This Feels A Lot Like Love

12. Hold On To Me 'Cause I'm A Little Unsteady

Harry didn't know what he was expecting in the morning, but it certainly wasn't an empty bed.

Harry woke up sore and feeling weightless. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes awake. He blinked wearily into the harsh morning light. He flung the duvet off his body and planted his feet on the cold floor. He was so used to sleeping alone that he didn't bother to check if a warm body was sleeping next to him.

Harry begrudgingly climbed into the shower and let the water rain down his body. Once he was done cleaning the grime and dried come from his body, he brushed his teeth, making sure he brushed all the way to his back molars.

Flickers of last night's memories washed over Harry. Louis' red, persistent mouth, his sharp blue eyes, his dancing fingertips. Harry stilled his motions and pushed open the bathroom door, his fingers splaying on the wooden door. The bed was empty. Not even a note. At least Zayn had the decency to leave a note even if it had just been a platonic cuddle. But Louis...They slept together and Louis didn't even bother to rose Harry awake or leave a note. He just left. Poof! Just like that. Like it never happened. Like it was a dream.

Louis' slightly calloused hands roamed around the curves of Harry's body, touching every bit of skin he could find. He held Harry against him and breathed him in, never stopping to kiss him for more than ten seconds apart.

Harry spat into the sink, wiping his damp mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at the empty space in his bed. He just...Couldn't believe it.

Harry dragged himself back to bed with heavy footsteps. He climbed inside and rolled to Louis' side of the bed. He pressed his face to the pillow and breathed in his Louis-scented sheets that smelled like clean soap and home. Harry's home.

Harry closed his eyes, preventing the tears to fall. An ugly feeling knotted inside of his throat, making it suffocating to breathe. He gasped out, "Louis," and muffled his cries into the pillow, fat blobs of tear disappearing into the thin material. He breathed out hard and heavy.

"Louis," Harry repeated again, softer this time.

Harry fell asleep with Louis' name sitting on the tip of his tongue.

A few hours later, Harry startled awake. Spit drooled on his cheek and on the scented pillow.

Gross," Harry muttered, wiping his wet mouth clean and crawling out of bed.

Harry slipped on some random clothes, not bothering to check if it was his school uniform, and glanced at the alarm clock. It read eleven o'clock. Harry's eyes comically bulged out of his head, except it wasn't funny because he was so ridiculously late.

Harry fell to the floor. He scrambled upright and jogged down the carpeted steps to the kitchen. "Mum." Socked feet slipped on the last step, Harry almost tumbling to the ground. "Why didn't you wake me up? I'm late for school."

Anne peered at Harry over her black framed reading glasses. She pushed them up over her thick, long hair, arching an elegant eyebrow.

"Oh, honey, you were warm and your cheeks were flushed. You seemed ill. I thought you needed to rest."

Harry carded his fingers through his damp curls. He inwardly groaned.

"I'm not ill. It's from..." Harry trailed off, catching himself at the last moment. He pressed the heel of his hand to his hot forehead. "You know what? I feel better now."

"You do? That's good, honey."

Harry grabbed his jumper and shoved his arms in the armholes. He slung his backpack over his back, not bothering to tame his frizzy curls. He slipped his socked feet into his Chelsea boots while hopping on one foot, grasping the wall to balance himself. He ran his hand through his wild hair one more time.