open hands and closed fists but nothing fills the silence ⌲ l.s.

chapter twelve - the hospital, episode 2

Louis smiled, tucking his chin over the top of Harry's head. "How did I get so lucky?" he asked, the rumble of his throat sending vibrations through Harry's cheek.

Harry only shrugged, but Louis felt a smile against his skin.

The hours right before he was released felt the longest. They didn't leave his uncomfortable bed, still tangled up in each other. Whenever nurses entered the room, Harry tensed and shyly hid his face in Louis's neck like they were going to reprimand him or kick him out, but they never did. They just smiled fondly at the cuddling boys and went about their business.

Harry was trailing his fingers down Louis's chest, studying the older boy's face carefully for any signs of pain. He paused his movements every once in a while, waiting for Louis to nod or shake his head to see if each area was injured. Louis just stared back at him, a hint of a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Then he winced, and Harry pulled his hand back immediately, guilt flashing across his face.

"It's alright, love. I've just got a bruised rib on that side," he explained. "Just can't put too much pressure on it for a few weeks."

He wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist, bringing the younger boy's hand back to his chest in an unspoken indication that he could keep going.

Harry hesitated, but he continued, more carefully now. He ran his fingers down the length of Louis's other side, his lips cracking into a small smile when Louis shook his head, telling him that there was no pain. Then he tapped the center of Louis's stomach a few times, lightly, and Louis nodded.

"I've got a pretty nasty bruise there on my stomach, but nothing terminal," he said cheekily.

Harry hummed in understanding. He glanced down at the area, his eyes curious and observant.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. You can look," Louis encouraged, adding in a playful tone, "You've seen it all before."

The younger boy snorted, but his face grew more serious as he lifted the hem of Louis's hospital gown, moving the thin fabric to the side. He inhaled sharply when he saw the bruise for himself, the skin splotched with purple and green.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Louis soothed him. "It'll take some time to heal, but I'll get there."

Harry looked skeptical. He lifted his hand to an unbruised patch of skin. Louis could only barely feel Harry's fingertip moving across his skin as the younger boy traced out five letters.

"S, O, R, R, Y -- oh, stop," he scolded gently. "You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all."

Still, Harry bent down and pressed his lips to the bruised spot, giggling cutely as he did. Louis just rolled his eyes, then grabbed onto Harry's face with his hands, pulling his boyfriend up for a real kiss.

Their lips moved together slowly, like they had all the time in the world. The kiss was easy and expert after so many years together. Louis had memorized the way that Harry responded to being kissed -- the tiny intakes of air, the uncontrollable twitch of his fingers, the rosy flush of cheeks. He bit down on Harry's lower lip, making the younger boy whimper, his hand wandering Louis's bruised stomach as he searched for anything to hold onto.

"Careful," Louis hissed breathily, still not breaking the kiss.

Harry slipped his tongue into Louis's mouth as an apology, their breath mingling together as the kiss grew even more heated. Louis's hands wandered down to Harry's bum, his hold firm and possessive as he squeezed a few times before returning to Harry's lower back. Harry moaned softly into Louis's mouth, and he couldn't help pouting when Louis finally pulled back.