Back For You (Larry Stylinson AU)

23 - Perfectly in Love

AN - so... here we are again... update day... you guys know the drill by now, I will do an AN that no-one reads but I like to pretend people do. And following the theme of recently, I'm just gonna go and thank you all for my 250 VOTES ON BACK FOR YOU WHAT IS HAPPENING AND 13000 READS HELP WHAT IS GOING ON. I think I may cry...

so now that's over....

This chapter will probably be awful because I'm ill at the moment, and my brain is probably a muddle mess of muddle-ness. Forgive me.

Ouch sore throat, ouch headache, ouch tummyache, ouch i feel so feeble.

So you guys know what happens at this part of the AN by now... WOO! please vote/follow/comment if you like this. I am so happy at the moment because people have been commenting on my past couple of chapters and it makes me smile :) make me feel happy and not so feeble and comment! TALK TO MEH! (did you notice my subtle little hint? i bet you didn't, i'm so subtle...) Just going to say a massive, massive thanks to the people who have commented, you have no idea how much it means!

Please give When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars a cheeky listen whilst reading, its a perf song and the last few paragraphs are based on it....

Love you all my sweetums!!!

“Are you busy today Louis?” Niall’s chirpy voice asked down the phone.

Louis sighed; leaning back further into the velvet cushions piled high on the double bed in the spare room. He realised that the fact that he had been sleeping in the spare room every night since Harry’s arrest six months ago, was rather sad. He also knew that that was probably a hint that he should move house, so that he didn’t have to live in the spare room of his own house.

If you took a walk around the house six months ago, you would see that it was slightly messy, modern and bright; Louis and Harry had spent hours in Harry’s childhood bedroom poring over B&Q colour charts, curtain swatches and Ikea catalogues before moving in. You would see the shoe rack overflowing onto the wooden floor with what seemed like hundreds of pairs of shoes of two sizes, except Louis was lucky as he could wear them all as long as he padded his feet with woollen socks when he borrowed Harry’s – he liked to think he looked London chic. You would see a neat pile of envelopes by the bread bin that Harry would set there, no matter how many times Louis would flick his ear with an affectionate chuckle and move them to desk in the spare room, which would be the bills that Harry would work through in the morning once Louis left for work. You would see the walls covered in frames filled with photos, some of Louis, Harry, Niall and Liam on the last day of high school; at Liam’s sister’s wedding; at their first day of college. The rest of the frames were filled with Louis and Harry, playing in the snow; sitting in a restaurant on their first date; kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower; leaning into each other in a gondola in Venice, holding hands in front of the Christmas tree on the first year they lived in that very house together.

If you took a walk around the house now… You would see that it was spotless, modern and bright seeing as Louis tidied when he was home from work, because Louis didn’t want to go out more than he could get away with, and there was no longer a curly-headed, low-voiced lad from Cheshire with wandering hands to keep him amused. You wouldn’t see a pile of envelopes by the bread bin, because it was Harry that put them there, and Louis no longer had to move them every morning, and he kind of really fucking missed it because Harry would then wrap his arms around Louis from behind and kiss his neck in apology, even though he would still pick them up from the doormat and put them by the bread bin the next morning. You wouldn’t see any frames on the walls or on the coffee table, instead you’d see a large cardboard box in the utility room labelled ‘Photos’, decidedly taped down with duct tape.