It takes a few seconds in the morning for Louis to remember what year it is, considering his room hasn’t changed since he moved out. Then he feels Harry all tucked in his arms, and everything slots into place. A weird feeling settles in his stomach, at the enormity of how much things have changed now regarding his family situation. Maybe it’s the lack of guilt or internalised anger that he had been carrying, maybe it’s so drastic getting rid of it all in one day. Maybe it’s just too fucking early.
Then he hears distant squeals of young girls and recognizes the source of his early waking.
Louis rubs his eyes and slowly lets himself wake up. He really does just want to stay in bed with Harry, as per usual, but Christmas with so many young girls is often cause for disaster.
When he leans over his boyfriend, he notices he’s already awake and scrolling through Facebook on his phone. As if he had skillfully grabbed it from the bedside table without bothering Louis.
“How long have you been awake?” Louis asks.
“Like half an hour? I woke up when the first little Tomlinson sibling did.”
“Wow, I must’ve been exhausted.”
“It’s still pretty early actually,” Harry says, putting his phone down and leaning over to kiss Louis’ cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.” He threads his fingers through Louis’ hair. “Though, now that you’re awake, we should probably get up and give Mark and Jay a hand.”
“You’re every parents dream, you know that?” Louis grins as Harry climbs over him to get out of bed, then pulls him up.
They slip into more comfortable, weather appropriate clothes. Harry holds a hand up for Louis to wait and digs through one of his bags. He pulls out a rectangular shaped gift and hands it out to Louis. “Merry Christmas, Lou.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything. My birthday sort of leaves room for only one day of gift-giving.”
“Just open it.”
So Louis does. He knows it’s a photo-frame right away, but the picture inside something he didn’t expect. It was taken the year they spent Christmas together during high school, so it’s old and has some crease marks, but the faded festive colours paint across it as vivid as the memory plays in Louis’ head, though he can’t pinpoint the exact moment it was taken.
In the foreground is him and Harry, laughing about something by the fireplace, Louis can’t remember what was so funny but the smile creeps onto his face nonetheless. He doesn’t have a clue who took the photo, but it doesn't matter.
“Where did you get this?” Louis asks quietly.
“I always had it with me,” Harry says. “Kept it in my wallet for years because I have issues and didn’t want to get over you. I thought you should have it.”
“Thank you.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him into a hungry kiss, swaying a little. “Really, thank you. Am I incredibly vain for saying it’s beautiful if it’s a picture of me?”
Harry laughs. “Oh, extremely vain. You’re a terrible person. And you’re welcome.”
Louis grins and kisses Harry’s cheek. “Your gift is actually still at home. Zayn did the craftsmanship but it was my idea so technically from me.”
“You got Zayn to craft me something? That’s so sweet!”
“I got a bunch more of those sunset shells you like and had Zayn make one of those wind chime things with them. Because you’re weird and you like pretty things so I just… I thought… what?”
Harry’s looking at him with his head tilted to the side, his eyes soft and his mouth curved. He’s got some messy bedhair falling over his face. Louis wants to kiss him like crazy.
“I’m so in love with you,” Harry says, voice gravelly.
The significance sweeps through Louis until all he can do is nod. When they finally descend downstairs, the girls are rushing through pancakes, eagerly staring at the Christmas tree like the presents will disappear if they look away.
The gift-opening affairs pass in a colourful, loud, blur, while Jay turns on some old school festive tunes, the remains being a group of very happy young girls and Christmas wrapping distributed all over the living room. Louis throws Harry a candy cane while he helps tidy up, and then he accompanies Mark to the outside bin, lugging a bag full of rubbish.
“So I have a question, and you can stop me if I’m out of line,” Mark begins, shutting the bin lid behind them. “You two aren’t just friends, are you?”
Louis smiles bashfully. “No, we’re not. Did Jay tell you? It’s okay if she did, I didn’t ask her to keep it a secret.”
“She didn’t get a chance, what with it being Christmas and the little girls to worry about,” he says with a chuckle. “I just figured. You two are great together, he seems really nice.”
“He is.”
Mark nods, brushing his hair back with his hand. “I’m really happy we got to meet, Louis. I don’t expect you to treat me like your dad or anything, but if you did want to take some time later on to get to know each other better, I’d like that.”
Louis nods, “I’d really like that too.”
When Louis gets back inside and takes up residence next to Harry, he’s told to check his phone, where they’ve been added to a group chat with Niall, Zayn and Liam.
Niall: merry xmas motherfuckers xxxx missing u all heaps (especially you Z)
Zayn: ^^^ miss you too. enjoy your paper-wasting materialistic holiday everyone [heart emoji]
Liam: MERRY CHRISTMAS. BLESSED TO HAVE MET YOU THREE THIS YEAR. CAN’T WAIT 2 SEE U GUYS AFTER NEW YEARS X
Louis smiles and gets Harry to type out something loving and heartfelt from both of them and then they head back upstairs to get properly dressed this time, as going to see Harry’s family sends Louis into a whole new shock of nerves. Not to mention, Harry’s own stepdad who he’s never seemed overly fond of. Louis had honestly been avoiding the topic because it makes him really, really not want to go.
The plan is to be back in time for the annual Christmas parade tonight at seven, which gives them a good amount of time with Anne and Gemma, and if Harry wants to stay longer, then they will.
They inform Jay of what they’ll be doing and she lets them borrow the minivan, which is ideal because Louis wasn’t all too keen on the idea of catching public transport in the snow.
Once they arrive at Harry’s old house, Louis notices an extra car in the drive.
“Is that Chris’s car?” Louis asks.
Harry nods slowly. “Yeah. He’s… he’s okay. We’ve just never had a great father-son sort of relationship. So I’m sorry if it’s a little awkward.”
“Are you kidding? I thrive in awkward situations.”
Harry grins. He leans over the gearbox and kisses him slowly. “We could just stay here for a few minutes,” he says, and gracefully pulls himself over onto Louis’ lap, straddling him in between his legs, pressing kisses all around his throat.
Louis lets his head fall back and melts against Harry. “You’re completely procrastinating.”
Harry just shrugs, his nose nudging the underside of Louis’ jaw. Louis, reluctantly, tilts Harry’s face up and captures his lips in one last kiss before pulling away with a contended noise. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”
Harry sits there for a moment, rubbing circles over Louis’ shoulders. He straightens, smiling readily. “Yeah.”
. . .
Any nervousness Louis had felt around seeing his own mother for the first time in a while doesn’t seem to have passed on to Anne. Louis is completely at ease the minute he sees her, probably partly due to the surprise he feels at the sight of her improvement since he had seen her last, cooped up in a hospital bed months ago.
She’s got some medical equipment set up in the lounge, and greets Louis as if no time at all has passed. Harry’s grandparents are there too, and they hug Louis and give him a tin of hard candy, which Louis is surprised to discover elderly people actually do that in real life. The house is warm, and Harry takes him into the kitchen where Gemma and Chris are making a variety of dishes.
“Hey! You made it!” Gemma says, putting down a serving spoon to hug them both.
Chris, who’s a similar build to Mark, though slightly broader around the shoulders, is in the process of taking off oven mitts when they walk in. He turns to each of them with a welcoming smile. Louis feels Harry stiffen next to him, their hands slipping together, but the tension is manageable.
“Is this the Louis I’ve heard so much about?” Chris asks, in an unsure tone. Like he doesn’t know how to handle this situation as much as Louis.
Never mind that, Louis feels his heartbeat warm in his chest. Harry talks about him when he’s here? It feels nice. Validating. “Nice to meet you.”
“How’s the family? I’m sure it must have been a hectic Christmas morning,”
Louis laughs softly. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Glad you had some time to come see us, the last few times Harry visited, he mentioned his friend Louis over and over. It’s good to finally put a face to the name,” Chris says.
“Boyfriend, actually,” Louis says quickly. “I’m his boyfriend.”
He notices Gemma smirking as she watches the exchange. Good. It’s out there now.
“Oh! Well, even better,” Chris says with a friendly smile. “I’ll go set the table, Gems, can you bring the placemats?”
“Sure thing,” Gemma says, leaving the room.
Louis spins to Harry. “I thought you said he was a dick.”
“I never said that.”
“You implied it.”
Harry lets out a breath, relenting. “I said our relationship was complicated, but I… I guess with everything that’s happened with mum it’s gotten better.”
Louis stares at him.
“Harry.”
“Louis.”
“You gave me a really bad impression of the guy!” Louis says. “And you made me think he was homophobic! I was ready to start defending your honor.”
“Well, he could have been! We never exactly talked about it,” Harry says, defensively. “Besides, I think he’s still mad at me about the whole backpacking thing. I didn’t exactly ask anyone, just told him I was going and I left. It was a shit thing to do.”
“You met Niall though,” Louis consoles. “Things work out. He seems good now, you guys seem good.”
“I think we are, yeah.” Harry swings his arms around his shoulders, kisses the side of his forehead. “Are we actually getting our shit together, Louis Tomlinson?”
Louis grins, fingers pressing into Harry’s waist. “I think we are, Harry Styles.”
. . .
“Do you remember when you and Harry pretended to hate each other for years?” Gemma says across the table, smirking at them.
Louis blushes, focusing intently on his mashed potatoes. “I like that you used the word pretend.”
“Well,” Anne says, smiling, “it was all quite silly, considering Harry’s little crush on you.”
“Mum.”
“Aw Harry,” Louis coo’s, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.
Gemma then gives the other family members the lowdown on the G-rated (and publicly known) version of their relationship, which Harry’s Grandma continues on a tangent of why love is so important. Louis still doesn’t know whether that word applies to him, but Harry squeezes his knee under the table, and he forgets why it matters.
A game of scrabble and a few hours later, and Chris eventually has to take the grandparents back to their home. Louis hugs them goodbye while Harry and Gemma walk them out, and Louis is left alone with Anne in the living room.
“Thank you for coming, Louis,” Anne says, her eyes watering almost. “It means the world to me that you’re taking care of him. I know he always seems like he can handle it but he’s incredibly stubborn, I worry sometimes that he’s getting too upset over me and not telling anyone.”
Louis swallows thickly. “I think maybe he used to, but he’s––he’s really happier now.” He clears his throat. “He just loves so deeply sometimes and like maybe he worries he can’t hold it all by himself. He makes a lot of people happier than he knows.”
“That’s very true,” Anne says with a smile, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek. “My condition is improving, but it’s going to be a long stretch, and I just want you to know how grateful I am that you’re with him.”
Louis nods, earnest. “Of course. I’d do anything for him.”
Anne smiles and brushes her hand along Louis’ arm, and it’s a small gesture, but it feels important. When the others come back inside, Anne says she’s going to have a rest so Louis and Harry hug her and say they’ll visit again before they head home after New Years. Chris helps her into her room and after a semi-awkward but still okay sort of hug. Gemma gives them each a kiss on the cheek and says she might bump into them at the parade.
They drive back to the Tomlinson residence, the mood in the minivan having elevated monumentally.
“We’re back,” Louis says, swinging open the door.
“Oh great, I was just about to call you,” Jay says from the living room where she’s putting coats on the girls. “How’s Anne doing?”
“Better, actually,” Harry says, helping her with Phoebes boots.
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Jay says. “You know you could have stayed a while longer.”
“That’s fine, she was resting for the night anyway,” Harry says. He tugs Louis close by his belt loop. “Besides, it’s mine and Lou’s first Christmas together in six years.”
“Valid point,” Louis says, pointing at him.
“If you’re sure,” she checks, and Harry nods. “You can be in charge of carrying one of the food bags.”
Louis makes a skeptical face. “I’m not sure Harry can manage such a responsibility.”
“Hey,” Harry frowns, and dramatically turns to help pack the bags in the kitchen. Louis smirks and watches him leave.
He helps dress the girls in winter clothes, then heads upstairs to grab more layers for Harry and him. Once he’s back downstairs, he hands Harry another coat and loops a scarf around his neck.
“You know Liam will kill us if we get sick,” Louis says.
“Liam is the one that surfs during thunderstorms,” Harry points out.
“Louis!” Lottie calls from outside. “Come on!”
“I’m coming, jeez,” Louis calls back.
Harry slips on one of the snack-carrying backpacks. “Got the snack-pack.”
“Did you just… oh God. Come on.” He tugs Harry along by his hand, the winter sky darkening but his smile stays strong even when the cold air hits them.
. . .
The annual parade takes place down one of the more well-known streets, and it’s disgustingly over the top in it’s décor and music and floats, not to mention the amount of people that come down for it and line the streets. Zayn would absolutely hate it. He does, Louis later finds out after bombarding him on Snapchat.
“Don’t go too far, and text me or your brother if you need to find us, okay?” Jay says to Lottie, who has just begged to be let loose to find her friends. “We’ll be setting up camp down this end.”
“I know the rules, I’ll be safe,” Lottie says, before disappearing off into the crowd.
“You boys can go have a wander, Mark and I will be sorted with the kids,” Jay says to them with a smile.
“Thanks mum,” Louis says, smiling back.
He tugs Harry through the people, speakers on a float roll by playing some horrendous rendition of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Everything is loud and colourful and nice because he’s with Harry. Somehow that makes it all better.
He slows down where the families are starting to thin out, and turns back to check on Harry, who is looking brighter than all of the lights here combined (and there are a lot.) He also looks extremely kissable. That’s something Louis will need to take care of.
Louis is about to make good on that, when he feels himself bump into someone. He spins around, mumbling a “shit, I’m so sorry–“ but he cuts off mid sentence when he sees who it is, nearly choking on air.
Aiden stares back at him with a mirroring expression, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and a beanie loose on his head. Louis hasn’t seen him since they graduated high school––he hasn’t spoken to him since Louis told him to politely fuck off and stop calling him, and to be honest, he looks pretty much the same. Maybe a bit more manicured, though not in the way Louis likes. Not even close.
Louis feels the urge to throw up right then, he doesn’t know why, probably the sudden surge of old insecure emotions and anxiety that gets brought up being in Aiden’s presence, coupled with the fact that he’s the source of everything that completely fucked up Louis’ relationships. Especially with Harry.
Aiden’s gaze switches over to Harry, who is standing stiffly by Louis’ side, and suddenly instead of vomiting or running away or hurting Aiden the way he had done to them, Louis just feels protective. He wraps his hand around Harry’s.
“Fancy seeing you guys here,” Aiden finally says with an unreadable expression.
“Hey,” Louis says, holding his face in a neutral expression as well. “What’s up?”
He can feel Harry tensing, probably wondering why Louis is being so casual with the guy who essentially used and lied to Harry in the process of taking his virginity (a sexist social construct, according to Harry.) Not to mention, he cheated on Louis––all while Louis was still being dragged along as his secret that he seemed ashamed of more often than not. While Louis knows all about secret relationships, when he and Harry weren’t exclusive, it was never like that.
So yeah, the casual thing is really just an attempt to test the waters.
“My girlfriend dragged me here, total waste. Of course, I didn’t think I’d be bumping into you.” He’s not smirking but he sounds like he’s smirking. It’s infuriating.
There’s just something about his tone that causes Louis to tighten his hand around Harry’s grip, and Aiden’s attention drops to the movement, the corner of his mouth quirking finally.
“No way,” Aiden says, leaving an unnecessary gap between each word. “You two? Last I heard, you hated each other.”
“Last I heard, you were into dick,” Harry quips, all but baring his teeth.
“Time is an amazing thing,” Aiden says with a serene sigh. He meets Louis’ eyes again, that fucking smirk sitting pretty on his face. “You look good.”
Harry steps forward now, dropping Louis’ hand. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t get to say that to him. Not after what you did.”
Aiden quirks a brow. “What I did with you.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Aiden snickers humourlessly. “It was a compliment.”
Harry nods, pursing his lips. “Oh, I'm sure it was.”
Oh fuck, Louis is so, so, so enamored by this boy.
“Ah right, you two have a thing going on,” Aiden says, an annoyingly fake expression on his face. “I didn’t think it was very serious.”
Harry lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Actually, I’m not talking about that. I wonder if you even knew how much you didn’t deserve him.”
For a moment, Aiden looks taken back. For a moment. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t seem to think I was so bad at the time.”
Harry shrugs. “I thought a lot of stupid things back then. You weren’t special. And you didn’t deserve me either.”
Aiden raises his eyebrows slightly. “Always so sensitive, Harry,” he murmurs, before turning back to Louis. “So how ‘bout it?”
Louis’ forehead creases. “What?’
Aiden shrugs, smug and confident. “Pick up where we left off…”
Louis stares at him. “You have a girlfriend,” he says, as if he has to point that out. It’s not even the worst thing about that statement.
Aiden just blinks back at him. “So?”
Yep, Louis really dodged a bullet there.
He presses his hand to his forehead. “Oh my fucking God, you’re unbelievable.”
“Call me later,” Aiden tries, almost sounding desperate. “You still have my number, right?”
Louis huffs a laugh. “No, I don’t.” He pats Harry’s arm. “Come on, there’s no point sticking around here.”
They turn away from this pointless boy that Louis had been hanging onto for so long. It feels good to finally let it go.
“You know what? Fine,” Aiden says from behind them, one last-ditch effort.
Louis sighs and they stop walking, but Harry doesn’t turn all the way around. He stays with his eyes on Louis and says, “He’s not worth your time.”
Aiden keeps talking, and Louis doesn’t move.
“At least when we were over, I didn’t go through a phase of getting on my knees for anyone that’ll take me. Or is that still a thing with you? Please tell me, because I have such a hard time keeping up. You know, because there were were just so many. A little excessive actually, even for you, I’d have thought you had standards but… I suppose that isn’t the case,” Aiden finishes, a fake-sympathetic look on his face.
Louis’ chest sinks for the first time all night. “How do you–“
“Word gets around, babe,” Aiden says with a shrug, poisonous smirk on his face.
The next three things happen very quickly.
One, Jingle Bell Rock starts to play from the speakers.
Two, fireworks shoot up into the sky.
And three, Harry spins around and clocks Aiden so hard in the mouth that he hits the pavement.
It happens so suddenly that Louis barely registers it, and Harry is grabbing his hand and they’re running back through the crowds. They quickly wade their way through families, all preoccupied with the lit up floats and fireworks, and when Louis’ face breaks into a grin, he knows he’s gone. He snorts a laugh, breathless from running and from everything that’s happened. Harry looks back at him with a wide smile on his face, and Louis pushes him along.
They’re a far enough distance away when snow starts to fall, flecks of it dusting over them and over the people, lights from the parade suddenly farther away and muted. He can feel his heart pressed up against his chest, vibrating with something he doesn’t know how to name. He doesn’t think it’s in any textbook he’s read, he doesn’t think there are words for it or any existing colour that can capture what it feels like. It throws sparks into the dry kindling that Louis has been trying so hard to fight, and at this point he doesn’t even know why.
They don’t stop running until the parade is just a distant echo and his cheeks hurt from laughing and his left hand is cold where it’s gripping onto Harry, the other tucked away in his pocket. They slow down when they’re walking along a fence line. Harry twists his hand out of Louis’ grip, turns and places it on his waist instead. With snow in his hair, he presses Louis against the fence and kisses him.
Louis doesn’t even flinch, his hands go straight for the back of Harry’s head, sinking into his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle, and he suddenly forgets everything he’s ever done or ever will do, because he can’t think of a reason why he would ever want to be doing anything other than this. Harry’s hands are pressing against him, beneath his jacket but over his shirt, his fingers are cold and his lips are cold and it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.
Louis’ hand slides along the cut of Harry’s jaw, and Harry makes a small noise because Louis’ hands are probably colder than his, but he doesn’t stop or pull back, just kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until his hands are warm.
“My knuckles are killing me,” Harry says when they break apart. They both burst into laughter again, but Harry stays leaning against him. Sharing body warmth is top priority, clearly.
“You’ve got quite the swing, Harold. Who knew you had it in you?”
Harry bites his lip. “It’s not my first time.”
Louis arches a brow.
“A little pub brawl in Norway, Niall will tell you about it. I don’t really remember.” He shrugs, then gazes at Louis more serious. “Aiden had no right to say that to you.”
“I’ve already forgotten,” Louis says, looking right into his eyes so that he knows. Then he lets out a happy sigh. “This is the best Christmas ever. I mean, it already was, but then you punched Aiden and– oh my God, I have to tell Zayn!”
Harry giggles and kisses Louis’ smiling mouth. “Later,” and he tilts Louis’ chin up with his finger, pressing their lips together again, lingering against his this time.
When they pull away, Harry looks over Louis’ head and at whatever building is behind them.
“Holy shit,” Harry says. He steps back and Louis turns around too.
They’re standing in front of their old high school.
“Holy shit,” Louis agrees.
Harry nods towards it. “Shall we?”
Louis smiles, which apparently says it all. Harry uses an electricity box as a step, climbing over the fence. Louis follows closely behind. They’re stepping over the same broken concrete paving that’s been left in their memories and packed away and ignored.
The dark classrooms are the same and yet so much smaller. Louis feels like a giant. Or at least fifty years older than he actually is. He thinks about being seventeen and meeting Harry here, feeling like he could fit into Louis’ life so seamlessly, filling some sort of space that had been empty for too long, but Louis didn’t even notice how well he fit until after he was gone. And all of this, everything that’s happened since then that seems so twisted and wrong and yet so inexplicably right, it could be so messed up to anyone else on the outside, but it still just feels like him and Harry. And suddenly none of that other stuff matters, and everything makes sense.
He almost doesn’t notice Harry stop walking until he nearly bumps into him. He finally lets his eyes drift from where they were glued to Harry’s back, and they’re at the football pitch, where they had played too many games and fought over the captaincy and felt it all build up into something too strong and too much.
Louis has to pause for a moment to take it all in. His heart hurts from the disjointed fragments of memories swarming in his brain. He loves it here. He loves Harry.
Just like that, he feels a thousand bells chiming and a worlds worth of fireworks going off in his head and his heart. The cloak of everything he’s been carrying slips right off his shoulders.
He watches Harry set the bag down that they’d forgotten to leave with his sisters.
“Catch,” Harry throws him a juice box. They sit down on the bench. Louis sips on his drink, his Vans are soaked through. He is so, so in love. “Weird being here,” Harry says, tossing their empty juice boxes in the bin.
“Very weird,” Louis says, his heart caught in his throat. “Look at us, adults now.”
Harry huffs a laugh. “Not the word I’d pick.”
“Yeah, maybe not,” Louis says with something he hopes passes as a laugh.
Harry knocks their elbows together and Louis thinks, I love you.
He keeps his eyes on the part of the football field where it fades off into pitch black shadows, because well, when should he say it? There’s got to be a moment, right? The chest-aching, time-stopping, world-changing sort of moment. They’re in the place for it, nostalgia in literally every speck of dirt, and yet he goes to open his mouth and nothing comes out.
“You all right?” Harry asks, just as Louis was about to almost say it again. “You’re quiet.”
Louis nods too many times. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he would say, and he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth he’ll say something that deserves a moment. Though, saying nothing and just staring at Harry is probably coming off a little strange.
Harry sighs, but he’s still smiling contentedly. “It’s okay to feel however you want to feel, Lou. I know people are shitty and parents fall in and out of love and it hurts and we’re scared to talk about it, but there are bits in there that are worth it. That makes those times where all we wanted to do was cry feel insignificant, like they’re not important because you can look at art and feel the rain and fall in love. You know?”
I love you, Louis thinks, but doesn’t say. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Harry continues, “Remember the first time we kissed? Like really, really kissed, and it was like… it was like waking up finally after being asleep for too long, or coming out from under deep water, or––fuck, I don’t know––learning how to fly. Louis, all I want to do when I’m near you is cram you into this space inside my chest and keep you there, and it’s so weird, and wonderful. These feelings are things that no amount of hurt or heartbreak can ruin, they belong to us.”
The entire world tips beneath them.
All Louis can hear is the beat of his heart, and maybe Harry’s too. Harry is looking back at him, the only lights being a few stray stars but it’s enough to cast long shadows across his face. Not one person has ever looked at Louis like that in his entire life, and none had even touched the same easy warmth that is always always swimming in Harry’s gaze.
If Louis said it right now, it’d be a moment.
But then Harry’s face changes and he’s looking away. Louis watches his chance slip further and further out of reach.
Harry starts to zip up the backpack and slip it onto his shoulders. Louis feels his body tremble and his skin burn, thinking this is what it is, this is what it feels like.
Harry stands up, and Louis stands with him. “It’s getting pretty late, we should–“
“I love you,” Louis says in one breath. Fuck moments.
Harry’s entire stance freezes for a solid five seconds. He looks at Louis, his eyes searching Louis’ face like he isn’t sure if he meant to say that.
“I love you, Harry,” Louis says a second time with more conviction, stressing each word because he needs Harry to know. He has to know. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
Harry seems to snap out of something, and he shakes his head slowly. “Don’t be sorry.”
He looks dreamy and a little hazy. Louis bites his lip. “I should have said it ages ago. Years ago. I would have still meant it. I’ve always been in love with you, I just needed to wait till now to figure out what it was.”
“Yeah,” Harry nods slowly, emotion in every part of his face. “I know, I know how it feels.”
“I love you,” Louis says again, quieter this time, like this is just for them to hear.
Harry brings his hands up to Louis’ shoulders, slowly closing the space between them. His eyes are soft and swimming with stars. “I love you.”
When they kiss, it’s timed almost perfectly with the snowfall. Harry laughs against him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and stumbling backwards a little. Louis’ fingers fit into Harry’s shirt, and he’s not cold at all, in fact, if his eyes were open he’d probably see the snow melting all around them.
They kiss for a long, long time, right up until they press against each other so hard that they topple over into the snow, still laughing all breathless and reaching for each others hands and not wanting to move ever.
He rolls over to lean on Harry’s chest, ignoring the ever-decreasing temperature. He stares down at him, smiling as the world freezes around them. Literally.
“Okay, now we should really be going. Liam will actually kill us if we come back sick,” Harry says, smiling back at him. Louis falls in love with him again and again and again.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Let’s go.”