larry oneshots

baby, i get mystified by how this city screams your name

"I figured," Harry continues, as Louis does nothing but stare at him. Fuck, he is so pretty, Louis could cry, "You didn't sound too good on the phone earlier."

"Missed you," Louis breathed, eyes welling up in unshed tears. He hasn't cried in a while, not really, and he doubts it'll start today. Today's just been tough, words thrown around that were too scathing for his skin, actions that hurt a little too much. He doesn't know why he couldn't handle it today, specifically. All he knows is Harry will make him feel better.

So he blinks away the tears and waits.

"Missed you more," Harry says simply, bending down and giving Louis a hug. It's warm, soothing, and Louis can catch a whiff of the vanilla and hazelnut that Harry just seems to have at all times. He's comfort as a person. He is comfort. He is Louis' comfort.

"I made you dinner," Harry seems to pick up on Louis' reluctance to talk, which Louis is immensely grateful for, "Go change, we can have dinner and we'll put on something after, okay?"

Louis nods. Harry throws him another one of those breathtaking smiles.

"Talk to me when you need to, Lou," Harry leans down to give him a quick peck, "Don't try to bury it into yourself. I can handle some of it too. Just. Talk to me when you can."

Louis nods again.

Despite everything, he thinks, scratch that, he knows he'll be okay.

**

By the time Louis changes into a nice comfortable hoodie and sweatpants, he already feels leagues better.

As he promised, Harry's waiting patiently at the table. Louis is so thankful Harry understands, knows not to smother him while he's like this; lets him have his space for a couple of minutes. Sometimes he forgets just how well Harry knows him, despite the fact he could list off everything Harry would need if he was caught in a situation like this in a heartbeat. They revolve around each other, they're made for each other.

Louis is quiet when he sits, but Harry doesn't mind. He chats about his day, mindlessly talking about random errands he did over the course of today. Louis loves listening to him, he finds. He usually talks a lot, whereas Harry is quieter, but in times like this, Louis relishes the chance to sit back and let Harry mumble about, half-listening to the confusing topic changes and sentences that don't make sense at all. He's used to Harrynese by now, he can pretty much make out what Harry wants to say in the end.

"Anyways," Harry says, and Louis realises he's already eaten half his dinner without noticing, too caught up in the lull of Harry's voice, "How's the new music been going?"

It's cautious, and Louis can tell Harry's treading carefully, trying to figure out a safe way to ease into what had set off Louis earlier in the day. Harry doesn't know that music has been the source of his problems.

"Not very good."

It comes out ashamed, and Louis doesn't know why. There's no reason to be; everyone has off days and there's no rush to get it finished currently. He knows this, he knows that if Harry was in his place, he'd be firmly telling Harry to 'get his head out his own ass' because he's 'the most wonderful being to ever grace this planet, and there's no need to be upset over one bad day.' Louis however, isn't perfect. He's also a hypocrite.

Tears prick at his eyes again.

"Lou," Harry breathes, affectionate, "You wanna take our dinner to the couch?" He swallows, eyes boring into Louis' own, "I might be able to help you out."

"I love you so much," Louis bursts out, and fuck, whatever he said about not crying was immediately thrown out the window, cause he's crying, hard. Everything seemed to just crash down on him at this moment, Harry's neverending love, his neverending devotion, fuck, he's so sweet Louis can barely comprehend it. He can't even comprehend this moment, because Harry had already left his own side of the table and crossed over to his, rubbing Louis' arm soothingly, whispering nonsensical things that Louis can't bother to decipher right now. It's everything Louis needs.

"Shh," Harry shushes him gently, "It's okay, baby, you're okay."

So Louis sits there, letting out the cries he'd been holding in for a while, letting Harry just hold him for a moment, just let himself live in the little space they've created for themselves, where no one is out to get them. He can feel Harry bundling him up, wrapping his lanky arms around him and literally carrying him to the living room. Any other day, he'd be screaming at him to 'put me down, goddammit!' for making fun of his size and his height, however, he lets himself be this time. Lets himself indulge in the support of Harry's arms.

Eventually, Louis quiets, his tears still, and he finds himself lying on Harry's chest, as Harry lies on the couch. The room is silent, and Harry's playing with his hair, and Louis can't help but shut his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey," Louis' voice is scratchy, worn.

"You need some water?"

He shakes his head.

"An extra blanket?"

Another shake.

"Anything else?"

Yet another shake.

"Just want you," Louis whispers.

"You have me."

It goes quiet again.

"You wanna tell me about the lyrics?"

"Yeah," Louis mumbles, it's hard to talk with one cheek smooshed onto Harry's chest, but he tries, "T'was stupid, I couldn't figure out what to write for the chorus."

"What's it about?"

A pause.

"You." Louis feels his face heat up, as he tries not to shrink in embarrassment.

"Me?" Louis can hear the smirk in Harry's voice. What a prick, "I can't believe you don't know what to write about, when it's about me."

"Stop being smug, you dickhead."

"But Lou," Harry drags out the 'u', a smile in his voice, "I'm so upset! I can't believe-"

"I can't write about you because you're more than words can describe. Fuck you for being so good to me. You don't leave my head all damn day."

"Aw," Harry grins, "You love me."

"That I do."

They sit in silence for a while, as Louis continues to ponder over lyrics, hands subconsciously playing with Harry's hoodie strings. Harry's humming something under his breath, probably a new song too for his album, and Louis almost feels himself falling asleep when it clicks.

"I've got it."

"You do?"

"I've got it!" Louis whisper-yells excitedly, climbing off Harry's lap to go find a notebook and pen.

"I'm such a good muse."

"Shut the fuck up, Harry."

"Hey. Aren't I the source of your inspiration?"

"You're nightmare fuel-"

"Aw."

"-But I love you regardless."

Harry's eyes glisten for a moment, before he bats him away, "Go get that notebook, asshole."

Louis grins and starts running into the other room, cogs turning so fast in his head it makes him spin. It's a wonderful feeling, something he's been lacking all day. He still doesn't know how Harry does it, despite knowing every inch of Harry's skin. Despite knowing he could do the same for Harry. He loves the idiot, so much.

It's when he almost goes to turn the corner that a voice makes him stop.

"Oh, and Louis?"

Louis turns and looks up, to find Harry's mirthful eyes, expectant and so, so tender.

"I love you too."

**

i got caught up in the banter and forgot to characterize them whoopsies

hope this makes up for the shit i put u thru shade yeehaw !!