flower crowns // l.s.

31½

Louis smiled, Harry snapped the picture, and then he took it off and placed it back on Harry. Harry started to swipe through the pictures on his phone, occasionally lifting it up to show Louis how "cute" he is.

The rest of the night was spent with tipsy-driven jokes and cold pizza. It was around two a.m. when they all called it a night. Louis argued with Harry about where he would stay (Louis said he could get a cab home so that he wouldn't be an inconvenience), but once they chilled out for a moment, Harry convinced him to stay with these big round eyes no one could ever say no to. And Louis is so undeniably whipped beyond belief that he complied to Harry demanding they share the bed.

That was something that happened unexpectedly. Sharing the bed was a huge step, but he supposed saying the big L word is pretty damn huge, too. Louis liked falling asleep and waking up with someone he deeply cared for. And to have it reciprocated is a feeling he couldn't describe.

Louis wasn't sure when the exact moment he fell in love with Harry was. Part of him screams it was when they had their first date. That night, that god awful night, just sent his protective instincts into overdrive, spiking up the love-meter in the process. It sounds so cheesy, but it's true. And it all seemed to be happening so fast, yet just right. Nothing felt out of place or awkward—it's everything he'd ever hoped for in a relationship.

He didn't really know how sure he was on the "in love" thing until Harry told him that night. Then it just clicked. It was for sure. Louis was in love. And it made his body tingle with a weird energy, but it was nice. Being in love is super nice, because it really gives you a reason. Before, his reason to go on was just the tattoo parlor. Now it's someone he loves and who loves him back.

"My bed. I'm so sorry I've neglected you," Harry said with a frown as he fell face-first onto the mattress with his arms spread out.

Louis grabbed a pillow and hit his back with it. "It doesn't have feelings, Harry."

Harry rubbed the mattress. "Don't listen to him, baby. He's just jealous that I'm not on top of him right now."

Louis was about to roll his eyes, but then he raised a brow and thought on it. He wouldn't mind Harry laying on him. He sighed and hit Harry with the pillow again. "Weirdo. Move over."

"I'm kinda having a moment here." Harry stroked the bed again.

Louis crossed his arms after tossing the pillow back, expecting Harry to move, but sighed when he proceeded to sweet talk it. "My God," Louis said underneath his breath while climbing onto the bed and sitting on Harry's back.

"Louis."

He smiled when Harry sounded like someone was sitting on his back.

"Louis. Lungs. Crushing."

"I bet," Louis grinned.

"P-L-S."

Louis furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his fluff nugget. "What? What does that stand for?"

"It's please! But in text form. Ugh, you don't understand me. Get you and your voluptuous behind off of me."

Louis gave it a few seconds before rolling off and falling next to him, shifting around to get comfortable. "I understand you," he quietly said, hand inching to Harry's back but finding its way at the nape of his neck to gently massage it.

"Just not my text talk?"

Louis laughed and looked over to Harry, who was resting his chin on his arm and staring right back with his big eyes. His heart suddenly felt attacked; no one should be this beautiful. "You're an angel."