Love in a photograph

XV

South station is as empty as Harry's ever seen it when his train finally pulls in around lunchtime. There are a few people milling about here and there, but he supposes no one really has any place to get to at this time on a Saturday afternoon.

He collects his things and begins the trek to Summer Street, the sun burning through his cotton shirt and sending beads of sweat rolling down his spine. He swears he can smell the faintest whiff of molasses in the air, probably embedded in the streets for years to come. His curls are already matted to his forehead by the time he passes Devonshire, and Louis's little store comes into view, still three blocks away. It takes everything in him not to run; he's already sweating, mostly from excitement, partly from the heat, and he doesn't need to be a dripping mess when Louis sees him for the first time in almost two years.

Louis is at the checkout when Harry finally pushes into the store, but he hardly looks up. Harry tucks his suitcase against the wall by the door and takes a minute to collect himself in the sweets aisle, out of Louis's view. He grabs a random sweet and walks as casually as possible to the checkout, sliding the sweet over the counter and staring intently at Louis's downcast eyes.

"Find everything you need?" Louis hums, still not really looking up. It's warm in the store; not as warm as it is outside, but warm enough that Louis's skin is flushed a little pink and there's sweat sparkling on his upper lip. Harry missed him so much he could cry.

"I'm looking at it," Harry says, still staring unblinkingly at Louis's face. It's a cheesy line, probably a little too queer to be socially acceptable, but Harry doesn't spare it a second thought when Louis frowns and finally looks up at him, realisation dawning over his face.

"Harry!" Louis shouts, launching himself off of his stool and over the counter, dragging Harry into his arms. "You're back!"

"I'm back," Harry confirms, pulling Louis the rest of the way over the counter until his feet are firmly on the floor so he can hug him properly. "Told you I'd come back."

"Yeah, but not now!" Louis says, pulling away laughing. "Why didn't you write me? I would have welcomed you back with a party! Or, you know, some sort of celebration. I definitely would have bathed first, at the very least," he jokes.

"I don't need a party," Harry assures him, grinning so hard he's sure Louis can see every tooth in his head. "I would have appreciated if you'd bathed, though."

"Oh," Louis scoffs, hitting playfully at Harry's arm. "I can't believe you're finally back. You're staying, aren't you?" he asks, looking suddenly unsure.

Harry nods, his smile softening. "I'm staying. The past two years have been miserable, but if I don't start moving forward again, I never will," he says.

"Good," Louis says, squeezing Harry's arm and leaving his hand there, like he can't stop touching him, can't really believe he's actually there in front of him. "I feel so awful about everything that happened. How is Gemma?" Louis asks, making his way back around the counter and sitting back down on his stool.

"She's doing alright," Harry says, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter and twisting around until he's facing Louis, legs dangling over the edge. "The farm is doing incredibly well, which isn't a surprise. She's truly made for it, the best there is," he hums.

"That's great," Louis says, reaching out to place his hand on Harry's knee, squeezing lightly. The touch sends an unexpected zip of heat through Harry's body, radiating from Louis's hand on him. "I'm really just so happy you're back. I had no idea how much I would miss you."

Harry meets Louis's eyes, finding them sparkling and bright, full of everything Harry missed about him while he was gone. "Me too," he says, voice barely there, tendrils of white hot heat still coursing through his veins, making him want to both pull away and lay his hand over Louis's, make sure it never moves.