petal [book 1] ❊ l.s.

twenty four - i'd take a day with you over a lifetime with another

Louis woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes, and he smiled. Befuddled and groggy with sleep, he reached for Harry, his smile fading when he found the space beside him in bed empty. He rubbed his eyes, groaning as he stretched away the remainder of his heavy sleepiness.

He could hear Harry humming softly in the next room. The smile returned. He untangled himself from the mess of covers they had created and padded out of the bedroom, following the delicious smell into the kitchen.

Niall and Liam had stayed late, until just past midnight. By the time Louis was ushering them out the door, Harry was fast asleep on the couch, curled up with his head resting on the arm. Without a second thought, Louis had scooped him up and carried him to bed -- to his bed. The guest room wasn't seeing nearly as much use anymore.

His cheeks already ached as he entered the kitchen. He couldn't be much more of a lovesick idiot if he tried, he thought to himself. Harry was still humming something that sounded eerily similar to Ed Sheeran's "Perfect," and yeah, Louis already wanted to take him back to bed.

He pressed his chest to Harry's back, wrapping an arm around his stomach. "Morning, baby," he said, his voice still rough and gravelly with sleep.

"Hi." Even without seeing his face, Louis could hear the smile in Harry's voice.

"Sleep okay?"

Harry hummed out his agreement, leaning back into Louis's touch. "Did you?"

"Perfect. What are you making?"

"Breakfast," Harry replied simply. "Most important meal of the day."

"I don't have to work today," Louis reminded him. He brushed his lips over the back of Harry's neck before moving to the table, dropping into a chair to watch. It still surprised him how easily Harry moved through his kitchen; on his very first morning here, he had already taken over this tiny corner of Louis's apartment like it was his own.

Three months later, nothing had changed -- except two beds became one, and Harry's nightmares became Louis's worries, too. Maybe their sleeping habits had changed a bit.

And their kissing habits, too.

"I know. I have the day off, too." Harry's voice went a bit quiet, his words coming slowly like he was choosing them carefully. "I thought that we could maybe visit your mother today."

Louis stiffened. His chest went tight, walls snapping into place to guard his defenseless heart.

"What?" he said sharply. His tone hardened in an instant, any sleepy gentleness gone. "Why?"

"I thought it would be nice. It's supposed to be a nice day. No snow, no clouds."

"It's never a nice day to visit a graveyard," Louis replied coldly, his eyes trained on Harry's back.

The weight of his gaze made Harry turn, shutting the stove off with a noisy click. He wrapped his arms around his stomach as he turned, taking in the hard lines that spelled out Louis's face. This version of Louis was his least favorite: the one more made up of protective walls than the beauty worth protecting.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a breath. "I just thought --"

"Well, don't."

"Don't . . ?"

"Think." Louis stood from the table fast enough to send his chair clattering across the floor.

Harry didn't even flinch. His face stayed completely stoic, his patient eyes trained on a scene that he had already watched unfold in his mind.