When the light loses it's touch

Original on AO3

Louis hears a soft cough behind him as he is staring out the window at the sun that is slowly drooping over the city's sky line.

"Um, Lou?"

Louis glides his hand across the countertop and tears his eyes away from the colourful ombré of the sky, swivels and almost gasps (but for some reason that is unknown he keeps it shrouded inside). In front of him stands his boy, tall and lanky but with those beautiful love handles he grasps every once in a while, his elongated legs golden in the coruscating glow of the light flaring through the window, his eyes: green and large, doe-eyed and curious, flecks of yellow stand out within them emphasising the long, black curled lashes which surround them; his hair sits on his head, hickory brown curls tousled and almost reaching his shoulders (he'd say he needs a trim but Louis would just shake his head and smile, the fondness he holds for his boy oozing out his pores).

Basked in all that light, he looks rather like a modern day Apollo, just stood in his t-shirt and pants, Louis has never seen anything more beautiful, and he rather likes to believe he has witnessed a lot of beauty in his life.

"Hi," he whispers.

Padding forward his bare feet creating a soft noise on the light hardwood floor, slowly but surely making his way over to his love, passing his feet across the soft rug Harry decided they should purchase when they first moved in,

("Harry, love, its huge and... red?"
"Lou, yes I know but think about how cool it will look in the kitchen."
"Love, i'm not feeding into your weird hipster fantasies with this rug."
"It's bohemian actually."
"Har- no."
"Lou please"
"No and that's that.").

(They bought the rug because Louis decided he loves Harry maybe a little too much).

He reaches Harry and feels the subtle heat of the sun on his bare back, trailing down his spine to his tailbone, skimming the flaxen skin.

He swallows the bubble forming in his throat, afraid that if he doesn't it will burst and everything he's ever felt for this boy will come tumbling out his parted mouth, and grabs Harry's hips, staring into his eyes (the colour of chartreuse green he's learnt to call home) he takes his features in up close, the gentle slope of his nose from the round tip to the top, his bottom lip plush and just a little bit larger than his upper lip, which is crowned with a cupid's bow Louis decides looks like it would be a safe place to nestle in if he ever found a human so small, and the colour, oh the colour, thulian pink mixed with rose petals paint them so much so that he looks like he's constantly wearing lipstick. The mole that rests just underneath the left corner of his lips and the stubble that is gently caressing his cheekbones signifying he needs a shave. His eyebrows, square and currently tattooed onto the swallow that lays on the left side of his chest (Louis is the swallow on the right, just a bit smaller but not so much to cause offence).

Once he's finished mapping his face, he reaches his eyes again and they're boring a stare into Louis, they look soft and gentle and brewing with love. Harry reaches down to where Louis's fingertips are gently resting in his hips and taps his fingers, he clears his throat again and pulls his right arm out from behind him (Louis didn't even notice it was there, he was too enamoured in the Seraph stood before him).

"I um, I got something for you."

From behind his back Harry reveals a bunch of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and clumsily tied with a meagre of string. They're bright, an ochre colour with the green stem long and freshly cut, not yet browning from age. Louis looks up from the gift to the big dimpling smile Harry is currently wearing, his bottom lip pulled back from his top teeth, his lips turning a little white because of the pressure, his dimple a caldera on the left side of his face (the right isn't rather prominent but there is a slight shadow there where it should be).