Here In The Afterglow

Chapter 3.6

Surprisingly, June brings a break in the oppressive weather. A soft, cool breeze floats down from the hills one afternoon and simply settles over them. It carries a flirtation of rain with it, a bundle of foreign clouds that linger for a few days before everything is blue again. That air though, it stays and ruffles the pines back into shape. They say their thanks for the water and flush green, let it trickle down to their roots and give life to the grass.

Louis asks Jay about San Francisco on an early Friday morning, when Harry is still asleep upstairs and she's still in her scrubs. They sit down for coffee, soft light spilling through the windows and touching the lines around her eyes as she watches him closely.

"Are you coming back?" She asks. She doesn't sound upset, just genuinely curious.

"I don't know, mom," Louis says honestly. "It's probably just for the summer. But..."

"He's for real, isn't he?" Jay says. She smiles at him over the rim of her mug.

"Yeah," Louis says on a long breath. "He, um. He said he wants to have a life with me."

"Big words for a young man," Jay raises a gentle eyebrow.

"I want that too," Louis says. "I think he's it, mom. I think he's my person."

"Then you go after it, sweetheart," Jay says. "You hold on and you don't let go."

"I won't," Louis says. He pulls her into a hug, tucks his face into her neck. "I won't let him go."

Slowly, Harry has stopped going home. Sometimes he's gone for an afternoon or for part of the night, but he's always back by the time Louis goes to bed, eager to be kissed and to sleep beside him. Louis is lulled into this strange state. He feels almost like he's dreaming. Everything around him seems soft around the edges, wrapped in tranquil light.

Sometimes Harry will cook dinner when Jay is home, chat to her idly and relaxed. He seems in his element, glasses on his nose and hair an absolute mess from a nap and the steam from the pot he's stirring, looking soft and homey with his feet bare and a ratty, hole-ridden band shirt. He looks like he fits right in. On those nights, Louis sits and leans his elbows on the tabletop, rests his chin in his hands and watches him with a soft, fond smile.

He remembers what Harry had said about wanting time to go faster, about counting down the days. They seem to drag. Louis will take every second with Harry he can get, will hold it delicately in his cupped palms and treasure it. Despite this, all he wants is to leave for the city, for them to start their adventure together.

Liam takes it surprisingly well, better than Louis thought he would. Of course, he tries his best to hide his wet eyes, but Louis just pulls him into a tight hug so he doesn't have to see, so Liam doesn't have to wipe them away. They promise to call, to write.

Louis tells him it's just for the summer, that he is coming back.

At night, Harry whispers to him all the things he's going to show Louis, all the people he hopes to find, all the love he wants them to share.

It gets harder and harder for him to think that it's true.

Though it's a little cooler now, Louis still wakes sweating, from the heat or his dreams he's not sure. It compels him with the need to move. He's still a little creaky and if he does sleep, he wakes late and disorientated with Harry reading beside him or half dozing, a soft hand over his belly.

The medication tends to make him drowsy when he wakes like that, sweaty and achy. He reminisces his early ride up the hill when he wakes most mornings, later than he ever has. He wonders whether the grass around the pine has dried up or whether the old roots are sharing its water, whether the summer flowers are tangled with the grass.

He showers in cool water, pressing his palms over his ribs, the faint silhouette of bruising and a phantom ache. It can still hurt to breathe when he forgets about it, when he's too sudden and sporadic in his movements or if Harry accidentally jostles him in his sleep. The bruises on his face are mostly gone, his eye still a little tender, the scratches faded to an off pink that he hopes will clear up soon.

When he'd blinked awake today, it was to Harry pressing kisses to his forehead, already dressed and whispering. Louis, whose brain was still too muddled from sleep, barely caught a word as Harry had left. He'd fallen back asleep accidentally and woken up with slick skin, and wandered to the bathroom instantly with a grimace.

He's just thrown on a thin pair of shorts and one of Harry's old shirts when he hears the front door open and close rather loudly, and an enthusiastic, jumbled shout drifts up from downstairs. There's a rumble of thumping footsteps as Harry runs up the stairs. Louis rolls his eyes and grins, wondering what he's done.

"Lou!" He bursts into the room, panting, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. It might be the most excited he's seen him since Louis agreed to go with him to San Francisco. His grin is blinding, eyes shiny, and in his hand there's a record.

Louis freezes immediately, mouth dropping open. He'd completely forgotten. It's today.

"Is that-" he cuts himself off, mouth slowly curling up as a grin takes over his whole face.

Harry nods and lets out an almost manic giggle as he crosses the room and drops to the floor in front of the record player. He slides the pink vinyl from its case, places it on top of the player, and rushes to sit beside Louis on the bed. He clasps his hands together nervously, lips bitten into his mouth in anticipation.

The song starts, the first few notes of funky bass and guitar, almost disco like. The harmonica comes in and Harry lets out a soft noise, squirming and bopping his head instantly. When Mick starts to sing, Harry lifts his hands shakily to his face and listens intently, smile taking over his entire face as he loses himself in the song. Louis laughs at him quietly, bopping along with him, letting the sound wash over him.

I've been holding out so long, I've been sleeping all alone. Lord I miss you.

"This is so sexy," Harry giggles, shoulders moving with the beat.

I've been hanging on the phone, I've been sleeping all alone. I want to kiss you.

He stands and starts to groove, eyes closed and hands moving. Louis laughs at him, at how ridiculous he is. But Harry just winks and holds out his hand, beckoning him closer with a shake of his hips. Louis rolls his eyes and takes his hand, is pulled instantly into his arms. They dance sensual and slow to the syrupy beat.

Harry holds him close, puts his hands on Louis' lower back and rests his thumbs in the dimples there, tilts his head down and gives him a knowing smirk. They work their bodies together, twisting and swaying with the beat. Louis can feel the sticky flush on his cheeks, feels the giddy bubbling low in his stomach as Harry dances with him, as they share this little moment.

When the song comes to an end, Harry lets out a bright giggle into Louis neck, squeezing his hips.

"They did that!" Harry says excitedly. "Where's that slump, huh? 'Cause I don't see it."

"They're coming out of their slump, babe," Louis pats his cheek. Harry shakes his head and pinches his hip.

"There was never a slump," Harry argues haughtily. "Now, let's dance to this again. Wanna get my hands on your proper this time."

They play it on repeat, over and over. Harry starts to sing along here and there, husky and low in Louis' ear, pressed right up against his skin. It makes Louis giggle softly, makes him curl his fingers teasingly into Harry's hair. Harry wraps his arms around his waist completely so they're pressed flush, Louis' arms hanging loosely around his neck. It makes his ribs burn a bit, the stretch, but he just kisses the underside of Harry's jaw and forgets about it.

It's a nice moment. Simple and silly and just...nice. It takes Louis away to the first time he listened to a record with Harry, how strung tight and cautious they'd been around each other, how different he'd felt. Now, with Harry's lips kissing his neck lazily, the two of them swaying and dancing surrounded by warm light, Louis feels nothing but relaxed, feels nothing but content.

This is where he's supposed to be.