Someone you won't talk about (l.s)

Thursday

Louis can't sleep. He can't sleep but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because Harry is peacefully snoring in his arms—his fingers clinging onto his t shirt and beautiful mouth slack against his chest.

Every time Louis looks at him, his chest is a physical ache. He can't seem to let him go—can't seem to unwind his arm from where it's wrapped tight around Harrys torso. He couldn't protect him that night over a year ago—but he would protect him now.

He couldn't stop himself from replaying the events of that morning all that time ago in his head. The way Harry had walked in glassy eyed—the way he had begged Louis to just go to bed with him. The way Louis pushed him away and walked out of the room. He should have known. He should have been able to tell something was wrong. He should have let him talk.

He wondered how different things would be now if he did. But maybe that didn't matter—maybe having Harry in his arms right now was the only thing that mattered.

He slides down the bed timidly and presses Harry into the crook of his neck, placing a kiss on his forehead. He stirs slightly but falls back into his even breathing as Louis admires him in the glow of the moon from the window.

"I love you." He whispers, knowing he won't hear.

***

The next time Louis wakes up it's nearly 4 in the morning and the spot next to him is seemingly empty. He squints awake and has a slight moment of panic before he sees Harrys silhouette resting near the window—staring out at the barely rising sun. He shuffles out of bed and Harry startles before smiling at him.

"Sorry if I woke you." Harry says, immediately winding his arms around Louis' waste and placing his chin on his shoulder. Louis sleepily melts into the touch.

"S'okay." He mumbles. "You okay?"

"Mhm." Harry mumbles, giving his cheek a soft kiss. They stay like that for a few moments—Harry holding Louis securely and Louis leaning effortlessly into his touch. "Thank you for believing me." Harry suddenly whispers against his jaw line. Louis cranes his head to look at him.

"Of course, Haz." Louis furrows his brow. "Why wouldn't I believe you?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't." He squeezes his arms around Louis tighter, turning his head to nuzzle into his neck. "I feel like someone just took cinderblocks off my shoulders." He sighs.

"I can't even imagine, Haz." Louis whispers. "You've been holding onto so much." Louis turns his head to nuzzle against him.

Harry only kisses his jaw in response, relishing in the comfortable early morning silence. The sun has risen a tad more—enough to set a small orange glow around the room...and Louis feels at peace in that moment.

"I told you we couldn't be friends." Harry whispers. Louis turns in his arms to face him.

"Why do you say that?"

"You asked me why I said it that night." Harry whispers. "This is why." He says as he swipes a piece of stray hair away from Louis' forehead lovingly. "This would always get in the way." He punctuates it by leaning in a lightly kissing his lips.

"So what are we now then?" Louis huffs out a small laugh—his heart skipping a few beats.

"More than friends."

***

"My head feels like it's going to fall out of my ass." Niall groans—seconds away from face planting into his pancakes.

"That's what you get for leaving an exploded hot pocket in the microwave." Louis tisks, sipping his coffee and earning a glare from Niall.

"I'll clean it." Niall mumbles.