Love is a Word (You Gave it a Name) l.s

Six Days To Christmas

It's tree decorating day.

Louis had not known this ten minutes ago, when he was still dreaming and dead to the world. He had not known five minutes ago, when Harry jumped on top of him and pulled him out of bed.

He knows now.

"Haz," he says into the delicious eggs that Harry had painstakingly prepared for him because he's truly, truly lovely, "we're not even going to be here for Christmas. We don't need a tree."

"We definitely do," says Harry, calm and collected, sipping on his tea. He's already been out for a run and had a shower, and he looks a little like a wet mouse with his hair dripping on the tabletop.

"Why?"

"I want one," he smiles, like he knows that's more than reason enough for Louis. Damn him, honestly. "It creates a homely atmosphere."

Louis feels a pleasant blush rise to his cheeks. He's holding a fork to his mouth, the home of his compass right in his line of vision. It's always been home with Harry – since that ridiculously opulent flat they got together after the X Factor. Louis still remembers the feeling in his stomach, like he was falling, when he walked into the kitchen their first morning there and found the table all set for breakfast.

"Alright," he agrees.

Harry beams. "I'm driving," he claps his hands and disappears up the stairs. Louis finishes his eggs in silence, and uses the time to reply to his texts – Niall and Liam checking up on them, Zayn asking what day it is, Lottie saying she's back home safe and can't wait to see them. It's nice, Louis thinks, to have his phone beep with alerts and unlock it to messages from people he loves and no one else. It's been too long.

The drive to the Christmas Forest isn't a long one, and Louis spends it shredding a receipt he finds in the glove compartment, throwing the pieces at Harry and yelling "it's snowing!". Harry smiles indulgently and keeps his eyes on the road. Harry is the best.

"Welcome!" a young girl in a Santa hat greets them as soon as they step out of the car and into the lot. They're both bundled up in coats and scarves and beanies, but Louis can tell she recognises them by the way her eyes widen.

Harry smiles at her, always charming, and extends his hand. "Hello," he says. "It's nice to meet you."

"Y-you too," she stutters out, and Louis reminds himself to take a picture with her later.

The lot is absolutely drowning in people, families blocking the narrow alleys between the trees, children shouting in excitement and reaching for the prickly branches. Next to Louis, Harry walks with his hands in his pockets, observing the chaos. His eyes are soft.

"What are you thinking about?" Louis asks, grinning into his scarf because he already knows.

Harry giggles and doesn't grace Louis with an answer. He takes off down the aisle on his long, long legs, and Louis has to weave in-between people to keep up.

He can feel more and more eyes on his back as he follows Harry and discusses the appropriate choice of tree with him. He knows it's a question of minutes before somebody takes out their phone, before there's the click of a camera shutter and a picture goes up on Twitter.

And the strange thing is, that's fine now. Louis doesn't have to sneak around anymore, hover just out of frame while the hired cameras take pictures of Harry looking tired and annoyed.