fine line

𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗

"What is it?" Harry asks curiously, looking down at the food on his plate, which looks delicious and artfully presented.

"It's chicken, stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham," Louis says as he drapes his napkin over his lap. "With a side of homemade mashed potatoes."

Harry glances up at him. "And you chose it?"

Louis shrugs. "Tried to make it myself, but I almost burned the house down. Thank god I practiced in advance, because it took almost a week for the smell to go away. Eventually I called Niall and asked if he could cook."

"He can," Harry says.

"Which, again, thank god. There were so many things that almost went wrong, even just yesterday—"

Harry squeezes Louis' hand, quieting him. "Hey. It's perfect, okay? You're perfect. I love you."

Louis lets out a breath and squeezes Harry's hand back. "I love you too."

They begin eating, talking about random things, like Louis' family, Harry's new contract, Louis' new album that he's finally started writing.

"It's embarrassing," Louis is saying. "All the songs are about you."

Harry laughs. "It can't be that bad."

"I'm serious, Harry," Louis emphasizes. "All the songs."

Harry just smiles bashfully and takes another bite of his mashed potatoes. Louis takes a sip of wine. They're both on their third glass, a pleasant buzz settling over the two of them, but Louis plans on stopping after this one. He wants to be as coherent as possible for his plan later.

Harry has no such plans, and is just polishing off his fourth glass as they're wrapping up their conversations, having finished their dinner a bit earlier. Louis' heart is beating fast in his chest, thinking about what he's going to do. It's not like he doesn't know what Harry's answer is going to be, but he's still nervous.

"Darling," Louis says into the comfortable silence that's descended over the table. Harry meets his eyes, flashing him a rosy-cheeked smile.

"Yes," he answers. Louis can't help but fond over him, this beautiful man he gets to call his own.

"I have something for you," Louis starts, already reaching into his pocket. His fingers close around a small box. He feels his pulse racing even faster from anticipation as he eases the box out and holds it carefully under the table.

Harry is watching him curiously, that warm, contented look still on his face. Louis just wants to marry him already. He lifts the box up onto the top of the table, Harry's eyes tracking the movement as they grow wide. He looks back up at Louis with surprise.

"Hang on, love," Louis chuckles as Harry begins to lean over the table, already reaching for the box. "I want to talk first."

Harry pouts but reluctantly leans back, gesturing for Louis to get on with it. He laughs again at Harry's impatience, even though he doesn't particularly like waiting either.

"This isn't an engagement ring," Louis says, tapping the box with a single fingertip. Harry tilts his head in confusion, but Louis keeps talking before he can say anything. "When I propose to you it's going to be spectacular and special and everything you deserve."

"This was spectacular and special, though, Lou," Harry argues. Louis' heart leaps into his throat at the nickname but he reminds himself to calm down.

"I know. It'll be even better, though, okay? This is kind of a placeholder. You have a lot of rings, but I wanted to give you something extra special to remind you that I'm always with you. I'd love to be with you on tour sometimes, but you know there are times when we'll have to be apart."

Harry whines a little at that. If he's honest, even without the whole contract mess, he's been putting off scheduling a tour because he's not quite ready to leave this happy bubble he and Louis have created.

"This is a promise ring," Louis continues, finally flipping open the box. Harry's eyes widen again, his lips parting as he sucks in a breath, looking at the ring. Louis smiles at him. "To remind you of me even when we're not together."

"Can I...can you..." Harry struggles to articulate himself, his hand flexing on the tabletop as he glances between the ring and Louis' face.

"Yeah, baby, of course," Louis answers, knowing what he means even without any clarifying words. He reaches out for Harry's hand. Harry looks at both and raises his right, slipping a simple band off of his middle finger and offering his right hand — with a now empty finger — to Louis. Louis lifts the ring from its box and slides it onto Harry's finger, completing his set again.

Harry stares at it with wonder for a few moments before standing and dragging Louis up from his seat by the lapels of his suit jacket, kissing him hard. Louis lets him for a second, then settles his hands on Harry's waist and slows the kiss until it's just a sweet drag of lips. Romantic, just like he'd promised.

"Love it," Harry says between kisses. "Love you."

"Love you too, Haz," Louis replies, then pulls away to take Harry's hand. "Upstairs?"

Harry nods eagerly, following Louis without complaint as they walk towards the staircase. There's a trail of rose petals scattered up the stairs; Harry isn't sure how he missed that when they walked in. Louis sends him a look as they start to ascend the staircase.

"No tripping, yeah?" Louis says lowly. The amount of times they've stumbled and fallen on either of their staircases is almost laughable at this point. Harry keeps his feet as steady as possible, though, and breathes out a sigh of relief when they make it to the top. Louis pushes open the door to the master suite and is already shrugging off his jacket as Harry steps inside. Harry follows suit, and they undress each other slowly, Harry undoing Louis' belt and Louis' hands unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

They share languid kisses in between, working each other up in a way only they know how. When there isn't a single piece of clothing between them, Louis steps back and crosses to the bed, laying in the middle. Harry takes a moment to just look, reveling in the picture: Louis is naked, spread out in the candlelight and looking like a fucking Renaissance painting. He can't believe he'll get to see this for the rest of his life. He's the luckiest man alive.

Louis watches him from the bed as Harry makes his way over to the nightstand and starts taking off his rings. Louis makes a sound of protest, but Harry doesn't stop, instead smirks as he lifts every ring, all except one. The rose ring. Louis' promise ring.

Harry turns to face him, and Louis' expression might just be the best thing he's ever seen: his eyes are wide, dark with lust and sparkling with adoration, a flush high on his cheekbones and a smug smile curling his lips as he observes Harry climbing onto the bed and settling over him.

Louis lifts Harry's right hand, turning it over in his palm to trace a fingertip over the intricately carved silver. "My rose," he murmurs, leaning up to capture Harry's lips in a deep kiss.

"Yours," Harry repeats. "Always."

ONE. MORE. CHAPTER.

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I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH <33333333

xoxo,

K