next to you ❀ l.s.

forty five - ours

Harry startled, gripping at the strong arms that encircled his waist. He blinked a few times fast, trying to clear his blurred vision. All of the light had disappeared from the store, the sun long disappeared from the sky. The shelves cast long shadows across the floor, slinking toward him like some black and white horror movie.

Louis's chest was still warm against his back, though, and he stirred when he felt Harry start wriggling. He cleared his throat, nuzzling into the back of Harry's neck and exhaling deeply.

"Where . . ? What time is it?"

"Mr. Smith said you could lock up," Louis told him gently, his voice raspy with sleep. "I didn't want to wake you. I know you haven't been sleeping well."

"Oh." Harry paused like he might say something else, but then he started wiggling again, and Louis groaned.

"Can you lay still, please? You're going to break my fucking arm."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Hold on," the younger boy huffed. He sat up and turned around in Louis's lap, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and snuggling happily into his front.

Even as he tried to act irritated, Louis's tone held traces of amusement. His fingers tapped lazily up and down the younger boy's spine, spelling out his contentment. "Better?"

"Better. Five more minutes?" Harry asked hopefully, folding up his long legs and burying his face in the warm chest in front of him.

The older boy laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through Harry's cheek. "Five more minutes," he agreed, resting his head on top of Harry's as his eyes drooped closed again.

The night air was chilly when they finally left the warm shop, and Harry grasped at Louis's hand for warmth and comfort. He listened attentively as Louis rambled sleepily about the assignments he still had to finish that week, but he couldn't help the question that plagued his mind. The dark streets around them made the darkness in his mind feel right at home.

He had worked hard to become more open with Louis over the past few months, but there were still some things that he just didn't know how to ask for. Like, for example, the fact that he never got a good night's rest without Louis's warm body beside him.

"I can't believe we just slept half the night in an armchair," Louis complained as they entered their apartment complex, yawning widely.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, agreeing, "A bed really makes all the difference."

"Yeah," the older boy replied happily. He took Harry's hand again, squeezing. "Yours or mine?"

Harry hesitated. His fingers stayed stiff in Louis's relaxed ones, and he wondered if the older boy noticed. "Have you ever thought . . . have you ever thought about 'ours'?"

"What?" Louis's brow furrowed, and he stopped climbing the stairs, pausing to glance back at Harry. "What do you mean?" He seemed taller like this, towering over Harry in a way that made the curly-haired boy want to cower into the shadows.

"Like, I don't know. I spend half of my nights in your flat anyway, and you eat most of your meals in mine. Have you ever thought about . . ?"

"About moving in together?" Louis finished. His grip on Harry's hand tightened, then loosened.

"And with my nightmares," Harry added sheepishly. He knew he was rambling, but he couldn't stop himself. "I-I don't know. Maybe it would be easier."

The frown on Louis's face deepened, the corners of his mouth curling downwards. His eyes turned dark, the blue only barely visible through the cheap, flickering lights in the staircase.