"Are you sure he's even going to accept?" Mabel asks, looking very amused with the way Louis is bustling around the kitchen downstairs, setting up the table sweetly with the best silverware they have in the house, all nicely polished and pristine.
He wedges the pink candlestick into its holder in the middle of the white tablecloth, before he swivels around to stare intensively into her eyes.
"Don't you think I haven't thought of that possibility yet? I'm stressing out, why did I agree to myself that I would do this?" he grumbles, slapping the heel of his hand to his forehead with a low defeated groan.
Mabel snorts softly, folding her arms over her chest. "Because you love him?"
He looks to her then and swallows thickly. "I'm not doing this because I fancy the kid," he tries, but he's not fooling anyone. Why would you set up a dinner date for your best friend instead of just ordering take out, or better yet, let the damn cook do all of this shit for you?
He's afraid he's falling for Harry, and he only has three days until the man leaves for good. He can't wrap his head around it, refuses to believe that they only have seventy two hours until Harry is whisked away to be shoved on a stage in front of blinding spotlights and loud deafening cheers, whilst Louis is stuck here alone, trying to pick up the pieces of his family's misfortunes and to fix them right.
"Do you need any help?" Mabel asks, quirking a brow when Louis shoves a pile of pasta into a hot pot without any water.
He chews his lip. "I'm more than capable," he argues, moving the pot off the heat when the dry pasta begins to pop.
Goddammit why the fuck isn't the kettle boiling quicker?
"Well you need water in that for a start," Mabel reasons, walking over. "And add salt to it, helps with the boil."
"Yes, thank you, Mabel, I think I know how to make a pot of pasta without your judging input."
"I'm only trying to help so you don't burn down my kitchen," she replies, knocking her hip into his.
He pours water over the pasta, but it's a bit late now that half of it is stuck to the bottom of the pan. He chews his lip, staring at the monstrosity he's just created.
"I told you, I didn't need no help," he finally let's out, leaning his elbows into the counter and putting his head in his hands.
"You should soak that pan, before it never comes off," Mabel notes from behind him.
Louis springs upright. "That's it, I can't have you hanging off my shoulder when I'm trying to be like Gordon Ramsay. Out!" He snaps his fingers pointing to the door.
"You'll never be Gordon Ramsay. You might be like one of his clients on Kitchen Nightmares, but no, never will you amount to be him with the way you try to cook," Mabel quips, smirking at Louis.
Louis wants to strangle the life out of her right now. As if he's not stressed enough with the thought of Harry rejecting his offer on a date, let alone her making snarky inputs every five seconds.
He grabs her by the shoulders, spins her around and begins pushing her toward the door. She doesn't go without a fight though, kicking up her legs and grappling for any surface to keep her grounded to the tiled floor of the kitchen.
"You should use the microwave rice in the pantry and mix it with some tomato sauce and chicken," she strains out, holding either side of the door frame whilst Louis heaves and pushes for her to go.
"It saves you from trying too hard and burning the house down. Just make sure you add a bit of oil to the pan for the chicken and pan fry it gently until it's golden brown on top and white all the way through," she finishes, before Louis is throwing her out the room and she skids across the floor in her socked feet.
He slams the kitchen door behind her, sees her through the patterned glass of the door. He flips her off, which she reciprocates, storming off outside.
"And add a dollop of cream cheese to the sauce so it bulks up more," her voice travels into the room, startling Louis.
He snaps his head up to find her at the large kitchen window that hangs over the sink.
He strides over. "Bye, Mabel," he says before pulling the window closed.
Now that that is out the way, he thumbs his bottom lip in thought. Her advice on using the microwave rice isn't actually a bad idea. He hasn't had much cooking abilities or skills ever since he stopped learning to cook once he moved in. The most he could make was toast and potentially a fried egg on a good day.
It's not like he's a shit cook, per se. He's just inexperienced, a little rusty if you will. He just needs a bit of practice and he could be the next Jamie Oliver, but less cock like and more fun.
So the practice starts now.
"Alexa! Play some upbeat music," he decides, talking to the device he rarely uses that sits on the top of the cabinets.
"Playing some upbeat music, on Amazon Music," she calls back, before Happy Together by The Turtles begins tinkling through the speakers.
"I can't see me loving nobody but you for all my life," Louis sings along, wiggling his bum to the music, bopping his head as he begins fishing the tomatoes from the fridge and some chicken, grabbing all the ingredients and dumping it on the kitchen counter.
He whistles along to the song, listening to Mabel's advice despite himself, and adds oil to a medium heat pan, frying the chicken.
He hopes he doesn't give them food poisoning, so he might just leave it in for a little while longer than might be necessary. He finds the packet rice in the pantry and leaves it on the side.
Now, does he wait for after his planned activity for the pair, or do they eat first?
He looks out the window to see the sun is still quite high in the sky, only slowly falling. It was raining last night, so the air is sticky and there's steam wafting into the air from the rainfall evaporating from the hot surfaces.
He takes the chicken off the heat, stirs the sauce he's made (he won't admit he gave himself a pat on the back for that one, he didn't even use a jar, just threw whatever he thought necessary to make a tomato sauce into a pot and prayed. Its seemed to pay off) and takes that off the heat also.
He wipes his greasy hands on a tea towel, checks his hair in the mirror out in the hallway and goes to Harry's house to ask him out.
Literally.
He won't admit that his stomach flutters with butterflies and nerves, his heart thudding in his chest. He hasn't been on a date since Ben, told himself to never trust a person like that again.
But here he is, putting his full fucking trust in a celebrity that's showed him nothing but kindness and honesty.
He thinks he's going behind Owen's back for trusting someone again. Doesn't know if this is a bad idea, but his heart wins here, and if there was anything his Mamma would tell him as a kid, was that following your heart is better than following your head.
So he chases his heart to where it lays on Harry's porch.
Funny how he calls it Harry's. It's not, it's his, it's the family's, but since Harry fits the house so nicely, he can't help but hope Harry would want it one day.
Maybe one day he will wheel his suitcase back toward this step and step inside the cottage and never leave again.
Only in his dreams.
He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.
He hasn't seen Harry since last night. He did protest on leaving him earlier, but Harry had a call with his manager he needed to get out the way. So he let him be, and during those ticking hours, he decided that he would love to take the lanky lad on a date.
Harry opens the door, tired eyes creasing at the corners with his smile.
"Hi, Lou," he whispers gently.
Louis wrings his fingers, bites his lip. "Hi... um, would you, maybe, you can say no, don't feel obligated to say yes, okay? But, fuck, sorry, 'm nervous." He chuckles, scratches his head. "Would you like to come with me, on a... on a maybe, sort of date? You can pretend it's not a date if it makes it easier, I wouldn't feel offended if you didn't want it to be a date, but like, I feel like we've got something going on an–"
He gets cut off when Harry presses a long finger against his thin lips. Louis stares up at Harry, captures his finger in a small kiss which causes Harry to turn a pretty pink.
"Shut up," Harry urges, smile growing. "I'd love to go on a date with you. Where we going? Can I get changed first?"
Louis nods. "Yeah," he says around the finger still against his lips. "You can change. And the date is only here, I'm sorry if you wanted something bigger, it's just that since you're meant to be in hiding for your criminal actions," he jokes, rolling his eyes for extra measure which gets Harry giggling. "I thought staying around here would make you more comfortable than being in public."
Harry's eyes twinkle like he's lassoed the night sky and dropped it inside the pupils. It's so endearing.
"You're too good for this world, you know that? I wasn't feeling up of leaving the estate any time soon, so that sounds perfect. Um... let me... let me get changed, okay?"
Louis tries to peer at what Harry is wearing, but his body is hidden behind the door, besides his bare chest.
"Oh my God," Louis whispers. "Are you naked?"
Harry flames up in a hot blush, biting the pillow of his bottom lip.
"That doesn't leave much for the imagination, Curly. Can I see?" Louis teases, grabbing the door.
Harry yelps, stepping back and slamming the door on Louis slightly so only a gap is in the door.
"Don't be a cock," Harry snaps.
"Talking of cocks," Louis replies, licking his drying lip slowly.
"Oh my God, I hate you. Give me a moment!" Harry urges, closing the door fully until it clicks.
Louis sits on the step, toeing at the stones on the floor with his Vans shoes.
A moment later, his phone pings. His brows furrow when he notices it's Harry.
Curly H: I can't come out.
Louis' heart sinks.
Louis: oh... why? Sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, I shouldn't have asked in the first place it wasn't my place to say.
Curly H: it's not you, Louis, I promise. It's just... I don't want to be judged.
Louis: by who? We are alone here Curly, no one's here to judge you.
Curly H: by you.
Louis stands off the step and knocks on the door.
"Curly, open the door," he calls out.
Harry doesn't answer.
Slightly frustrated, Louis pulls the handle down and the door springs open. He closes it behind him, looking around the place.
"Harry? Love, where are you?" he gently says as if he's coaxing a scared kitten from hiding.
He hears a sniffle coming from the masters bedroom and follows the sound.
Through the reflection of the mirror on the wardrobe, he sees Harry curled up on the floor, back against the left side of the bed, head in his knees. He's only wearing his boxers.
"Harry," Louis coos lightly, climbing over the top of the freshly made bed.
He hangs his body slightly off the side, flopping his arms around Harry. He leans his cheek atop Harry's head, pecking the hair there.
"What's the matter? You seemed excited to come out just moments ago. You know you can tell me anything," he tries, stroking soothing patterns up and down Harry's arms.
Harry sniffs, lifting his head up from his knees to show puffy red tear stained eyes. By looking in the reflection, Louis is able to thumb the tears gently away before continuing his gentle carcasses up the bare arms of the lad.
"Louis, I do want to go out with you. I just... there's a part of me you don't know, and-and it's really strong at the moment. I don't want you to judge me."
Louis tilts his head slightly in confusion. "Do you have IBS or something? Because if you shit yourself or fart, I'm not one to judge, I get bad tummy sometimes, especially after eating red onions which is a really weird thing, but it's not like I'm going to laugh at you, unless the fart is a whopper," he rambles, and it causes Harry to hiccup and giggle.
"No!" he giggles around his tears. His lip begins to quiver. "It's not a condition, it's more of a personality."
"Okay? Care to elaborate?"
Harry sighs. "If I tell you, I don't want you laughing at me."
"Babe, you're missing out the part where I said I wouldn't even laugh at you if you shat yourself. I'm not going to judge you. Nothing you show me will scare me away from you, unless you have a gun hidden in your suitcase," he lightens.
"Not gun, but maybe handcuffs," Harry says under his breath before shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
He sighs and uncoils himself from the tight ball he's in. He crawls over to the wardrobe, using his palm to slide it open. He motions to the rails.
Louis looks up. There's items of clothing in all different pastel and pops of colour from reds to greens. But what catches Louis' attention is the deep red dress with folds in the flowing skirt, peppered in tiny print of white flowers.
It's utterly gorgeous.
Louis looks down to Harry who is looking up at him from behind him, tears clumping in his long lashes. He blinks and the tears fall. Louis is quick to press his thumbs into his cheeks to capture them.
Harry sniffles. "Louis," he croaks.
Louis strokes his forehead from where he's still leaning his head up against the mattress to look up at him.
He smiles reassuringly at him. "It's okay," Louis whispers.
Harry wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sometimes, I like to wear dresses to touch my feminine side," he admits quietly. "Today is one of those days where I feel more in touch with her than I do my masculine side."
"Does this mean you go by female pronouns, too?" Louis questions.
He hasn't really had experience with people who go by other pronouns than those they were given to at birth. But he's learnt through social media that it's quite a thing and something that makes people happy, so he's okay with it.
Harry shrugs. "I'm okay with the boy pronouns still. I don't mind what pronoun, it's more just me wanting to feel comfortable in my own skin. I tried to wear some trousers, but when I put them on it made me feel all claustrophobic and antsy."
Louis pecks Harry's head. "Babe, you can wear a dress if it makes you feel better in your own skin. I for one would love to see those lovely long legs in something like that," Louis says truthfully.
Harry turns then to look at Louis properly. "Really?"
Louis nods. "Really really. I've never seen you in a dress before," he hums out with a lift of an eyebrow and smirk. "You have to be warned that I might ravish you and attack you with kisses if I find you in one because I know for a fact you'll look extravagant in it."
Harry blushes, grabs Louis' hand and squeezes it. "Thank you, Lou."
"It's alright, darling. Now go get dressed, we are late for our reservation!"
Harry laughs, presses a quick kiss to Louis' lips before he grabs the dress and Louis leaves him to get dressed.
A few minutes later, Harry is coming out the bedroom. The dress is beautiful on him. His broad shoulders fill out the top half of the dress that show off said shoulders and the ink of tattoos beneath. The dress flows nicely down to his knees, looking airy and when Harry moves his hips side to side, the skirt elegantly fans out. His hair is in space buns, a few curls wisping to frame his face. There's also some lip gloss shimmering his lips.
Louis wants to know what flavour lip gloss that is instantly and he has to shift in the spot on the sofa he's sat upon as there's very much a boner beginning to grow just looking at Harry.
"I'm going to ravish you. You beautiful, pretty, Princess," Louis speaks, causing Harry to blush. Louis stands and holds his hand out. "Come on then, Princess, let's get you to your date."
Harry takes the hand and together they leave the cottage.
Louis fishes the golf cart keys from his pocket, sliding into the driver's seat once Harry has found his spot on the passenger side.
"So, where we going?" Harry asks.
Louis looks behind him to the golf bag sitting on the back seat before starting the cart up and driving them the long way round to the golf course.
"We, my sweet, are going golfing."
They make it to the golf green and Louis must admit, he's a shit golfer since last time he's used a club.
Harry, however, seems to know what he's doing, lining up the ball and letting it fly into the distance and out of sight.
"Oops, sorry, that was a bit hard," Harry says with a wince.
Louis chuckles. "I'll find it one day, and when I do, I can look at it and go, oh my God that's the golf ball Harry Styles swung at. Then I'd sell it and get some crazed fan to spend shit ton of money on it and I'd be rich."
Harry cackles. "You're hoping. They probably wouldn't even buy it that I used it."
"I'll fake your signature on it, then they'd go ballistic for it."
They continue to chat. They talk about everything and nothing, getting to know the parts of each other that they haven't discovered yet.
Louis finds out that Harry used to like maths as a kid in school, and that he had an imaginary friend named Jimmy that he used to actually hate and blame everything on when he was in trouble.
Louis told Harry things he'd never thought anyone would know such as when he was younger, he shaved his friend's hair with his dad's electric razor and the kid got blamed when Louis acted as if it wasn't him who did it. He told Harry about his thoughts on how he believes that if God was real, then he had his own deal with the devil that he could cause harm to a certain amount because the devil decided to threaten God with a war if he didn't allow some mischief to go unnoticed.
It helps him thinking that, because he can't imagine Owen being killed was part of God's master plan, that it was in the light of good. Because it was anything but good, and it caused the darkness to haunt Louis for ever.
When the sun begins to set and Harry's tummy evidently begins rumbling, they take the shortcut through the garden back to the mansion.
Louis quickly lights the candle before Harry enters the kitchen. Harry looks at the table with softness in his eyes.
"I'll heat the food through. Make yourself comfy," Louis decides, pulling the chair out for Harry.
He quickly heats everything up and mixes it together, plating it up and hands a plate to Harry.
"Sorry if it's shit. It's not Mabel's cooking," Louis says, suddenly shy.
Harry takes a bite, and Louis loves watching the tongue dart out before his lips close around the fork.
Harry hums. "It's perfect, Lou. Did you do it?"
Louis nods, taking a small bite himself. It's definitely no Mabel cooking. But it's not poisoned, so he calls it a win win. "Yeah. We won't talk about the pasta. Sorry the rice isn't fresh, it's from a packet."
Harry shakes his head. "It's honestly fine. Perfect. Like you."
Louis blushes, ducking his head into his shoulder.
They continue to eat in a comfortable silence, using one hand to scoop food, the other hand holding each other's from across the table, soft smiles passed between them.
By the end of the meal, they're stuffed and the sun is barely a blink outside, swirls of indigo chasing out the orange.
Harry helps wash up despite Louis' protests and they move upstairs into the front room where they watch some TV.
"Lou," Harry mutters into Louis' neck from where he's laying his head on his shoulder, legs across the sofa.
Louis leans his cheek into Harry's head—his hair now down since Louis enjoys playing with it so much. "Hm?"
"Thank you. For everything. For being here for me throughout the whole month I've been here. I've never felt so peaceful and happy. Thank you."
Louis squeezes him that much tighter. His heart twists, though, knowing that their time is almost run out.
"H, what are we going to do once you leave?" he mumbles.
Harry snuggles further into Louis as if he'd slip away there and then if he didn't. "I'll contact you everyday," Harry decides.
"You better not drop off radar," Louis warns.
Harry pouts. "I'd never do that. You're too special for me, Louis Tomlinson."
"William," Louis whispers.
"Huh?"
"My middle name is William if you want to use my full name."
Harry giggles. "Louis William Tomlinson. I'd never leave you behind."
Louis' stomach rolls and bursts in butterfly wings.
"Harry Edward Styles, I would never leave you, either," he promises, holding Harry's head closer to his chest.
"How did you know my middle name?"
"I'm not a dumbass, Harry. You forget the part where my sisters are huge fans of yours."
Harry smiles softly. "That's true."
"I'll miss you," Louis blurts out.
"Don't. I still have a few days, don't make it sad now when we've had such a fun day. Just pretend I'm not leaving, okay? Keep it happy."
Louis brings Harry's lips to his. The kiss says a million things, the care, the trust, the honesty. The I love yous that they're too afraid to say aloud.
The kiss tingles Louis' lips to his fingertips and toes. It's electrifying, it's like fireworks and a cosy blanket all mixed into one.
Harry shifts so he sits on Louis lap in order to deepen the kiss. It's though he doesn't want to let Louis go. He cups Louis' cheeks and Louis snakes his arms to press against the small of Harry's back.
Through the fog of wonder in his brain, Louis realises that he's finally let go. He's allowing himself to let go. There's no voices threatening his mind about Benji, there's nothing there to tell him this is wrong.
There's only peace and sunlight dancing with the shadows. The light is doing the jive, pushing the shadows away until the darkness melts into pools of yellow.
It's addicting!
Louis caresses Harry's thighs, bringing his soft fingers up the skirt of the dress to feel his skin, to get lost in his touch. He's greedy with the need of Harry.
Harry's lips lose contact with his and latches onto his jaw and neck, nibbling at the skin and it causes Louis' breath to hitch and a shiver to go straight through him. Harry finds the sweet spot, and a high moan leaves Louis' throat, hard on growing quickly.
"Fuck," he breathes, tugging at Harry's hair who moans, hot breath hitting Louis' neck.
Harry breaks away, breath heaving, pupils large with lust. Louis can feel Harry's hard on press against his stomach and it brings his skin itching with need.
"Lou, I know you said you don't do it until the second date but..." Harry begins.
Louis is nodding vigorously. "Fuck, Harry, yes. Please, or I'll just wank one off on me own in the bathroom." He lulls his head on the headrest of the sofa, arms sprawled out along the top of the headrest.
Harry grins, gets off Louis' lap quickly and kneels before him. He looks up at Louis, and Louis' heart pounds with anticipation.
"Do you trust me?" Harry whispers.
Louis bites his lip. "With everything I have, yes," he answers truthfully.
Harry strokes Louis' leg where the hem of his shorts are. He unbuttons the shorts and Louis' head is quick to remind him, that yes, he has fucking scars on his thighs that Harry doesn't know about yet.
But before he can warn Harry to stop, the shorts are down.
Harry looks, of course he does, he's eye level with it. Louis can see the pity in his eyes and he hates it.
He tries to cover himself up but Harry stops him by placing his hands over the scars.
"Don't," Harry warns. "You don't have to tell me anything, Sunflower, but let me show you that you deserve the love you so desperately hate." He leans down and kisses the fading scars.
Louis could cry. He was so sure Harry would leave knowing his demons win the war in his mind every once in a while.
"I'm sorry," Louis says quietly.
"You don't have to apologise to me, Lou. You only need to apologise to yourself and begin to know that you should love yourself. And if you can't, at least let me."
Harry pulls Louis' boxers down and his boner springs to his stomach.
And fuck, okay, it's happening then.
Harry licks Louis' dick up the length of a vein and Louis whimpers, head rolling back, eyes rolling with it. Harry licks the shaft where precum is spewing out already. He brings his whole length into his mouth, staring up at Louis whilst he does it.
Tears sting his eyes and Louis holds onto his hair. Not to push, but to just feel. He tugs lightly at the hair and Harry moans, the vibrations ripping right through Louis, causing his hips to buck up and a moan to leave his lips as well.
Harry bobs his head a few times before popping off him.
Louis looks down to him. "What's wrong?" he squeaks.
Harry strokes Louis' length. "Um..." He blushes. "I just... I really want you to fuck me," he admits.
Louis feels his stomach flip. "Shit, okay, yeah." He pulls Harry up by the neck gently, kissing him passionately. "Do you want to do it in the bedroom?"
Harry nods. "Yeah."
Louis covers himself with his boxers quickly and they rush a few doors down in the hallway to his room, slamming and latching the door closed.
Louis is taking his boxers off, pushing Harry to the bed and leaning above him, kissing him on the lips before grazing his teeth over his neck and collarbones, swiping his tongue along the bone.
He lifts the dress up, rubbing Harry's outer thighs.
"You're so gorgeous, you know that? Gets me all riled up seeing you in a dress like this," Louis grumbles, kissing Harry's thighs.
Harry moans gripping to the small of Louis' back.
"Prefer to see it off, though," Louis says, pulling the item over Harry's head and tossing it aside. "Hm, better," he hums contently.
He runs his hands along Harry's six pack, feeling the bump of muscle. Harry pulls his briefs off eagerly and Louis can't help but chuckle.
"Eager little princess," Louis mutters, pressing a kiss to Harry's tummy. "Turn around for me lovely."
Harry does as he's told and Louis rifles through his drawers to find the lube and condoms in there. He squirts some lube on his fingers, heart thudding that this is actually going to happen.
He's about to fuck the life out of Harry Styles.
Just the thought turns him on more, and he's slowly teasing Harry's hole with them, pushing one in slightly before drawing away.
Harry is whimpering under him, head pressed against the pillow. His hair is a mess around his shoulders and Louis moves it aside to kiss his shoulder.
He pushes his finger in fully then, going knuckle deep. Once he knows Harry has adjusted to the feeling, he begins pumping in and out of him, causing broken moans to come from Harry's mouth which makes his dick twitch.
He loses no time in adding a second finger, scissoring Harry open. He seems to find the prostate, as Harry groans and his hips buck back to add more pressure.
"Lou, fuck, please, Lou. Please, more," he whimpers.
Louis pulls his fingers out, giving Harry a kiss on his red clammy cheek.
He lubes his own length up after adding a condom, lining himself up. He places his palms on the small of Harry's back.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Yes, fucking hell, get on with it!" Harry hisses impatiently and Louis chuckles at the eagerness.
He pushes himself in, feeling the way Harry's hole clamps around him. He can't help the low moan leaving his lips, has the urge to pound into him but refrains due to needing Harry to be comfortable with the new feeling first.
He sees Harry going to grab himself but he's quick to swiftly pin his arms above his head.
"No touching," Louis decides.
That dick is now his, and only he can get him off.
Harry whines. "Fine, but hurry up before I flip us and I pound into you, Sunflower."
And okay, he's a switch then, good to know.
Louis begins pulling out before thrusting back into him. He goes slow at first, but his rhythm starts to quicken. Moans fill the air around them, sweat beading their sticky skin.
Louis lightly touches Harry's length just to tease and Harry's thighs clench, a deep moan leaving him and it wraps Louis up in a hug.
"Faster, Lou," Harry pleads and Louis quickens his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing with the moans.
Louis can feel Harry's close with the way his hole pulses around him and he rithes on under him.
Louis pulls out before Harry can think about orgasming. Harry whines at the loss of contact.
"Lou," he whimpers.
Louis flips him over, smirking and crashes his lips to his.
"Sorry, love, I do love a good edging."
Harry rolls his eyes but before he can say anything, Louis is pushing back into him again, his lips never leaving Harry's.
Harry grips onto Louis' bum before he scratches harshly at his back, causing a delightful sting there.
Louis pounds faster and harder into him and Harry is unraveling from beneath him, his head falls back, a loud moan leaving his red swollen lips, dark green eyes halflidded and he's spurting come all over their stomachs.
The sight is enough to tip Louis over the edge and his thighs tremble, coming into the condom inside Harry.
He waits until they both come down from their high and pulls out of Harry, taking off the condom and tying it before tossing it in the bin. He goes to the bathroom to quickly freshen up and brings out a warm damp flannel to clean up Harry who's looking too tired to even move.
Once he's cleaned up, Harry opens his arm out from where he lays on his side and Louis slides over to sit flushed against his back, big spooning him.
"Cuddles," Harry says into the pillow before his eyes are drooping closed.
"Never let you go," Louis decides, squeezing him a little tighter and pressing his forehead into Harry's shoulderblade.
They lay like this for the rest of the night until they both fall asleep, deep even breaths escaping into the night.
And for the first time in years, the pair both are at peace with themselves.
A/N-AHHHH
this chapter is so long omfg
and omg smut ew
LMAO THEY'RE SO CUTE PLEASE
Hope you're enjoying so far!
Harry leaves soon :( What's gonna happen when he goes?
Vote and comment and I'll see you in the next update
Stay Safe xxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoox