COLOR || Larry Stylinson

Blue

"HARRYYYYYYY," Louis squeals as soon as he walks into the room, miraculously holding his iPod, speakers, and a bundle of roses all in his hands. Harry turns from his chair, startled, and smiles brightly.

"Lou Will! You're here!"

"Damn straight I'm here, and I brought presents!!!" Louis cheers, setting down his iPod and speakers and bustling over to Harry. "Smell these," he insists, shoving the pale blue roses into Harry's face. Harry wrinkles his nose and sniffs tentatively, but then his smile grows even wider. (Which is apparently possible.)

"Louis! Did you get these for me?" Harry gasps, carefully reaching for the roses and feeling the silky petals between his fingers. "Roses? You never struck me as the romantic type, Lou Will."

"Yeah, well, you made me that way, Curly," Louis grumbles while rushing over to the outlet and plugging his speakers in. "But that's not all I brought. There's a song, too. I want you to listen to it."

Harry raises an eyebrow, carefully leaning over and setting the roses down on the floor. "Oh? Should I be worried?"

"Just listen, Curly," Louis laughs, and presses play on the song.

Jon Schmidt's slow and inviting pianos begin filling the room, lifting Louis's heart and sending shivers down his spine.

Louis finds himself softly humming along and watching Harry intently as he leans forward, his head tilting to the side, listening carefully to the song.

And hot damn. Harry's face is absolutely glowing, and Louis needs to send Jon Schmidt a massive thank you note.

Once the song has finished and Louis's shivers have ceased, he turns off the song and sits his chair in front of Harry.

"Did you like the song?" Louis asks shyly. Harry nods enthusiastically.

"Oh, Louis. It was perfect, the pianos and everything. I have a color request, now. Can you talk about blue?"

Louis smiles, crawling his fingers over Harry's leg and snatching his hand. "Of course."

Louis takes a deep breath and starts. "Blue is just... beautiful. It's the color of the ocean, and the sky, and it's the color of my eyes, too. Blue represents everything pretty. Blue paint, and blue birds. Blue is soft, and kind, and never loud. Blue is always quiet and relaxed, and chill. Blue is waves crashing over rocks, and the lazy tilt of the sky, and the breathtaking love that you might just luckily fall into. Blue is amazing, and wonderful, and perfect, timeless. It's the sounds that pianos and violins make.  Blue is just... free."

Harry doesn't even clap this time; he's just mesmerized by Louis's words. "Blue might possibly be my favorite color," he whispers. Louis laughs.

"You just wait, Curly," Louis says quietly, rubbing his fingers over Harry's lean wrists. "I'll take you to the ocean one day, and we can swim and surf and suntan. And then when it turns dark, we can watch the stars and listen to the water and fall asleep right there, until the sky turns blue. And you can take pictures."

Harry smiles, gripping Louis's wrists and bringing him closer til Louis is practically on his lap. "I can't wait, Lou Will."

They spend the rest of the time talking, exchanging soppy poems and quotes and soft kisses, holding hands and rubbing wrists the entire time. At one point, Louis even climbs into the ugly chair (which is actually sort-of starting to grow on him) and wraps his arms around Harry's waist, just holding him tight and whispering promises into Harry's ear.

At about quarter to seven, Louis waits for the moment that Maisie will burst into Harry's room and silently demand Louis to leave. But. Now it's seven. And she still hasn't come.

"Where's Maisie at?" Louis asks quietly while tracing the word "lovely" into Harry's skin (in Braille, and okay, Louis may or may not have been studying Braille for the past couple days.) (Okay. He has. But only for the convenience.) with his fingertips. Harry stops playing with Louis's hair.

"Today's her day off. I already took my medication today. Why, do you miss her?" he says cheekily, pressing wet kisses to Louis's neck.

"With all due respect, no, god no," Louis shivers, and Harry laughs, breathy and hot in Louis's ear.

They stay like this for a while, quietly wrapped up in the other's body and burying kisses into each other's hair. Then, at nine, Louis's watch (which he actually sort of hates right now. Why does a thing like time exist? How did it get so late so soon?) starts beeping, and he groans.

"I'd better head back," he mutters, slowly peeling his sweaty body from Harry's. "Got to feed Beau and all."

Harry's content smile turns into a frown, his hands reaching and latching onto the fabric of Louis's shirt. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Beau will have my head if I don't feed her."

Harry laughs, wetly, and releases Louis's hands. "Alright, then. Tomorrow's our date, Lou Will. You won't forget, will you?"

Louis stops gathering his things and turns to Harry, scoffing lightly and smiling. "Forget? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

***

Beau starts yowling as soon as Louis walks into the door.

"Alright, alright, ya dumb cat. Here, have some tuna," he grumbles, reaching for some Albacore tuna and twisting it open. He sets it on the floor and watches (with not even a hint of malice, nope) as Beau devours it hungrily.

But of course, he can't stay mad at Beau for forever, especially when, after she finishes, she curls herself into Louis's lap and purrs happily.

It's about half past ten (Louis's in the middle of watching particularly boring episode of Breaking Bad) when Louis decides to send Harry a text of his own.

"On the days I can't see your eyes, I don't even want to open mine."

Chapter end notes: God this story is killing me. Just in case you're wondering, Jon Schmidt is part of The Piano Guys. You should listen to them. They have some amazing songs. :D And the quote that Louis sent Harry was from that song that I was talking about earlier, God Damn You're Beautiful. You should listen to that as well. :)

TOMORROW IS LARRY'S DATE! WHO ELSE IS EXCITED??