Love is a Word (You Gave it a Name) l.s

Christmas Day

Louis's heart is thudding so hard it's about to break his ribs. Probably. Harry tells him he's being dramatic, but Harry is also the one who threw up in the morning, so he has no place to talk.

"It's okay," mum keeps repeating, and Louis knows, he knows, but it doesn't do anything to ease the tight band of nerves that's wrapped around his chest.

It's been three hours since they opened presents. Louis and Harry both have their terrible Christmas sweaters on, their sisters are singing along to carols in the living room, and the boys have already sent approximately two dozen supportive texts. Each.

Louis has also had one shot of brandy, for courage, that turned out to be one shot too many.

He takes another shallow breath, and lets the air out in a hiss through his front teeth. Harry's hand is trembling in his.

"Do you want us to leave you alone?" Robin asks, frowning in concern across the kitchen table.

Louis shares a look with Harry, and it calms him a little to see his own nerves mirrored in Harry's eyes. They can do this, he keeps telling himself, hoping that the message will get through. They can do it. They can they can they can.

"Uh...maybe? If that's, like, okay," Harry bites his lip.

"Of course it's okay, don't be silly," Anne says, already standing up. "This is about you boys. Whatever you need."

"Okay," says Louis, because Harry seems to have exhausted all his words for the foreseeable future. "Thank you."

"Of course," his mum whispers, and walks around the table to press a kiss against both their foreheads. "Good luck, darlings. We love you very much."

Anne does the same; Robin and Dan squeeze their shoulders in silent support and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

Louis takes a second to just breathe. He's not doing a very good job of it, but he tries his best. Next to him, Harry's chest is falling and rising rapidly, and Louis thinks he might be waging the same war.

Louis puts his elbows on the table and runs his hands through his hair. "Love," he says, and Harry squeezes his knee to show he's listening. "We need to do it."

"I know," Harry rasps. He's still pale from his morning escapade to the bathroom, especially offset against the green of his sweater. "I know, it's just. It's such a small thing, and it feels so big."

"It is," Louis reassures, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and leaving a kiss there. "This is us stepping off a cliff, pretty much. There's somebody at the bottom to catch us, but it's still fucking terrifying."

Harry laughs a little, and some colour bleeds back into his cheeks. He leans in blindly, eyes closed, and Louis makes sure to meet his lip in a soft kiss.

Sunlight slants in through the window, another bright winter morning. Louis thinks they should have a snowball fight in the garden, after this.

"Let's do it," Harry whispers suddenly into the kiss, his voice shaky on Louis's lips. "Let's do it, Lou."

Louis nods and swallows past the lump of dread in his throat. It's just them. Just them. Harry and Louis, Louis and Harry, the damn dream team. They can do anything they set their hearts to.

Harry's phone has been sitting on the tabletop for what seems like hours, glinting, and the tiny camera lens seems to be staring Louis right in the eyes. He reaches out a shaking hand and flips it around, presses the home button. Harry's lock screen is a picture of them snuggled up on a sofa, in a dressing room somewhere in America, asleep sitting up with their hands intertwined. Louis thinks Zayn may have taken it.