He hears footsteps so hurriedly shoves the letters back under the bed, leaping on top of the duvet and doing the only thing he can think of – pretending to be asleep. He keeps his breathing even as Louis barges through the door, announcing, "Bloody hell, that's better, it's like knives in me eyes...Harry? Harry, you all right? Harry?"
Harry forces himself to stay still as Louis' hand comes up to gently touch his hair, before smoothing down his face to cup his cheek and – Harry nearly breaks at this point – press a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Never mind, then, love," he says softly, and the next thing he knows Louis is tossing his duvet over him, crawling into be next to him and holding him tight. He presses a little kiss to Harry's shoulder, thumb stroking over his abs before his breathing starts to slow, and Harry only lets himself breathe properly again when he can tell Louis is asleep, snoring softly. He manoeuvres them into a more comfortable position on their sides, Harry spooned up close behind Louis just like always – except this time he's naked and all Louis is wearing is a pair of old trackie bottoms. And the thing is – the thing is his head's still fuzzy and he's still pretty horny and he would've probably let Louis fuck him if he hadn't found the letter. It had been – everything was just so normal, Harry had forgotten that Louis isn't meant to be in his room. By rights they never should even have met but for an administrative fuck-up. The thought makes his chest physically ache.
"I love you," he whispers, still slurring a little, into the back of Louis' head. He snuffles in his sleep and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, arms tight around Louis' stomach. "I love you, don't leave me, I love you so much, I can't be without you, don't leave. Please."
He's drunk and his head hurts and the room's all spinny and he can feel the tears at the corner of his eyes, so he just presses his face as close as he physically can be to Louis and, to his surprise, falls asleep almost straight away.
When he wakes up, he's squished up against the wall with his arms awkwardly bent behind his head and the end of the pillow covering half his face.
"Mmff," he grunts, blinking and nosing at the pillow. Louis is still asleep, head tilted towards him and dry lips slightly parted, nose whistling as he breathes and long eyelashes casting little delicate shadows on his cheeks. It's the cutest and the most gorgeous thing Harry has ever seen.
Harry watches him for a little while, rearranging himself so his face is actually on the pillow, head still spinning more than a bit. His mouth tastes foul from the combination of stale alcohol and come, and then – oh, then last night's slightly blurry memories flood back to him. Louis. Everything Louis.
"Morning," Louis croaks, as Harry tries to inconspicuously reach over him for the water. He pats his chest distractedly as he comes back up, briefly checking his phone for the time.
"Sorry, shit – didn't mean to wake you-"
"Was already kind of awake, I think." Harry drinks some water, offering the last of it to Louis; he finishes it and chucks it somewhere on the floor, settling back on the pillow so that they're just watching each other. Harry almost doesn't dare blink as Louis' hand comes up to stroke his cheek, tucking some curls behind his ears.
"Hi," he breathes.
"Hi," Harry repeats dumbly. Louis' hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly dropping down until his loose fist is resting on the warm mattress, knuckles just brushing Harry's sternum.
"Did you have a good night?" Louis asks. They're whispering over the noise of the boiler and someone in the flat downstairs having a shower, but it still feels like they're the only people in the world to Harry.
"Yeah."
Louis smiles, turning his face half into the pillow to hide it, eyes still fixed on Harry. "Is this weird?"
"No," he replies, fighting his own grin. "I liked it."
"Yeah, me too," Louis whispers, before he hides his smile with the back of his hand. OK, revise his earlier thoughts, this is definitely the cutest thing he's ever seen. He feels dizzy with want and lust and shifts closer on the pillow, Louis' knuckles gently brushing his bare, goosebumped skin. He watches as Louis smiles the soft smile that he'll only do when they're alone, when he's distractedly biting his shredded nails when they're watching TV, thighs pressed close together. Harry's so stupidly in love with him. So, so stupidly in love.
"Lou," he murmurs, and OK, maybe his breath stinks and he's sure Louis' does as well but fuck it, fuck it, he needs to make his move now or else he might actually die, "Lou, can I – can I kiss you please?"
He's half-expecting a huffed Harold, how presumptuous or you didn't have to ask, idiot but instead all that happens is Louis goes a beautiful pleased shade of pink, biting his lip briefly and nodding.
It's chaste and dry and perfect; Harry burrows his arms under Louis' body, gently pulls him up flush with his body as Louis winds his arms around his neck and they just press their lips together. He peppers little kisses to Louis' face before trailing down his neck, noting the pleased little huffs he gives when he sucks gently on his Adam's apple, then a little harder, pulling at the skin and breaking the blood vessels.
"Harry," he murmurs, hands curling in his hair as Harry tongues over his collarbones, the ends of his fingers fizzing with pins and needles because yes, this feels right, this feels like how things should be, "do you want – did you want to maybe go to that ice cream place in town later?"
Harry pulls off his skin, kissing back up to his ear. "That new one? Something gelato?"
"Yeah, that one. Wanted to go for a while. Like...just you and me," he murmurs, eyes soft and honest. Harry feels like his ribs have cracked open, his heart bursting out from his chest with the incredible perfection of the moment.
"Yeah. I'd love to."
"OK. Sick," he breathes, grinning, but holds his finger against Harry's lips when he ducks down to kiss him again. "Uh uh. Clean your teeth. Then more kissing."
"There will be more kissing?"
He can see Louis fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe. If you play your cards right. Not like I've already had your dick in my mouth, or anything."
Harry laughs, then groans into his shoulder. "I have a lecture at 11."
Louis strokes a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "Don't go then."
"I have to. We're getting our essay titles. Crap."
Louis pulls him onto his chest, locking his arms around his neck. "OK. I'll meet you outside the law building at 12, yeah?"
"Sure." Harry grins into Louis' chest, feeling giddy and still not one hundred per cent this is real. Louis scratches affectionately at his scalp and prods him in the nipple with the other hand.
"Up you get, then, genius. Don't be late."
For the first time since he started uni Harry wants absolutely nothing more than to risk failing his module by staying in bed with Louis, but he goes anyway with the promise of ice cream and kissing stuck like an ice pick in his head.
He gets dressed in a daze, feeling Louis' gaze unabashedly fixed on him as he pulls his favourite black jeans on and a loose grey jumper with a beanie. He's got a big bruise on the inside of his upper arm from where Louis bit him and it's driving him a little mad, every time he folds his arms making sure his thumb presses into it, an aching reminder of the previous night. It's raining as he walks to campus – he's given up on buses when all they do is drive past him, stuffed full of sweaty students – and he doesn't even feel annoyed when he gets the most difficult essay title and the book he desperately needs for it is checked out of the library on a week long loan.
He's almost expecting Louis not to be there when he walks out of the library, and his heart does an actual jump when he sees him absorbed in his phone, wearing a matching beanie and maroon skinny jeans and wearing – fuck, wearing one of Harry's old hoodies under his coat. The sight makes his throat go tight and his dick twitch but he steels himself. Don't fantasize. Concentrate only on what's actually happening.
"Boo," he murmurs, pinching Louis' sides and ducking his face to his ear.
"Cor, bloody hell," he replies, putting a hand to his chest and rolling his eyes. "Scared the life out of me."
"Ready?"
"Yeah, one sec." He finishes typing his message and stuffs it in the front pocket of his jeans, folding his arms over his chest and squinting disapprovingly at the sky. "Minging weather today."
"Yeah, I know." They start walking and for the first time in months Harry feels the blossoming tendrils of awkwardness: he wants nothing more than to wrap his arm around Louis' waist and tug him close, but what if this isn't what this is? What if it's just friends going for gelato and/or waffles together? (Harry definitely wants waffles.) He's pretty sure it's not...but still. "Cold?" he asks, after a moment.
Louis shrugs, arms tight around his chest. "Kind of. Got no gloves."
And if that's not an invitation... "Here." Heart pulsing in his throat, Harry tugs on Louis' elbow, pulling them to a stop on the side of the road. He gently untangles Louis' folded arms before grabbing his hands and folding them into his: he's right, he's bloody freezing, as always, but the fear Harry had felt evaporates when he sees Louis' flustered little smile.
"Harold – your hands are like lion paws, honestly-"
"They're always too hot. Might as well share," he says, as Louis nudges closer to him, the toes of his dirty white Vans with the smiley faces drawn on – that had been him, revenge on one drunken night, with Louis' feet in his lap and a set of kitten whiskers drawn on his face – nudging against his battered brown boots.
"Warm paws," Louis says inanely, as the rain drips down on them from a shop's awning. Harry's busy staring at Louis' hands in his so he misses him leaning in, only realises Louis is going for a kiss when his warm breath is on his cheek, eyes fluttering shut as their lips brush softly in the grey drizzle outside the back entrance of a kebab shop. Not quite a Hollywood moment, but near enough, Harry supposes.
"Ice cream now?" Louis prompts, after their last lingering kiss. Harry nods, watching as Louis twists the fingers of his right hand with Harry's left, and they walk the rest of the way hand-in-hand. Harry feels like a balloon's been blown up inside his torso, feet barely touching the ground as he bites back a grin every five seconds when someone walks past them without even giving them a second glance. He feels a bit like he's come into the gay thing via the back entrance – never mind the pun – because he'd just sort of woken up one day and...realised he was in love with another boy. It feels a bit like cheating and he wonders if he can fully appreciate the momentousness of this moment, holding hands with another boy as they walk through the damp city streets and nobody cares.
"Harold." Louis nudges against his shoulder as they walk, his fingers tight and warm and comforting tangled in his. His other hand is tucked up in the too-long sleeve of Harry's hoodie, poking out the sleeve of his coat. "Dare you to go up to that person and ask where the nearest sex shop is."
"What? Which person?"
Louis slows down, leaning into Harry's body as he points at a man in a suit waiting at the bus stop. He's reading a wilted copy of the Sun and chewing gum.
"Ahhh..." Harry is torn between humiliating himself and letting Louis down. He weighs up his options. Humiliating himself will only last a couple of minutes, but letting Louis down might mean less kisses so... "OK. What, just go up to him?"
"Yep. Just all casual like." Louis lets go of Harry's hand, biting his lip and grinning. "You really gonna do it?"
"I really am," Harry says, thinking you are a bloody idiot Styles and walking as casually as he can up to the man at the bus stop.
"Hey, mate." The man looks up briefly from his paper, frowning. "I was wondering, um – d'you know the directions to the nearest sex shop?"
The frown turns bewildered. "I'm sorry?"
"You know. Er. Sex shop." Harry can feel the flush rising in his neck, can see Louis doubled over a fence laughing twenty feet away from him.
"Sorry," the man says slowly. "Not that familiar with round here."
"OK, no worries. Thanks, have a nice day!" Harry manages to finish brightly, walking slowly back to Louis, who looks like he's having a minor stroke.
"Oh – my – god," he says breathlessly, clutching at his stomach, "I can't – I can't believe you did it, Harry-"
"I better get a snog for that," Harry murmurs, leaning in so he can gently nip at Louis' ear, and to his surprise Louis cups cold hands around his cheeks and kisses him, soft and sweet and interrupted by bursts of gentle laughter.
"Better?" he asks, cheeks pink from the cold and wiping at his mouth. Harry shrugs, pouting a little.
"S'okay. Room for improvement."
"Bloody cheek!"
"Might have to practise a bit more," he suggests faux-innocently, as Louis grabs his hand again and tugs him on.
They laugh for the rest of the way there, making up outlandish stories about people who walk past them on the street, and Louis only stops holding his hand when they get to a big crossing on the main road, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist instead and cuddling in close. It's kind of a surreal experience, the weirdest half hour of his life, and when they get to the little ice cream shop, all bright colours and modern fittings, he smiles fondly as Louis' glasses fog up and he has to wipe them on the sleeve of Harry's hoodie.
"C'mon, let's have a gander," Louis says officiously, perching his glasses back on his nose as he tugs Harry towards the counter, peering at the menu. There are about a dozen tables inside, maybe half occupied: two mums with their kids around a table in one corner, little groups of students dotted around the rest of the room. Harry rests his hand lightly on Louis' back over the damp fabric of his coat as he studies the menu, stomach growling in anticipation.
"All right there, lads?" one of the servers asks.
"Fine thank you," Louis trills back, smiling and gently grabbing Harry's wrist as he reaches for the menu, fingers loosely cuffed around him. "I'm ready to order, have you decided? No no, wait, I think I can guess."
"Can you?" Harry says, amused. Louis nods and points.
"That one."
"Fuck's sake," Harry mutters, as Louis grins up at him. "Yes, you're right."
"Hi there," Louis says, approaching the counter and leaning over it – Harry can't help but admire his frame, feet arched on tip toes, perfect bum outlined in his skinny jeans. Like, honestly. Louis has just the perfect bum. Harry thinks it belongs in museums, on exhibits around the world – but then, hmm, he would not get to see it. Not ideal. Maybe he can have his own personal private exhibit instead. "We'll have one Nutella and cookie waffle and one choco-banana, please."
"No worries. That's nine fifty, cheers."
Harry's too busy staring at Louis' bum to remember he has to pay, and by the time he realises Louis is already handing a tenner over and he feels awful.
"Want a milkshake too?" Harry asks, as Louis is pocketing his change. "How much do I owe you?"
"Nah, I'm alright. And it's fine, don't worry about it," he says, gazing intently at his wallet.
"You sure?"
"Absolutely. C'mon. Let's sit down."
"Should be about ten minutes," the server says, and Harry thanks him before following Louis to the last booth at the back of the shop. They sit opposite each other, Louis' legs automatically finding his under the table and hooking their feet together. He's got his hands flat on the tabletop and watches as Louis walks his fingers up to meet him, glancing up at him and asking, "Is this OK?" as he slides their fingers together.
"Yeah. Definitely," Harry replies, smiling crookedly.
They sit like that for a while, hands linked over the table and Louis' thumb rubbing against the back of his hand as they chat quietly. There's a TV screen above them playing music videos and in the corner a baby is squealing happily; it's just so normal and unmomentous is almost hurts.
They have to break apart when their waffles arrive, and of course Harry ends up nicking some of Louis' because it looks incredible.
"Get away, filthy thief," Louis says, aiming to stab his fork at his hand, but Harry grins and ignores him because this always happens and Louis always lets him steal his food. He's just swirling his last mouthful of waffle in the leftover chocolate sauce when Louis' gaze anchors somewhere over his shoulder, brow crinkling slightly as he follows something across the room. Harry turns his head just as someone approaches their table, smiles and says, "All right, Lou?"
"Oh. Hi, Mark," Louis says, in a surprisingly dead tone, shifting on his seat and immediately untangling their legs under the table. Harry takes a second glance at is hit by a surprising rush of, well, gayness. This Mark is possibly the most attractive human he's ever seen, and he lives with Louis, Liam and Zayn; he's tall and broad and has olive skin, dark hair slick with the rain and deep, dark, soulful eyes – and also sounds vaguely familiar. Where has he heard that voice before?
"You all right?" he repeats. Harry can't stop staring. He's so fit. God. He's on a maybe-date with his best friend who he's completely in love with and he's been blindsided by the appearance of a genuine Greek god.
"Fine," Louis says, again a little terse. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I thought I'd check it out, all my mates love it here. Anyway," Mark says, after a somewhat awkwardly long pause, "I'll see you tonight at training, yeah?"
Ah, of course. He's on the football team. Harry vaguely remembers seeing pictures tagged on Facebook with Louis and Niall.
"Sure," Louis says, before Mark leans down and pats Louis' shoulder, squeezing before pulling off. Louis watches Mark all the way back to the counter, and Harry pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth before asking, "Everything OK?"
"Yeah, fine." He seems to snap out of it, flashing Harry a little smile before reaching over the grab his hand again. "C'mon, eat up and we'll go to the park. I want to feed some duckies like I'm five years old again."
Harry can't think of anything more perfect.
They don't get back until past six and so Harry cooks him dinner while he changes for football training, finding himself constantly wanting to grin stupidly and brush his fingers over Louis' skin when no one is looking. If the others notice something they don't say, and Harry spends the evening chatting with Perrie and Jade in her room before Louis gets back, sweaty and grass-stained and grinning, peeking his head around the door to announce his return.
"Harold. Breaking Bad?" is all he says, and Harry practically leaps off the bed and follows him back to their room. Once they're locked in their room Louis walks up to him and wraps his arms around his neck.
"Hello," he whispers, grinning as their noses touch and giving him a little eskimo kiss.
"God," Harry moans, breathing in deep as he presses his face into his hair, nosing just behind his ear and under his jaw. "Oh, wow, you smell gorgeous."
"Really?" Louis laughs as Harry buries his face in his neck, groaning again, because if he had one downfall at school it was football; he's always loved the smell of sweat and grass, ever since he was a kid, and it turned out to be a good thing he never took P.E. for A-Level because, as he discovered one embarrassing Sunday during a kickabout with his mates last year, it became a bit of a sexual thing. Having to awkwardly hide your boner after your mates piled on top of you after scoring a goal wasn't a fun time. And combining it with Louis only makes it ten times worse.
"Yeah. I love it. You're so – fuck." Harry bites at his neck, licking a short stripe over the juncture of his shoulder, and shudders as he feels Louis worm a hand between them, squeezing his hard-on.
"Shit, Harry," he chuckles, nudging his head back up to kiss him, muttering in between kisses, "you're so – weird – it's so endearing-"
After that he doesn't say anything, just kisses him, and Harry is so overwhelmed by him that he picks him up and lays him down on the bed, pushing his t-shirt up and sucking little kisses to his sweat-salted skin. Louis' hands slide in his hair as he pulls his shorts and boxers down, and fuck it, he can do this, he can do it better sober. He takes him in hand, thumb rubbing at the head and teasing out little blurts of precome before he suckles on it. Louis groans happily, legs falling apart as he clenches his fists in his hair; emboldened, he sucks Louis down as best as he can and this time he doesn't ignore him when he tugs on his curls and chokes out a strangled moan as he comes. Harry can't wait, has been desperate for it since he saw Louis all sweaty and grass-stained, so he just shoves his hands into his pants and jerks himself off quickly until he's coming too, spilling warm over his palm.
"Fuck," Louis says, arching his back and stretching his arms behind his head as he grins. "Oh, wow. That was incredible."
"Yeah." Harry grabs a tissue from the side, cleaning himself up and wiping his mouth before Louis pulls him back down, kissing him sloppily. Harry's just pulling off Louis' shirt entirely so he can suck a matching bruise into Louis' upper arm when there's a rapid knock at the door. They both freeze.
"FIFA tournament time, lads!" comes Niall's voice through the thin door.
"One minute!" Louis yells back, hastily pulling his shirt down. Harry buttons his jeans and wipes in slight paranoia at his mouth again as Niall laughs and says, "What are you doing, blowing each other? Whatever, we're all in the Liam's room."
Louis grabs his jogging bottoms from the desk chair and shakes some gum out into Harry's hand before they slink out of the room; Harry's sure they both look flustered and guilty and suspicious but nobody says a word as they walk into Liam's room, Zayn sitting in the corner looking faintly amused and smoking a roll-up, Liam and Niall already kicking off on-screen.
"Bloody hell, Lou," Niall says, glancing briefly at them and wrinkling his nose, "you fucking pong, mate, get in the shower."
"Fuck off, you don't exactly smell like roses," Louis replies, retaliating by slapping Niall on the head and sticking his feet in his lap, which actually makes Niall gag. Harry settles next to Zayn, who just grins at him.
"You've got grass in your hair, bro," he says, dragging on the cigarette. Harry flushes deep red and scrabbles at his curls before Zayn adds in a low voice, "Just joking. Doesn't take a genius to guess what you've been up to, though."
"Mate, please," he mutters, while the game devolves into chaos as Louis takes off his sock and flings it at Niall's face, making him retch. "Don't – could you not tell anyone?"
He taps his nose. "Not a word. Might want to be a bit more subtle, though. Your flies are still undone."
Harry chews unexpected hard on his tongue, eyes widening and pain blossoming in his mouth. It hurts a lot. Zayn just laughs as he furtively zips up his flies, chewing the gum a little more carefully this time. Some friend he is.
Louis comes up to him when he's cooking, hands lightly touching his hips. "Hi," he says, bumping his nose against his shoulder. "What's for tea?"
"What are you cooking?" Harry jokes, sticking his tongue out at him. Jade's already eaten and is just sitting at the table on her laptop, Niall is tucking into a burger and a giant pile of chips – "look, it's just a crime to leave that tiny amount in the bag – fuck it, I'm gonna have them all" – and Liam is, as usual, hunched over by the window poring over his maths work. Zayn and Perrie had disappeared early in the afternoon and nobody knows where they've gone, which is all very exciting and gossipy. Exciting enough for nobody to notice Louis tucking himself into Harry as he cooks.
"Looks good," Louis murmurs, cheek pressed to Harry's upper arm as he stirs the mince.
"Thought we'd have something other than pasta. I went into Waitrose on my way back this afternoon," he says, Louis' arms slipping around his waist. His heart rate picks up, glancing furtively to the table, but Niall is scrolling through his phone with one hand, burger dripping sauce in the other; Liam's brow is furrowed as he flicks through some pages in the textbook, and Jade's absorbed in her laptop screen. "I'm not sure how it'll taste 'cos I kind of made it up, but it's basically lamb mince and garlic and tomato sauce and a load of basil and oregano." He nods at the small pile of ingredients on the side.
"Can I help?"
"You can put the rice in the microwave," he says, smiling down at him. Louis grins back, letting go of his waist.
"Blimey, I feel almost like a proper sous-chef. Um," he says, halting before he goes to the microwave. "How much do I owe you?"
Harry shakes his head. "On me."
"Harry-"
"You bought the waffles yesterday," he says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. "Seriously. Leave it."
Louis smiles at him and Harry fights the urge to kiss him right then and there; the food only takes another few minutes before he serves it up. When they're sat at the table Louis says, incredibly loudly, "Fuck off Harry, this is literally the best thing I've ever eaten."
"Looks good," Niall agrees, still with a small pile of chips on his plate and looking vaguely queasy. "I'd ask to try, but I think my stomach's about to explode."
"Thanks, man," Harry says, with a lopsided smile, as Louis squeezes his thigh under the table. Jade looks over at them, nodding and seemingly impressed.
"Hey, you guys," she says vaguely, as Harry is trying to inconspicuously walk his fingers up Louis' inner thigh under the table with nobody noticing, "did you know that apparently we should start looking for houses for next year already?"
"Already?" Liam says, tapping the end of his pen against his chin. "It's November."
"Yeah, well, according to this uni advice website, you should get it all done and dusted or else you get somewhere really shit. Especially if there are loads of you. And we're all living together, right? All nine of us?"
"Oh," Louis says quietly next to him, so quiet Harry almost doesn't hear him. He stills his fingers to thump him on the thigh instead.
"She means you, Lou," he says instantly. Jade nods, saying of course!, but Louis gives him a pathetic look. "Not bloody Mystery Dave, we've never ever spoken to him, in fact I don't think he even lives here half the time-"
"Yeah, it's definitely his milk that's creating a bit of a mouldy situation in our fridge, isn't it, Niall?" Liam says gravely. "It's gone a funny colour."
"Yeah, man. Don't dare go near it. And the less said about his cheese the better."
"Fuck," Jade says suddenly, glancing around the table. "You don't think – I mean, he is all right, isn't he? You know you hear stories-"
"Jade, seriously," Louis says, stabbing at his food, "he's fine, he's probably shacked up with some girl-"
"We should check though, right? Knock on his door?"
Louis gives Harry a Look. He just shrugs.
They abandon their dinner to sneak out into the corridor, following Jade to the end and watching as she raps officiously on his door. Nothing. She knocks again. Still nothing.
"Erm," she says, leaning close to the door. "If you, er, are in there, could you just let us know? We're a bit worried. Even though we've never really spoken. Er."
"I think I saw him once going for a shit," Liam opines serenely. "He was carrying a book to the bathroom."
"Might've been me," Harry says, without thinking. Everyone turns to look at him. "What? I like a bit of a read on the loo."
"Mm, me too," Niall says, chewing on the last of his chips on the plate in front of him. "Keeps the boredom at bay."
"Anyway," Jade says, giving Harry and Niall a disgusted look and turning back to the door. "We promise we're not scary! We just want to know if you're dead or not! Er – that sounded less weird in my head-"
"Very smooth," Louis says, from where he's leaning on the wall. Harry pinches his hip as punishment for being rude. There's still no answer from the room.
"Right," Jade says officiously, striding into her room and coming out brandishing a pen and paper. "I'm writing him a note. I won't have a dead flatmate-"
"He's not dead!" Louis says loudly and exasperatedly.
"-on my conscience. Hello," she dictates, as she rests the paper on the wall and writes in big black Sharpie, "We were just wondering if you wanted us to throw away your mouldy milk. PS, are you OK. Jade, Niall, Liam, Harry and Louis. Kiss kiss kiss. There." She underlines the kisses twice, before folding the piece of paper in half and shoving it under the door.
"Didn't ask him if he wanted to live with us next year, then?" Louis says. Harry grabs him around the waist with one arm and covers his mouth with the other, making him squeak and Jade's eyebrows disappear into her hairline.
"Enough, you're way too mouthy tonight. Shut up."
"Pfff bfft!" Louis protests, sharp teeth biting his palm. Harry ignores him, manhandling him back to the kitchen and only letting him go so he can sit down. "Harold," Louis says, now visibly flustered, pulling his t-shirt down and flicking his fringe out of his face. "Don't act like a caveman."
"Yeah," Jade says slowly, slipping back into her seat. "Careful or you'll give him a massive boner. He likes a rugged one, don't you, Lou?"
"Go away and sit outside Mystery Dave's door and listen for his heartbeat through the wall," Louis snaps, as Harry grabs both his and Louis' plates to microwave their leftovers.
"Ooh, touched a nerve, did I?"
Harry doesn't hear Louis' reply as just then Perrie and Zayn walk into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold and looking suspiciously like they'd just stopped holding hands. Jade gives a little squeal of delight and Louis says, "Zayn, your room, now," whipping the plate out of Harry's hand as he goes. Perrie just takes off her coat and sits down next to Jade, trying not to grin.
"Do not say anything," she says, staring at her nails. Harry wouldn't even if he wanted to – he knows the exact look Perrie has on her face is the same he gets every time he's around Louis, and he doesn't really want to draw attention to the fact.
(The next morning when Harry's the first one up because he's got a 9 o'clock lecture, Louis still snoring peacefully in his bed, he walks into the kitchen to find a neatly-written note on the table.
Hello Everyone,
Just chucked my milk, sorry about that, haven't been around much and I forgot about it. Don't worry, am alive! And I can hear you talking through the walls, by the way, you're quite loud.
"Mystery Dave" ;-)
Harry rubs his eyes and chuckles.)