at nights when they're alone | larry

first and last

The curtains blocked the view of the busy streets and flashing lights twenty floors below him and the air-conditioner engulfing the small room was shit and the small flatscreen mounted on the blank wall barely even worked but it didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Not when he's sprawled on the springy bed with layers upon layers of blankets covering up not just the small frame of his body, but someone else's as well.

He rests his head on the pillow after scanning the room thoroughly, burying his face on Harry's back. Harry hums lightly at the contact and his arm reaches behind him, resting it on the top of his stomach once it finds Louis'.

"Go to sleep." Harry murmurs quietly, his thumb tracing the back of Louis' hand. A lazy smile graces their faces at the feeling and Louis moves closer to him.

"I can't." He whines playfully as he observes their intertwined hands.

"Why not?" Harry seems fond of playing with Louis' hands - taking every chance he could while no one's watching. Especially since chances like that come on rare occasions.

Louis takes another good look around the hotel room. It isn't as big as what they're used to having when travelling, but that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the silence.

And it wasn't the awkward kind. It never is the awkward kind when it comes to Harry. It was the kind that made you feel safe. Harry made him feel safe. He always makes him feel safe. And at late nights when he couldn't find a way to sleep and he resorts to staring at Harry's sleeping state with lips partly open and nose scrunching absently, he wonders if he makes him feel that way too. 

His thoughts break off when Harry starts speaking in an amused tone and he could picture him rolling his eyes and a smirk plastered on his face, "You're doing it again." Harry says pointedly and Louis' brows furrow.

"Doing what again?" He asks in confusion. Harry squeezes his hand lightly and sighs.

"That thing where your thoughts are so deep you forget there's someone talking to you." He says like it's something that occurs often and Louis gets defensive instantly.

"What? No, I don't-"

"-Yes, you do."

Louis opens his mouth to protest but closes it after much thought. He never wins with Harry. So he just sinks back into his position - his arm wrapping tightly at the span of Harry's torso and Harry's hand follows. They come back to the comforting silence with the damned air conditioning and the damned flatscreen on the bare wall but only for a few seconds.

"What were you thinking about?" Harry's voice came out as a hushed whisper, like he didn't want anyone else to hear it but Louis.

"What?" Louis blinks at him, his mind drifting elsewhere once again.

Harry laughs at his reaction, tugging Louis closer to him before he speaks once again, "You were doing the thing, remember? What were you thinking about?"

The train of thoughts come back to Louis afterwards, absently tightening his grip on Harry's torso. He nuzzles his head on his back, taking in the familiar scent of Harry's shower gel. He smelled like old cinnamon spice and strawberries and he didn't know how a combination like that could work well but somehow Harry pulled it off. Harry always pulls it off. He was beautiful like that. But most of all, he smelled like home. And with this thought in his mind, he decides to finally answer Harry's question.

"I was thinking about us." It was quiet again after he says this. Harry stops playing with their hands and everything kind of just stays still.

"Louis," Harry sighs and his tone appears defeated. His shoulders slump and his voice turns dangerously low. And it wasn't because it was two in the morning and they had to get up in three hours for rehearsals. It's because it was two in the morning and they had three hours left of being themselves. Three hours left of being alone and together and close and in love. Three hours until they go into hiding again and that was the worst part of it all and they hated it.

They hated how much of their actions are controlled by the people behind the cameras. They hated the constant need to lie to the people that have done so much for them just to keep their career going. They hated that they had no choice. Not even a little. Not even at all.

But it was two in the morning and they still had three hours and they didn't have to think about that. Not now at least. Not when everything around them is dark and no one can see them. Not when they still had hours of freedom left before they go back to lying and pretending. Not when their bodies are molded perfectly on the springy bed of what could possibly be the smallest hotel room they've ever been in. Moments like this come so rare, they have to make the most of it.

Most times, they don't even sleep. They just hold each other until the alarm rings through the four walls of an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar people and somehow through all these unfamiliarity, they're okay. They're alone and they're in love and they're okay. At least for a while.

So instead of filling the silence with worry and concern, he brings their interlocked hands to his lips and he closes his eyes for a few seconds - savoring the moment. "Don't think about it too much, okay? Unless it involves some physical activity you would like to suggest for tomorrow night, then don't worry about it too much." Louis snorts at the mention of physical activity and shakes his head.

Harry is a lot of things.

He's clumsy and kind and concerned and he loves visiting dollar stores and antique shops when he gets the chance. He gets easily excited on discount shops and he has a slight obsession with ugly-patterned shirts. His eyes turn a lighter shade of green and his mouth opens quickly when a joke crosses his mind and he will not miss an opportunity to tell that joke whether it makes someone laugh or not. He also enjoys spooning a little too much but Louis never says anything about it because how could he when they couldn't do that very often? He's all this and so much more but out of everything the boy with a butterfly on the stomach is, he's Louis' and Louis is definitely Harry's and that's something no lie or script or limitations could ever change.

And at times when they aren't allowed to show their love, they take a look at the ink on their skin and somehow that's enough.

So they stay in their positions - hands and legs tangled in a mix of love and blankets in the most ungodly hour and they love. They love because it's the thing they are best at doing. They love because they can and they will and maybe they can't show it to everyone right now, but they can most definitely show it to each other and what more can they ask for?

So Louis relaxes into Harry's body and presses comforting kisses at the back of his shoulder before burying his face on his back once more and takes in that familiar scent he's known as his home and he finally feels the sleep coming to him. But before his eyes finally flutter close, he squeezes their hands lightly and whispers something to Harry's ear.

"I love you." He says it because he can. He can for now and he hopes he can do it in public someday. He hopes the world can witness the incredible love he has for this boy but for now, this is all he can do. And it's better than not being able to love him at all.