrowed and eyes never leaving Harry, even when his words are directed at Louis.

“Yeah, you know, classes to take, knowledge to, ehm, learn and all of that," Louis says with a fleeting motion of his hand as he grips Harry’s arm and pushes him forward.

"Was nice meeting you, I’ll see you around, yeah," he says with a tilt of his head in Eric’s direction as he pushes past him, their shoulders brushing in passing.

He manages to drag them the last stretch down the hall before they make it to the entrance doors. He let’s go of his tight grip around Harry’s arm and places a hand on his lower back as they push through to outside. They’re met with a gust of cold air, punching against their face. It rattles the trees around them, the leaves long gone, and curls around their bodies, wrapping them up in its cold.

“Sorry about that,” Louis says sheepishly as he crosses his arms over his chest, dragging his jacket closer to his body to protect himself from the autumn wind.

"So, uhm, how do you know him?" Harry asks shyly, casting a look at Louis as they make their way down the steps of the building and start off down the narrow path.

"Oh, ehm, it’s not important," Louis brushes off, staring ahead. He doesn’t want to get into it and have to explain the details of that night, doesn’t want to drag the memories back and revise them once again. It’s easier if they just let it go, as they have in the past.

"Lou, c’mon," Harry whines from beside him and Louis casts a glance in his direction only to be met with a pair of pleading eyes and Harry slightly pouting. “Please, I’m not stupid, I know it’s something, I just-” he tacks on before he breaks off and turns around, confused with his own words.

Louis watches his profile as they continue walking, the thoughts spinning in his head, making up combinations and rejecting them at a rapid pace. He continues watching the soft turned sharp features of Harry’s face and gives in. He figures he can’t avoid the subject forever and he knows keeping it from Harry would cause him to invedibly hurt him.

"Right, so,” he starts at which Harry’s head snaps up and turns to look at him. Here we go , Louis thinks. “Well, remember the night I kindacrashedatyours, " he rushes out in a blur, exhaling a deep breath. He stops to look at Harry who’s got a confused look on his face before recognition sparks in his eyes and he widens them, his mouth falling open before he quickly shuts it.

"So, I was kinda hanging out with Eric at the pub before, us and a few other guys. Liam and some more and well, yeah," he trails of not wanting to go into more detail about the night. They both know which one he’s talking about anyway, without him having to add to it. Harry’s eyes flit through a thousand emotions in the second Louis keeps his eyes locked on his before he shies away from his gaze and stares down at his feet as the pebbles crunch underneath them.

"Oh, so you were hanging out then, as mates or?" Harry asks, a nervousness to his voice that wasn’t there minutes ago. Louis doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s playing with his bottom lip as he always does when he’s pondering something, awaiting a reply.

"Ehm, well, I’m not really mates with any of them but, er, no. Eric was kinda hitting on me?" Louis says questioningly, pushing his lips into a thin line and scratching lightly at his nose. He still isn’t looking at Harry but he can feel him tense up next to him for a second before his body goes lax.

"Oh," Harry says, the word sharp and falling flat between the growing space between the two of them. He looks away from Louis to stare blankly ahead of them as they walk on down the path. Neither of them speak after that, the only sound the one of their shoes hitting the pebbles and the rustle of the wind. The silence rings loud and clear between them, speaking of a newfound distance.

-

Harry disappears for a few days after their encounter with Eric. He stops replying to Louis's texts and calls, giving in on the third day to say that he has a big project to work on. Louis can tell something's off, but he doesn’t want to dwell on it so he stores it in the back of his mind, ignoring the thought for the time being. He goes on with his days - plays Fifa against Niall, does (some, barely any) of his homework, sleeps a lot, attends his classes and goes through too many packs of cigarettes - all while trying his best to not fixate on the giant Harry shaped hole.

When Harry finally returns there’s something different, something that wasn’t there before. Louis can’t put his finger on it, but something about Harry doesn’t shine quite as bright as it did before. He acts weird but not in the painfully obvious way, more in a subtle one, not there unless you’re looking for it. Sometimes he hesitates for a brief second before wrapping his arms around Louis's waist, darts his eyes around the room to make sure they’re never alone for too long and makes up poor excuses when Louis asks him to hang out just the two of them.

Louis knows Harry’s avoiding him and it really fucking hurts, because even though Louis has known Zayn and Niall the longest, he’s grown close to Harry in a really short period of time and thinks of Harry as a category of his own. Because the two of them are different, they just work better around each other, with each other and its like they recharge off of being around one another. As if they need the other one to breathe and see things clearly, to make it through their own silent battles. Louis's never been this dependant on another person before and it scares him to tears spilled on pillows and lungs too small to be filled with air. He’s terrified but he needs Harry too much to let him go, to stop fighting against everything that’s telling him to run, to break himself free.

///

A few weeks later all of them, sans Liam, are hanging out in their apartment, watching a movie. Louis and Zayn are snuggled together on the couch with Harry on the other end, clutching a pillow to his chest and slouched down, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Niall’s sat on the floor, a bed of pillows around him after a pillow war broke out between the four of them earlier in the night. It’d been Louis and Zayn against Niall and Harry. Louis had tried his best to ignore them breaking the normal formation of him and Harry against the rest, even though Harry avoiding him had never been clearer than when he was hitting Harry with pillow after pillow and had to watch him shy away, turn his entire body towards someone else, ignoring every attempt Louis made at getting close.

They’ve been watching the movie for a while now, the end slowly, but surely creeping up on them and there’s a tiredness to the air, a hint of exhaustion from a long week of classes and exams taken. Louis got himself tucked into the crook of Zayn’s arm, nuzzled into the warm fabric of his jumper. Zayn’s got one of his hand in his hair, gently massaging his scalp while the other one is draped over the armrest of the couch. He’s got his face pressed close to Louis's, making low commentary into his ear while they watch the movie. Louis whispering his own words back at him, just like they did when they were younger and would watch movies with Louis's sisters and didn’t want them to hear what they were saying. Louis laughs loudly and slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling the noises he’s making. From the corner of his eye he sees Harry turn his head to look at them, his stare burning so intense it leaves marks against Louis's skin.

Halfway through the movie Niall starts yawning loudly, a series of dragged out sounds coming in short bursts. He slumps backwards, further into the cushion he’s got placed on the floor, his head lolling back on the couch. Louis flicks his eyes away from the screen and looks down at him, meeting his stare. Niall sticks his tongue out at him at which Louis goes cross eyed and Niall cackles in response.

"You tired, babes," Zayn asks from besides Louis, nudging lightly at Niall’s shoulder with one of his sock clad feet. Niall grabs his foot, causing Zayn to yelp and startle both him and Louis from where he’s wrapped around him. Louis gives a low grumble in reply, shooting Zayn an annoyed look. He bends forward and grabs one of the pillows off the floor and hits Niall in the head, mumbling a quiet idiot before he settles back into the warmth of Zayn’s arm.

Niall rubs his temple, glaring at Louis before he turns to Zayn and answers his previous questions with a “Yeah, pretty beat, to be honest.”

"Reckon it’s all that food you ate, mate. Must be making you go into a food coma or summat," Zayn supplies that causes the other three to laugh, stirring the tired air with their booming voices.

"Yes, I’m sure that’s it," Niall drags out sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. Zayn just kicks him again and flips him off.

"’M just saying, asshole. But, yeah, I’m actually a bit tired myself," Zayn says after a bit, nothing shy about the glance he casts between Harry and Louis, waggling his eyebrows. Louis gives him an unimpressed look and pinches his ribs in retaliation with a hissed fucker under his breath.

He turns back to the rest of the room, clasping his hands in front of him. "Well since the two of you are, in fact, seventy I guess it‘s time for you to head to bed then, grandpas," Louis says with a fond roll of his eyes.

Zayn laughs as he untangles his arm from around Louis and slaps a kiss on his cheek before standing up from the couch and walking over to Niall, tugging him up from the floor.

"Night, lads," Harry pipes up, forgotten in his corner and gives them a wave as the two of them head down the hall in the direction of their separate bedrooms. Two different doors slam shut in quick succession a few seconds later.

"So, uhm, I should probably go then?" Harry asks, his voice coming out small and unsure as he speaks. He looks around, a bit flustered and fiddles with his hands before he settles them on his thighs. He begins rubbing them back and forth against the fabric of his jeans and goes to stand up. At his movement, Louis jumps closer to him on the couch, covering one of his hands with his own and telling him to stay put.

"Hey, no, you don’t have to do that," he pleads, looking Harry deep in the eyes, hoping to convey everything he doesn’t have the courage to ask of him. Please Stay. Don’t Leave. Don’t make it weird. I miss you. Harry seems to read something into his look because he closes his mouth and nods his head in affirmation, sinking back into the couch and settling his eyes on the screen once again.

Louis gives him a shy smile as he says "Let’s finish the movie then," and goes to tuck himself into Harry's side. When he shuffles closer to Harry, crowding into his space, Harry visibly flinches, shying away from Louis. It’s not by much but it’s an instant reaction, him separating himself from Louis, creating more space between them. It hurts, punches at his chest and makes his heart flutter but he’s destined to keep up the facade of how things are okay between them, allowing himself this moment of normalcy, where he can pretend the past few weeks never happened. So he just cuddles closer until Harry seems to give in and wraps a hesitant arm loosely around his shoulders, his fingers hovering above Louis's skin as if he’s the fire and Harry’s afraid to get burned.

They settle in and continue watching the movie but Louis finds it hard to concentrate on with Harry constantly shooting him weird glances. It keeps happening every few seconds and whenever Louis goes to meet his eyes he quickly looks away and pretends to be paying attention the movie. What’s odd about it is that they aren't the usual stares he catches Harry with, these are more charged in a way he doesn't know how to read, and it terrifies him a bit, leaves him worried he’s doing something wrong. That he’s fucking up somehow.

When there’s ten minutes of the film left according to the neon numbers on the dvd player Harry does it again. Louis shuffles around in his seat and Harry flinches, physically removes himself from around Louis. At his sudden movement something stirs inside Louis, something that’s been building ever since Harry came back and wasn’t the same anymore. When Harry shies away Louis feels it explode inside him and push its way to the surface.  

He sits up straight quickly ripping Harry’s arm from around his shoulders in the process and turns to face Harry who’s looking at him with a confused expression painted on his face.

"What the hell is your deal?" Louis asks, pinning Harry with the intensity of his stare. "Because I don't get it, Harry, I really don't, you- you act all weird and tense and shit around me and I just don't get it? " Louis questions, his mind spinning in circles trying to think of obvious things he’s missing, small details he overlooked, words that got spoken in a rush, something, anything , to make them go back to normal again.

Harry opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out and Louis picks up the topic again, pushing away the previously hanging words in the air. "Ever since we met Eric you've been all weird and I can't stand it. Fuck, you’re one of my favorite people and I just can't have it like this." His voice has gone down to a whisper as he’s been talking, the anger making its way out of his body. The last words coming out breathy and choked up.

"Please Harry- I just-" he stops and looks down on his hands and starts playing with his fingers, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, what else there is for him to say. Doesn’t know how to make sense of the sea of thoughts swimming in his head, all unfinished words and sentences that get lost, sink down, in the rush of water and disappear as everything turns blurry around the edges.

It rings quiet for a moment or two, neither of them speaking or moving, the only sound in the room the low hum of the tv lying forgotten in the background and their breaths coming out in uneven beats.

"I’m sorry," Harry says finally, breaking the silence. He says it quietly, barely above a whisper. Louis glances up and stares at him, searching his face for something, something that will help him make sense of the mess they've become. "Why," he settles on, the question hanging in the ocean of space between them.

Harry breaks their stare and turns forward to stare at the flickering screen of the tv. He seems to give himself some time to compose himself and Louis can see the wheels turning in his head, putting together and rearranging sentences to create an answer to his question.

"Jealous. I got jealous," he finally says, his eyes still intently locked on the screen and avoiding Louis's. He says it slowly, pausing between every word as if contemplating whether he wants to go through with it or not.The flickering light from the tv casts shadows over his face, painting his features in soft blues, reds, yellows, spilling in and out of each other, creating combinations that wash over his face like waves against the shore.

"Seeing him with you, you talking about what happened with him, thinking about what that must've looked like- it just, it made me jealous,” Harry stops. They both take a deep breath, letting the words seep in for a beat, letting them create a space for them in the parts of their hearts they have reserved for each other. There’s a million questions swimming in Louis's head but he can’t make out a single one, all of them blurry and unclear, making him drunk on the possible outcomes.

"I didn't know why at first, I guess, or I did but it wasn't as obvious to me. That’s, ehm, why- why I disappeared for a few days. Just needed to figure some stuff out. About you know, why it made me feel like that and I-," he stops, taking a few seconds to just breathe, inhaling exhaling, before continuing. “I realized that kind of, maybe, I really like you. I mean, I guess I knew but I didn't think you'd ever like me back, so I just, didn't think about it, if that makes sense," Harry trails off before stopping entirely, his body going pliant, all of the tension being released at once.

Suddenly it hits Louis, Harry’s words finally fully sinking in, the questions turning into bold statements in his mind. Harry likes him. Harry. He likes Harry. Who likes him back. Harry.

Harry finally stops staring ahead and turns his body towards Louis's, who’s still perched at the end of the couch and looks at him. Their eyes meet and there’s emotions suddenly bursting, spilling from their bodies, flashes of electricity flicking between them. He goes to speak, opening his mouth but before he can say anything Louis's surging forward, knocking their knees together as he wraps a hand around Harry’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Their lips mold together, fitting perfectly - Harry’s plump and full against Louis's thin and pouting. They slot against one another as they surge back time after time, their lips locking in a series of rushed kisses, gasping for more. Louis pushes his body against Harry’s, pulling him in for kiss after kiss, their chests so close together Louis can feel Harry’s heart beating behind his ribcage in sync with his own.

He draws Harry’s lower lip between his, sucking on it lightly before giving it a quick bite. Harry’s arms go to wrap around Louis's lower back and he tugs at his shirt, bringing them even closer together. He follows Louis's lead and licks into his mouth just as desperately. He’s eager as he traces patterns with his tongue inside Louis's mouth, mapping out every part of him. His hands roam over Louis's body, never settling in one place for too long.

When Louis finally draws back and knocks his forehead against Harry’s, the two of them stay panting for air. "Oh," Harry finally says. It comes out breathy and the air that escapes his mouth when he speaks tickles Louis's chin. He giggles and gives Harry a smile in return at which his entire face lights up and he smiles back, crinkles by his eyes and dimples on his cheeks.

“So do you-” Harry starts but Louis interrupts him with a “Yes, I like you, idiot. Unless you couldn’t tell by that. ”

Harry laughs and leans forward to peck Louis softly on the lips once, twice before pressing a light kiss to his nose. Louis smiles and dives back in, Harry’s mouth parted as he traps Harry’s bottom lip between his and traces his tongue against it, asking for permission. Harry draws back and Louis follows, curling his tongue into his mouth. Their lips slot against each other, moans getting drowned out as they move slowly, their movements still laced with heat.

“I’ve wanted this,” Harry starts saying, Louis surging forward into another kiss, breathing in the taste of his lips like oxygen, “for,” another kiss, “so,” another, “long,” and a final one where they pant into each other’s mouths as they want more, need more, of each other.

They break free and Louis goes to suck at Harry’s neck, creating bruises and bites that speak of claim and mine . He kisses up to Harry’s ear - over his jaw and cheeks - where he leans in and whispers a soft and quiet “Me too, you have no idea,” before he nibbles at Harry’s earlobe. Harry’s breath hitches as he lets out a broken moan. He tilts his head back, giving him better access to his neck as Louis leans down again. He thinks he can hear him grunt a fuck as he bites down on his neck, hard enough to leave marks.

Louis pushes him down on the couch, Harry’s head hitting the pillow braced against the armrest. He gives out a small noise in the back of his throat when Louis stops kissing him to rest a hand against his chest as he straddles his hips and leans down to capture their mouths in another kiss. He brings a hand up to Harry’s hair and tugs at a few stray curls as Harry lets out a small whine, his breath coming out in hiccups. The sounds make Louis lick into his mouth with more haste, Harry’s tongue meeting his, creating flashes of electricity.

They stay on the couch for the rest of the night, tracing patterns into each others skin and savoring the taste of one another. They’re getting to know each other all over again, with roaming hands and hungry lips. It’s as if the final piece of their friendship has fallen into place, transforming them into the inevitable, the something more Louis has wanted since he saw Harry cross the room the first day in class weeks ago.

They make out until their hungry kisses turn into small pecks between stifled yawns and laughter. Louis offers him the couch since he’s basically spent all night there anyway and Harry pinches his bum with a cheeky pressed against his lips before he kisses him and goes to stand, pushing Louis off him. They spend another fifteen minutes making out against the door before Harry whispers about how he has to leave and Louis finally gives in. They share a final kiss by the elevator and as the door closes Louis feels his body sag against the wall. He sits down on the cold floor and bangs his head against the wall with a smile splitting his face in two.

///

Louis enters class the following Monday a bundle of nerves with anxiety flooding his system, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he feels his entire body shake with it. His mind is hazy with memories of kissing Harry, the way his lips had molded themselves against Louis's, the right amount of pressure, the pace slow and steady. His skin’s filled with ghost touches of Harry’s fingers tracing patterns over it, of hushed whispers and words finally spoken. They all make his mind wander, make it hard for him to move, to breathe without a loop of it all, of Harry playing in his mind.

He hitches his backpack further up his shoulder as his eyes scan the room, looking for familiar faces. Class is about to begin but most students are still chattering away, turned around in their seats, their voices mixing together, creating mismatched harmonies. Louis's eyes jump from group to group as he makes his way across the room, crossing between desks, trying not to trip.

He finally spots Liam and Harry a few seconds later. They’re sitting with a few other guys in the far left corner, all of them turned around in their seats, creating a small circle. He quickly picks out Harry in the group, his lanky figure easily distinguishing him from the rest. He’s lost in their conversation, nodding along to what Liam is telling the group, his eyes focused on Liam’s hands as he makes big gestures, explaining something.

Harry’s eyes meet his as he makes his way over to where they’re sitting, maintaining steady eye contact until Louis reaches them. He hovers nervously around the desks, shuffling his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. The others are still immersed in Liam’s story, his presence going unnoticed by everyone but Harry’s watchful eyes.

Their eyes stay locked for a moment before Harry speaks up. “Lou,” he says, his voice coming out soft and fond and even though he says it quietly it carries across the room and catches his attention.

“C’mere, I saved you a seat, yeah,” he says, tilting his head to the empty spot next to him. Louis gives him a small nod in response, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a shy smile aimed at Harry, everyone else in the room fading away.

He moves around the group, greeting the other boys as he does and makes it to Harry’s side, sitting down next to him. After that night Louis expects it to be weird between them, awkward tension and stolen glances so he’s surprised to find how easy it is to be around Harry again, how easy it is to fall into the rhythm that the two of them share. It’s as if just being in Harry’s presence, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin in the cold autumn morning is enough to settle his bones and wash the unwanted feelings away.

They share a secret glance, just for the two of them and Harry breaks into a wide grin. His eyes crinkle and deep dimples form in his cheeks. He’s got his body tilted towards Louis, blocking the rest of the group out and he looks so at ease like this, inside the bubble they’ve created between the two of them. Louis can’t help but smile back at him, wondering if Harry shines as bright to the rest of the world as he does to him.

"Hi," Harry mumbles, ducking his head to press a hesitant kiss to Louis's temple. The move is so gentle, as if he’s asking permission, asking if this is where they stand. And there’s nothing Louis wants more than the turn his head and capture Harry’s lips in a kiss, but this isn’t the place or the time and he thinks that for the first time in his life he finds himself wanting to be cautious about what they have, doesn’t want to rush into the burning flames as he’s found himself doing in the past.

“Hi,” he stutters out, feeling himself going shy under Harry’s consistent stare.

He crouches down and noses at Louis's temple, blowing a raspberry against his skin, causing him to let out a small giggle. Louis slaps his hand over his mouth, muffling the sound, not wanting it to escape from their bubble. Harry laughs in response and presses a soft kiss to his earlobe and whispers a quiet missed you.

Louis bites his lip and turns around to look at Harry who’s got another grin plastered across his face. His eyes trail down to Louis's lips for a second and Louis follows the movement, watches Harry’s stare linger for a beat too long.

“Missed you too,” Louis whispers and Harry’s eyes light up, blinding Louis in his state of aching heart and flushed cheeks.

Harry slips his hand underneath the desk and traces his fingers up Louis's thigh, the movement surprisingly sweet and lacking the promise of something else. He captures Louis's hand in his bigger one, twining their fingers and gives their clasped hands a small squeeze. And just like that, with that small gesture alone Louis feels the rest of the anxiety and nervousness fade away, leaving him feeling giddy and light in its place. Making him feel at ease and as if he’s finally come home, as if this is where he’s supposed to be, with Harry by his side, their bodies touching and everything else tuned out and forgotten.  

///

When Louis wakes up it’s early, the sun shining through the blinds, creating patterns on the sheets they’re nestled under.The light casts shadows over the dips of their bodies and fills the room with a soft yellow glow, illuminating the peaks of skin showing from underneath the covers. It’s still a bit cold but Harry’s got a tight grip on his waist and they’re lying close, their chests flush together, radiating heat off each other.

Louis moves slightly out of Harry’s grip as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, his surroundings going in and out of focus, waking him from the hazy state of his mind. When Harry realizes he’s awake he stirs slightly and grumbles into Louis's skin before drawing their bodies closer and gaping his mouth open and shut a few times, going back to sleep. Louis feels the corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smile at the sight and brings a hand to twine in Harry’s curls, brushing them out of his face. Harry hums his approval in response, small noises from the back of his throat escaping his lips.

Louis thinks it's kind of embarrassing how gone he is for Harry considering they’ve only been together for a few weeks, but there’s something about him that makes Louis want to let go of every bad feeling that’s taken root in his body just so he can give himself away, without all his baggage dragging him down. As if maybe the storm building in his bones will one day settle down and disappear with the passing wind and won’t drag him down, make his chest heavy with every taken breath. Having Harry as part of his life makes him feel like he can fully let go one day and let Harry have all of him, even with the scratches and bruises he got along the way.

He nudges Harry’s legs open so he can slip one of his own in between and immediately feels him tighten his grip around it. Louis pulls at the covers with his free hand and drags them up so they’re tucked under his chin before letting his head fall against Harry’s shoulder. He can feel his chest moving as his breaths come out in small puffs on top of his head. He closes his eyes and lets his full attention be on Harry’s breathing, feeling it settle into his body, making him feel safe.

He falls back asleep a few moments later, lulled into sleep by the warmth of Harry's arms and his monotone breaths, not being awaken until his alarm goes off some time later with a sound shriek, startling them both.

He rolls off Harry and turns around to slap the clock once, twice before it stops shrieking. He gives out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes for a second, the darkness familiar and comforting in the early hours of the morning. There’s too much light everywhere - the one coming through the blinds, the glowing numbers of his alarm clock, the small streams coming through the gap of the door. It’s all a quiet, muffled kind of light, but still there, shining bright as ever, still intruding on the comfort of their bubble.

He feels the cold tip of a nose against his neck, rubbing against the dip where it meets his shoulders and a muffled groan of come back i’m cold from behind him. When he turns back around he’s met with the image of Harry up close with half his face burrowed in the pillow, his body flipped on his stomach and arms hidden underneath the covers.

Louis runs a hand along his back, leaving ghost touches as Harry shivers in return and feels the corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smile as he watches Harry grumble, still half asleep.

“Morning,” he mumbles, still stroking up and down his back, warming it up.

“Morning, Lou,” Harry replies, his voice sleepworn and huskier than usual. He detaches his face from the pillow and turns so he’s on his side, facing Louis instead. He cracks an eye open, sneaking a peak at Louis who reaches forward and tugs at one of his curls sticking up, eliciting a small giggle from Harry.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asks, scolding his face into something serious but there’s still the hints of laughter on his face - the corners of his mouth turned up, the small dimples lingering and his eyes shining of warmth and joy, despite the dim haze surrounding the green.

His question sounds mundane, but it’s transparent in the way he know Louis doesn’t sleep well, lies awake at night, twisting in the sheets, his mind spinning with thoughts and feelings he can’t place, can’t figure out. He asks it carefully, the hint of questioning lingering even after he’s spoken the words, as if he doesn’t know what boundaries he can cross yet in their relationship. He bites his lips and his eyes track Louis's face for any trace of movement, any indication he took a wrong turn.

“Yes, I did, love,” Louis replies, his eyes crinkling at the sight of the smile taking over Harry’s face at his words. He circles his fingers around his neck and brings their bodies close together, their chests flush against one another and their feet slotting together in a tangled mess. He scoots forward on the bed, their faces inches apart and speaks directly into Harry’s mouth, “How could I possible not when I’ve got you in my bed,” he says and flashes a wide smile. Harry’s entire face seems to light up at this, any trace of sleepiness gone.

“You’re cute,” Louis says as he peeks a finger up to poke at Harry’s dimple.

“You’re pretty okay too,” he says as he brings his hand up to cover Louis's which is still placed on his cheek. He flattens it before twining their fingers together, bringing them down to his lips to place a tender kiss against the back of their clasped hands.

“Sap,” Louis says as he angles his face into the pillow, letting it muffle his quiet laughter.

“You like it though,” comes Harry’s reply as he drops their entwined fingers onto the covers in the small space between their bodies. Louis looks deep into his eyes, barely catching the undercurrent of insecurity to his words, it flashing by in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, I do,” he says with a small smile as he leans in and gives him a chaste kiss, their lips meeting for the first time that morning.

As kisses go it’s not their best, but despite morning breath and teeth clattering from the big smiles they got plastered on their faces, it’s nice. There’s not heat to it, no licking and tongues clashing together but there’s an odd sense of familiarity behind it and Louis finds himself thinking about how he wishes that he could kiss Harry good morning every day, bad breath and all.

///

It’s Saturday and they’re sitting on the couch, pretending to be interested in the X Factor but mainly sneaking glances at each other out of the corner of their eyes and making out during the ad breaks. They’re still stuck in the gross honeymoon phase as Niall likes to mention every time he sees them together. They’re always kissing, always touching in some way be it through hands around their waists or secret hands on knees underneath tables. They constantly get told about how sickening it is to be in their presence, those fucking heart eyes all over the place, fucking disgusting ‘s what it is , as Niall so eloquently once put it. But Louis think he’s secretly happy for him, can see it in the way Niall and Zayn look at Harry when they’re together - with warmth and acceptance, despite the small undercurrent of worry and protection. Happy he’s found someone and has let someone find him in return.

Their relationship is still new, just having had passed the one month mark, but Louis feels as if he knows Harry, as if he can trace his speech patterns and the difference in his voice when he’s lying or pretending to like something. That he knows how his face looks like when he’s in a good or bad or in between mood. He’s picked up on so much, the information storing itself in his mind bit by bit without him realizing, just taking it all in subconsciously. He knows Harry and he’d like to think Harry knows him just as well, knows what he likes and dislikes, when he’s having a rough day and how to handle it, knows how to make him feel safe and secure. Maybe it’s all of this combined that makes him bring up the subject on his own, without having anyone push him into it.

A girl has just finished her performance and they’re lazily making out with the judge’s voice in the background when Louis feels it hit him like a train, the need to know, to talk about it and he pulls back and rests their foreheads together. Harry brings his hand up to stroke Louis's cheek as he gives him a smile and kisses the corner of his mouth shyly.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, blinking his eyes closed even though he can still feel Harry’s stare boring into his eyelids.

“Yea, of course. Can ask me anything, Lou,” he replies slowly, his voice a bit hesitant. He’s still stroking his cheek in careful and gentle movements, his fingertips barely grazing his skin.

“Are you happy?” he asks after a few beats have passed, neither of them moving, staying locked in their embrace. He opens his eyes slowly and sees Harry slightly flinch at the question, but he doesn’t move away for which Louis's grateful. He stays still, his body as tense as Louis's fluttering heart feels in that moment.

Seconds pass, making it feel like minutes, hours, an infinite amount of time stuck on a loop with the question hanging between them in flashing colors, making Louis painfully aware of how he can’t take it back, how it’s already too late.

After letting it sink in for a moment Harry locks his gaze on Louis's again and replies a clear and steady, “Yes.”

“Why?” His voice comes out meek and shy in comparison to Harry’s strong one, a voice speaking of security in his words, one that doesn’t feel the lingering sense of doubt with every passing second.

Another couple of beats pass as Louis sees Harry ponder the question, twist it around in his mind, trying to come up with an answer.

“Because I can’t think of a reason not to be,” he says at last, swallowing before he continues, ”I mean, I have a great family and friends, I don’t have any problems, not real ones at least, none that can’t be solved but I think beyond those things I think I can always find small things in every situation that make me appreciate it, small things that make me smile and look at them in a positive light and so despite it being a few constant things there’s also all these little things that add to the whole picture. Does that make sense?” he finishes with a warm smile aimed at Louis, his eyes burning bright.

Louis nods and breaks Harry’s stare which has only grown more intense while he’s been speaking and settles it on their hands, lying in his lap. He rubs his thumb against the back of Harry’s hand and feels his eyes tracking the movement.

“So what makes you happy about this moment then?”

He sees Harry smile out of the corner of his eye before he takes a sharp breath and replies.

“It’s being here with you, just being near you and seeing your face and hearing you talk. It’s kissing you and being able to touch you and call you mine. You know, it all adds up and like even doing stupid, boring stuff is fun with you. I don’t know how to explain it, but I guess you make me kinda happy.”

Louis looks up at Harry and stares into his eyes and let’s go of their hands as he moves in to give him a hug. It’s a bit awkward with their limbs all entwined on Louis's small couch. But Harry pushes back against the armrest and Louis settles in between his spread legs, letting Harry’s big arms wrap around his shoulders and hold him tight. He feels Harry nuzzle into his hair and plant small kisses at his scalp before whispering a quiet,  “I hope one day you can be happy too, Lou, you deserve it .”

///

“I just want to escape,” Louis whispers one night.

They’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, Louis lying in Harry’s lap with his head resting against his chest and their feet entwined. Harry’s too tall for the small couch and he’s folded his body in half to not end up on the floor. He’s got his arms wrapped around Louis's middle with his chin hooked over his shoulder. Their position is slightly uncomfortable with their bodies being smushed together but neither of them are complaining or moving away.

They’re watching some sappy rom-com Harry had chosen because apparently there’s only so many action movies he can endure in one week. Louis had protested and said that there was absolutely no way in fucking hell we’re watching titanic or love actually again, harry. if i have to hear one more love declaration over weeping tears i’m kicking you out of the apartment. But Harry had just laughed and widened his eyes and pouted for a full minute before Louis had thrown his hands in the air and given in with a sigh and a bitter fine, letting him have his way.

Louis doesn’t look away from the screen, where the couple is busy making out, as he voices his thoughts. He doesn’t know what really prompted him to say it, what brought upon this train of thought, but now it’s out there, impossible to take back.

Harry fidgets a bit underneath him, taking a couple of controlled breaths before tightening his grip around him and unhooking his chin from his shoulder as he shuffles a bit so he’s sitting upright. He bends down to plant a kiss to the top of Louis's head before resting his cheek against it.

Louis closes his eyes and drags the blanket tighter around them before leaning further into Harry’s arms. They’re warm and he feels a sense of safety settling in his bones when he’s around Harry. They haven’t been together for long but he still feels more relaxed around him than he has around anyone in a long time. The only people who are a constant in his life besides his family are Niall, Zayn and Liam and he’d like to be able to permanently add Harry to that list too, he thinks.

“Where do you wanna go?” Harry asks from where he’s still got his head resting atop Louis own. “To escape, I mean,” he adds quickly as an after thought.

“I hadn’t really thought that far, I think it’s just the idea of getting away, of leaving it all behind, that’s appealing to me.”

Harry hums quietly against his scalp as he leans down to plant a path of open mouthed kisses along the side of Louis's neck. His lips brush over his pulse point, lingering for a beat, sucking on it, creating a small bruise that’s sure to still be there tomorrow. He leaves small pecks up to his jaw, over Louis's light stubble, the small hairs tickling him so his breaths come out hitched, in small hiccups.

“I’d like to just get in the car and drive without any direction whatsoever, just make turns whenever I felt like it and rely on the fact that I was going somewhere even though I didn’t know where to.”

Harry removes his lips from his jaw once he stops talking, setting his forehead against the side of Louis's head and breathing hotly. He lets out small puffs of air against his ear, waiting a few beats for Louis's words to settle in before whispering quietly, “ Let’s go.”

-

They end up throwing on jumpers over their sweats before quickly tugging on their shoes and beanies and locking the apartment, only leaving a rushed note on the kitchen table for Niall and Zayn to find in the morning, before they’re out the door. They pile into the car and before Louis can fully register what’s happening Harry’s taking a turn and leaving the dark of their street behind.

Louis hooks Harry’s iPod up to the car’s shitty stereo and fidgets with it for a few minutes, scrolling through albums and artists he’s never heard of, all marked by a blank space in his mind - anonymous, unknown. He finds a playlist named rainy sundays and clicks on it, hitting shuffle as the first song spills through the speakers. It fits the mood nicely, all slow with a build, harmonies and a soft beat in the background. The echos filling up the air and wrapping themselves around them, thrumming against their bodies.

Louis turns it down so there’s just a dull throb of it being heard above the running engine and leans back in his seat. He pulls his pack of cigarettes from the compartment box and opens the window as he lits one and takes a long drag, the smoke seeping through his body, extending itself to every fingertip, every toe, before he exhales into the chilly November night.

They drive for what feels like hours, days possibly, none of them speaking beyond a mumbled this song is nice in regards to the music playing low in the background. Their fingers lie laced together on Harry’s thigh with him rubbing soothing circles into the back of them. Louis watches the sharp cut of his profile, lit up from behind, creating a silhouette. He can make out the flutter of Harry’s eyelashes, the straight line of his jaw and the soft bow of his lips. With everything else soft and fuzzy Harry stands out clear, as if there’s a glow about him making him shine brighter than the rest.

He watches Harry while he drives, his free hand gripping the steering wheel, his fingers circled around it with his gaze flicking over to Louis in the passenger seat every few minutes. Each time he gives him a small, private smile and it’s nice and uncomplicated for once, Louis thinks. There aren’t expectations to be filled regarding his behaviour and he feels oddly at ease driving like this, without a destination in mind and Harry by his side.

Outside landscapes pass, everything rushing by in a blur of dark blues, illuminated by the glowing moon, creating light where it casts uneven shadows over the trees they pass. It’s like the sea within Louis, every shade darker than the other with speckles of light cast upon it. Harry’s laughter is his light, his kisses are his light, the way he holds his hand is his light and the ocean of emotions, splashing against each other like waves in a storm are his darkness, the one making him drown further and further down.

-

He doesn’t know for how long he’s been out for when he’s awoken by Harry hovering above him and unbuckling his seat belt. Louis still isn’t awake enough to fully register what’s happening but his body is telling him he doesn’t want to move, that he wants to continue sleeping. He tries telling Harry this but his voice comes out in a series of soft incoherent mumbles and he ends up crawling further into his own arms, giving up on trying to speak.

“Lou, babe, come on,” Harry ushers, his voice gentle and low as he runs a soothing hand down his back.

Louis just shakes his head slowly where it’s still nestled into his arms and grunts into the fabric of his shirt. Harry gives a low sigh and pulls Louis's arms away, ignoring his whines, and scoops him into his arms.

“I’m sorry, babe, I don’t wanna do this but you can’t fall asleep here, it’s not good for your back,” he coos as Louis instinctively wraps his legs around his waist and clings to him like a baby koala, engulfing in the warmth of Harry’s body.

“There we go,” Harry mumbles into Louis's shoulder as he hoists him up to get a better grip, his hands coming to rest around Louis's thighs, where they latch on.

He backs up a few steps from the car and balances Louis in one of his strong hands and goes to close the door. He does it quietly as to not jolt him anymore awake than he already is and opens the door to the backseat before carefully lowering Louis onto the blankets he’s spread out.

As soon as he’s down Louis reluctantly lets go of Harry and curls into himself as he hugs his knees to his chest. He shuffles around a bit before finding a comfortable position and lets out a long breath before feeling himself being pulled back into sleep.

The last thing he registers before dozing off is Harry mumbling a quiet “Night, Lou,” and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

///

The first snow hits in early December, right before christmas. They wake up one morning to snow filling up every surface - dusted across rooftops, the trees and the passing cars. It’s everywhere, everything shining white and bright in the dim morning light.

Louis's awoken by Harry covering his body with his own, draping himself across Louis's chest, crushing his bones. “It’s snowing,” he clumsily whispers into Louis's ear, his voice soft with sleep, but with an excited, almost childish, giddiness to it.

“Wha-” Louis croaks out, still in an inbetween state of being awake and sleeping. He blinks his eyes open slowly to be met with Harry’s beaming face inches from his own from where he’s hovering above him on the bed.

“Snowing ,” Harry whispers, a smile in his voice. He leans down and brushes a light kiss to Louis's forehead before he finds his hand peeking out of the covers and wraps his long fingers around Louis's small wrist and tugs at it.

“C’mere, I wanna see the snow, Lou,” he whispers as he sits backs on his heels and motions for Louis to follow him.

“Alright, relax, ‘m coming,” Louis mumbles and drags himself into an upwards position, blinking his eyes awake, losing the lingering feeling of sleep. Harry’s still tugging at his wrist and with a grumble he gets out of bed and let’s Harry lead them out of the room.

Louis pads after him into the living room where Niall’s sat on the couch, eating cereal and watching cartoons on tv. He’s wrapped up in a blanket, his head poking out of the layers with his hair in a soft fringe falling over his eyes, unlike his normal quiff. He waves at them with the hand holding the spoon as he scoops up some more cereal and continues munching on it. “‘Ello, morning,” he says when he finally swallows. “A bit early for you to be up, Lou, innit.”

“Fuck off,” Louis mumbles, aiming a stern look at him as Harry continues leading him forward, towards their small balcony, Louis reluctantly following him.

“‘M just saying, haven’t seen you up this early in ages. You must be a miracle worker, Harry.”

“Morning, Niall,” Harry chirps in reply, smile still plastered across his face as he pointedly ignores Louis's mumbled curse words aimed at Niall from behind him. “Didya see it’s snowing?” he asks with a nod towards the window, a smile in his voice as he looks out on the falling snowflakes.

“Yea, ‘s great, Harry,” Niall replies as they pass him before going back to his cartoons, chuckling at something happening on the screen.

The finally reach the balcony and Harry let’s go of Louis's wrist to jiggle the door open. He places a hand on Louis's lower back as he gets it open, leading him outside. It’s a tight fit as their balcony is far too small but Harry nudges him forward and goes to stand behind him, locking his arms around Louis's waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Louis leans back into Harry’s protecting arms and lets himself be engulfed in the warmth of Harry’s skin. He tilts his head up to sneak a glance at Harry who’s staring straight ahead at the snow. His eyes are opened wide and mouth shaped into an ‘o’. His face is shining with joy as his eyes move slowly, taking in every rustle of wind and every moving snowflake. He’s so mesmerized, so encaptured by it all and Louis's has never seen this side of him, this childish glow bubbling up, making him hopelessly endearing.

Louis pushes up on his tiptoes to nose at Harry’s jaw before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it. He mouths a quiet you’re so cute into Harry’s neck, embedding the words and pressing them into his soft skin. He presses another quick peck against it before placing his feet flat on the cold concrete and turning back to the falling snow. Harry tightens his arms around him and kisses the back of his head, mumbling a string of incoherent words that sound a lot like you’re cuter, making a smile sneak over Louis's face.

-

A while later they bundle up in thick sweaters and wrap knitted scarves around their necks and tug their beanies low over their ears and head out into the snow. Harry’s so eager, his words coming out in a jumbled rush and he’s practically skipping down the stairs, Louis following close behind, his face shining with laughter, with love for this ridiculous boy before him.

The chilly winter air wraps around them as they join the crowd of people milling the streets, all enjoying the first snow. Unlike most weekends the pace of the crowd is slow, no one is in a rush to get somewhere else, they all walk slow, taking it all in with every step, savoring it.

Louis slips his hand in Harry’s bigger one, interlocking their fingers. Harry looks down at the movement and squeezes their clasped hands. When he looks up to meet Louis's searching eyes his cheeks are tinted a light pink and there’s a small, private smile tugging at his lips. Louis gives him one in return, scrunching his face together to hear Harry’s quite, vibrating giggle.

Harry looks like winter with his eyes shining bright with their radiating green against the muted colors of their surroundings. His eyelashes are speckled white from the falling snow and there’s snowflakes braided into the stray curls peaking out from underneath his beanie. His chapped lips are rosy from the cold, matching the pink spreading across his face. He looks so at ease, so happy and relaxed in his languid movements and his everlasting light has never shined quite as bright as it does when his eyes flicker over Louis's face and he leans forward to brush a kiss against his lips.

Louis brings his free hand to thumb at his jaw as presses a light kiss to Harry’s nose that’s turned red from the unrelenting wind. Harry’s breathing comes out in a series of puffs of air, warming up Louis's cold skin from where they’re stood close, his circulation easing up again as he’s hit with the warmth.

They eventually make it to the small coffee shop at the end of the street and manage to grab a table near the back, by the widow. Harry leans his face forward in his hands and gazes out at the rustle of people and the flecks of snow falling to the ground, creating a white net over their surroundings. He’s got a small smile painted across his face, a small dimple on display, a feeling of light satisfaction settled over him.

Louis hooks his ankles around Harry’s underneath the table and watches him watch the snow. They sit in lapsing silence amidst the bustle of voices and activity surrounding them. Sometimes they don’t need words, their faces and eyes telling stories of their own, he thinks. The silence is comforting, leaves him feeling content as he cradles the cup of hot chocolate in his hands, letting the warmth seep into his skin and heat him up from the cold. Harry turns toward him and his eyes go soft when their eyes lock on one another. Louis's lips purse into a smile above the rim of the cup and Harry reaches out for his hand on the table, locking Louis's pinky with his own in a secret promise that goes unspoken.

-

When they get back to the apartment Harry brings his laptop into the kitchen and places it on the counter. He fiddles with it for a few minutes as Louis's untangles himself from the various layers of clothing in the hall and kicks off his shoes. When he’s done he pads out into the kitchen to join Harry who’s bent over the computer, his shoulders hunched as he clicks around the screen.

Louis goes to glance over his shoulder and startles a laugh when he’s met with Harry’s christmas playlist. “Is that Michael Bublé,” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Yes, Louis, have you heard his christmas album, it’s amazing,” Harry deadpans, his face serious, lacking the amusing glint of Louis's eyes.

“If you say so, babe,” Louis replies, the corners of his lips tilting up into a smile as Harry turns back to his computer and continues fiddling with it for a few more seconds before loud music spills through the empty apartment, the slow beat filling up the room.

Harry turns and waggles his eyebrows as he shakes his hips and shimmies towards Louis, singing along loudly to the music. He comes up to Louis and wraps his arms around him, moving them along to the music. Louis groans and locks his hands around Harry’s neck, burying his face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. Harry lets out a bubbling laugh, slurring on the words as he peppers Louis's hair with small butterfly kisses.

“Louu, ” he whines and nudges at Louis's jaw with his nose, pecking it lightly. “Sing with me.”

Louis groans again in response, shaking his head, the fabric of Harry’s sweater dragging against his skin. “I don’t sing, you know that,” he says, the words coming out muffled.

“Don’t lie, Lou, I’ve heard you sing, you know,” Harry replies, voicing his disbelief. He leans down and places his lips against Louis's ear, singing along to the song. His voice is as deep and raspy as his speaking voice, ringing clear and in tune to the music. “Think of all the fun I've missed, think of all the hotties that I never kissed ,” he drawls out, his voice sending shivers down Louis's spine.

“Next year I could be just as good, if you'd check off my christmas list, ” he sings, his voice dropping low, filled with intent behind the words. Louis stops a moan from escaping his lips at Harry’s husky voice and digs his nails into the skin of his neck, leaving bruises with how hard he’s pressing down.

“Shut up , Harry,” he groans, “you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Harry laughs and continues singing, swaying them to the slow beat of the song. “Santa baby, there's one thing I really do need, the deed - Lou, sing with me already,” he breaks off to hiss and nudges at Louis with his hip.

Louis untucks his head from Harry’s neck and rolls his eyes as he gives in and sings along with him, their voices - Harry’s raspy and sharp while Louis's soft and light - melting together in perfect harmony. Harry’s face splits into a giant grin as he keeps singing and Louis's leans forward, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss, drowning out the words.

“You’re so stupid,” he mumbles when their lips part and he shakes his head slowly, his eyes crinkling with joy as Harry laughs and hugs his waist tighter, pressing them closer together so their chests line up. He blows a series of raspberries against Louis's face, stopping every few seconds to laugh. Louis's screams and bats at Harry’s shoulder, trying to push him away but Harry’s bigger and has got a strong grip on his smaller frame.

“No way, Lou, this is what you get for making fun of me,” he mumbles into the soft skin of Louis's cheek as his laughter mixes with Louis's own, filling up the apartment with the music still playing in the background.

-

“Louis, stop , you’re doing this on purpose,” Harry whines an hour later when they’ve got the kitchen set up. They bought a gingerbread house kit at Tesco’s earlier and have it splayed out on the table with various baking supplies they apparently own, the laptop moved to the counter where it’s still playing christmas songs.

“There’s no way you’re this bad at it,” Harry continues, batting at Louis's hand when he picks up the wrong piece for the third time in the past few minutes. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Hey , don’t be mean,” Louis says, hip checking Harry and picking up some of the flour and flicking it at his face, letting out a quiet laugh when Harry flinches and furrows his brow.

“You’re such a menace,” Harry says and sighs deeply as he goes to scan over the instructions for the house, bringing a hand to wipe at his face. “Alright, so this piece,” he mumbles to himself as he picks up the right one, ignoring Louis's protests in the background, “goes here. Okay, alright then.” His eyes linger on the picture for a few more seconds before he goes to pick up the icing that’s lying on the table.

“Harreh , lemme me, I can do it,” Louis whines, making grabby hands at the icing from where he’s stood on the other side of the table.

“Lou…” he says, slowly looking back and forth between the package and Louis. He’s got his face scolded into his most innocent look, his features softened and a small smile on his lips, hoping to win Harry over. “You promise you won’t ruin it again, we’re gonna run out of icing if you keep drawing dicks, you know,” Harry sighs as Louis nods his head quickly, his face lighting up.

“Promise,” he rushes out and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek which prompts him to laugh and hand the icing over with his best stern look. He’s got a fond smile on his face though and soon his eyes give in and go soft as well.

Louis bites his bottom lip in concentration as he squeezes the tube to create a thick line of icing across the piece of gingerbread Harry’s holding in his hands. When he’s managed to create a somewhat straight line he throws his hands in the air with a smile splitting his face in half and let’s out a loud whoop and punches the air.

“Told you I wouldn’t fuck up,” he says as he sticks his tongue out at Harry who rolls his eyes in reply and goes back to the reading the instructions, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Good job, Lou, where was this twenty minutes ago when you kept breaking the walls of our house though.”

“It wasn’t on purpose! ” Louis cries out, an offended hand to his chest. “How dare you insinuate such lies,” he continues in his loud, dramatic voice, riling Harry up. “You know I would never. This house is the heart and soul of our relationship. Honestly, Harry.”

Harry spares him an unimpressed look over his shoulder with a muttered sure it is under his breath at which Louis pinches his hip and sprays his cheek with icing in retaliation.

“Louis! ” Harry shrieks when the cold cream hits his skin. “Wha- Stop it! ”

“Shh, I’m almost done,” he fusses and continues shaping the smiley on Harry’s cheek. He’s almost completed the mouth when Harry pushes at his shoulders, making him lose his balance, the white line going crooked.

“You ruined it, ” he says and nudges Harry back which causes them to break out into a wrestling match. Harry’s bigger but Louis's still got the icing in his hand and it works as his advantage. He squeezes some into the palm of his hand and smashes it into Harry’s face, rubbing it around, getting icing everywhere.

“Lou-” Harry shouts, pushing at his chest with one hand while the other one picks up some m&ms from the table and starts throwing them at Louis.

“You little shit, ” Louis hisses as he ducks from the flying candies. Harry starts cackling, his voice loud and the way Louis likes it the most - when it’s as if the laughter is being ripped out of his body, coming out in barks. He grabs the bag and runs around the table, throwing them at Louis as he goes along.

Louis picks up the other bag and follows him, shouting curse words as he deflects flying m&ms while simultaneously trying to hit Harry with his own. He rounds the couch and picks up a pillow to hold against his face. The soft thud of the candy hitting the floor can be heard over their booming voices and the music still playing from the kitchen, all of it melting together in mismatched synchronization.

“I hate you so much,” he shouts and Harry’s laughter comes from the other side of the room with a series of red candies. “You too, Lou. Hate you the most.”

///

Niall drags them out to a New Year’s Eve party and Louis's reluctant at first, doesn’t know if he wants to be around so many people, if he’s up for it, if his mind and body are. But Niall talks about it for a week straight, seemingly unaware of Louis hesitation, mentioning small bits about it every chance he’s given -  how apparently they’ve hired a dj and there’s talk of being a champagne fountain and how it’s the party of the year , as he exclaims once a day. He seems so genuinely excited, as if he can barely contain his joy and the boys all roll their eyes at him, but all love him far too much to ask him to stop talking about it, to darken his light.

When there’s a week left everyone’s on board but Louis. He hasn’t said no, but hasn’t agreed either, always changing the topic or turning it into a question when he’s asked. The other’s watch him with wary eyes and looks that ask if he’s okay but he just gives them a tightlipped smile and a shake of his head that translates into it’s no big deal and they go back to their lives, leaving him alone for the time being.

Niall however doesn’t pick up on any hesitation on Louis's part and asks him about it constantly. Even when he isn’t asking, Louis can see the question sitting on the tip of his tongue, leaving it unspoken. Because Louis can see that he tries to be patient, to give him space, but can’t help himself, he just wants it so much that he’s crippled by his excitement and childish naivety.

Louis still isn’t sure by the time he agrees to it but Niall’s face splits into a giant grin and he bounces over to Louis, wrapping him up in a giant hug, manhandling him over to the couch where Liam and Zayn are sitting playing Fifa and he tackles him into the pillows, the two of them halfheartedly wrestling. He thinks then that maybe he can do this, for Niall’s sake if not for his own.

Niall reluctantly lets go of him once Louis twist his nipple and he lets out a loud shriek as he untangles their limbs. Before standing up straight he smacks a wet kiss to Louis's forehead and throws him a wink before turning and heading off in the direction of the kitchen. Louis groans in response from his position on the couch and brings the sleeve of his shirt up to wipe at his forehead, muttering curses about irish leprechauns under his breath as he goes to sit up once again.

-

Later that night when they’re cuddled together on the balcony, sharing a cigarette, Harry tells him he doesn’t have to go, that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, that Niall will understand. He mumbles the words softly into the crook of Louis's neck while rubbing soothing circles into his thigh, making him feel safe, feel comforted.

And Louis gets it, gets that of course Harry’s seen the way he’s been getting fidgety and nervous  whenever the question’s been brought up, because Harry’s always there, always looking out for Louis. So he doesn’t know why they comes as a surprise, his words.

“I know, babe, but I want to. I think- I think I can do it, you know. I feel like it won’t be so bad.” He pauses to take a breath, to figure out how to convey what he’s feeling into words.

Harry wraps the blanket tighter around them and presses a light kiss behind Louis's ear as he draws him back, flush against his chest so he’s spooning him, urging him to go on at his own pace.

Louis takes a long drag and exhales the smoke into the cold winter night before saying, “I guess it won’t be bad because you’ll be there with me, Harry.” He feels himself letting his walls down slowly as he turns the cigarette around between his fingers. He taps it gently and as the ash falls to the ground, he feels as if maybe he isn’t setting himself on fire anymore. Maybe Harry is his flame now.

He takes one last drag, the smoke filling his lungs, before he says, “It’s as if you make me feel secure, you make me feel strong.” You make me less afraid.

He feels Harry’s warm breath puffing against his ear as he hums in response before whispering a quiet, “You too, Lou, you too,” and kissing him softly once, twice on the cheek.

-

When New Year’s finally rolls around, Louis finds himself feeling oddly calm about it all. Ever since the night on the balcony Harry’s been extra supportive, always giving him gentle touches and lingering kisses, letting him know in every way he can that he’s there, that he’s sticking around and Louis has never felt more secure in their relationship. They haven’t been together for long but he think he might be in love with Harry. He hasn’t told him yet but can feel Harry taking root in his heart and claiming a piece of it. He feels so overtaken with love sometimes, so close to saying it, but never does, always relying on the voices in his head telling him reasons not to.

He almost tells Harry he loves him during one of their movie nights where they’re all sprawled out on the floor. Liam and Niall are sitting facing each other, bickering about what movie to watch next. It’s all big gestures and empty insults. Meanwhile, Zayn has opted to move to the big armchair they dragged home from some yard sale and is sitting playing snake on his shitty Nokia, tuning out the world around him. Harry’s leaning against the couch, Louis sitting with his back pressed to his front and with his hands splayed low on Louis's stomach. He thinks that this is probably his favorite thing in the world - being held by Harry. He never feels more at home than when Harry’s got his strong arms wrapped around him, shielding him from everything that exists outside the bubble that is harryandlouis, holding him tight and comforting him from every bad feeling swimming through his head.

Harry’s stroking his hair absently as he watches Louis scrolling down his twitter feed from over his shoulder. It’s nothing special, they do this all the time, but Louis finds comfort in the domesticity of it all. He shows Harry a particularly funny tweet and feels his barking laughter fill him up, vibrating underneath his skin, stealing yet another bit of his heart. He feels his love for this boy, the boy that tries his hardest to protect him from the monsters inside his head, hit him out of nowhere. He’s never really registered it before but he thinks he might of been in love with Harry from the start, from the first time he caught sight of his him . As Harry noses at the side of Louis's face and plants a sweet kiss at his temple he feels himself so close to just blurting it out, to whispering it into Harry’s skin where only he can hear it, keeping it inside their bubble. But he knows he’s not ready, that they’re not ready, so he doesn’t.

Instead he turns around in Harry’s embrace and wraps his arms around his neck and gives him a series of chaste kisses. He doesn’t stop kissing Harry, not even when Niall and Liam stop their bickering to shout about how this is a kissing free zone. Not even when they start throwing popcorn at them or when Harry giggles into his mouth and Louis feels his love for him overtake every part of his body, threatening to burst from the intensity of it.

///

It’s four hours to midnight and Louis is bored. He finds himself alone in the kitchen somehow, ditched by Niall once again after he found another friend of his. The clock on the wall is inching closer to midnight with every passing second, the ticking of it a constant reminder of how close the new year is, how close to a new beginning it is, to a new chapter. He wonders why it’s automatically thought of as a new leaf with the beginning of a year, as if everything’s erased and starts over - it’s not as if he’s gonna wake up the next morning with nothing but a pounding head and aching body, as if he’s gonna feel better, as if something will have clicked into place.

He’s surrounded by people stood in small groups, all making conversation above the loud music coming from the living room. And it hits him how out of place he finds himself feeling amongst these strangers, these unknown people with unfamiliar faces who speak of things he can’t find the strength to care for. He doesn’t want to talk about exams and school and stress, doesn’t want to be reminded of it all. Doesn’t want to be brought back to dusty halls and never ending lectures. He finds himself zoning out of their conversation more than once, letting the low hum of their voices fill out the empty space between them.

He looks around the room, taking his time registering it all  - there’s empty beer bottles and red cups littering the kitchen counter. There’s two girls stood close together by the fridge, one of them complaining about the magnets sticking into her back and the one with the nose ring laughing in response. There’s a pack of melting ice cream stood on the kitchen table someone must’ve taken out in their drunken haze. There’s an open window, letting the chilly December air seek its way into the room. And there’s Zayn stood directly in the doorway, taking a sip of his beer and raising his eyebrows in a greeting.

Once Louis spots him and their eyes meet, they maintain eye contact for a few seconds before he walks across the room, elbowing his way through the small crowd that’s gathered and goes to stand next to Zayn. He leans against the wall, his head tilting back with a small thump. He let’s  it roll to the side and looks at Zayn, a grin cast over his face as he knocks their hips together.

“Hey, Lou,” he says and gives Louis a shy half smile above the rim of his beer before he takes another long sip and brings it down to cradle against his chest.

“Hey, did Niall ditch you too?” Louis asks, focusing his stare on Zayn and the strong lines of his profile, from the sharp cut of his cheekbones to his stubbled jaw, being lit up from behind by the flickering lights coming from the living room. They create a halo around his dark hair, his skin becoming golden, small specks of lightning making it glow like a thousand small stars mapped out over the cuts of his face.

Zayn laughs at that and shakes his head, facing Louis with a smirk on his lips, an amused look in his glossy eyes.

“Nah, he’s around here somewhere, last time I saw him he was playing footie in the main hall with that kid from his music class,” he explains with a nod in the direction of the living room, leading out into the rest of the house.

“Oh, yeah. He left me a while back, found some kid he apparently knew. Must be hard being the life of the party,” he sighs, his voice turning sarcastic.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you. Wasn’t that long ago you were up there on tables with him, dancing, drunk off your ass.”

“Yeah, well, things change, I suppose,” Louis says and gives a dry laugh  before exhaling a deep breath, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders leave his body. He brings his beer up to his mouth, taking a long sip, feeling the warmth of it float down his throat and through his body.

“You okay,” Zayn asks as he clinks their beers together and shoots Louis a look laced with concern. He knows Zayn cares for him, knows he didn’t really want to go, would’ve rather stayed in. Knows that as much as he loves parties and the crowds he sometimes needs his alone time, same as Louis knows Zayn needs his. They all deal with it differently, he supposes. He needs to go into hermit mood every once in a while, shut himself out from the world, just focus on himself, while Zayn needs to spend days obsessing over his latest art project, cooped up in his bed room. It’s the same in so many ways just as it isn’t in so many others. It all comes down to the way they’re wired, he figures, how they’re mapped out to deal with their inner battles, how they choose to go on living.

“Yeah, I guess. Kinda lonely here, innit,” he says as he gives a small shrug in response, avoiding Zayn’s intense stare. He looks down on the floor instead, littered with trash from the on going party around them. He nudges his feet together, his ratty vans overlapping and he flicks at their sides, pushing down on the rubber, keeping himself occupied.

Zayn bumps their shoulders together, catching Louis's attention before he tugs him off the wall by throwing an arm around his waist, squeezing him tight and leading him out of the kitchen, into the corridor. “Let’s find you your boy, yeah.”

Louis rolls his eyes at the nickname and elbows Zayn in the ribs, but his mind fills with images of Harry’s face, making his chest ache with want, with feelings of missing him. He gives in, letting Zayn lead him out of the room and mumbles a quiet yeah under his breath as they step into the sea of people.

-

An hour later he’s dancing with Harry in the cramped living room. They’re surrounded by sweaty bodies moving in tune to the sound of Alex Turner singing about messy relationships in his long drawl, adding heat to the room. There’s arms around waists, hands squeezing hips, lips locked on lips, bodies moving in sync, melting into one.

Louis is wrapped around Harry, their chest pressed closed together, trapping the warmth in between their bodies. He’s got his hands around Harry’s neck while Harry’s slowly tracing his over Louis's shoulders, down along his back, over his hips and down to his ass, fitting his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, his thumbs tugged into Louis's belt loops.

Their foreheads are pressed together, their breathing ragged and their mouths so close together that they inhale and exhale the same air, moving it between their bodies. The pant into each other’s mouths, their breathing speeding up, coming out in hiccups through short bursts of air.

They crowd closer, their bodies moving in sync to the beat, all slow and languid movements that make time slow down as Louis grinds down his hips against Harry’s. He lets out a shaky breath in reply, fitting his mouth behind Louis's ear, sucking hard. He goes over it, altering the suction until the skin’s turned red, visible despite the darkened room. He leans down and bites softly, his teeth grazing the gentle skin before leaving a final, gentle peck in its place. Louis grinds down harder in response, digging his nails into the fragile skin of Harry’s neck, leaving his own marks as he lets out a soft moan and leans his head against Harry’s shoulder, panting for air.

He turns and presses a soft kiss to Harry’s neck, keeping it sweet despite the air of sweat and sex. He moves one of his hands down Harry’s back, tracing his spine with the tip of his fingers, leaving the faintest of touches as he trails down to his lower back and places them on Harry’s hips, marvelling in the feel of skin on skin where Harry’s shirt has bunched up.

Louis can’t seem to settle his hands in one place, wanting to take it all in. They squeeze Harry’s hips, move up and down his sides, leaving phantom touches as they go along. He brings them up to push Harry’s curls out of his face, tucking some stray ones behind his ear. He kisses the corner of his mouth and Harry turns his head, capturing their lips in a proper kiss.

He opens his mouth willingly and Harry catches his bottom lip in between his and sucks gently. Louis nudges his hips, their dicks accidentally brushing and Harry breaks away, letting out a small moan before he surges forward and licks into Louis mouth. It’s hot and Louis feels wanted. He can feel Harry’s hard dick pressing into his hip, his sweaty hands on his ass, his tongue tracing patterns inside his mouth. Louis can feel how much Harry wants this and how much he wants it in return.

“Feels so good,” Harry mumbles into his mouth, licking his lips before pressing a hard kiss to Louis's lips. His tongue tastes of vodka, of beer, as it licks into Louis mouth, making Louis savour the taste of Harry’s night mixed with his own.

“Mm, babe,” Louis replies distantly as he nibbles gently at Harry’s bottom lip. He feels his entire body fade away as he the alcohol runs through his bloodstream. He feels drunk on Harry, on their bodies touching, moving, becoming one.

Harry’s hot and flustered in front of him, kissing him as if it’s his only mission in life, letting out soft moans in between and grinding his hips down hard, pushing for the same reaction out of Louis. At a particularly hard kiss, one that leaves his head floating, he feels himself giving in with a low whine. He’s letting out the same soft moans and gasps in return only to feel Harry squeeze his ass harder, pressing their chests closer together. He traces a hand up to rub his fingers at the small of Louis back, carefully rucking his shirt, pressing his cold hands against his skin.

At the contact Louis breaks apart and hisses and knocks their foreheads together. “You shit,” he mumbles and smacks Harry’s hand away before placing them around his neck again.

“You love it,” Harry whispers, a laugh in his voice and he presses a soft peck to Louis cheek before kissing him on the lips again.

And yeah, Louis thinks, he kind of does.

-

They’re cramped together on the small couch, Louis curled up in Harry’s lap. He’s only had a few drinks, nowhere near drunk, but still feels the heat from alcohol burning his skin. His head feels like it’s swimming, his surrounding going in and out of focus. He’s tired, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him and his eyelids feel heavy, fighting to stay open.

He sniffles a bit as he closes his droopy eyes and leans his head against Harry’s chest. He  grabs a hold of Harry’s shirt and shuffles sideways, trying to find a comfortable position. At his sudden movement, Harry snaps his head up from the conversation he’s having with Liam and looks down at Louis, wiggling around in his lap.

“You okay, babe,” he says gently as he cards his fingers through Louis's fringe, moving it from where it’s fallen into his eyes.

Louis makes a noncoherent sound in response and finally settles, content in his position. He melts into Harry’s chest, his skin burning through the fabric of his shirt, creating a cocoon of warmth.

“Yeah, I‘m fine,” he replies, his voice slowing down with every spoken word.

Harry wraps his arms around him, holding him in place against his body. He sprawls them across Louis's stomach, making small circles over the bunched up fabric of his shirt.

“You look a bit sleepy, love. You wanna take a nap? You can stay here, it’s fine by me.”

Louis tilts his head up and Harry meets his gaze, giving him a private smile before he leans down and brushes their lips together in a gentle kiss. It’s barely a peck but Louis can feel a warmth spread through his body at the contact, collecting under his skin, creating a soft buzz.

“You sure?”

“Of course, sleep it off, babe. It’ll make you feel better.” Harry presses a kiss to the top of his head before he laces their fingers together, tugging Louis towards him. Louis stares at him for a few moments, a sleepy smile breaking out across his face before he places his head back on Harry’s chest, closing his eyes and drifting off into sleep, a smile still stuck on his lips.

-

When he wakes up he’s alone. He looks around the room quickly, no one else around. The others must’ve left while he was sleeping and Harry’s nowhere to be found. He’s lying sprawled out on the couch, hugging a pillow with a blanket thrown across his body, no doubt Harry’s work.

He lets out a stifled yawn and looks out across the room. They were sitting in an office on the bottom floor. Earlier there’d been a couple of people milling around the room but now it’s empty except for Louis. There’s two glass doors opening up to a balcony on his left and through the glass he can make out a few people spread out on the back porch, all huddled together in the cold and sharing cigarettes over shaky fingers.

Through the closed door he can hear the soft thud of the party still going on in other parts of the house. The music has become muffled from traveling through the house but Louis can still feel the bass vibrate against the walls and pulsate through his body. It’s filling up the small space of the room, bouncing against the bookshelves, spinning around in circles, hitting him from every side.

Louis kicks the blanket off his body and stretches his curled up legs, feeling his muscles pop. His entire body slowly starts relaxing as he rolls his shoulders and tilts his head back against the armrest, feeling the knots tied into his muscles untwining themselves.

He fishes his phone out of the pocket of his tight jeans and pushes the home button, making his screen light up with a picture of the five boys. Niall had taken it during Halloween and they’re all dressed up and making stupid faces into the camera. Liam’s looking terrifying as the Joker next to Zayn’s effortlessly cool Batman. Niall had slacked off, only throwing on his Real Madrid kit, a last minute costume as he’d put off getting a proper one until the same day. Harry and Louis had gone as matching Hogwarts students. Harry as a Ravenclaw and Louis as a Slytherin. (“ You know, our colors match our eyes. Blue for Lou.” “Fuck off” “I’m just saying” ) They’re sitting the furthest away from the camera and right before the photo had been taken, Louis had snuck his hand around Harry to give his cheek a small pinch. Harry had started giggling and his face is slightly blurry in the pic but it’s radiating happiness with his eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpling.

Louis unlocks it and ignores his old twitter notifications to type out a quick message to Harry, asking him where they are. He hasn’t been online for a few hours but Louis still sits with the conversation open for a couple of seconds before he locks his phone again and squeezes it back into his pocket.

He pushes to his feet and drags his fingers through his tousled hair as he walks across the room. He opens the door and makes his way out to the party, deciding to look for Harry and the rest of the boys. It’s quiet in the corridor, only a couple of people huddled together but as he makes it further into the house, the amount of people increases. He feels their presence get under his skin, mingling with the soft buzz of the alcohol still in his bloodstream from earlier. The nap made it fade out, made the room spin less, but he can still feel its heat radiating within his body.

Louis fishes his phone out for something to do with his fidgety hands and checks it, but there are no new notifications, his messages to Harry still unread. A lingering feeling of disappointment washes over his body as he mindlessly scrolls through his feed for something to do. When a few beats have passed without a new message popping up he gives in and pockets it again. He’s made it to the center of the house by now, people huddled around him in groups. He pushes his way through the sea of people to get to the living room, where their chatter mixes with the loud music blasting from the speakers. He quickly scans the room, letting his eyes roam over the dancing crowd for his friends familiar faces but doesn’t find anyone and turns away from the doorway, slightly disappointed.

★

He moves into a corridor and suddenly the room feels too hot, too cramped. There’s people filling out every inch of the tiny space, packed against the walls, talking above the music. He looks around as he suddenly becomes aware of just how close they are, how they’re peering in on the edge of his private space. He tries turning around to create some distance for himself but accidentally crashes into a girl, making the drink in her hand shake from their collision, spilling some of it on her dress. He doesn’t have time to take in her reaction before he’s mumbling a sorry and brushing past her. He needs to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. With every passing second he feels his body tensing up more and more, the anxiety settling in his body, letting the familiar feeling of it all hit him like a tidal wave.

He hasn’t had a panic attack in so long, has let Harry whisk him away from it all, keeping his mind occupied. Even when he’s felt it all coming back he’s pushed it aside, ignored his aching bones, cuddling closer to Harry under the covers, letting sleep take him under.

So for it to come back so easily, seemingly out of nowhere, feels like a betrayal. He feels as if his body is caving in on him, flooding him with unwanted emotions. It’s a sense of comfort he doesn’t want, he doesn’t want for it to feel like a security - to know that he can fall back so easily, as if all the time in between has merely been a blur, a nothingness to fill out the void.

Louis pushes his way through the crowd, frantically searching for somewhere to hide, somewhere he can get away from it all. He feels the walls closing in on him, the people crowding further into his space with every step he takes. It’s all suffocating him, crawling against his skin, collecting at the end of his throat. He feels it all start to kick in - the sweating, the panic burning his skin, the trembling. He can hear his heart beating loud against his chest, ta-thump-ta-thump , it goes.

He rushes past the kitchen where he can hear Niall’s laughter bouncing against the walls, hitting him as he stumbles his way forward. He rounds the corner and is finally met with a quiet corridor. There’s only a few people around, standing in pairs, a few of them making out against the wall. His eyes blink rapidly, shooting glances at the people, but none of them are paying attention to him as he makes his way down to the bathroom.

Louis turns the knob and feels a wave of relief hit him as he realizes it’s unoccupied. He walks into the small room and closes the door behind him. His legs give in as he slides against the door, sitting down on the cold tiles. His breathing is rapid, coming out in small puffs, ringing out clear in the empty room. He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his body. He holds it in, feels the air trapped within the walls of his body and exhales through his mouth after a few beats and closes his eyes. The darkness leaves him feeling content, takes him away from the party happening on the other side of the door for a moment, reminds him of sleep, of drifting away.

He presses the tips of his fingers against his eyelids, trying to keep the tears inside. He adds more and more pressure as the lump in his throat grows and the beating of his heart speeds up. He isn’t bothered by the stabbing pain shooting through his body, by the added weight, instead he needs it as a reminder that he’s alive, that he’s still here despite his body’s attempt at telling him otherwise. The pain is the only thing grounding him and he doesn’t know whether that scares him or not, the realization that he’s so reliant on it.

Instead he concentrates on settling his breathing - inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. He feels his body’s shudders grow less and less intense with each breath and the tension slowly seep its way out of his body. A few tears have managed to escape and his lashes are wet, sticking together. He blinks his eyes open and brings his hand up to thumb underneath his eyes, to wipe the tears away.

The lump in his throat is slowly untangling itself and he feels the hit of panic slowly disappear and fade back to where it came from. Everytime he exhales he tells himself he’s removing a small part of it in the process, and by the time he will have calmed down, the anxiety and feeling of bone crushing pain will be gone as well.

He lets his head hit the back of the door with a small thud as he hugs his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, curling in on himself and trying to feel as small as possible. The lump in his throat is still making it hard to breathe and his glassy eyes are blurring his surroundings, making it hard to see. He closes them again, blinking hard to let the tears stream down his face as he does his best to regulate his breathing, to calm himself down.

The hardest part is always giving in to what’s happening, letting himself drown before he can attempt to swim to the surface again, he thinks. To let his body fill itself with the anxiety, with the water and feel it go under, get wrapped up in the waves and feel it sink to the bottom. It’s the scariest part, the one of choosing to let go in order to get back up again. The hesitation between the two, the lingering feeling of what will happen.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the door behind him. It startles him, makes him snap his head up, his eyes widened.

“Lou, ar-are you in there?” Harry's voice comes a second later. It’s laced with worry, with hesitation. He’s speaking quietly, his voice barely carrying through the wooden door.

Louis feels his heart rate shoot off, all his efforts of calming himself in vain. It all moves so fast, he barely registers the before and after as his body is hit all over again. Suddenly the lump is in his throat, closing it up, spreading through his body, numbing it bit by bit. His vision goes blurry as his eyes rim with tears and his breathing speeds up, coming out in a series of shaky breaths.

He’s screwed, fucked, done for. Harry’s found him and he knows he can hear him on the other side of the door as he continues to fight for air. Knows he’s probably worried sick and has no idea what’s happening to Louis right now. How could he, he’s never seen him like this. He’s never seen him lose all control and completely give in to the demons inside of his head.

He contemplates telling Harry to fuck off but despite the comfort in being left alone he doesn’t want to hurt him. Doesn’t want him to feel one tenth of how shitty he’s currently feeling, never wants to do that to him. So when Harry goes to ask again if he’s in there, Louis chokes out a quiet yes and scrambles away from the door, crawling a few steps so he’s sitting on the fuzzy rug in the middle of the bathroom and facing the door.

Louis hugs his knees to his chest again and leans his forehead against the top of them. He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the bright light from above. He hears the soft sound of the door creaking open and Harry’s shoes over the threshold, squeaking as he makes his into the room.

“ Lou!” he cries out when he sees Louis curled up on the floor, his voice breaking. He slams the door shut, making Louis jump in surprise as he rushes over to where he’s sat, placing himself in front of him on the floor.

“Babe, are you- Lou, Lou, look at me,” he ushers, his voice shaky and panicked. The words are  rushing out of his mouth, breaking in half as he fights the overflow of thoughts trying to voice themselves.

He brings a hand to rub back and forth over Louis's own, but he’s so shaken up from seeing Louis this way, all broken and scattered, his eyes boring into Louis's closed ones that his hand moves too fast, making the friction burn against his skin.

“Lou, baby, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice sounding far off and scared as the pace of his hand increases.

“I-I’m fin-fine,” Louis chokes out, his voice breaking as he does his best to push the words out of his mouth. They taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them, a badly concealed lie.

“Louis, I’m not an idiot, I can tell you aren’t,” Harry says, his voice with a bit of an edge to it, as if he isn’t in the mood to put up with lies. And Louis gets it, of course he does it, he’s been through it far too many times before, people growing sick of the lies he’s had to tell to hide away this side of him, the side that clashes with the person he’s expected to be, the person he wants to be.

He tries to reassure Harry that he’s fine but a sharp pain stabs at his chest and he feels himself gasping for air, trying to breathe. He’s gaping his mouth open and shut, his chest still expanding, still stuck in the motion of inhaling and exhaling but he doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t feel any air leave his lungs. The lump stuck in his body has reached the top of his throat and his entire body goes numb, everything slowly fading away.

Harry’s still rambling in front of him but it’s all been reduced to background noise, the words spoken but not registered. He opens his eyes for the first time since Harry entered the room and lifts his head from his knees. He blinks a couple of times, adjusting his eyes to the light streaming back into his vision. They’re still watering as tears continue to stream down his cheeks, reducing Harry to a blurry mixture of colors sitting in front of him.

Suddenly Louis gasps out a breath, finally peeking his head out from underneath the surface, catching a breath of air. It pushes its way out of his body, ripping its way from his lungs and he feels his body letting out some of its trapped tension, his shoulders rolling back and the sharp tugs of his body shaking slowing down, calming down to the pace of his heart doing the same.

“Lou, baby, I’m so worried what’s going on, what do you need, tell me and I’ll get it for you. You’re really scaring me and like, you won’t talk to me and- Lou, please , just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Harry’s stumbling over the words in his rush to get them out, his brows growing more furrowed and his hand now clutching desperately at Louis leg, his nails digging into his jeans.

Louis untangles Harry’s arm from around his leg and reaches for his hand, circling his fingers around his wrist. His thumb finds Harry’s pulse and he uses it to anchor him down.

He closes his eyes shut, putting all his focus on Harry’s heart beating underneath his fingertips, calming him down. He takes a couple of deep breaths to remind himself that he isn’t drowning anymore, that he’s alive, that he can breathe, before he let’s himself float back to reality and opens his eyes.

“I just- Can you just hold me,” he whispers, looking up into Harry’s eyes. His brow is still furrowed and his eyes narrowed but when their eyes meet his face softens, the sharp features smoothing out and his eyes go warm.

He nods in return and gently removes Louis's hand from around his wrist as he crawls to sit behind him. He leans back against the counter and wraps his arms around Louis's waist and drags him flush against his chest. Louis turns on his side as he curls into Harry’s protective embrace and places his head above his heart, mirroring his position from earlier.

Harry lets out a deep sigh as he tighten his grip around him, his fingers digging into his ribs. He starts stroking his hair, bringing him back to when he used to be a kid and his mom would do the same to him every night as she tucked him into bed with a kiss to his cheek and a goodnight, love.

He lets out a sniffle, scrunching his nose together and nuzzles further into the warmth of Harry’s shirt. When he realizes what he’s done he mumbles a sorry , muffled by the fabric and Harry lets out a low laugh that vibrates through Louis's body, pulsates underneath his skin.

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry says quietly, leaning down to plant a soft kiss to the top of his head, his fingers still slowly carding through his hair and massaging his scalp.

“I’m sorry too,” he says and Louis knows he means it.

He let’s out a noncoherent sound in reply and presses a kiss above Harry’s heart as he closes his eyes and lets himself drift away, letting Harry’s heartbeat be the only thing anchoring him down.

-

Later that night they’re lying in bed, cuddled close together under the sheets. The winter cold has snuck its way into their apartment and with the heating acting up they only have the warmth radiating from their bodies pressed together and the faint buzz of alcohol running through their veins to make them forget about it.

There’s people rushing past outside the window, shouting happy new year at the top of their lungs and their laughter rings out in the death of the night as they carry on with their conversation, their voices echoing against the brick buildings.

Louis feels himself drift off, their voices lulling him into sleep with Harry’s body pressed close to his. Harry’s pressing soft kisses into each of Louis’s knuckles where their hands are entwined. It’s all so genuine and sweet while still laced with a thick layer of concern. He lingers with each touch as if he wants to make sure Louis gets everything he’s putting into the soft press of his lips. His touch speaks of comfort, of protection, of unknown futures and Louis latches onto the feelings seeping through his body, making a home for themselves inside the walls of his heart.

He places his head in the crook of Harry’s neck and presses an openmoutched kiss onto his radiating skin, spelling out i love yous with the swirl of his tongue. He wants to tell him so bad, wants him to know how much he means to him, but he’s even more scared than he was before now that Harry’s seen this other side of him. The fear is irrational but it latches onto every thought passing through his mind, infiltrating it from the inside. He’s scared of broken promises, of broken words and becoming broken people. But most of all he’s scared to find himself so deep into the dark he can’t find the flicker of light anymore.

-

Louis wakes up nine hours later to a pounding head and the smell of something burning. His first instinct is to roll into Harry’s arms and mumble complaints about Niall’s cooking skills into the fabric of his shirt but finds Harry’s side of the bed to be empty, the covers bunched up and the mattress cold from the lack of a body to heat it up.

He scrunches his face together as he leans up on his elbows, scanning the room for any clues as to Harry’s whereabouts. Last night’s clothes are neatly folded on top of the dresser, just as Harry left them and there doesn't seem to be any signs of him having had scrimmaged the room for anything else to wear, meaning he’s probably out for a run or in the bathroom or somewhere else in the apartment.

Louis feels his body sag in relief, the momentary panic slowly fading. Letting out a deep yawn he slumps forward on the bed, starfishing himself across both of their sides with the bunched up covers keeping him warm. He nuzzles into the pillow as he lets out a series of small yawns, preparing himself for sleep.

“ Fuck!” someone cries out from the kitchen as the sound of metal hitting the floor rings out.

Louis lets out a disgruntled groan as he turns and burrows his face into the pillow, crying out “ Niall, you complete shit,”  in anger, his voice coming out muffled but carrying through the walls.

“Oh, shit, fuck - Sorry, Lou,” Harry’s voice answers him instead. “I didn’t mean to wake you!”

Louis rolls himself out of bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor before he tugs the covers from the bed and drapes them around his shoulders, making himself into a human burrito.

He pads out into the living room which opens up to their tiny kitchen where Harry’s stood in front of the stove. He’s got on nothing but his briefs slung low on his hips. He’s keeping himself busy by scraping burnt toast into the sink and humming along to a song under his breath. When he hears the rustle of sheets as Louis moves, he turns around, his face brightening at the sight of him.

“You cold, babe,” he murmurs, flashing him a dimpled grin as Louis nods in response through a small yawn and frees a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Louis walks up to him and opens the sheets, covering Harry’s lanky body as he hugs him from behind. He rests his head on his shoulder and Harry crooks his neck at an awkward angle to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles, his voice muffled from where it’s pressed to Louis's hair.

“Morning, my little noodle” Louis croaks out and sniffles as he tilts his head up, capturing Harry’s lips in a chaste kiss. It’s stale from their morning breath but it’s nice, familiar in a way. Harry giggles into his mouth and draws back to press a small kiss to his nose.

“I’m not a noodle,” he mumbles as he pecks Louis on the lips in quick succession.

“Sure you are. All long and thin, just like a noodle,” Louis says between kisses, jabbing at Harry’s ribs. He gives the skin a small pinch at which Harry gives out a squeak with a hissed Louis, no intent behind his words .

“It’s okay, love, you’re my favorite noodle,” Louis says and leans down to press a kiss to a small birthmark on Harry’s shoulder, hiding a smile into his warm skin.

“ Your noodle ,” Harry mumbles, a smile in his voice as he turns back to the toast.

“Afraid it’s a lost cause, babe,” Louis says, peering over his shoulder to get a good look at the burnt toast Harry’s holding. It’s still black, despite Harry’s poor attempt at scraping it off.

“Don’t think it does much when you’ve managed to burn all of it.”

“Sorry, I really wanted to make you a proper breakfast, after last night and everything,” Harry rushes out. He puts the toast down in the sink and wipes his fingers clean from any stray crumbs.

“It’s okay,” Louis says as he opens the blanket burrito, giving Harry enough space to turn in his arms, so they’re stood face to face.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis's middle, squeezes and takes a step forward. They’re stood so close their noses are brushing, Harry’s breathing coming out in small puffs, tickling Louis where they punch against his cheeks.

“Hi,” he mumbles as he leans in to give Harry a proper good morning kiss. Harry swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, asking for entrance and Louis opens it willingly. Their breath tastes stale, but Louis thinks that the feeling of Harry’s lips moving against his has to be one of his favorite things in the world. He leans back without breaking the kiss, tilting his head to the side, deepening it. It’s tongues clashing, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, keeping it heated without the promise of taking it further.

It’s nice, he thinks, that they can have this, these kind of moments, without feeling the need to have it always lead to sex. It’s comforting in an odd way, to know that sometimes it can be just this, that their relationship isn’t dependant on anything else but finding pieces they lost in each other, always seeking them out, helping each other take steps forward.

“Felt weird waking up without you,” Louis admits when their lips part, gasping for air.

“Sorry,” Harry replies sheepishly as he leans in to plant one, two, three closemouthed kisses against Louis lips.

“I just, uhm...” Harry trails off, leaning their foreheads together.

Louis grabs the end of the covers in one hand and brings the other one up to the back of Harry’s neck where he starts rubbing soothing circles into his skin, urging him to go on.

“So, uhm, I woke up and I was thinking about last night and I just felt like I didn’t want to ever be in that situation again,” he breaks off, exhaling and Louis feels his entire body tense up. His hand stills and Harry’s head flips up as he continues, in a hurry. “No, no, not-not like that, I just meant that I felt so helpless seeing you go through that and not knowing what to do. I felt so bad, I’m so sorry, Lou, I should’ve been able to help you and god, fuck -”

“Shh, no, it’s okay,” Louis coos into his ear, placing a kiss on his cheek and resting his head against it, his eyelashes creating patterns where they’re fanning against Harry’s skin.

“So, well, I decided to research it, if that’s okay with you? I guess I just wanted to understand it better, like get a feel for what you’re going through, you know.”

Louis lifts his head and meets Harry’s wondering gaze. His eyes scream of insecurity and mistakes, punching at Louis chest. He surges forward, up on his tip toes, leans against Harry’s chest and kisses him hard on the lips, trying his best to kiss the fleeting feelings away, to let him know that it’s okay, that they’re okay.

Harry exhales and Louis thinks he can hear him whisper a thank you as he closes his eyes. Louis peppers his face with soft butterfly kisses. He kisses his left cheek, his right cheek, his nose, the corner of his mouth, his eyelids, the crease between his brows before placing his feet flat on the hardwood floor again.

He nudges Harry’s nose with his own to get his attention and watches Harry’s eyes flutter open, green eyes locked on blue.

“Hey, no, I’m glad you did. Honestly. You taking the effort to do that, to try and understand it, all of this ,” he says with a sweeping gestures of his free hand, “means a lot. It’s kind of messy, for me too, but thank you ,” he finishes, a smile breaking out over his face.

“Really,” Harry asks, his voice shy.

“Harry, it makes me so,” he presses a kiss to his nose, “ so ,” one to the bridge of his nose, ”glad,” and one to his mouth, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss, just barely a peck. “It makes me so glad you did it.”

Harry gives him a wide grin in return, his cheeks dimpling and he crouches down, hooking his chin over Louis's shoulder as he wraps him up in a hug, crashing their bodies together. Louis hides his smile in the crook of his neck and tightens his grip on the covers, keeping the heat trapped inside their bubble, the one place he finds himself belonging. Where he feels content and a sense of stability, of a definite.

///

One night Harry finds Louis on the kitchen floor, his eyelashes sticky with the tears he’s cried and his body shaking. He doesn’t say anything, just walks over and joins him on the floor. He nudges their feet together, covering Louis's bares ones with his own, heating them up. Harry leans over and hugs him tightly, crushing his bones with the intensity of it. He brushes Louis's fringe away from his forehead where it’s lying flat from the sweat collecting. He twines his fingers in Louis’s hair, carding through it and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. Louis sniffles and turns around in his arms, leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder as Harry whispers im sorrys and i love yous into the quiet room. They come out muffled from where he has his face pressed to the top of Louis's head, but it’s okay and it isn’t a big deal. Louis thinks that right then, when he can feel his body giving in to the tight clench of panic around his chest, those words are all he needs to hear. He leans up and presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s jaw and whispers them back, just as easily. And it isn’t really okay, but in that moment, on the floor of the dark kitchen, he thinks that it might be, for the time being.

///

Louis is awoken on a Saturday by Harry rubbing his hair against his face, tickling him with his curls. He groans as he’s brought to consciousness, floating back from his dreams and brings his hand up to his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes as Harry giggles and leans down further, covering more of his face. Louis shakes his head and makes an incoherent noise in response, trying to get Harry away from him so he can go back to sleep.

“Get off,” he mumbles, pushing at Harry’s shoulder weakly, his body too tired to put up a proper fight.

He pokes at Louis's cheek as he hums softly into his ear and presses kisses where the touch of skin against skin lingers. “Wake up,” he mumbles softly over and over to Louis in between kisses.

When Louis opens his eyes it’s to Harry’s face inches from his own with a wide grin spread across it. He looks so happy like this, his dimples deepening as he scrunches his face together and rubs his nose against Louis's in an Eskimo kiss. Their eyes are so close and Louis thinks about how Harry’s green eyes shine brighter than a thousand suns in the soft morning light seeping its way into the room through the blinds.

“Lou, wake up,” he whispers as he leans in and places a chaste kiss to Louis mouth, transferring the words between their bodies. They let this kiss linger for a beat or two, savoring the taste of winter mornings mixed with stale breath.

“ No , why,” Louis whines when they break apart as he punches at Harry’s chest, urging him to move away. He makes a disgruntled noise when Harry doesn’t budge. “You big oaf,” he mumbles and brings up a foot to kick at Harry’s shin.

Harry lets out a soft whine when he collapses on his side from where he’d been towering over Louis and settles down on the pillows. His curls fall around his face, framing it like a halo with the sun lightning him up from behind. Louis smirks in response to his win and turns on his side, facing away from Harry and clutches the pillow in his arms.

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” Harry quietly chants from behind as he shakes Louis's shoulder to the beat of his voice.

“Fuck off, Harry, it’s early and I need my beauty rest.” Louis bats his hand away without opening his eyes and tries to go back to sleep, ignoring Harry’s low whine.

“But you’re already beautiful, the most beautiful, prettiest, amazing person in the whole wide world,” he says as he punctuates each word with butterfly kisses pressed to the side of his face. Louis cracks an eye open to turn around and give him a glare but Harry’s grinning so big, his dimples creating craters in his cheeks, lighting up the entire room with his everlasting glow and Louis bursts into a fit of giggles as Harry joins him and presses a small kiss to his cheek.

“That was disgusting,” he says between the laughter bubbling out of his mouth. “You’re the worst. ”

“Time to wake up, my prettiest Lou. It’s adventure time,” he whispers in Louis's ear, his voice slow and raspy but ringing out like a melody in the morning haze of Louis's mind.

Harry shakes his hair and pushes it away from his forehead as he presses a kiss to the corner of Louis's mouth before jumping off the bed and heading out into the living room. He’s already dressed, wearing a big jumper and sweatpants hanging low on his lips. He looks so warm, so cozy, like this. And as he trudges out of the room, his socks sliding against the floor, Louis thinks that Harry in the mornings is probably his favorite Harry - all sleep tousled hair and hooded eyes.

“ Harry ,” Louis groans from where he’s still tucked into the warmth of the sheets. He turns on his back and throws an arm across his face, blocking out the sunlight. “Where are you going?”

“Adventure time, it’s adventure time, Lou, get up !” comes his response from the other side of the wall. The excitement and impatience in Harry’s voice nestles itself into Louis's system, making him curious and he gives in with a deep sigh. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, before he opens them and kicks off the covers and lets the cold hit his body as he prepares to take on whatever Harry’s got planned for them.

-

Adventure time apparently means Harry driving them down to Brighton in Gemma’s borrowed car. They start off their trip by bantering back and forth and singing along to Harry’s homemade mix but after a while Louis finds himself on the brink of sleep again. The pent up buzz created from the gummies Harry had given him as soon as they were on the road has worn down and he finds himself rubbing the backs of his eyes more and more and talking through stifled yawns.

“You should sleep, babe, I know it’s early for you,” Harry says, not taking his eyes off the road as he squeezes Louis's hand where it’s laced with his own, lying in his lap.

“It’s not early, I’m perfectly capable of sta-” he stops abruptly when he feels a yawn overtake him and he scrunches his face together as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, the noise escaping his body.

“You were saying,” Harry singsongs, turning to Louis and raising his eyebrows with smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Shut up. I’m not tired, ” Louis says and flips him off as Harry laughs and turns back to the road, humming along to the song playing.

“I’m just saying that it’s fine if you are, you know. We’ve still got a bit to go, you might as well sleep it off.”

“I can stay awake though. It hasn’t even been an hour, who do you take me for.”

“Louis, your eyes keep slipping closed and your voice sounds like it does after four drinks, just go to sleep ,” Harry sighs as he turns away from the road to give him a pointed look.

“But I’m not tired. ”

“Louis,” he says sharply, raising his eyebrows at him with a look that says i know you and he does, Louis's thinks, as he lets out a deep sigh.

“Always so demanding, but if you so painfully insist, dear Harold, I shall sleep.”

Harry gives a content hum in reply, happy to have gotten his way. Louis sighs and extracts his hand from Harry’s tight grip, tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt and making them into warm sweater paws. He scratches his chin and grunts quietly as he kicks off his beaten down vans, letting them fall to the floor with a loud thunk (“ Louis it’s January, you can’t wear that. You need proper shoes.” “What’s wrong with these?” “They have holes in them, the sides are literally split open, that’s what’s wrong!” “Semantics. Nobody ever died from ruined shoes” ).

“There should be a blanket in the back,” Harry says and gestures to the various things stored in the backseat. There’s everything from grocery bags containing enough food to feed them for two weeks and their coats to random things like cds and books, all jumbled together in messy piles filling up the seats.

Louis hums and turns in his seat, ever so gracefully as he almost topples over and has to bring a hand to Harry’s shoulder to steady him. Harry cries out from Louis's nails digging into his skin and pinches Louis's ass in retaliation. Louis lets out a disgruntled noise at that and grabs the blanket from the back. After he wiggles back into his seat, he hisses at Harry and slaps him lightly on the shoulder.

“What was that for,” Harry says, furrowing his brow and pushing his bottom lip out into a pout. I’m in love with a five year old , Louis thinks as Harry widens his eyes and stares down at him.

“ That was for waking me up at seven bloody am on a Saturday.” Louis unfolds the blanket and wraps it around his body, kicking it over his sock clad feet, making it warm him up, “And now if you excuse me, I’m going to get some of that sleep you made me miss out on.”

“Alright, night, Lou,” Harry says and flashes him a smile out of the corner of his eye. “Love you.”

“God, I’m going to sleep, not going to war,” Louis huffs and rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but after a few seconds he lunges himself across the seat and presses a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth and whispers “Love you too, you idiot.”

-

Their weekend trip goes by too fast for Louis’s liking. From the time they roll into the parking lot of the small hotel they’re staying in it just never stops, it’s all go go go. And for the first time in a long time, Louis's loves it. For some reason it doesn’t feel rushed, more as if it’s all playing out at its natural pace.

The first thing they do is drop their bags on the floor of their room and crash on the bed. They end up with their limbs jumbled together, slotting into places like the pieces of a puzzle. Louis leans his head on the soft pillow as Harry does the same, becoming his mirror. They lie like that for a while, things like the stress of routine and plans long forgotten as time passes without their acknowledgement. Eventually Louis falls asleep, the last thing imprinted on the back of his eyelids the look on Harry’s face - blissful and content with his eyes radiating warmth.

The days pass through moments by the shore, wearing jackets that are too thin for the January cold and Louis's sniffles as Harry tugs him close and wraps his scarf around the two of them, their arms slotted around waists and shoulders, holding each other tight, never letting go. They go to the pier and ride the carousels and Harry wins Louis a giant, stuffed giraffe that he carries under his arm for the rest of the day, refusing to let it out of his sight. They visit small, secluded bookstores and music shops where Louis watches Harry roam around between the different shelves for hours, dragging his fingers against the spines and flipping through the cds, looking for the right one. He doesn’t end up buying anything but he talks about his favorite bands and authors for hours on end afterwards with big hand gestures and a grin on his face.

They sleep in and spend the morning under the covers, making out with their fingers tracing patterns on skin. They lie there until Harry’s stomach starts growling and Louis laughs and it’s warm and makes him feel like he’s floating, instead of being dragged down. He feels so free here, so light and good. Here with Harry, where it feels like it’s just the two of them, like there’s no world outside the warm covers, like there isn’t a world surrounded by darkness waiting for them to return to.

Harry turns to Louis when they roll onto their street early Monday morning and squeezes his knee, giving him a tightlipped smile. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes look sad, like they know what Louis is thinking, that he’s thinking of escape and soft touches and easier times and Louis loves him so much for it. He tells him so but he wishes he could tell him everything else as well, all the words and meanings behind those three words and the walls of his mind but instead he slots their fingers together and presses a lingering kiss to Harry’s cheek before letting go and walking out of the car.

///

Three days later Harry wakes up with a cold.

“You can’t go to school like that,” Louis says from where he’s standing by the edge of the bed, hands on his hips, trying his best to look tough and intimidating. He’s pretty sure he’s failing though.

“But-”

“No, shut up, Harry, do you think I’m letting you leave when you’re all sick, ” Louis gestures with his hand and scrunches his face together in a disgusted grimace. “You’ve been coughing and like, wheezing all morning, I’m not letting you out in public like this. You’re a hazard to the poor people of London who haven’t caught a cold yet.”

“But, Louuuuu ,” Harry whines from where he’s still lying in bed with the bunched up covers dragged to his chest. He’s got one of his hands clutching a pillow to his head and the other one flailing in the air, making grabby hands at Louis who’s stood out of his reach.

“Nope, no fucking way, you’re all germs and cooties right now. I’m not kissing you,” he says, batting away Harry’s hands, “and I’m definitely not letting you out in public.”

“Is this your way of telling me you want me all to yourself?” Harry flashes him a cheeky grin and waggles his eyebrows in response.

“You’re stupid.” Louis bites back a smile and picks up the steaming tea from the nightstand and thrusts it into Harry’s arms. “Here, take this and drink up.” He fluffs the pillows as Harry drags himself into a sitting position and leans back against the headboard to accept the cup.

Harry takes a sip and winces, his nose scrunching up and eyebrows furrowing as he sticks his tongue out and looks over at Louis. “It’s hot,” he whispers, eyes widened in shock.

“Yes, that’s the entire point, love,” Louis replies and cards his fingers through Harry’s unruly curls. They’ve only been up for a bit and Harry’s soft in his ratty t-shirt and and hair that points in every direction, as it always does in the mornings.

“You really gonna make me stay in today?” Harry asks after a few minutes in silence have passed. He cocks his head to the side and bats his eyelashes in a poor attempt to charm Louis, forgetting they’ve been together for six months and that he can see right through him at this point.

“Sorry, love, afraid you’re too sick.” He mirrors Harry’s pose and raises his eyebrows in an apologetic manner. “Guess you’re stuck with me all day,” he whispers as he leans forwards and boops Harry on the nose to Harry’s amusement. He giggles like a child, his eyes lighting up and nearly spills his tea, just barely catching himself as he mumbles a quiet oops and sits up straight again.

Louis gives him his best stern look and Harry replies with a dragged out fine . He rolls his eyes in faux annoyance, a move he’s picked up from Louis and shakes his head in disbelief.

Louis jabs him in the ribs as payback, eliciting another giggle from Harry and knocks their foreheads together. “You dork,” he hisses, a smile in his voice as he tries to contain the fond spreading across his face.

“I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world,” Harry says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. At his words, Louis bumps their foreheads together before he draws back and shoots him another annoyed glare.

“Just drink your fucking tea and shut up.”

-

They end spending most of their day in bed with Harry drifting in and out of sleep. Louis stays by his side, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair and pressing soothing kisses to his temple. Harry tosses and turns from the temperature that’s slowly creeping up on him and Louis wishes it was him instead, wishes Harry didn’t have to go through it as he watches him whine in his sleep, his forehead breaking out into a sweat and tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

He tries his best to help - brings him paracetamol for his head, a hot water bottle, makes him more herbal tea and lies with him in the dark room. They spoon with Louis as the big spoon even though he’s much too small and Harry has to curl his body together for Louis to be able to fit around him. He has a hand around Harry’s waist and one of his legs thrown over Harry’s own, just barely fitting it around his too large body. He kisses Harry’s neck and whispers jumbled nonsense into his skin because Harry always says he finds the sound of Louis's voice to be calming and soothing. He whispers about how much he loves him, about his plans for the weekend, about his homework and other random thoughts flittering through his mind. Harry makes a noncoherent sound, trying to voice his thoughts before giving in and he’s back to snoring against Louis, the sharp edges of his face smoothing out as he lets sleep take him under.

-

Harry wakes up again an hour later - blinking his eyes open slowly, sniffling his nose and letting out small coughs against the crook of his elbow, his body waking up one part at a time. Louis untangles himself from behind him, making sure he’s still fighting sleep as he removes the covers and quietly tip toes into the kitchen.

He returns fifteen minutes later, balancing a tray in his hands containing two plates of toast and two glasses of orange juice - his version of an acceptable meal.

“I cooked,” he exclaims with a wide grin on his face as he walks into the room. Harry gives him a skeptical look in return, his brows furrowed from where he’s sitting with his back against the headboard.

“I mean, I tried, but you know, it’s the thought that counts and all that shit,” Louis's says as he walks towards the bed. Harry’s lips pull into a small smile, sleep worn around the edges as he watches Louis puts the tray on the bed and throw his hands in the air with an excited shout of  “ Tada!”

“Sure you did, babe,” Harry croaks out, his voice having had grown more hoarse as the morning went on. He let’s out a series of coughs and brings his fist to rub at his sleepy eyes, yawning softly.

“Come on, try it and compliment me on my culinary skills,” Louis says and jumps down on the bed, landing next to Harry. He picks up one of the plates with toast, bringing it to his mouth and letting out an exaggerated moan as he closes his eyes and rubs his tummy.

“So good, Harry, you have no idea what you’re missing,” he says as he peeks an eye open and continues to stuff his mouth full of the semi-burnt toast. Harry smiles as he carefully watches him without speaking. Louis swallows around another bite and Harry leans forward, Louis quickly picking up on what he wants and feeding him some of his toast.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asks as Harry chews slowly and brings a hand up to his mouth to dust off the stray crumbs. He slowly nods his head and pretends to contemplate his answer while swallowing audibly.

“It’s good. Not quite up to your normal standards, but a solid 7.5,” Harry says with a straight face, keeping direct eye contact with Louis.

“Fuck off, that’s lies. You can eat your own toast,” Louis says and huffs with a shove to Harry’s shoulder. Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling and Louis just shakes his head quietly before he turns to pick up his glass of orange juice and takes a loud sip of it.

“It’s okay that you can’t cook, Lou, I still love you,” Harry says as he presses a light kiss to his shoulder and picks up his own piece of toast. Louis turns to watch him when he’s made sure Harry’s facing away from him and wonders how he managed to fall in love with an idiot. Even with the sickness taking over and clouding his mind he’s still as sweet and considerate as ever, making Louis's bone ache with love for him.

“I can see you, you know,” Harry says through a mouthful of toast and flashes him a fond smile in return. Louis clears his throat and looks away, smiling over the rim of his glass as he takes another sip, fluttering his eyes shut.

-

Harry wakes up from a coughing fit around midnight and Louis doesn’t know what to do. Harry’s turning red in the face, his coughs coming out hoarse and painful. They’re straining on his lungs, scratching against his throat, dragging them out of him.

He keeps coughing, the rim of his eyes filling up with tears as his they water and turn glossy. He’s hunched forward on the bed, his shoulders sagged and his body vibrating with every raspy breath that leaves it. He looks so small like this, all curled in on himself and Louis wonders if this is what he looks like when he’s having a panic attack, if he looks as small, as shielded from the world as Harry does in this moment of vulnerability.

Louis fits himself against Harry’s back, sticky from sweat, molding himself against it and making himself slot into Harry like the missing piece of his puzzle. He hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder and nestles his arms around his waist, resting his palms right above his ribs. He holds on tight, trying to still Harry’s body as he keeps on coughing and wheezing, the sound like nails dragged against a chalkboard - intensely excruciating.

When Harry finally settles down the heat continues to linger in his cheeks, turning them a flushed pink. Louis untangles himself from around him and crawls forward on the bed so he’s sat in front of Harry. He twines his fingers in his hair and tilts his head up so they’re facing each other, their faces inches apart. A few tears have escaped Harry’s eyes and are pooling at his jaw. His lower lip is still trembling and his eyes are glossy and red from the crying. Louis thumbs under his eyes and presses a soft, lingering kiss to each cheek as Harry lets out shuddery breaths underneath him.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Louis whispers and places a gentle kiss behind his ear.

He shuffles forward and scoops Harry up in his arms, trying to cover as much of him as he can even though his limbs won’t quite reach. Harry leans forward and closes the small gap between their bodies as he slots against Louis. He links his arms around Louis's lower back and rests his head on his shoulder, letting out a deep breath through his mouth, the hairs at the nape of Louis's neck fluttering from the movement. Louis presses small kisses to the side of his neck as he does his best to soothe Harry in all the possible ways he knows how to.

It’s weird for him, seeing Harry like this, so raw and vulnerable. Such a big part of their relationship surrounds Louis’s illness and he’s so used to being the one that’s taken care of, of being looked after. So now that he finds himself in a situation where the roles are reversed, he feels struck as how to act, what to say, to bring Harry comfort. He tries to remember what Harry does for him - placing butterfly kisses across his face, smoothing out the wrinkles with the light brush of his fingers, keeping their mouths close so they breathe the same air and rubbing soft circles into his lower back.

It seems to work because after a while Harry calms down enough for Louis to untangle himself and lower Harry down on the bed. He helps Harry out of his drenched shirt and brings him a clean one. It’s a testament to how sick Harry is when he doesn’t let out a whine at Louis leaving his side, instead he just lies still in the spot Louis left him with a blank stare in his eyes. Louis tucks him into the covers once he’s done, placing a kiss on his forehead as his eyes drop closed and he goes back to sleep with a light snore.

After Louis has aired out the room and taken a quick shower himself, not wanting to leave Harry’s side for too long, he brings back a wet cloth to dab at Harry’s forehead with and finally lies down besides him in bed. Unlike during the day, they don’t cuddle because Harry’s skin is on fire and he’s already sound asleep, curled up like a ball with only his head peeking out of the covers. Louis turns on his side, facing Harry and brushes the stray curls out of his face, tucking them slowly behind his ear. He looks so relaxed and content in his sleep, always has, with his mouth slightly ajar and his features relaxed, making him look like a young boy again.

Louis lies awake for hours that night, watching Harry sleep. He thinks about how for the first time he’s come to realize just how much Harry does for him, how much he puts up with, without ever complaining about it. Louis keeps such a huge part of himself hidden and locked away, out of what he’s not sure. Is it fear? The need for distance? So he doesn’t let everything get mixed up and can allow himself to live two separate lives - the one inside his mind and the one he acts out for his friends and family?

Louis wishes he knew. Wishes it hadn’t taken him this long to not only see, but to fully understand what Harry, Niall, Zayn, Liam - all of them, do for him. How they have taken him under their wings and always try their best to help him, even though it might not always click with the way he wants to be helped. He wishes he could’ve lived every day appreciating it and not taking it for granted or as pity, as them acting out their selfless needs.

He wishes they could just know somehow, without him having to tell them every feeling that’s causing the pressure behind his ribcage, the one making him drown further and further.

///

“Are you fucking serious , you got to be cheating!” Niall exclaims loudly, throwing his controller on the carpet and lifting his arms in defeat.

“This is- it’s a fucking joke, is what it is, five games in a row. What the hell. ”

“Niall, don’t be jealous,” Louis coos at him, wiggling a hand out at Niall, reaching forward and patting him on the leg. “Can’t help that we’re brilliant, can we.” Niall scoffs and bats Louis's hand away with an unimpressed look on his face. He picks his controller back up and starts pushing away at the blinking buttons, ignoring him.

Harry giggles and looks down at Louis's where he’s propped up over his crossed legs. He’s got his head leaning against Harry’s chest and his legs stretched out in front of him, his bare toes curled around the edge of the tv stand.

Harry cards his fingers through his fringe and leans down to whisper, for Louis's ears only. “We’re the dream team,” he says, his voice shy and tender. When Louis looks up, blue eyes locked on green, he notices the faint blush lingering over Harry’s face and brings a hand to brush the tips of his fingers over his cheek in a fleeting motion.

“Yeah, we are babe, you and me, always,” Louis mumbles, Harry’s eyes trailing down to his lips, watching him pronounce the words with a smile creeping over his face, his eyes going soft.

He nods his head and mumbles a yeah in response, covering Louis's hand on his cheek with his bigger one, lacing their fingers together. He brings their clasped hands to his mouth and presses lingering kisses along the line of his knuckles, his eyes still boring into Louis's.

“What do yo- What the hell. Alright, no fucking shagging in the living room,” Niall says when he looks over at where Louis and Harry are pressed close together, their eyes trading sentences, no words necessary.

“Cut it out, we’ve been over this,” Niall sighs, flicking Harry’s bicep to startle him out of their trance.

“ Niall ,” Harry whines, rubbing his arms and looking at him with his lips turned down in a pout. “What’d you do that for?”

“You know why, mate. Listen, it wasn’t fun for anyone seeing that last week, so cool it, will you,” he sighs, gesturing to the two of them with his hand not holding the controller, one of his eyebrows cocked.

Louis barks out a laugh, his eyes glistening as he looks up at Harry who’s looking flustered, no doubt remembering when Niall had walked in on them tangled together on the couch last week, exchanging hot kisses with their hands trailing down before the door to Niall’s bedroom had opened. The two of them had forgot he was home, too wrapped up in each other and he’d let out a loud groan, sighing about not again.

“Come off it, Niall,” Louis says in between laughter and Niall just spares him an eye roll before he’s back to the tv and the game, ignoring the two of them.

Louis let’s the last of his laughter wash over him and leans back, flush against Harry’s chest as he crosses his arms and sighs into the warmth of Harry’s body where it’s wrapped around him. He lets the familiar feeling of comfort and security he’s grown to associate with Harry kick in as he listens to the low grumble of Niall and Harry making conversation above him. He lets it fade into background noise as his eyes close, the colors from the screen flickering behind his eyelids.

After a while the noises fade out and he makes himself focus on everywhere he’s touching Harry, where there’s warmth flittering through layers of skin, bits of Harry making themselves over to Louis's body. Giving them part of each other, the two of them growing more into one with every passing moment, with every movement of radiating warmth.

He’s brought back by Harry whispering a small hey into his hair. The word is quiet, just for Louis. He takes the word, the way that simple gesture alone, of Harry always looking out for him, making sure he’s okay, makes him feel and stores it in his heart. Harry’s humming wordless melodies against his scalp, sending vibrations through his body, bringing him back to the current moment. He blinks the color plastered on his eyelids into focus as the blur of yellows and greens grow into shapes on the screen.

“You alright,” Harry asks, carding his fingers through Louis's fringe and pressing a light kiss, barely a peck, to his forehead. “You disappeared on me for a moment there.”

Louis turns so he can see Harry and nods an affirmative. He’s got his body twisted, his hands braced on Harry’s thighs so he can lift himself the slightest bit and look Harry properly in the eye. The look he’s met with is watchful, laced with worry and consideration. He blinks a few time, flicking his stare around Louis’s face, taking in bits of it at a time, before he mumbles quietly, “I want to kiss you so bad,” with his eyes coming to rest on Louis's lips. Harry’s eyes turn dark and grow more hooded as Louis doesn’t reply, only looks up at him with just as much want.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, feeling Harry’s eyes track down to his plump lips, focusing his stare on them.

Harry mouths a yeah , mirroring his move from earlier, his lips twitching into a smile as Louis pushes up on his elbow, bracing one hand on the floor and pressing his lips against Harry’s. The movement is too fast and their noses knock together but they laugh into the kiss, everything turning into a hazy blur as their laughter gets drowned in their mouths, their big smiles causing their teeth to knock together.

It’s his favorite kind of kiss, Louis thinks, the kind that turns into a blur of laughter, tongue and teeth. Their laughter is turning soft, their kisses going lazy as their lips fit together, molding themselves against one another as he drifts in and out of the mind inducing haze kissing Harry makes him go into.

Niall’s shouting in the background, words of really guys, again flashing by, getting caught in the fast spin of the world surrounding them. Everything’s spinning faster, faster, faster, everything but Harry a blur of dim colors, passing by too quickly to register, everything fading out and slowly disappearing, dissolving into nothingness in comparison, until it’s only Harry’s lips on his left to feel, everything else gone.

/// ★

It’s late.

The entire world around him is darkening, the edges turning into a soft dark blue as they creep closer to the core, taking the darkness with them, everything shifting from the fluorescent light to the pitchblack one of his closed eyelids.

Louis burrows his head deeper into his arms, his nails digging into his skin, creating marks shaped like half moons. They sit on his skin like a promise, a promise that the pain is as real on the outside as it is on the inside. That he can transfer it if he wants, that he can take the beating in his ribcage and paint it across his skin, as a promise, as a reminder.

The only sound in the room is the one of his breaths coming out uneven, too fast, too slow, mixing together to create a rhythmic pattern of beats. They sound too loud in the empty bathroom, making his heartbeat ring louder in his ears, making it become too distracting. It’s so fast, speeding up with every hiccuped breath he takes. With every breath, every passing second, he feels the walls creeping closer. They make him a prisoner in his own body, make his skin itch, make it hard to breathe.

He hears the patter of feet before he fully registers it, before the curtain is being removed and the light streams into his vision again. He blinks his eyes open to a world of harryharryharry, his presence shining as bright as a burning candle in the dark. There’s a soft glow surrounding him despite the harsh light of the room. It’s as if his presence alone does something to Louis, makes him soften somehow, his breathing evening out the slightest bit and his eyes flickering a bit more open, a bit more awake. It’s as if his presence makes him float a little lighter, as if the darkness tugging him down eases up a little bit.

Louis let’s his eyes trail over his body up to his face, Harry staring back at him with a pair of worried, concerned, slightly confused eyes. They’re soft around the edges, the green engulfing all of the emotions that wash over him. His features are too sharp, the cut of them too strong in contrast. His brows are furrowed and lips parted on an unspoken question. Louis can see the thoughts fluttering in his head, knows the way his nose is slightly scrunched together and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips mean he’s pondering something, wondering how to bring it up.

After a too long, too dragged out silence he must finally settle on an answer as he turns around and hits the lightswitch. The room goes from the bright yellow to a blackness filling it out. The small window above the sink makes the light of the moon cast its glow across the room, creating long shadows on the floor. Harry’s face is cut in half by it, half of it in the shadows, bits painted of dark blue with speckles of light. He blinks and his eyelashes are silver, illuminated against the rest of his face, their silhouette clear.

He goes to join Louis in the bathtub, climbing into it carefully, making sure he isn’t making a lot of noise. Louis's entire body is still hyper aware of every moment, every sound. He picks up on everything, his senses sharpening in tune to the beat of his heart. The small thump of Harry sitting down, folding his legs in front of him and scooting closer so his toes overlap Louis's. The casual touch sends flickers of electricity through his body, warming him up.

Harry goes to mirror his position, crossing his arms over his knees and leaning his head on top of them, his eyes still looking intently at Louis's. They sit there blinking, neither of them speaking, the quiet sounds of their breathing the only noise made. Louis let’s the green take over him, blinks the world into focus, the green creeping up around the darkness. It starts out in the blurry corners and as the stare deepens he let’s his world turn into shades of green. Green as freshly cut grass, as apples, as the color of the leaves growing back out on trees. It’s all different shades mixing together but nothing shines brighter than the ones of Harry’s eyes, washing over his vision, making it all soft and light.

He peaks a hand out of his cocoon, reaching out between their bodies. Harry takes it, lacing their fingers together and gives it a tight squeeze, the warmth a lingering presence on his skin. And finally Louis let’s the anxiety fully wash over him, lets it take him over entirely, the state of inbetween gone as he takes a deep breath and exhales through his mouth on a shuddery breath. He tugs on their arms and Harry drops his legs open, stretching them out around Louis's in the tub. He scoots closer so he can cross his ankles behind Louis's back, the heels of his feet digging into Louis's ass. And with that Louis's just falls - he falls so easily, so light, against Harry’s chest and into his arms. He closes his eyes, the green still there as he breathes in the smell of Harry and feels his arms wrap around his smaller frame. Harry traces words into his back, his fingers tracing over his spine and over the fabric of his shirt in loops and lines he can’t make out. He likes to think of them as promises though, promises yet to be made.

///

Suddenly the spring arrives, the cold and grey of winter disappearing in the blink of an eye, replaced by bursting colors and people milling the streets, their jackets unzipped and no extra layers of clothing covering up their bodies. The sun peeks out and everything is glowing in shades of yellow and orange, shadows of the blooming trees cast upon the tall brick buildings where there’s people sitting on their balconies, enjoying the warmth that comes with the passing of the year.

It’s with the spring that Louis finds it’s easier to breathe. He doesn’t feel his body as tightly locked up anymore, the anxiety stuck in his heart, ready to burst and take over as easily anymore. Harry smiles at him and rocks their clasped hands between them as they walk to class and Louis feels his airways letting up, giving in to the bursting glow of the sun instead of to the darkness of sadness and unwanted feelings.

Harry kisses him when they’re sitting on his small bed studying and they laugh into each other’s mouths. Harry’s roommate is forgotten on the other side of the room, ignored in the hushed whispers of nothingness that spill through their lips in between kisses and he feels like it’s easier to breathe.

The five of them go to the park and play footie, splitting into teams of Louis and Liam and the other three, an unfair fight since Zayn disappears to smoke after a while and Harry’s awful, tripping over his legs, his limbs fluttering in different directions. Louis laughs when Harry goes to shoot a goal but makes the ball fly off in the other direction instead, running up to Harry and tickling him to wipe the sad pout of his face, making him burst into a fit of giggles as he's tackled to the ground. His hands go shooting across Harry’s body, sneaking under his shirt and Harry squirms underneath him, his head thrown back in the grass, his barking laughter echoing against the trees and he feels like it’s easier to breathe, to inhale and exhale in one go, nothing getting stuck in between.

-

For easter they decide to visit each other’s families for the first time, something that sends excitement through Louis's body because he’s getting to see his sisters and mum again, but makes him just as worried and scared as he’s to meet Harry’s family for the first time. He’s seen them in blurry photos on Harry’s phone and through the pixelated webcam on Skype, but there’s only so much you can tell from frozen moments and through a computer screen. You can’t tell how someone smells, how long they hug you for, if they send you smiles radiating warmth or if you’re faced with a cold exterior, one that speaks of being unwelcome and unwanted.

Harry reassures him that Anne and Gemma are more than excited to meet him, whispering it into his hair late at night when he can see the crippling worry in Louis's eyes. He tells him how he’s told them all about him, how they’re going to love him, how they’re going to see how much Harry loves him and Louis takes in the words, slots them into small spaces of his heart and mind, repeating them back to himself, trying his hardest to believe them.

The train ride up to the small village flashes by in a blur of trees outside the window, rushing by fast, making all the colors melt together into one, illuminated by the streaming sunlight. It peeks into where they’re sitting, the window blocking half of it, creating a shadow cast over their surroundings, painting them in a sharp black straining against the flooding mix of yellows.

They sit cramped together in one seat, Louis curled up in Harry’s lap with his head resting on his shoulder, moving in tune to the rise and fall of Harry’s breathing. His legs are propped up in Harry’s lap, his shoes kicked off and his sock clad feet in between Harry’s thighs. His eyes are open, staring at the passing places as Harry’s sound asleep above him, one hand nestled around Louis's waist, gripping onto his shirt and the other one laced into his hair.

They arrive at the house and after spending fifteen minutes in Anne’s presence, all sense of worry washes away with the tide and leaves his body. She hugs him tight and tells him how Harry won’t stop talking about him, causing both of them to blush. She keeps talking all through dinner - telling him about Harry growing up, how happy she is he’s found someone, asking him questions about his family and school. She always listens intently, her eyes locked on Louis's as if she’s taking in every word he’s saying, the same way Harry does, the similarities between the two of them striking. Gemma chimes in to her stories and Louis likes her right away. She’s just as fast paced as he is, always keeping up with his jokes, their banter a quick game of back and forth.

That night they lie in Harry’s childhood bedroom with posters splattered across the wall, much like his room back at uni, but these of The Script and Lord of the Rings. The bed is too small for the two of them, Harry’s body too tall and lanky to fit properly within the frame, but they bend and curl their bodies seamlessly, slot their limbs together and wind their arms around each other. They make it fit with their bodies pressed together close, the space to breathe too small, but not in a suffocating in a way, in a way that makes Louis's body vibrate with every beat of Harry heart, every breath he takes.

Harry tilts his chin up, meeting Louis’s eyes and presses a kiss against his lips filled with whispers of thank yous and i love yous until they fall asleep, a smile on both of their faces.

-

They get back to piles of impending exams, filling their world for a while, making it all a blinding light with words filling up every street, every corner, every living space. It’s familiar words, ones he understands, ones he doesn’t, all battling for a place in his brain, to get latched onto his memory. His days pass in a blur of classes, studying at the library, studying at home and going to bed. He spends so much time wrapped up in his books that he doesn’t see Harry for days at a time who’s just as busy as he is, the two of them barely summoning enough air to breathe, let alone go on dates and have sex. They fall into bed at night, on a night when one of them drags himself to the other one’s place, and kiss lazily between hushed whispers and stifled yaws flooding their bodies. Mumbled i love yous get lost in the need for sleep, for enough energy to get another day started, another one following in the same footsteps.

-

It isn’t until the summer creeps upon them that they’re able to shake the routine and let themselves enjoy the warmth that passes over London over the span of a short week. Suddenly it’s all heat and sunlight and freedom. No more exams, no more studies, no more schedules to adjust your life according to, ones to mold yourself and everything else after.

It passes in a blur of long days spent sleeping, the sheets kicked to the floor, skin on skin as they lie tangled in each other with the window open, the light breeze cooling them off. It passes in trips to the park, trips down to the seaside where they swim in the water, their bodies becoming clean, washing off the stress and letting the water take them over, removing every lingering feeling stuck in their bodies and minds. It passes in ice cream cones and held hands and movie marathons and home cooked dinners.

It’s as if Louis's blinks and sees the months rush by, flickering images over his eyelids, fleeting moments getting stuck and transforming themselves into memories, the rest getting lost, stored somewhere in the back of his mind, only to be brought back one day.

///

They have their first fight a year into their relationship. The first big one. The one that ends with Harry leaving.

-

Things have been particularly weird between the two of them for a while, mumbled responses, never minds and short, cut off words that stab like a thousand knives, leaving invisible scars all over Louis's skin. He knows he’s lying to himself, that things aren’t good between the two of them, haven’t been for weeks and that they’re heading down a destructive path, but he doesn’t have the energy or want to bring it up. He looks at Harry and sees the boy he loves so deeply, with all of his being and knowing Harry loves him back and is there for him, which is enough on so many days that he doesn’t want to poke at the surface of whatever this is, doesn’t want to take that away. Instead he makes up excuses in his mind, ignores it out of his own selfish needs. He lets it all work itself into this big pile of words unspoken and actions overlooked until Harry lets it all come breaking down on his own.

.-

“Harry, love, what’s wrong?” Louis asks one night where Harry’s being extra fidgety, twisting underneath him, letting out small grunts every few minutes.

Harry stops carding his fingers through his hair and moves his gaze from where it’d been placed on the tv and looks down at Louis. Their eyes stay locked for a couple of moments, neither of them speaking, Louis's words hanging in the air between them, before Harry lets his stare flicker back up to the tv again.

“Nothing, it’s just- Nothing, never mind,” he mumbles as he starts running his fingers through Louis fringe again.

“Harry,” Louis says as he brings his hand up to tug at the end of Harry’s shirt, trying to get his attention. “Babe, can you- Can you just look at me, please,”

Harry lets out a long sigh before looking down at Louis once more. He looks bored, unimpressed and Louis suddenly feels so small. He can feel his skin start to itch and his throat dry up and his walls slowly starting to climb back up again as Harry’s eyes roam his face.

“What is it, Louis?” His voice comes out slower than usual, a tiredness clinging to it, as if he’s pushing every word that leaves his mouth.

“Is something wrong, di-did I do something wrong?” he asks shyly. He feels so stupid cause he knows Harry loves him and he loves Harry but right now he feels like when his parents told him they were getting a divorce. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but in that moment he felt his entire world come crumbling down and pinning the blame on himself was so much easier than to try and understand why people fell out of love.

Harry’s gaze flickers to the tv once more before he brings his hands up to rub at his face, massaging his eyelids and running them down the slope of his nose. He’s taking long, hard breaths and underneath him Louis can feel his leg start to shake the slightest bit.

“God, I just- fuck, Louis, I didn’t want to do this,” he finally lets out. He removes his hands from his face and lets his head drop against the back of the couch, fixing his stare on the ceiling.

Louis quickly shuffles away from Harry’s lap and settles down next to him. He hesitates for a moment before he places his hand on Harry’s thigh and starts rubbing small circles into it. Harry always does it to him when he can feel him tensing up and it helps him anchor down and be reminded of his presence. He hopes it has the same calming on effect on Harry as it does on him.

“Harry, what’s going on?” he asks, not looking up from the movements of his thumb on Harry’s thigh.

“I’m so sorry, Louis, but god, sometimes I just feel so disconnected from you. I love you so much, but- You just don’t let me in sometimes and it hurts so fucking much. I just- fuck -” He breaks off mid sentence, taking a sharp intake of breath before going on, calmer this time.

“It’s just… I feel like I’ve given you every single piece of me and sometimes I just don’t understand why can’t you do the same in return. ”

Louis feels the weight of his words hit him in the chest with a loud thump. They fall and crush every organ inside his body, making them crumble to pieces until all that’s left is the ashes of them sprinkling through his body, filling up every part of him, weighing him down.

“You-you don’t understand, it’s not that easy,” he stutters out while trying to hold back the tears pooling in his eyes, his body starting to shake through his blurry vision.

“No, for fuck’s sake , Louis, I don’t understand, because you don’t let me in,” Harry says as he stands up abruptly, ripping away Louis’s hand from his thigh in the motion. He brings his hands up to pull at his hair as he moves towards the hallway and starts pacing in circles.

“Harry.” Louis’s voice comes out barely above a whisper, getting drowned out by the sounds coming from the tv, but it still manages to bring Harry to a sharp halt.

He looks at Louis curled up on the same spot on the couch and fumbling with the hands in his lap, avoiding his stare to stop the tears rimming his eyes from escaping. He doesn’t want Harry to see him cry, not like this.

“Sometimes I feel like we’re making progress, I see you trying, but other times I just- I feel so disconnected, like you’re almost pushing me away and, fuck-” he breaks off and mumbles more curses under his breath, the words sharp and hitting Louis like punches to his chest.

A few more minutes pass where neither of them speak, the room echoing with their silence. Louis has so much he wants to say, words filling him up, wanting to be expressed, but his entire body has gone numb and he doesn’t know how to push them out. He wants to say he’s sorry, that he wishes it was easier, that it wasn’t this hard, that Harry doesn’t deserve this, but all that leaves his mouth is a quiet whimper as he fights tears and both of them know that isn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Lou.”

Louis doesn’t have to look up to know Harry’s staring at him with pity and disgust. He doesn’t have to look up to see Harry turn on his heel and walk out the door. He doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to see that last look on Harry’s face before he leaves Louis.

As soon as the door slams shut he lets his face drop against the top of his knees and he lets out a broken sob muffled by the fabric of his jeans. He’s clutching his knees so hard he can feel his knuckles whitening, the tears are blurring his vision and all he can hear is his own shuddering breaths. The words i’m sorry too are playing on a loop in his mind and all he knows is that the only thing that matters is that Harry isn’t there and that hurts ten times stronger than any physical pain ever could.

-

He doesn’t move until Zayn and Niall come home. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the same position since time stopped moving when Harry left. He closed the door and Louis’s entire world stopped, stopped moving around Harry, stopped moving with Harry in it. Just stopped.

They bring him to Zayn’s bed where they nestle him under the covers and crawl in so they’re positioned between him. He’s being crushed by their collective weight but barely registers any pain that isn’t the one vibrating in his chest, the one crushing his bones and filling him up with feelings of sadness, emptiness, loneliness. Making it all blur together and curl around his heart, fill him up, flood through his body, mix with his bloodstream, becoming part of him.

They stroke his hair, whisper soothing words into his ears, rub his back and wipe his tears. He loves them for taking care of the mess he’s become but every action reminds him of how they aren’t Harry and that only makes him cry harder. It makes his body shake with memories of the past year and everything that’s happened, fleeting moments flashing by in a blur, tinted green and inked onto the backs of his eyelids.

He never falls asleep that night and Harry never returns.

-

The next morning he gets convinced to take a shower after Zayn spends twenty minutes cooing at him and telling him that taking one will make him feel better. Louis knows it won’t, knows that nothing but having Harry in his arms again will do that, nothing will fix the tight clench around his heart, the one reminding him of everything that’s gone missing, but nods and lets Zayn help him out of bed quietly as to not wake up Niall who's asleep on the other end of it.

Louis sits on the edge of the bed, fumbling with his hands in his lap the same way he did when Harry left and he knows this small motion will trigger him, will make his eyes tear up and the pain to beat harder against his body, but he needs to know the pain is still there. He needs it as a confirmation, to know that he isn't making this all up in his head, that Harry actually walked out the door, walked out on Louis and their shared life, walked out on i love yous and everything that went unspoken.

"Lou," Zayn says quietly as he places a hand underneath Louis’s chin and tips his head up to meet his stare, the two of them maintaining eye contact for a passing moment.

"Hey, let's get you in the shower, yeah, that'll make it better," he ushers, repeating the same words as earlier, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as Louis. He untwines Louis's fingers and circles his own around Louis’s wrist, gently pulling at it to get him to stand up.

Louis nods and hums softly before letting himself be lead out of the room by Zayn and into the living room before they enter their small bathroom. With the two of them inside, it's crowded and there isn't much space for either one of them to move around. The walls are creeping in and he feels as if his inner world is being mirrored by his surroundings, as if the feelings closing in on him, the one he’s lingering to are clear as ever in their cramped bathroom, the bright yellow walls the ones of his heart.

Louis places himself in front of the mirror, where he's met with his reflection staring back at him. He looks exhausted, his eyes red and puffy with dark circles underneath and the strands of his hair are messy from sleeping, tousled and sticking up in different directions. He loses himself in his reflection, the person staring back at him as hollow and empty as he feels. His stare looks blank, his blue eyes nothing but a light grey.

Zayn places the set of clothes he's picked out for him on the laundry basket behind them before moving the shower curtains and turning on the water. He plays around with the handles until he seems satisfied and draws the curtains back. He meets Louis's eyes in the mirror and moves so he's stood right behind him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and placing his head in the crook of Louis's neck. He lets out small puffs of air that tickle the springy bits of Louis's hair as he tightens his grip on him, the hold of his fingers strong and secure.

Louis doesn't move, doesn't let himself relax into Zayn's embrace and after a while Zayn presses a dry kiss to the back of his neck before untangling his arms and leaving the room without a word, letting the door click into place behind him.

He spends the next seconds or minutes staring at himself in the mirror, time disappearing, blurring into the background as lets his brain shut down, not allowing himself to give into the sea of emotions spiralling through his mind and body. He shuts them down, stores them inside his skin, the tear tracks against his cheeks already drying.

-

He spends forty minutes staring at the bathroom tiles, tracing unknown patterns and not lifting his head. He feels his body start to shudder at one point as he realizes he’s crying. The tears streaming down his face get mixed with the cold water slipping down his body and he just feels so empty. So fucking empty. He wraps his arms around his waist, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his ribs, reaching for the pain that demands to be felt.

He gets out of the shower eventually, wrapping himself in a big towel before pulling on the sweats Zayn picked out for him.They’re comfortable and a little big but they don’t manage to warm him up, instead he just feels more cold and sad as his heart aches over the fact that they aren’t Harry’s. They aren’t as big, Zayn being closer to his height and he misses the drag of fabric against the floor as he walks, misses the way the clothes would bunch up around his ankles and wrists, the way they’d make him feel as if he was floating, soaring above it all.

-

The first thing Louis registers upon leaving the bathroom is that Zayn’s left the balcony door open again and that there’s an awful draft. The wind’s filling up the apartment, seeping it’s way through the furniture and into his clothes, collecting underneath his skin. It’s cold, but he barely registers it because the second thing he notices is that there’s a person on his couch. Harry.

He’s got his eyes pinned to the turned off tv with a blank look on his face and Louis hates that he can’t read him, that he doesn’t know every thought flittering through his head right in that moment. That he doesn’t know why Harry’s there or what he’s gonna say or do. He has no clue and he absolutely hates it, hates how in less than forty eight hours everything’s managed to get fucked up, hates himself for being the reason for it, but out of all the things he hates in that moment, not one of them is Harry himself.

Louis carefully closes the bathroom door before padding out into the living room where Harry’s sitting. At the squeaking sound of the door closing, Harry jolts his head to the side to look at Louis. When their eyes finally meet it’s like a thousand emotions exchanged - words said, words left unsaid, feelings felt and unfelt over the span of a year and everything in between.

Neither of them speak for seconds, minutes, hours, days and slowly Louis's world starts spinning again, time starts moving and he thinks that that’s what Harry does to him. With one look he’s got him hooked and Louis wants to give all of himself to Harry so bad, wants him to have every childhood memory, every tear he’s ever cried, every feelings he’s ever felt, because he feels his heart swell three times bigger from the sheer of amount of love he manages to fill him with, but Louis also knows that he can’t do that yet, because it’s never that easy.

“Harry, I’m-” he breaks his stare to look down at his hands and brings them together to start fiddling with them. “I’m so, so sor-sorry.” He doesn’t look up but feels Harry’s stare pinning him to the wall behind him, just like it had last night, leaving him feeling naked and exposed.

Harry sighs and mumbles a quiet, “Lou, babe,” before jumping up from the couch and taking one, two steps to where Louis's stood. He stops half a step away from him and lets a moment of silence pass between them where Louis drops his hands and looks up into Harry’s bright eyes. The morning light shining through the windows lights up his face, half of it left to the shadows while the other one glows with specks of silver filtering through his hair, hitting Louis where he’s stood in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” I love you . “I fucked up.” I love you . “Fuck- I’m so sorry, I love you so much,” Harry finally says as he hauls him into a tight embrace in one swift motion and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Louis brings his own up from his sides and wraps them gently around Harry’s waist, just like he has a million times before. He splays them over Harry’s lower back, linking them and lays his head to rest against his chest. Louis presses a kiss above his beating heart and whispers a quiet i’m sorry too , finally letting the words out from where they’ve been trapped inside his mind.

They hold onto each other tight as if they’re all they’ve got in the world and in some twisted and slightly fucked up way, Louis thinks it’s true, Harrys got all of him, every little broken piece. Even the ones he hasn’t given to him yet are his in a way, and that’s something no one else can say.

Harry clutches onto the back of Louis’s shirt while leaving butterfly kisses all over the top of Louis's head, mumbling quiet i’m sorrys against his scalp.

And Louis doesn't know if he’s forgiven him yet but for the first time in his life someone left and came back and in that moment that's enough for him.

///

After the fight Louis tries to give Harry small parts of him. He isn’t ready to tear down his walls yet, he’s spent too long building them up, but he wants Harry to have these unknown parts of him. He loves him far too much to deny him anything and if Harry wants every broken piece of Louis then he’s hoping that, in time, he can give him just that.

He starts doing small things, like telling Harry when he’s having a hard night instead of just shutting off and waiting for him to register what’s happening. When he feels the sadness taking over, he shuffles into Harry’s lap and lets him wrap his strong arms around him, always there, patiently waiting. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel like he needs to. Harry just hums wordless melodies softly into Louis's ear and cards his fingers through his hair. Louis clutches harder to their entwined hands and feels himself falling into the rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat. He lets it anchor him down, steady him and draw him back against the breaking waves of the shore.

Harry’s so good, always appreciates whatever Louis's willing to give him and Louis find himself falling deeper than he ever thought he’d let himself. Because it isn’t as scary with Harry somehow. He wishes he was more ready, that he could speed the process up somehow, that it wasn’t so hard to just open himself up and show all the bloody scars, no matter the cost.

He falls in love with Harry on Monday mornings when they’re stood in their tiny bathroom, Harry crouching the slightest bit so he can see himself in the mirror, stood connected from shoulder to  hip with their elbows bumping together as they brush their teeth. When toothpaste starts drooling down their chins from the big smiles they got plastered on their faces and when they giggle quietly, their shoulders bumping from the movements.

He falls in love with Harry when he comes home from a long day full of classes and finds him  cooking in the kitchen. He’s brought out every pot and pan Louis didn’t know they owned and is making dinner. Louis comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Harry brings up a spoon for Louis to taste and places a gentle kiss to his cheek as Louis hums his approval. It’s disgustingly domestic and the only thought spinning through Louis's mind is that he wants to come home to Harry every single day, be it with dinner or not. Two weeks later Louis asks him to move in and Harry tackles him to the floor and hugs him while whispering yes over and over into his neck, both of them laughing and Louis feels free, as if he’s floating.

He falls in love with Harry when one night Harry draws them a bath complete with bath bombs and bubbles and scented candles. It’s sappy and cliché but Louis feels so grateful when Harry finally lets him walk into the bathroom after keeping him waiting in the living room for half an hour. Harry’s standing at the edge of the tub, clutching a towel while nervously biting his lip. Louis shakes his head as he takes in the room and the boy before him. He rushes up to Harry and wraps his arms around his neck, getting up on his tip toes to plant tiny butterfly kisses all over Harry’s face as he blushes and giggles in response.

He falls in love with Harry when fifteen minutes later they’re in the tub, splashing water at each other, shrieking with joy and there’s water all over the bathroom floor and bubbles soaring through the airs with foam dripping down the walls.

Everyday he keeps on falling in love. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Harry in his life, but he knows he isn’t gonna let him go because he thinks this might be it. The cynic in him tells him he’s too young, doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but a part of him knows that Harry’s as committed to this as he is, that Harry’s his and he’s Harry’s and that they’re each others.

///

One night he wakes up in the middle of the night with a stone crushing his lungs. He can’t remember his dream, but every part of his body is drowning. He can feel it spreading slowly, making it harder to breathe and the familiar feeling of anxiety settling in his bones.

Normally after waking up like this he’d sneak off to the living room and settle on the couch or go out for a smoke or even curl up in the bath, let the water spray against his clothes, making them wet and heavy against his skin.

Tonight, however he decides to try, to try and keep the silent promise he gave Harry when they didn’t end over their fight, when he decided their relationship was worth sticking around for.

Instead of sneaking out of bed he rolls onto his side and into Harry’s arms. He must’ve rolled away during the night but Harry’s arms remain in the same position as when they fell asleep. He curls against him, their bodies fitting seamlessly with each other, their muscles reacting to memory. He tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s shoulder, letting out small puffs of air against the hairs at the nape of his neck and drags an arm around his waist, holding on tight.

He pushes his legs in between Harry’s as he feels him stir awake slowly, gaping his mouth open and shut a couple of times and scrunching his entire face together in a frown. Louis looks up at him, giggling when he hears Harry’s quiet groans as he fights sleep.

“Lou,” Harry mumbles as he tightens his hold on his shoulders and cuddles closer to him.

“Mm, go back to sleep, babe,” Louis whispers softly into his ear, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck and planting a brief kiss there.

“‘s everything okay?” he asks, his eyes still closed as he lets his head fall against Louis while he tries to stay awake, despite being tugged back into sleep.

“Shh, yeah, baby, I had a bad dream-” Harry snaps his head back and opens his eyes, looking down intently at Louis, awake all of a sudden. Louis’s a bit taken aback and doesn’t really know how to respond so he settles on pushing his head back into the pillows and meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Lou, what happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern as he starts rubbing soothing circles into his back. His eyes are wide and searching for Louis's own in the dark of the room.

“Love, calm down, I- I just think I want to go back to bed,” he whispers as he brings a hand up to stroke at Harry’s cheek, meeting his eyes and giving him a small, private smile that’s soft around the edges.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles in reply as he brings one of his own hands to mirror the movement, his thumb brushing along Louis's jaw, over his light stubble and up to his cheek.

Louis leans into his hand and nods as he lets his eyes flutter shut. He closes the distance between them and drops his head back down on Harry’s shoulder, draping a hand across Harry’s waist and preparing to go back to sleep.

He feels Harry remove his hand and drop a kiss to the top of Louis head. He whispers “I love you,”  before dozing off, but it sounds more like a thank you filled with all the words it’s too late to speak, when their eyes are fighting to stay open and the words are slurred with sleep.

///

Somehow the world keeps turning and he doesn’t feel as alone anymore. He makes himself get out of bed and change into clothes. He attends his classes, even tries to keep up with his coursework and the thought of doing homework doesn’t weigh him down or make him feel as if he’s drowning anymore. He talks to Niall about football and goes to parties with Zayn. He dances and gets drunk, but this time it isn’t to dull the pain, it’s because he genuinely enjoys how it makes him feel.

Harry asks him to see a therapist and he’s reluctant at first, doesn’t really know if he wants to, but eventually gives in and goes. He finds it uncomfortable to talk about his feelings in such a vulnerable and raw way and goes home and cries after his first session, feels numb and refuses to leave bed for the entire night. Harry strokes his back and presses kisses behind his ear and eventually Louis thinks that he can do it, that he can give it a fair shot and he goes back. (And he does it again. And again. Until maybe it isn’t as uncomfortable and exposing anymore.)

He goes grocery shopping and looks at the cigarette shelf but ultimately decides against it. Just like the alcohol, it’s something he associates with dulling the pain and he doesn’t need it anymore. He still has a pack stashed at the bottom of his gym bag but he doesn’t find his fingers itching for it anymore and counts it as a win.

Somehow he goes on living.

He knows he isn’t healed, that there’s still an echoing hole inside of his bones, but instead of feeling it grow with emptiness, he fills it with thoughts of brown curls and green eyes. He fills it with memories of smiling over breakfast and hooked ankles under the table, of lazy morning kisses filled with bad breath and wearing clothes that are three sizes too big. He fills it with promises of safety, of a future, of comfort, of words to hold on to. He fills it with all the small things he associates with Harry and the way he makes him feel.

And somehow that makes the hole grow a tiny bit smaller.