Paint Me A Story ➳ Larry & Zouis

epilogue: extra credit

"Saturday, five o'clock.  Wear something comfortable."

Harry stood in front of his full-length mirror, the glass coated with smudges and fingerprints.  He fumbled with the tiny buttons of his floral-patterned blouse.  He couldn't decide if he wanted to button up to the collar or leave it undone halfway, exposing his perky nipples.  He decided with the latter. 

He flattened his hands down his thighs to smooth out the wrinkles in his skinny jeans.  He turned his waist a bit, happy to see that the dark denim tightened around his small yet plump arse.  His jeans scrunched around the tops of his golden boots.  The sunlight from his window made them sparkle. 

He stared at his reflection for a few more seconds.  This was really happening. He was going on a date with Louis, his twenty-six-year-old art professor.  Or rather, former professor.  Harry felt like he could barely breathe.  Louis had said that he wanted to plan out the entire date by himself, that it would be a surprise.

Frankly, Harry hated surprises, but he appreciated Louis's attempts at being spontaneous.

Thanks to the cold December air, Harry's reddened lips were chapped and swollen.  He wet them with his tongue.  He looked like a complete mess, with blushing cheeks and bitten lips and pimples dotting his forehead.  Fuck.

"You look lovely," Gemma insisted, leaning against his doorframe. 

Harry met her eyes through the mirror.  "I look like a nervous wreck," he chuckled.

She smiled.  " 's normal to have some nerves before a date."

Date, Harry thought.  Fuck.

"Still can't believe you're dating someone even older than me," Gemma continued, watching as Harry rolled up his cuffs.

Harry blinked silently.  He could sense the hesitation in her voice.  "You can trust Louis.  He's a good guy, Gems," he reassured.

She hummed.  "Are you ever gonna tell me where you two met, anyway?"

Harry bit his lip.  No, he'd save that conversation for another day.

"Just somewhere," Harry said obscurely.  He fiddled with the chain of his cross necklace.

"Somewhere?" Gemma pressed, brow raised.

"Yes."

"Please.  You're overwhelming me with details," she teased and rolled her eyes.

Harry huffed.  "Listen.  Have you got any chapstick?  Louis'll be here any minute."

She nodded.  "Yeah, 've got some in my room, I think.  Be right back."

She left Harry's bedroom for a moment.  Meanwhile, Harry toyed with his hair.  It was straighter than usual, for some reason— probably because he let it air dry without fluffing it first.  He just wanted to look perfect.  He knew Louis wouldn't care, because he wasn't superficial like that, but still.  He felt sort of inferior to Louis, given their seven year age gap, like he wasn't mature enough to date someone as lovely as Mr. Tomlinson.

And, fuck, Harry really needed to stop with the whole 'mister' thing.

"Didn't have any chapstick," Gemma said, returning to Harry's bedroom.  "But I've got lip gloss."

Harry turned around, frowning.  "Lip gloss?"

"Yes.  Don't give me any of that gender roles bullshit.  It'll moisturize your lips, just like chapstick," she promised.  She placed the glitter-filled pink tube in Harry's awaiting hand.

Harry's virescent eyes stared at the gloss, uncertainty filling his gaze.  "On second thought—"

"Oh, shut up.  Don't you want to have soft, pretty lips for Louis?" she teased, popping the cap of the gloss tube.  Pink shine coated the white tip of the applicator.

He scrunched his nose.  "Who said I was gonna kiss him?"

She scoffed.  "Hush.  From what you've told me, you'll be all over him."

"You make me sound needy," he pouted.  "I'll have you know, I played hard-to-get for months."

Gemma rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, whatever.  Pucker up, buttercup."

Harry complied, pressing his lips together.  Gemma covered them with the gloss.  Now they looked smoother, pinker, with little sparkles here and there.  Harry licked the corner of his mouth.  Okay, it tasted pretty good, too.  Like strawberries.

"Beautiful," Gemma grinned, closing the tube again.  She screwed the cap shut.

"Thanks," Harry said.  He smacked his lips together, satisfied.

Gemma nodded.  She noted the blush of pink on Harry's cheeks.

"Do you love Louis?" she asked.

Harry nearly choked on his tongue.  "What?  No, Gems.  Louis and I—we're not even boyfriends.  Just dating.  Not official yet," he rambled. 

She squinted.  "But you like him?"

"Yes," he sighed.  "I like him a lot.  Very much.  He makes me happy."

"Do you think you could fall in love with him?" she questioned.  "Like, hypothetically."

Harry bit his lip.  To be honest, he didn't know.  He'd never been in love.  He didn't know what it felt like.  Sure, he had relationships in the past, but nothing too serious.

"I dunno," Harry sighed.  "Louis just got out of a very long relationship.  They were engaged, actually.  I don't want to rush things with him.  He says he's fine, but I think he's still a bit heartbroken."

Her eyes widened  "Engaged?  Sounds serious."

"Yeah," Harry breathed. 

There was a knock at the door.  Harry's heart nearly leapt out of his chest.  He was genuinely going on a real date with Louis.  The man who greeted Harry on the first day of class, asked for his name, and never judged his shyness.  The man who reignited his passion for art.  The man who could read his thoughts and feelings without verbalization.

Gemma nudged him along.  "Go, Harry.  Have fun tonight, okay?  You deserve it."

He smiled and gave her a quick hug.  Then he walked towards their front door, nervousness sinking into his stomach.  He snatched up his coat from the hook on the wall.  He placed his hand on the doorknob, inhaled sharply, tried to calm down.

He opened the door.

Louis smiled instantly, little crinkles forming next to his pretty blue eyes.  His caramel hair was quiffed up slightly, making his face seem slimmer and sharper.  He wore a Marvel jumper with the neckline scooped low, revealing a light patch of chest hair.  His dark jeans clung to his thick thighs and sculpted calves.  Harry felt the air leave his lungs. 

"Hello, Styles," Louis greeted with a grin.  He leaned up on his tip-toes to kiss Harry's cheek.  Harry was only an inch or two taller, but those damn heeled boots made him tower over the older lad. 

"Hi," Harry croaked.  "You, um— you look nice."

Louis smirked.  "Not so bad yourself."

Harry flushed.  "Thanks."

"Are you ready to go?"

Harry nodded.  "Yup."

Louis grinned and held out his arm, hooking it with Harry's.  He guided him out to his car, which he'd parked on the side of the street.  The wind whistled through Harry's long hair as they walked along the pavement.  Flurries of snow wisped through the winter air.

Like a proper gentleman, Louis opened the door for Harry.  He thanked him with a giggle and slid inside.  The air felt warmer in Louis's car, more comfortable, and it smelled like Louis, too.  Louis closed his door and walked around to the driver's side, then climbed in. 

Louis started the engine with a rumble.  "So, you ready for our date?" he asked as he began driving down the ice-covered street.  His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knowing that the roads were quite slippery.

Harry nodded.  "Yeah.  Still don't know where we're going, though."

    Louis turned on his blinker as the car slowed to a stop sign.  "It's a surprise."

    "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate surprises?"

    "Oh, please.  You gave me plenty of surprises throughout the semester with those art projects.  's my turn, now."

    Harry laughed quietly.  "I suppose you're right."

    They fell into a comfortable silence.  Some lady talked over the radio, but her voice was muffled through the speakers, barely audible.  Harry glanced out the window.  A light dusting of snow covered the skeletal trees that lined the streets.  It truly looked like a winter wonderland.

    "So," Louis drawled.  His eyes stared through the windshield.  "Have you told your sister about us?"

    Harry coughed awkwardly.  "Well, sort of."

    "Sort of?"

    "Yeah, like.  I told her your first name, that you're twenty-six, but—"

    "But not that I was your art professor, yeah?" Louis finished.

    Harry nodded.  "Yeah."

    "Do you think she'd be against us being together if she knew?"

    Harry just shrugged.  "Maybe."

    Louis clenched his jaw.  "Okay."

    Harry knew that upset him—knowing that Harry's only maternal figure might not approve of their "relationship."  But it was the truth.  Gemma was very protective of Harry.  She meant well, but sometimes she caused more harm than good.

    "Hey," Harry sighed, resting his palm on Louis's leg.  Louis's gaze flickered before returning to the road.  "Don't be angry, alright?  I'll tell Gems eventually, when the time's right.  I just don't want her to blow up and rat you out to the university."

    Louis's face showed no emotions.  "You think she'd do that?"

    Harry shook his head.  "I don't know.  She's just—she's overbearing sometimes, 's all."

"Overbearing?" the eldest asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like... a few years ago, I slept with this one guy, Chad, at a party.  He said he'd call me, but he never rang.  I told Gems, and you know what she did?"

    "What?"

    "She marched over to Chad's house and egged his car."

    Louis snorted.  "Serves him right."

    "And she won't hesitate to kill you if you hurt me, either."

    Louis smiled as he stopped at a red light.  "Well, I have no intentions of doing that."

Harry looked smug as he squeezed Louis's thigh. "Good, 'cause I have no intentions of hurting you, too."

The light turned green. 

○○○

It was a dome-shaped building with a half-sphere as the roof, covered in white tiles.  They passed by a sign that read 'Reed's Planetarium,' painted with constellations and tiny planets.  The parking lot was empty, not a single car in sight.  For a second, Harry wondered if they were closed.  But then again, why would Louis take Harry to a closed planetarium?

"A planetarium?" Harry mused.  "I've never been to one before."

Louis smiled as he parked the car in front of the building.  "Good.  I guess I'm popping your planetarium cherry, then."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Clever."

"C'mon, now."

Harry grabbed his wrist.  "Wait.  Are they even open?" he asked, glancing around the empty lot.  The wind whistled against the window.

Louis bit his lip.  "Not technically."

"I'm against breaking and entering, Louis," Harry said, his eyes widening.  "I refuse to violate the law, even if it's for some extravagant date."

"We're not breaking in," Louis snickered.  "I have it reserved, just for the two of us."

Harry couldn't help but smile.  It was a really sweet gesture.  People didn't go above and beyond for Harry very often.  He'd become accustomed to expecting the bare minimum.

"That must've costed a fortune, Louis.  Holy shit."

Louis shook his head.  "Didn't cost anything, actually.  Do you know who runs this planetarium?"

Harry scrunched his forehead with confusion.  He glanced up at the sign that hung over the glass doors.  "Um, someone named Reed?"

Louis nodded.  "Precisely.  Reed Evans, otherwise known as professor Evans.  He used to work at the university a few years ago.  He taught astronomy.  He retired since then to build this place.  And, well, we're good mates."

Harry practically became the personification of the heart-eyed emoji.  "I can't believe you did that for us.  That's so..."  He couldn't find the right words.  "Just—thank you."

" 's no problem.  With the exception of staff, we have it all to ourselves.  Figured we couldn't have a proper date with loads of people in the same room."

Harry felt like his heart could burst.   "I— thank you, Louis.  Really."

Louis grinned at his response.  He loved making Harry happy.  That boy deserved all the happiness in the world, and Louis wanted to give it all to him.

"Let's go, then."

Louis held Harry's hand as they walked towards the entrance.  They fit together nicely— Louis's smaller fingers laced with Harry's larger ones.  Harry nearly slipped over the ice, but he just gripped Louis's hand tighter, trying to keep his balance.  Louis laughed softly and pulled him along. 

"You're like Bambi," Louis snickered.

Harry's eyes narrowed.  "Bambi?"

"Yes.  Always tripping with your long deer limbs."

Harry scoffed.  "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is a compliment," Louis insisted, releasing Harry's hand to open the door.  The metal handle felt cold against his palm.  "Have you seen Bambi?  He's fucking adorable.  Just like you."

Harry blushed as they walked inside the planetarium.  The door closed behind them.  The air felt much warmer inside.  Beneath them, planets and stars covered the carpet that filled the main lobby.  Harry's eyes locked on the floor, eyeing the carpeted rings of Saturn that lay beneath his boots.  It looked suited for children, Harry thought, but he loved it nonetheless. 

The front desk was made of wood with the planetarium's logo pasted on the front.  A red sign that read 'TICKETS' hung above them.  A large computer sat on top of the desk with a massive monitor.  Keyboard and mouse clicks filled the otherwise quiet space.

Louis cleared his throat.  "Reed?"

The man looked up from his computer.  He was old and wore thick-lensed glasses that rested on the tip of his wrinkled nose.  His skin was dark and covered with age spots.  He gave off this vibe of pure intelligence, like he knew everything in the entire universe.  His eyes lit up as he noticed Louis and Harry's presence. 

"Louis!  I'm so glad you're here," he said, his voice raspy and dry.

Reed stood up and walked around to give Louis a tight hug.  Louis pat his back a few times, smiling into the older man's shoulder.  When he pulled back, he had the widest smile on his face.  His pearly white dentures were unnaturally straight.

"This must be your date, yes?" Reed assumed, nodding towards Harry.

Louis grinned.  "Yes.  This is Harry.  Harry, this is the one and only Reed Evans."

Harry smiled bashfully and shook the man's hand.  He held a strong, iron grip, but it was comforting.  Welcoming, even.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry.  Louis has told me a lot about you," he chuckled.

Louis rolled his eyes.  He tried to hide his embarrassment.

"We miss you at the university, Reed," Louis said to change the subject.  "The astronomy department isn't the same without you."

The old man frowned slightly.  "Thank you, Louis.  I miss the university, too, but I think this is my true calling.  People seem to love it here.  's attracted tourists to the town, too."

"It looks beautiful," Louis complimented, eyes flickering around the main lobby.  The entire building was shaped sort of like an igloo, with the lobby at the entrance and the planetarium under the dome.  Overhead, paper-cut stars dangled from the ceiling with string.

"Thank you, Tomlinson.  That means a lot, coming from an artist," Reed laughed softly.  His eyes turned to Harry, then back to Louis again.  "I suppose you two lovebirds want to start your date, yes?"

Louis smiled and placed his hand on the small of Harry's back.  It was such a small movement, but it made Harry's stomach flutter.  He felt guided.  Protected.

"That would be lovely."

Reed flicked his head towards the black door that read "planetarium entrance" in bold white letters.  He walked slowly with a limp in his knee, probably from old age, Harry guessed.  Louis's fingernails scratched gently at the skin under Harry's blouse.  He knew Louis probably didn't even notice these gestures, that it was just a subconscious act, but it drove Harry mad.  The simplest touch sent him into a daze.

Reed held the door open with his foot, his arm sweeping inside the planetarium to welcome them.  Rows of folding seats filled the dimly-lit circular room.  The makeshift sky was currently white, and as Louis squinted, he could see the outline of the large tiles that covered the ceiling.  Tiny blue LCD lights illuminated the path that curved through the maze of seats.

And they had it all to themselves.  Harry felt like he was on top of the world.  And perhaps he was—floating through the galaxy, so to speak.  In a matter of minutes, he'd be soaring through stars and planets.

"You can seat wherever you'd like.  The show will begin momentarily."

Louis nodded.  "Thank you."

The door clicked shut, and then they were alone.  Louis sighed.  He gripped Harry's waist tighter to grab his attention.

"Where do you want to sit, Styles?"

Harry just shrugged.  "Next to you."

Louis snorted.  "Well, obviously."

Harry giggled into his shoulder.  He smelled like rich cologne.  Louis's stubble scratched against his soft blushing cheeks.

"Here," Louis decided, plopping down in a seat in the center of the planetarium.  The cushions were soft and comfortable, covered in an odd fabric that felt like corduroy.  Harry reclined in the seat to Louis's left. 

His head lolled to the side.  Their eyes locked.  Even in the minimal lighting, Louis could see the sparkle in Harry's green irises.

"You're pretty," Louis hummed, pinching Harry's chin between his thumb and index.

Harry's lashes fluttered, as if he couldn't get any prettier.  "Thanks."

Louis smiled in response.  He kissed Harry's nose and let go, instead settling his hand over Harry's.  Louis's tan skin contrasted perfectly against Harry's paleness.

"I'm glad we can finally do this," Louis spoke softly.  His feet knocked against Harry's playfully.  "I've waited so long to take you on a date."

"Oh?  How long?"

"Since the first day I met you."

Harry bit his lip.  "I didn't even speak."

"Yeah, but I might've had a little crush on you, anyway."

Harry nodded slowly.  Louis noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"So you were unfaithful to Zayn?" he murmured.  His voice was so quiet and hesitant.  Louis barely heard it.

Louis blinked a few times.  "No.  I mean— I don't think so.  At first, my feelings were just platonic, you know?  I just thought you were interesting.  But then..."

"But then it turned into somethin' else?" Harry finished.

"Yeah," Louis breathed.  "Obviously I've always thought you were fit, but I never actually had deep feelings for you until, well, after the art museum, I think."

"After the photo project?"

"Precisely."

Harry hummed in agreement.  "I see."

Louis felt Harry's hand tense underneath his.  "You're not mad about Zayn, are you?"

"No.  I just—I don't know.  I sorta feel guilty for splitting you two up," Harry rambled, biting his lip.

Louis shook his head.  "No, Harry.  Don't feel guilty, alright?  's not your fault.  What happened between Zayn and I was unavoidable.  I think we're better off this way."

Harry sighed quietly.  "Okay."

"I'm happier with you," Louis assured. 

The lights switched off abruptly.  The room turned pitch black, and above them, the dome turned light blue.  They both stared at the ceiling with awe.  Puffs of animated clouds rolled above them.  It looked so incredibly real.

"We will now ascend into outer space," the deep voice spoke over the speakers.  It sounded an awful lot like Reed, Louis noted.  Perhaps it was.  Louis brushed his thumb over the back of Harry's hand. 

And then the screens zipped up, whipping through the electronic atmosphere.  A few seconds later, they were in space, floating through the galaxy.  Millions of stars covered the dome, some larger and brighter than others. 

The voice began to discuss constellations.  White lines connected between stars to show Ursa Major and the well-known plough. 

"Ursa Major has often been perceived as a bear in countless ancient civilizations," the annotator explained.  "This oral tradition can be traced back more than 13,000 years.  The seven stars that make up Ursa Major are often viewed as the brightest stars in the night sky."

Harry cuddled closer to Louis, nuzzling into the crook of the professor's neck.  His gaze locked on the projected sky as a bear appeared around the constellation.  Louis saw the wonder in his eyes.  He was breathtaking.

"I think you're the brightest star," Louis teased.  He pressed his lips to Harry's temple.

Harry laughed quietly.  "Shut up."

Louis just smiled and draped his arm around Harry's shoulder.  He could get used to this.

੦੦੦

    Two days later, Louis and Harry went on another date.  They were practically inseparable.  It was disgustingly cute, honestly.  Harry had invited Louis to go ice skating.  He didn't even know how to skate, to be honest, but perhaps it would be an excuse to hold Louis's hand. 

    Currently, they sat on a bench on the side of the outdoor ice rink.  Harry laced up his white skates which, he discovered, were sharper than he anticipated.  Louis watched with fondness as Harry bit his tongue between his teeth, trying to concentrate on making the perfect bow with his dirt-covered laces. 

    The air felt bitterly cold.  People of all ages circled around the oval-shaped sheet of ice, surrounded by a short plexiglass wall.  Harry looked beautiful like this, Louis thought.  He'd pinned his long hair up in a bun.  He wore a knee-length coat and some dark skinny jeans.  Fingerless gloves covered his numb hands.  A red scarf looped around his neck.  The chilly breeze bit at his nose and tinted it pink.

    Louis looked equally as beautiful, in Harry's opinion.  He wore a green Adidas hoodie and some tight-fitting jeggings.  A blue beanie with a yarn pom pom on the top hid his hair.  Upon Harry's request, he wore some wool mittens, too.  Harry had nagged him about it, claiming that he could easily get frostbite otherwise.

    "I'm probably going to fall on my arse," Harry warned. 

"You're the one who suggested this in the first place," Louis reminded.

Harry frowned.  "I thought it'd be romantic, but now I'm having doubts."

Louis snickered.  "Shut up and hold on."

He gripped Louis's forearm as he stood up from the bench.  His knees wobbled with unbalance.  Louis carefully guided him towards the ice rink.  They stepped over the ledge in the opening of the fence. 

Harry instantly gripped the side of the wall.  "Jesus," he huffed.  His breath fogged up the winter air. 

Lines of white scratched through the ice as the skaters looped around.  Harry gulped.  Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

"C'mon, curly.  The toddlers are going faster than you," Louis teased, watching as some young children zipped by.

Harry shot him a glare as he struggled to find his balance.  His blades wobbled over the ice. 

" 'm gonna fall and break my neck," Harry said stubbornly, his fingers paleing as he grasped the wall tighter.

Louis rolled his eyes.  "C'mon.  I'll help you."  He held out his hand.

Harry pouted.  "Promise I won't fall?"

"Of course."

Harry grasped his hand, then quickly held onto his shoulders for dear life.  He really did look like Bambi—wide-eyed, feet slipping, long legs spreading.  Louis just laughed and pulled Harry along.  He shuffled along the ice slowly, barely moving at all, really.  Sort of just inching forward.

"You're gonna bruise my shoulder like that," Louis tsked, noting the way Harry's fingers dug sharply into his flesh.

Harry's cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment (and the cold weather, too).  "If I die, I'm blaming you," he warned as he let go. 

Louis laughed and gently held his wrists, guiding him along the rink.  "I'll take that risk."

Harry stuck out his tongue.  He probably wanted to look intimidating, but he just looked adorable.  A crease formed in his forehead as he tried to concentrate.  His eyes glued to his skates as they slid along the ice.

"You wanna spin?" Louis suggested, squeezing Harry's hand to grab his attention.  His palms felt warm underneath his gloves.

"Spin?"

"Yeah," Louis said, curling an arm around Harry's pudgy waist.  He twirled them together in a circle.  Harry's eyes widened as he latched onto Louis's hips out of instinct. 

"Don't make me dizzy," Harry warned.  He brushed his nose against Louis's. 

The heels of Louis's skates tapped against the ice.  They stopped in their tracks.  Harry looked up through his fluttering lashes, his puffy lips breathing clouds into the cold air. 

"You make me dizzy every time I look at you," Louis cooed.

Harry pretended to gag.  "Your attempts at romance are slowly driving me to insanity."

"I thought I was doing quite well."

"You're lucky I like cheesy compliments," Harry huffed. 

They continued to glide along the rink, still attached at the hip, literally speaking.  And by the end of the night, Harry only fell a grand total of five times.

He considered that a success.

  ੦੦੦

"Louis!" Harry whined, tugging at his jumper sleeve.  He reached for the remote in Louis's petite hands, but he flinched away, tucking it behind his back.  Harry pouted.  "I don't wanna watch a scary film!  Turn it off!"

Louis chuckled.  "It's not even scary, Harry."

Harry frowned.  "Don't say it—"

"Scary, Harry!  Get it?  'Cause it rhymes," Louis laughed, twinkles of satisfaction sparking in his eyes.

Harry groaned with annoyance.  "I'm serious, Louis.  I don't wanna watch it."

Louis tilted his head.  "It's not even a horror film, Styles.  It's bloody Jurassic Park."

"Dinosaurs are terrifying, Lou!" Harry defended, crinkling his nose.

"The movie isn't even about dinosaurs.  It's a metaphorical cautionary tale on chaos theory and scientific criticism," Louis explained, turning up the volume on his telly.  The title glowed on the large screen: white capital letters with the silhouette of a dinosaur skeleton.

Harry's raised his brow.  "Did you rehearse that?"

"Maybe."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "You're ridiculous."

"No, what's ridiculous is that you haven't seen the film yet.  Or read the book.  It's a classic!" Louis complained, propping his feet on the coffee table.  Fluffy socks covered his tiny feet, scrunching around his ankles.  Speckled joggers rode low on his hips, revealing a bit of tanned skin before the hem of his t-shirt.  Harry reckoned he looked like a soft, cuddly hedgehog.  That may be an oxymoron, but to Harry it made perfect sense.

"It came out in 1993, Lou.  I wasn't even born."

Louis frowned.  "Right.  I forgot you're an infant."

Harry snorted.  "Shut up.  You're dating an infant, so."

"Point taken."

Harry huffed and snatched a handful of crisps out of the bag in Louis's lap.  He chewed them loudly, crunching continuously as the movie started.  A bit of salt gathered on his bottom lip, so his tongue darted out to lick it up, and Louis couldn't keep his eyes off his mouth.  On the screen, some Spanish-speaking Jurassic Park workers stood in orange hard hats as the leaves ruffled creepily in a dense forest, and it really was quite spooky, he should probably be at the edge of his seat, but Harry's mouth was utterly distracting.

Harry caught Louis staring out of the corner of his eye.  "Thought you said you wanted to watch the film," he grumbled.

Louis chuckled softly.  "I've seen it a dozen times."

"Then why are we watching it?"

" 'cause you haven't."

Harry ignored him.  His eyes glued to the telly as "Isla Nublar" lit up at the bottom of the screen.  Great, he thought.  So this was the infamous dinosaur island?  Literally "Cloud Island"?  Sounded more like a fairytale setting, not a dinosaur-infested park of horror.

"Stop thinking so hard," Louis tsked, noting the way Harry's forehead scrunched in concentration.  He finished up the crisps and tilted the crinkled bag, emptying the crumbs into his mouth.  Then he balled it up and tossed it aside.  He'd throw it away later, he decided.

Harry didn't reply.  He just watched the TV as the dinosaur snatched up a man, drawing him into its cage, and started shouting, "Shoot her!"  Harry bit his lip as he witnessed the workers pulling out guns, aiming them towards the prehistoric creature.  Shots were fired.  Sparks flied everywhere.  The camera zoomed on the dinosaur's eye and scale-covered skin.

"I hate this already," Harry whined and lolled his head onto Louis's soft shoulder. 

Louis smiled as Harry's curls tickled under his chin, soft ringlets brushing his neck.  He let his arm wrap around Harry's shoulder to hold him closer.  To keep him there.  He could feel his breathing slow down as the opening scene ended.

"We can watch somethin' else if you want," Louis suggested, fearing that Harry had already lost interest.

"No."

"I don't mind—"

"No," Harry repeated, kissing Louis's collarbone gently. 

Butterflies fluttered in Louis's tummy.  His skin tingled because, holy fuck, neck kisses were his kryptonite.  His hand tightened on Harry's shoulder as he let out a quiet breath of surprise.

Louis swallowed the lump in his throat.  He tried to focus on Jurassic Park, but somehow, halfway through the movie, Harry's hand settled in Louis's lap.  It was such a casual movement, just resting his palm there, but Louis felt like he could barely breathe.  His fingers were just inches away from his dick.  Holy shit. 

    "Harry," Louis choked out, and he sounded completely wrecked. 

    Harry hummed in response, just to show that he was listening.  The tyrannosaur roared on the telly.  Its large clawed feet pounded on the muddy ground.  Harry had to admit that, for 1993, the special effects weren't bad.  Fairly decent, actually.

    What was Louis supposed to say?  Harry, can you please remove your hand from my lap because I feel like I'm two seconds away from getting hard?  No.  He couldn't possibly say that.  But frankly, Louis wasn't wearing pants underneath his joggers, and Harry's hand just kept twitching subconsciously.

    "Never mind," Louis mumbled.

    "No, say it," Harry urged, his eyes finally lifting up to meet Louis's.  And, ah, those fucking green eyes.  Those beautiful viridescent irises that snagged Louis's gaze and refused to let go.  They held him captive.

    Louis swallowed hard.  "I just, um.  You're very pretty."

    It wasn't a lie.  Harry smiled widely— the kind where his cheeks dimple and his eyes crinkle. 

    "You too," Harry breathed before bringing their lips together.

  ੦੦੦

Jurassic Park ended about an hour later.  And somehow, one thing lead to another, and Louis and Harry started making out on his couch.  The credits rolled behind them, the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room.  Harry straddled Louis's lap as they kissed passionately, his thighs planted on either side of the professor.  His hands touched Louis's chest and clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as Louis tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth.

Louis's hands trailed to the small of Harry's back.  They slipped under the hem of Harry's sheer blouse and roamed up his sides.  He felt cold, but not in a bad way.  In a soothing way.  Harry whined deep in his throat as his tongue slipped past Louis's lips.

" 'arry," Louis groaned as Harry shifted in his lap.  His fingernails dug into the flesh of Harry's pudgy hips, which stuck out a bit over the waistband of his jeans. 

Harry's breath quickened.  He inhaled sharply between kisses.  His concentration focused solely on Louis, Louis, Louis.  He cupped Louis's face, his stubble scratching over the softness of his palms.  His thumbs hooked under his jaw and held him closer.

"Lou," Harry whispered between their lips, his nervousness swallowing the last syllable of his name.

He craned his neck, and Louis immediately latched on, sucking a bite into the side of his throat.  Harry gasped in surprise, but then Louis's teeth started grazing over his skin.  He fell apart.  He grasped Louis's broad shoulders and held on for dear life.  It felt incredible.  His warm tongue licked over the swelling bruise.

"Louis," Harry choked out.  His eyes fluttered shut, his lashes dancing over the redness of his cheeks. 

The older lad didn't reply.  He just nibbled on the bruise some more.

"Please," Harry begged, but Louis didn't know for what he was asking.  To continue?  To fuck him?  To— god forbid—stop?

"You okay?" Louis breathed out, pulling away.  He left a shiny splat of saliva on the fresh hickey.

Harry gulped.  "I just—I want, um.  Slow down."  He couldn't even form a complete sentence.

Guilt washed over Louis's face.  "I'm sorry.  I got carried away," he muttered.

Harry gave a weakened smile.  " 's alright."

Louis paused for a few seconds.  He glanced behind Harry briefly.  The credits continued to scroll down the screen.  The glow of the telly stained their skin with a blueish hue.

"Will you stay for dinner?" Louis asked lightly.

Harry squinted with confusion.  "It's nine o'clock at night, Louis."

Louis snickered.  "Okay, well.  Will you stay for a nine o'clock snack, then?  We can order pizza?"

Harry grinned.  "Sure.  I just have to be home by midnight, otherwise Gemma will throw a fit."

Louis sighed as his hands settled on Harry's thighs.  "You're nineteen.  Why do you still have a curfew?"

"She's protective."

"You can take care of yourself."

Harry tilted his head.  "You can't really blame her for being cautious.  All she knows about you is that you're twenty-six years old and named Louis."

Louis grumbled in annoyance.  "Why does age matter?"

Harry snorted.  "You're nearly thirty."

Louis's mouth dropped open.  "I am not!  Jesus Christ, Harry."

"You are if you round up," Harry giggled, flicking up his index finger for emphasis.

Louis rolled his eyes.  "Shut up."

"I'm just teasing," Harry mumbled, blinking with innocence.  He kissed Louis's cheek apologetically.

"Yeah, whatever," Louis huffed.  "Now get your bum off my lap.  I gotta order a pizza.  What would you like?"

Harry hummed as he pondered.  He tapped his chin.  "Pepperoni and cheese?"

Louis slumped his shoulders, an unamused expression filling his face.  "You're so boring.  I'd expect somethin' weird from someone as creative as you."

"Like what?"

"I dunno.  Anchovies and garlic?"

Harry wrinkled his nose.  "That's gross."

"You're gross."

"Touche."

"For fuck's sake, Harry.  We're never gonna get pizza if you don't get your touche off me this instant."

Harry barked a loud laugh, one that rumbled in his chest and made his face scrunch up.  He looked like the personification of sunshine— glowing brightly, shimmering with joy, lighting up the darkness.  Louis's heart thudded in his chest as Harry rolled off his lap. 

Louis bit his lip as he grabbed his mobile phone.  Thankfully, he had the local pizza parlor on speed dial.

  ੦੦੦

"Thank you," Louis grinned, pushing a wad of cash into the delivery boy's hand.  He wore a blue polo shirt with the pizza company's logo embroidered in the breast pocket.  The grease-stained pizza box set heavily in Louis's arms.  The warmth seeped through the cardboard.

The boy grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth with train-track braces.  "Have a nice—"

"You too," Louis interrupted, closing the door in his face.  He didn't like unnecessary chit-chat.

"Hurry up, Lou!" Harry called from the nearby kitchen.  "I'm starving."

Louis rolled his eyes.  "Grab two plates, alright?  In the furthest cabinet on the left.  I'll be there in a sec," he shouted back.

He heard Harry grunt in response.  "Fine."

Sneakily, Louis opened the lid of the box.  He pulled out a pen from his pocket and, with his tongue pressed between his lips, wrote 'BE MY BOYFRIEND?' across the cardboard.  His handwriting wasn't the neatest, and bits of cheese and grease ruined his cute message, but oh well.  He wasn't really into big romantic gestures.  But asking Harry to go official via pizza?  He could do that.

Louis closed the lid and capped the pen.  He carried the box back into the kitchen.  Harry sat at one of the tall bar stools, sipping some off brand Coke from a cold aluminum can, condensation building up at the sides.  He raised his eyebrows as Louis set the pizza down.

"Took you long enough," Harry teased, gulping the last of his soda.

Louis sent him a glare.  "Whatever.  Grab us some slices, okay?  I'll fetch napkins."

Harry hummed in agreement.  Louis tried to hide his blush as he opened the drawer.  Stay calm, he ordered himself.  He didn't want to spoil the surprise.  Louis's hands trembled with nervousness as he grabbed a few napkins, listening to Harry as he opened the pizza box.  Silence ticked by for one, two, three seconds.  Louis knew he was probably reading the message. 

"Louis," Harry exhaled. 

Louis looked up shyly.  "Yes?"

Harry's eyes flickered back to the box's lid.  His lips fell open, like he couldn't believe what he was reading. 

"I can't believe you," Harry said softly.  "Asking me to be your boyfriend with pizza?"

Louis frowned at his reaction.  "Are you— are you disappointed?"

Harry shook his head instantly.  Louis noticed some tears gathering in the corners of his emerald eyes.  Happy tears, he hoped. 

"No," Harry sighed.  "It's just a little cheesy."

Louis froze.  "Oh my fucking god," he swore.  "You of all people would make pun at a time like this.  I was trying to be thoughtful!"

Harry smiled widely.  "I'm sorry.  I couldn't help myself."

Louis scoffed as he grabbed a slice of pizza.  Strings of cheese stuck to the cardboard.  Red sauce oozed at the edges, the crust golden brown.

"You never answered the damn question," Louis said impatiently.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Isn't it obvious?  My answer is yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, of course, you idiot.  I'd love to be your boyfriend."

Louis liked the way it rolled off his tongue.  The word boyfriend.  It sounded lovely.

"Okay," the professor said, sighing.  "That's good.  'cause I haven't got any other tricks up my sleeve."

Harry giggled and brought their lips together.  Boyfriends.

  ੦੦੦

To put it simply, Harry cared about people.  He didn't socialize as much as a "normal" person, but he truly cared about the feelings and wellbeing of others.  He liked making others feel special and loved and appreciated. 

So on Louis's twenty-seventh birthday, Harry decided to give Louis the best present ever.

They'd only been official boyfriends for a little over a week, but it was the best week in Harry's entire existence.  It was filled with kisses and cute dates and cuddles.  They were basically attached at the hip.  Harry had changed Louis's name in his phone contacts to 'boyfriend' with three exclamation points and the gay couple emoji.  Needless to say, he was very happy.  And so was Louis.

To be honest, Harry gave Louis more affection in one week than Zayn did throughout the entirety of their relationship.  He soon realized that relationships were supposed to be filled with truthfulness and happiness, not lies and secrets.  Yes, arguments were inevitable, but he figured out why Zayn used to but heads all the time.  It was because they didn't know how to solve said arguments.  They just pushed each other around until the other person caved in.  This lead to distrust and bitterness and, eventually, their breakup.

But perhaps it was all for the best.

Currently, Louis and Harry were in Harry's kitchen making Christmas gingerbread biscuits for Louis's birthday, seeing as it was Christmas Eve.  The professor had explained that all he wanted for his birthday was to spend some quality time with his boyfriend making holiday crafts.  And, really, how could Harry say 'no' to that?

Gemma was at work, but Harry wanted to properly introduce them when she returned later that evening.  Louis felt both nervous and excited to meet her face-to-face.

Michael Buble's Christmas album blasted through the small flat.  Louis used a wooden spoon as a makeshift microphone, singing the lyrics to "Jingle Bells" at the top of his lungs.  Harry giggled and rolled his eyes.  Louis may be twenty-seven now, but he still acted like a child.

A plate of baked biscuits stacked on a white plate, crispy with golden edges.  They ranged in size and shape, from tiny trees to large reindeer to the classic man.  Harry held a bag of icing in his hand and squirted some white frosting onto one biscuit, his tongue pressed with concentration. 

Louis swayed his hips back and forth as he danced through the kitchen.  His tiny feet glided over the tiled floors.  His fluffy socks made it easy to slide across like ice.  As it turned out, Louis couldn't bake to save his life.  He left the cooking to Harry.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!  Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh, hey!" Louis sang cheerfully, brushing past Harry as he frosted the gingerbread.  He pinched Harry's bum as he walked by.

Harry turned around, pretending to be scandalized.  His mouth pressed into an open 'o.'

Louis just winked.  "Couldn't resist."

"You're a hopeless baker," Harry tsked.  He turned back to tend to the biscuits.  He squeezed the remainder of the frosting onto the final gingerbread man.

But, to be honest, Harry was making it quite difficult to resist.  He wore this oversized knitted Christmas jumper that should look hideous on anyone, but Harry managed to pull it off.  It was the dullest shade of green with red felt hearts sewed into the front.  The sleeves hung past Harry's fingertips, getting in the way as he frosted the biscuits. 

Some dark jeans suffocated his thighs and calves.  They practically looked painted on.  He wore some Christmas-themed socks with puppies that wore red Santa hats.  Louis could see his toes wiggle beneath the fabric as he moved his feet to the beat of the music.

Louis plucked a gingerbread man from the plate.  He nibbled on its arm.  It was still warm and tasted delicious.

"Louis," Harry sighed.  "Those were supposed to be for tomorrow."

Louis pouted.  "But it's my birthday," he said around a mouthful of biscuit.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Fine."

Louis smiled triumphantly.  He shoved the rest of the gingerbread in his mouth.  Harry cooed at the sight.  He looked like an adorable chipmunk with stuffed cheeks.  It crunched loudly as he chewed.

"Speaking of your birthday," Harry hummed.  He set the empty frosting bag aside to give Louis his undivided attention.

Louis raised his brow suspiciously.  "Yes?"

"I have a present for you."

"Do you?"

"Indeed," Harry said, tapping Louis's nose.  " 's in my bedroom.  Follow me."

Louis wiggled his eyebrows.  "Is it a sexy present?"

Harry scoffed.  "No."

Louis frowned.  They'd been boyfriends for a week now, but so far they hadn't gotten past making out and love bites.  And it's not that Louis expected Harry to want to have sex so quickly, but he wouldn't necessarily reject the proposition, either.  He'd say yes in a heartbeat, actually.

The professor trailed behind Harry towards his bedroom.  He wiped his icing-covered fingers on his baggy joggers, then brushed the crumbs out of the corners of his mouth.  He felt comfortable around Harry, though, like he didn't have to look perfect 24/7.  Harry found his slobbish habits adorable, most of the time.

Louis sat on the edge of Harry's bed as Harry rummaged through his dresser. A rectangular mirror hung above it, reflecting the image of his art-themed bedroom.  It was a hipster's paradise, complete with twinkly lights and a framed replica of Salvador Dalí's The Persistence of Memory.  Vases filled with fake flowers decorated his bedside table and the bookshelf in the corner.  Louis noticed the paint splatters and smudges that coated his small wooden desk.  A proper artist's desk, he thought.  It was messy.

"Aha!" Harry said, pulling out a red box, about twelve inches in length.  A pretty white bow stuck to the lid. 

Louis squinted.  "For me?" he asked rhetorically.

Harry set the gift in Louis's awaiting hands.  Then he took a seat next to him, plopping his bum on the springed mattress.  The duvet wrinkled beneath him. 

"Happy twenty-seventh, you old doof," Harry grinned.  He kissed Louis's temple, who blushed a light shade of pink.

"Thanks, baby."

It was supposed to be a joke, a prod at his youth, but Harry preened at the cute pet name.  Dimples sunk into his cheeks as he grinned.  Louis thought he looked like the sun.

"Open it," Harry pressed.

Louis grunted before peeling back the ribbon.  His fingers curled under the lid and slowly jiggled it off, his fingernails scraping under the cardboard material.  Removing the top, Louis saw a layer of scarlet tissue paper.  It crinkled as he pulled it away.

He revealed a large metal tin.  French cursive letters scrolled across the front.  Louis shook his head with disbelief. 

"Is this Sennelier?"

Harry bit back a grin.  "Yes.  You know the brand?"

Louis scoffed.  "Are you kidding me, Harry?  These watercolours must've cost a fortune.  I'd have to sell my soul to afford Sennelier paints!"

With excitement, the professor popped off the top of the container.  Rows of watercolour tubes filled the inside of the tin, cradled by soft velvet.  The colours were organized like a rainbow, starting with red and gradually transitioning to violet.  Three brushes of different widths and bristle types lined the edge.  Louis's hands trembled as he picked up a single tube of—according to the label—French Vermilion.  But to Louis, it just looked like orange.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked shyly.

Louis looked up, shock plastered on his face.  "Of course I like it, Styles.  Holy fuck.  I can't believe you!" he said, a laugh melting into his voice. 

Harry just shrugged, as if these paints didn't cost an arm and a leg.  "You mentioned you were running low on watercolours, so."

"So you decided to buy bloody Sennelier?  Jesus Christ.  I would've been fine with Crayola, for crying out loud," Louis insisted.

"But you deserve the best."

"You're ridiculous," Louis sighed.  He set the tube back in the tin and closed the lid.  It clicked shut with an audible 'tick.' 

"I can take them back," Harry offered hesitantly.  He worried that Louis thought he was trying too hard.

"No.  I like them, Harry.  I just— it's a lot of money."

"I know."

"And you spent all that money on me."

Harry blinked with confusion.  "Well, yes.  Isn't that what boyfriends do?"

Louis looked at Harry with admiration, as if he couldn't believe he was actually real and alive and breathing.  He didn't know how he got so lucky.  Harry was the loveliest person in the entire universe.  He had such a large heart, despite his broken and tragic past.  Most would drown themselves in self-pity, but not Harry. 

"I suppose so," Louis said moments later.  Their eyes connected at last, the greenness of earth meeting ocean waves of blue.  Everything about Harry seemed so soft and gentle.  His leisurely voice, his puffy cheeks, his silky hair, his plush lips.  He put teddy bears to shame.

"Now would be the perfect time to thank me," Harry teased, his tone a tad breathless.

Louis chuckled.  "Thank you, Harry.  Thank you so much.  I— I really appreciate this," he said, patting the box with his palm.

Harry nodded, his curls bouncing.  "You're welcome."

Louis leaned in to kiss Harry, and it felt so natural, like a habit engraved into his brain.  It felt as normal as breathing.  Their lips moved together slowly and lazily, but not in a sloppy manner— just comfortably.  Louis's tongue prodded against Harry's chapped lips.

Harry parted his mouth and swallowed a whimper.  Louis could get him worked up over something as simple as kissing.  It was humiliating.  His hands clasped Louis's shoulders as they continued to kiss, the hair above Louis's upper lip scratching at his skin.  He tasted like mint.  Sharp yet refreshing.

"Louis," Harry warned between kisses.

Louis hummed against his lips, just to prove that he was paying attention.  But he didn't stop snogging him.  In fact, he just quickened the pace.  His hands found their way to Harry's long hair, carding and brushing it with his fingers.  They inched closer, until just the metal paint tin in Louis's lap kept them apart. 

Subconsciously, Harry gripped Louis's shirt, fisting the fabric that bunched up at his sides.  The air felt hot around them.  Quick, eager, anxious.  Shedding clothes seemed quite appealing.

"Harry," Louis exhaled, separating their lips. 

Instead, he latched onto the spot under Harry's jawline.  Harry stilled as Louis licked at the old bruise that still stained his skin.  His teeth and tongue felt heavenly.  He never wanted this sensation to stop— ever.

"Let's take off this hideous jumper, yes?" Louis said, releasing Harry's neck.  He looked at the freshly-agitated mark, all red and swollen and glistening with spit.  He felt pride swell in the pit of his stomach.

"Hideous?" Harry asked around a dry laugh. 

Regardless, he gripped the knitted hem of his jumper and yanked it over his head.  He felt relieved as the scratchy yarn detached itself from his skin. 

"Looks good on you, though," Louis assured. 

His eyes glued to Harry's bare torso, admiring the way his nipples perked up, the swollen pinkness contrasting against his pale complexion.  He could see the faint outline of muscles that carved down his abdomen.  A light trail of hair started beneath his navel and disappeared under the hem of his jeans.

Louis pressed against Harry's chest, the younger boy letting out a quiet yelp of surprise.  His back fell flush against the bed.  Louis moved to straddle him, but Harry's eyes widened in protest.  He swatted Louis's thigh.

"Be careful!  That paint isn't cheap, you know?" he huffed, eyeing Louis's gift.  It bounced on the sheets as the bed shifted.

Louis frowned.  "Sorry."  He set the Sennelier tin aside with caution.  It teetered on the edge of Harry's bedside table.

"It's okay," Harry said with a smile. 

He latched onto Louis's wrist, tugging him on top.  Louis's thighs spread to his sides.  His hands planted on his chest, his flesh warm and soft and comforting.  He could feel Harry's heart thudding beneath his palm.

"You alright?" Louis asked, a pitch higher than usual.

Harry gulped.  " 'm fine."

"You're burning up," Louis pointed out.  He genuinely worried about Harry's well-being.  Did he not trust him?  Did he frighten him by coming on too strong

"Just nervous," Harry confessed, biting his lips shyly. 

"We can stop," Louis said without hesitation. 

But Harry just shook his head (as well as he could lying down).  He focused on breathing for a few seconds.  From the look on his face, Louis knew he wanted him to stay.  To continue.

"You sure?" Louis doubted.

"Yes.  'm not scared.  Just excited."

"Good."

"Okay, then."  Harry made grabby gestures at Louis's shirt.  It was quite adorable, the professor might add.  Like a baby asking for a rattle.

Louis chuckled raspily as he shed his t-shirt, letting it fall to the floor.  Harry's mouth fell open slightly as his eyes raked over Louis's naked chest.  Even in winter, he managed to have a perfect sun-kissed tan.  Bless him.  He had the cutest little tummy, too, which bunched up every time he bent over.

Speaking of which, he leaned in to kiss Harry, his weight tight against his body in the best way possible.  Harry felt Louis's bulge nudge against his leg, still concealed in his joggers, which sank down his waist.  Harry thought they were a size too large, but he didn't dare say anything.  Louis liked to think that he was tall and brawny, despite his petite figure.

    Suddenly, Louis rutted down against Harry's thigh, his his hips snapping in short, quick movements.  Harry gasped at the friction, his dick becoming firmer with each passing second.  His dull nails scratched at Louis's shoulder blades.  Sweat clung between their chests.  Harry panted between kisses. 

"Fuck," Harry cursed, his eyes rolling back.

Louis reached between them and thumbed over Harry's left nipple.  He rotated the hardened bud between his fingers, eliciting a broken whine from the nineteen year old.  He withered helplessly.

"L- Louis," Harry croaked.

Louis smirked in response.  The way Harry said his name, so brokenly and wrecked, sparked arousal deep in his abdomen.  He wanted Harry to scream it out loud, on a rooftop perhaps, at the top of his lungs.

So he let his tongue flick over his nipple.  It was quick and light, but it made Harry gasp and dig his fingers into Louis's back.

"Oh my—"

Louis sucked the nub between his lips for a few seconds, then released it, a trail of saliva sticking between them.

"So good," Harry sighed, his lashes fluttering.

He looked relaxed now, lost in total bliss.  He felt completely boneless, all pliant and calm and syrupy.  Like he got lost in the clouds somewhere, and Louis was an angel looking upon him with admiration, a halo of light glowing above his hair.

"You're gorgeous," Louis confessed, kneading at the pudge of his hips.

Harry blinked bashfully.  "Thanks."

Louis's hand trailed towards the zipper of his jeans.  He froze, glancing up hesitantly.  But Harry didn't look reluctant—just needy and inviting.  He tugged his lip between his teeth.

"Is this okay?" Louis asked, poking the button of his trousers.

Harry swallowed.  "Yeah.  Yeah.  Definitely, yeah."  He didn't intentionally repeat himself— it just slipped.  He could barely think straight.  The world seemed lagged in slow motion, lost in anticipation and want.

Louis's nimble fingers tugged down on Harry's zipper.  Then he undid his button, slipping the small piece of metal through the thread-lined hole.  He wondered how in the world Harry could squeeze into these form-fitting jeans, let alone how he managed to stuff his phone and wallet in the tight pockets.  Louis refocused on the task and wiggled the jeans down his body, red marks of suffocation etched across his waist.

Harry lifted his bum so Louis could glide them off his legs, tugging them past his ankles.  His erection strained against his pants.  He nudged his skinnies off the edge of the bed. 

At this point, Harry's face was as red as a cherry.  He looked at Louis with pleading eyes.  Bits of hair stuck to his forehead, attached to his skin with perspiration.

"Can you, um, touch me?" Harry asked shyly, his hips jutting involuntarily.

Louis didn't give a verbal response.  Instead, he slipped his fingers under Harry's elastic waistband.  His brain flew in a million different directions.  He was actually going to touch his student's dick— or rather, former student.  The same one who, just a few months prior, was unable to say his own name out loud. 

They've made a lot of progress since then.

He slipped Harry's pants down his thighs, freeing his swollen and half-hard cock.  He tossed the bunched-up fabric aside.  Harry had a lot more length than Louis had anticipated.  Maybe half an inch longer than Louis, actually.  Not bad for a teenager, he thought.

Louis's eyes flickered to Harry's bedside table.  "Got any lotion or anythin'?  I don't want it to irritate you," he said, waving his hand for emphasis.

Harry blushed.  "Erm, yeah, just—one second."

He stretched towards the drawer and yanked it open clumsily.  Jewelry and miscellaneous rubbish rattled around inside.  After a few seconds of searching, he found a bottle of uncapped lotion. Dried pink goo oozed at the sides.  He tossed to Louis and thankfully he caught it, regardless of Harry's awful aim and lack of hand-eye coordination.

He narrowed his eyes at the half-empty tube.  "Sweet pea scent?  Lovely," he mused.  He took a quick wiff and, to his surprise, it actually smelled delightful. 

Harry pouted.  "Stop making fun of me."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Louis chuckled.  He lathered his hands with lotion.  "I'm not.  I think it's adorable that you want your cock to smell like flowers when you masturbate."

Harry groaned with annoyance and covered his face with his hands.  "Oh my god, Louis.  Please just shut up and— oh, fuck."

Louis's slick hand gripped the base of Harry's cock.  He twitched in response, his legs spreading wider so Louis could settle between them.  The friction made his blood boil until every part of him felt hot and overwhelmed, from his head to the tips of his toes.  Louis's hand moved up and down his length, thumbing over the head for a brief moment.  Harry shuddered beneath his touch.

"No wonder you're an artist," Harry said breathlessly.

Louis continued to jerk him off slowly.  "What?"

Harry bit back a smirk.  "You're—fuck— you're really good with your hands."

Louis scoffed.  "Only you would make a joke whilst receiving a hand job."

For emphasis, he quicked the pace.  Harry bent his knees and moaned deep in his throat.  He bucked up from the mattress, letting his dick glide into Louis's small fist.  He stiffened with each quick and tight stroke. 

Louis's arm muscles burned with fatigue, but he kept going, relishing the looks of pleasure that twisted on Harry's face.  He bit his tongue with concentration.  He watched as some pre-come glistened at the tip of Harry's cock.  He was so damn sensitive and responsive, and Louis just couldn't get enough of it.

"I— I don't— fuck," Harry choked, struggling to form proper sentences.  His eyes screwed shut as Louis's free hand cupped his balls.

"What was that, love?" Louis asked smugly.

Harry whimpered.  "Don't wanna cum yet."

Louis paused.  "Why not?"

Harry's eyes fluttered open.  "I— it's your birthday.  Want to do something for you."

Louis rolled his eyes.  "You don't owe me sexual favors just 'cause it's my birthday, Styles.  I'm getting off on this, too."

Harry's gaze flickered to the tent in Louis's joggers.  He was right, but Harry still felt selfish.  This was Louis's special day, yet he made it all about himself—or rather, his cock.  His chest heaved with nervousness.  He knew what he wanted, but he didn't know how to ask.  His hands twitched with worry, twisting the bedsheets until his knuckles turned white.

"You're turning red," Louis worried.  "You want me to stop... or continue?"

Harry's lips quivered around a word, but he stayed silent.  A block of ice froze in his throat.  He couldn't speak.  A single breath exhaled from his withering lungs.

"I, um.  I want you to fuck me," he said softly.

Louis didn't respond for one, two, three seconds.  He met Harry's gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his bright green irises.  His cock jerked in his joggers, anxious for some sort of skin-to-skin contact.

"Fuck," Louis breathed.  Every shred of self-control snapped in an instant.  "Thought you'd never ask."

A dopey smile grew on Harry's strawberry lips.  Louis kissed him senselessly.  It was messy and full of urgency, his tongue swiping the inside of his cheek.  Harry tugged sharply at Louis's hair as the professor grinded against his thigh.  He breathed hotly into his mouth.

"Lube," Harry urged, flapping his hand towards his bedside drawer.

Louis grinned at his childish ways.  He rummaged through the drawer, sifting through various scents of lotion, ranging from vanilla to coconut.  And, alas, he found a dwindling bottle of lube at the bottom, hidden beneath a pile of random papers.  He threw a worried glance over his shoulder.

"Got any condoms?"

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek.  "Think so."

Louis flipped through the drawer's contents again.  Eventually, he found a singular square packet.  A feeling of reality sunk into his stomach.  Holy shit.  This was really happening.

Sensing his nervousness, Harry touched Louis's wrist to bring him back to actuality.  "Hey, just relax, yeah?  It's okay.  We trust each other, right?"

Louis nodded.  "Of course.  I trust you more than anyone else."

"Good.  The feeling's mutual."

Louis gave a small smile before kicking off his joggers and boxers in one go.  His cock was hard against his stomach.  Harry whined quietly as Louis stroked himself a few times, still slick with lotion.  Everything about Louis was thick, from his thighs to his arse to his dick.  Harry felt so goddamn lucky.

"Gonna open you up, okay?" Louis clarified as he reached for the lube.  "Do you wanna lay on your belly?"

Belly, Harry thought.  How adorable.

"Yeah," Harry hummed and rolled over.  He turned his face so his temple squished against his feather-filled pillow, which felt cold against his blushed cheeks.

Louis sat between his legs.  He kneaded into the flesh of Harry's bum, one hand on each cheek.  Then he spread them apart, eliciting a quiet whimper from the younger boy.  Louis's thumb brushed over his clenched muscle.

Harry never thought his sexual student-teacher fantasies would come to life someday.  When he first met Louis, he just thought he was a fit professor.  It was no more than infatuation.   He never thought he'd fall for Louis, but he did.  And he fell hard.

"You sure about this?" Louis asked, tracing his index finger up and down Harry's inner thighs.  His voice sounded sweet and soft, calming every rattled nerve in Harry's body.  "Don't feel obligated, please, just 'cause it's my birthday."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to give a reassuring smile.  "I really care about you, Louis.  I want this."

Louis nodded.  He uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount onto his fingers.  The bottle made a fart-like noise as it squirted.  Harry giggled childishly. 

He jokingly waved his hand in front of his nose, scrunching his face with disgust.  "You're so stinky, Louis!"

Louis rolled his eyes.  Was Harry even real?  He never failed to leave him astounded.  He ignored the younger boy and leaned back on his heels.  He pressed his pointer finger against Harry's fluttering pink hole, clenching with anticipation. 

"Ready?"

"Yes.  C'mon."

Louis gulped before nudging past his entrance.  Harry's tight heat swallowed his finger up to the knuckle.  Harry gasped and screwed his eyes shut, biting his fist.  Louis felt a rush of panic.  He never wanted to hurt Harry—never in a million years.  He already suffered enough in his life.  He only wanted to make him feel good and happy and loved.

"Okay?" Louis said, wiggling the tip of his finger a bit.  His walls clenched around him.

"Perfect," Harry sighed.  "Just, um, haven't done this in a while."

"Oh?" Louis asked rhetorically, nudging his middle finger along the first.  Harry felt tight and slick with lube.  He paused to let his body adjust. 

He looked down at Harry's arse, how his fingers disappeared past his rim, lube oozing at the sides, his hole stretched to fit around the width.  His entire body felt warm and flushed, even on the inside.  Slowly, he nudged his fingers apart, then brought them back together. 

"Ah— fuck," Harry groaned, shifting so his leaking cock glided along the sheets.

Louis became lost in deep concentration, fueled by the desire to find that spot that drove him mad.  He scissored him for a few more seconds, then curled his fingers in unison.  Harry's eyes bulged as his mouth flew open.  He let out a strangled moan, head snapping up from the pillow.

"Oh my— Louis, bloody hell," he cursed, breaths languid.

Ah, Louis thought.  He found it.

He added a third finger, fitting it along the initial two.  He wanted to prep Harry thoroughly beforehand, even if that meant neglecting his own throbbing erection, which bobbed painfully against his stomach with each passing second.  He swore under his breath and jutted his fingers inward, sharp and quick.  He watched the muscles in Harry's legs tense up, his toes curling with pleasure.

" 'm ready," Harry assured, rocking back against Louis's hand.

Louis sent a silent prayer of thanks to every divine being.  He pulled out his fingers and ripped open the condom.  He rolled the disc over his length, leaving slack at the tip, and wiped the excess lube on his shaft.  His balls felt heavy and ached for release. 

"Can I turn around?" Harry asked quietly, as if he needed permission.

"Yeah, love."

With that, Harry flipped onto his back, instantly grabbing the older man's shoulders to pull him closer.  Louis hovered over Harry, breath rapid and cock aching for release.  He gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before lining up with his prepped hole.  His entire body trembled. 

He looked up at Harry lovingly, admiring the way his curly hair spread across his sweaty forehead.  How his beautiful eyes looked unreal in this lighting— almost too green to be natural.  Up close, he noticed every detail, from the freckles and birthmarks on his pale skin to the pimples on his nose.  Every part of him was breathtaking.

The head of his dick nudged past Harry's hole.  Wet, tight heat surrounded his tip, and then he pushed an inch further, pausing halfway to examine Harry's face.  He was silent, his lips agape around a hushed gasp. But he didn't look uncomfortable.  His nails scratched at the back of Louis's neck, his legs hooking around Louis's thighs. 

"You good?" Louis rasped.

Harry nodded vigorously, his curls bouncing.  Bursts of emeralds flickered behind fluttering lashes.  "Go on," he urged. 

He felt like he was being torn in half.  Pleasure surged down his spine as Louis thrust further, going balls' deep. He bottomed out, and Harry stared at Louis with awe.  His hips twitched with desire.

Harry whimpered as his body became accustomed to the intrusion.  He'd only had sex twice before: once with Marcus and another time with a random hookup.  So needless to say, he felt nervous.  A firmness settled in his lower abdomen as Louis paused, his cock pushed all the way in.  Harry could barely breathe.  He felt so full and loved and appreciated.

"Alright?" Louis said softly, amazement plastered on his face.  He just looked so proud of Harry, so cautious, so bewildered.

"Good," Harry exhaled.  "Really good.  You can move."

Louis gulped.  He moved his hips slowly at first, just barely snapping his hips in and out.  Harry braced onto his broad shoulders.  His long legs clamped around him, tight muscles constricting. 

After a moment, Harry grew impatient and started shifting to meet his thrusts halfway.  Louis took that as an invitation to pick up the pace.  He hammered into his tight heat, veins bulging in his biceps as he grasped a fistful of Harry's hair.  Louis's lips fell open with bliss.  The friction drove him near insanity.

With one particularly sharp thrust, Harry gasped loudly and clenched around him.  "Fuck!" he nearly screamed between pants.

Louis smirked and changed his angle.  As he pounded into the younger boy, the tip of his cock hit Harry's prostate repeatedly.  He shuddered with pleasure.  A strangled noise rippled through his throat.

"Oh my— Louis," Harry whimpered, clinging to him like his life depended on it.  His cock rubbed between their bellies. 

"So good," Louis said breathlessly.  His fringe bounced up and down with each thrust.  His muscles ached, but he needed to keep going.  He couldn't stop.  He didn't want to stop, either.

He loved this sensation— the feeling of being so close to someone in the most intimate way possible.  Of course he liked orgasms, too, but he appreciated the emotional aspect of sex as well.  It wasn't something he took lightly.  And right now, with their chests pressed together and his lips mouthing at Harry's jawline and his cock buried deep inside of him, Louis felt like he was on cloud nine.

"Like you so much, Styles," Louis reminded, aiming for his prostate again.

Harry practically sobbed into Louis's shoulder.  He nipped at his skin to suppress a whimper. 

"You too," Harry huffed, his breath warm and ragged.

Harry locked his ankles around the small of Louis's back.  He urged him on by digging his heels.  Louis rammed into him with all his might.  Harry's bed squeaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall.  Harry knew it would likely leave a mark, but at the moment, he didn't care.  Slapping skin and panting filled the air.

"Close," Louis warned.  His thrusts turned sloppy as he neared his orgasm, a mixture of slow and fast, deep and shallow.  His brain became fuzzy.

"Me too," Harry whined.

Louis gave Harry a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as he drove into his slicked and stretched hole.  The atmosphere felt rushed and heated.  He practically shoved his tongue down Harry's throat, not that he minded.

"Touch yourself," Louis urged, his voice pitched higher than usual.  "Make yourself come.  I'm almost—fuck.  Almost there."

Harry tugged his cock three times before he came, splattering thick ribbons of white onto his chest.  His cum drizzled out slowly as Louis fucked him through his climax.  His arse squeezed around Louis's cock as his entire body tensed up. 

"Fucking— Louis!  Oh my god," he moaned.

Louis clenched his teeth.  Heat pooled in his lower abdomen, and with a shout of Harry's name, he came.  He emptied his load in the condom and collapsed immediately, his arms giving out.  His chest smushed against Harry's, his heart racing at the speed of sound.  Harry's drying cum stuck between them.

Harry rubbed soothing patterns on Louis's back.  He was limp inside of him, but he felt too exhausted to pull out.  Harry just stared at the ceiling whilst Louis tucked his head under Harry's chin.  Bless their height difference.

"Can't believe we just did that," Louis said raspily.  He struggled to catch his breath.

Harry laughed dryly.  "Me neither," he agreed.  "Happy birthday, Louis."

"Thanks.  Best present ever," Louis murmured into his neck.  He pecked his collarbone.  "The paint wasn't bad, either."

Harry snorted and swatted Louis's bum.  "Yeah, whatever."

"Your arse is the best gift I could ever ask for."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Wouldn't mind if it was my Christmas present, too."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "You're awful."

Louis gave a smug smile before pulling out.  Harry winced quietly at the sudden emptiness, still a bit oversensitive.  Louis pulled off the condom and tossed it in the nearby bin.  Thankfully, he didn't miss.

Louis rolled onto his side and opened his arms.  "Cuddle?"

Harry giggled before slotting up next to him.  He let Louis wrap his arms around his waist and press his groin into his bum. It wasn't sexual, though—just comforting.  Harry could feel Louis's heart pounding against his back.  The older man pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Harry's curls.

"You know," Louis sighed.  "I think I might love you a bit."

For some reason, those words didn't startle Harry.  Not even the slightest. 

"I think I might love you a bit, too," he confessed without hesitation.

Louis smiled and squeezed Harry's tummy.  He felt like the luckiest man alive.

°°°

"Harry, I'm home!" Gemma announced, stepping in the front door.

Her keys jingled in her hand.  She toed off her uncomfortable black heels, which left a blister on the bottom of her foot.  She fumbled with the strap for a moment before kicking them next to Harry's pile of boots.  Then, however, she noticed a pair of dirty Vans, far too small to be Harry's.

"Harry?" she repeated again, raising her voice. 

She heard feet padding softly on the hardwood floors.  Harry poked his head around the corner.  Water soaked his hair and dripped off the tips, cascading in small droplets.  Pink tinted his nose and puffy cheeks.  His lips were swollen and red.  Distantly, Gemma listened to the shower running in the bathroom.  The pipes gargled and hissed.

"Hi, Gems," Harry greeted.  His jeans and jumper were still damp. 

"Just took a shower?" Gemma guessed, eyebrow raised.

Harry nodded.  "Erm, yeah."

"Then why is the water still running?"

Harry gulped.  "Cause, um, Louis is in there.  He wanted to clean up."

Gemma's eyes widened.  She looked Harry up and down, noticing his disheveled appearance.  His bitten lip, the limp in his step, the love bite on his neck.  A sense of protectiveness washed over her. 

"Clean up?  After what?" she snapped.

Harry blushed.  "Shut up, Gems.  You already know the answer."

Gemma gasped and smacked his arm.  "Harry!  You just started dating less than two weeks ago."

Harry frowned.  "I know what I'm doing.  I'm not your responsibility."

"Yes, you are.  Legally."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Jesus Christ, Gems.  You're not our mother!"

"I know that, obviously.  But I care about you.  You're my baby brother."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.  "I'm not a baby.  I'm nineteen.  I can make decisions for myself."

"I beg to differ."

Harry slumped his shoulders.  "Gems—"

"I just don't want you getting hurt, alright?" Gemma sighed, shaking her head.  "It's not like you to open up to someone so quickly."

Harry scoffed.  "You're acting like that's a bad thing.  I trust Louis, okay?"

"Okay, but what if he hurts you and you go completely mute again, huh?  Remember after mum died?  You didn't talk to anyone for months, including me.  I'm trying to protect you."

"It's my life!"

"You're not even acting like yourself anymore."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "My old self?  The person who was unhappy and unhealthily shy and angry at the world?"

Gemma began to speak, but she only squeaked out a mere, "But—"

"May I just interject here?" Louis interrupted, stepping into the foyer. 

He was running a towel over his wet hair, which looked longer and darker than usual.  His joggers slipped low on his hips, so he pulled them up with one sharp tug.  His wet t-shirt clung to his toned chest.  He reached out to give Gemma a handshake, who stared at him blankly, completely stunned.

"I'm Louis," he greeted, grasping her bony hand.  "It's nice to finally meet you."

Gemma hesitated before pulling away.  She eyed the professor's appearance.  He didn't look like a bad guy, to be completely honest.  More like an adorable teddy bear.  He stood an inch or two shorter than Harry.

"You too," she said, trying to sound confident.  "So you're dating my brother?"

Louis smiled fondly at Harry, who looked rattled with nerves.  "Yes, I am."  He squeezed Harry's waist to calm him down.  His thumb brushed over his hip.

"And you're, what?  Twenty-something?"

"Twenty-seven, as of today," Louis confirmed with a short nod.  "I understand your concerns, but I assure you Harry is in good hands.  I would never hurt him."

Gemma briefly glanced at Harry, who stared at her with pleading eyes that screamed, "Please, don't embarrass me."  She still felt hesitant, but Louis seemed relatively nice.  She'd keep a close eye on him, of course, but she had no reason to dislike him— at least, not yet.

"Well, Louis.  I feel obligated to let you know that if you hurt my brother, I will not hesitate to hunt you down," she warned, waving her finger in a threatening manner.

Louis's smile softened.  "I know.  I have no intentions of doing so.  I care about Harry a lot, and he's very special to me.  I was in an unhealthy relationship before I met him, and he brought me out of a really dark place.  I think we both did, in a way."

Gemma watched as a dimpled grin grew on Harry's lips.  She hadn't seen him smile that wide in years.  It melted her heart.

"Okay, Louis.  You seem like a sweet man.  You have my blessing," she sighed happily.

Louis laughed, little crinkles forming next to his eyes.  "Thank you."

Gemma nodded.  She shrugged off her grey jacket and hung it on the hook in the wall.  Then she turned towards the kitchen.  The ruffles in her white blouse bounced with each step.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Louis?  I'd like to get to know you better," she offered, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder.

Harry lit up like a Christmas tree.  He grasped Louis's wrist with urgency.

"Please stay," he begged.

"Of course, babe.  I'd love to."

Whilst they waited for the casserole to cook, they cuddled in the living room next to the fireplace.  The air smelled like pine needles and gingerbread and potpourri and melted candles.  In the corner, their small three-foot Christmas tree lit up with twinkling lights.  The star at the top glowed brightly.

Holiday decorations filled the room, from the Santa figurines to the wreaths on the doors.  Louis giggled and pinched the reindeer on Harry's ugly Christmas jumper, right above his still-sensitive nipple.  Harry winced and smacked his hand away.

"Hurts," he whined.

Louis smirked and kissed his cheek.  "Don't act like you don't like it."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "You're a pest."

"But I'm your pest."

"True," Harry sighed, nuzzling his nose under Louis's jaw line.

They fell into a brief silence.  The fireplace crackled with flickering flames, spreading orange silhouettes on the eggshell walls.  In the kitchen, Gemma cooked some steamed vegetables as a side dish.  The pan sizzled loudly.

"Hey, Styles?" Louis whispered.

"Hm?"

"When are we gonna tell your sister that we met at university?  That I was your professor?" he asked quietly.  "I don't like lying."

Harry bit his lip.  He looked up shyly, the fireplace glowing in the whites of his eyes.  "I don't know."

The oven beeped abruptly, signaling that the casserole was fully cooked. 

"Dinner's ready!" Gemma called cheerfully.

Harry huffed, glancing back at Louis.  "I suppose we better tell her now, yeah?  She's gonna find out eventually."

Louis frowned and squeezed Harry's hand.  "It'll be alright."

Harry hoped he was right.

°°°

The scratching and scraping of silverware filled the otherwise quiet atmosphere.  Their dining room table was small and wooden, dents and stains blemishing into the rich mahogany.  Louis kept his gaze on his plate as he shoveled chicken casserole into his mouth.  Needless to say, he sometimes lacked basic table manners.  Not that Harry cared.  He found it utterly adorable— the way food stuck to the corners of his lips.

"So, Louis," Gemma began, munching on a mouthful of green beans.  "Where are you from?"

Louis swallowed hard.  "Doncaster."

Gemma smiled.  "That's lovely.  Are you close to your family?"

Louis shrugged.  "I suppose so.  I have five sisters and a baby brother, so it's quite chaotic," he chuckled.

Her hazel eyes widened.  "Wow."

"Yeah.  They're lovely, though.  I don't see them as often as I'd like to.  It's just difficult to find time to visit them, y'know?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I understand.  I work for Oakridge Publishing downtown, six days a week from nine to five.  Doesn't leave me with much free time."

Louis had a lot of respect for Harry's older sister.  She raised him all on her own.  After their mother passed away, she took her place as Harry's maternal figure.  Gemma even paid for his university tuition and pressured him to follow his dreams.  While others told him art wasn't "a real job," Gemma always encouraged him.

"Speaking of which," Gemma hummed.  She stabbed a chunk of chicken with her fork.  One of the metal tongs crooked at an awkward angle.  "Do you have a job?"

Louis sent Harry a nervous glance.  Then he noticed the knife next to Gemma's plate.  Holy shit.  Gemma could actually kill Louis if she wanted to.  Maybe telling her that he was Harry's professor wasn't such a good idea after all.

He might be exaggerating, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Under the table, Harry nudged his ankle with his toe to grab his attention.  "You alright, Louis?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Louis snapped out of his trance.  "Right.  Sorry."

    "So?" Gemma pressed, brow arched.

    "Oh.  Erm, I'm a professor."

    Gemma paused.  She pointed her thumb in Harry's direction.  "At Harry's university?"

    Louis gulped.  "Yeah," he said quietly. 

    "Really?  What do you teach?"

    Louis distracted himself by twirling his knife through his untouched pile of vegetables.  "Art."

    Gemma froze.  She dropped her fork.  It clattered loudly against her plate.  She didn't look angry, though.  Just startled.

    "Oh my fucking god.  It makes perfect sense now," she scoffed.  "You were Harry's art professor, weren't you?  The one he always talked about?"

    Louis blushed.  He felt Harry's hand clasp over his own.  "Erm, yeah."

    "So you're the famous Mr. Tomlinson?" she gasped.  "I can't believe I didn't realize it earlier!"

    Although she didn't seem upset, Louis felt the need to clarify something.  "But we didn't start dating until after the semester ended.  We kept it professional until then."

    Gemma nodded.  "I see."  She couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face.

Harry laughed quietly at her reaction.  "So you're not angry?"

    "No, of course not, Harry.  I'm happy for you."

    Harry flushed as Louis pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.  Everything would be alright.

    °°°

    Twenty minutes later, Louis and Harry were cleaning up in the kitchen.  Despite Harry's protests, Louis insisted upon helping with the washing up.  Suds filled the white sink, interlaced with dishes and silverware.  Harry took a pink sponge and scrubbed the plates, then passed them to Louis who dried them with a rag.

    "That went better than expected," Louis hummed. 

    Harry nodded in agreement.  "Definitely," he murmured.  "Do you think I could meet your family someday?"

    Louis smiled at the thought.  He knew Harry and his family would hit it off.  Harry loved little kids. 

    "Of course, sweetheart.  Maybe during spring break."

    Harry rinsed a soap-covered plate under the faucet.  The water ricocheted off the dish and splashed at his chest, but he ignored it. Spring break, he thought. Louis had confidence that their relationship would last that long. Maybe even forever.

Harry cleared his throat. "Speaking of family.  Have you talked to Zayn yet?"

    Louis frowned.  "Zayn's not family, Harry."

    "I know, but still.  He's your ex-fiance.  That's pretty significant."

    "I guess so."

    "Have you visited him?  It's been a few weeks."

    Louis chewed the inside of his cheek.  "No.  I guess I'm waiting for the right time."

    Harry sensed his nervousness as he passed him the clean plate.  Their fingers touched for a split second.

    "Maybe we should go sometime next week.  Together."

    "Together?"

    "Yeah.  Just in time for New Year's.  I'd like to see my father, anyway."

    Louis smiled and pecked Harry's lips.  They'd be brave together.

°°°

    "Thanks for everything, Styles," Louis said for what seemed like the millionth time.  He held the tin of watercolour under his arm.  The taste of gingerbread (which they may have eaten for dessert) lingered on his tongue. 

    He stood in the middle of the doorway.  Gemma had disappeared into her bedroom to give them some privacy.  The air in the hall felt chillier than in their flat.  He didn't want to say goodbye, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome.  It was Christmas Eve, after all.

    "Did you have a good birthday?" Harry asked.  He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, which hung past his fingertips and covered his palms.

    "The best," Louis promised.

    "That's good.  You deserve the best."

    Louis smiled.  "I'm just lucky I have you."

    They both leaned in at the same time.  The kiss felt perfect—soft and chapped and lovely.  Harry tasted like strawberry lip gloss.  Louis sucked on his bottom lip for a second or two.  Harry's hands fluttered to hold Louis's waist, just to have something to grab onto.  Something to anchor him down.

    When Louis pulled away, he kept their foreheads touching.  They nuzzled their noses together in an adorable Eskimo kiss. 

    "Will I see you tomorrow?" Harry breathed quietly.  If Louis wasn't accustomed to Harry's quietness, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

    "Of course.  We have to exchange presents, yeah?"

    Harry smiled.  "Yeah."

    "So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

    "Tomorrow," Harry echoed. 

    With one last kiss, Louis walked out to his car.  The image of Harry's face still played through his mind.  He felt like a teenager all over again, reliving his first real crush.  He thought about Harry's porcelain skin, how it resembled a pale canvas.  His pink pastel lips and penciled lashes, as dark as charcoal.  How each facial feature looked chiseled to perfection, sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

Right then, Louis decided that Harry was his favorite work of art.  And Louis was the lucky collector who managed to find this one-of-a-kind piece.