All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

8

It is another night. Louis has his last finals of the year in the morning, and Harry took his last one today. The fairy lights are on, casting a yellow glow around the flat from the dipped ways they’re strewn across the light pink walls. On one side of the coffee table sits a warm cup of tea and a biscuit, the other scattered with notes and pens. Louis can’t be damned to study, though, despite the calm comfort of the room. Because the cotton candy candle lit in front of him flickers teasingly, sweet smells wafting in the air, and Harry, his angelic voice, singing in the kitchen to the soft music that is playing through the flat. Louis has no reason to be distracted, yet, here he is. Textbook open and eyes burning.

And he just wants to know why. Why does he have to take all these pointless, sodding classes when all he really wants to do is teach little kids the alphabet, and colours, and numbers. How the fuck does science classes, and history classes, and fucking calculus help him with that, honestly.

He sighs in frustration, closing the book and digging his palms into his eyes. He knows why he really can’t study right now.

The thing is, Harry looks best when he is doing what he loves. The yellow light is hitting his skin, seemingly emitting the glow of the sun from the lights to Harry and straight to Louis. His eyes are concentrated, the gold freckles bouncing inside of them, and Louis forgets that anything bad had ever happened to him because he is so convened into what he is doing; completely centralised in his ardour for cooking - it is beautiful, really, watching someone do what they are so clearly passionate about.

Right now, he is mixing together the ingredients to the dough of a new pastry he is trying to make. Louis thinks Harry said it was called pain au chocolat, and it is a French pastry his professor talked about having once, and how it was ‘so heavenly.’ So of course Harry has to try to make it.

“Harry?” he says softly, inhaling the chocolaty aroma mixing with the sweet smell of candy that is filling the room.

The boy glances up to him, his thick lashes casting the smallest of shadows over his soft cheek bones. Louis forgets to breathe, he does.

“You aren't mad that I stayed with Niall the other day, are you?”

“Of course not, why would I be?” His lips curl into a smile and his eyes follow shortly.

Louis just shrugs, standing up and walking into the kitchen. He sticks his finger into the bowl of sweetly mixed chocolate, twirling it around to get a good amount of the nectarous liquid onto his finger before popping it into his mouth and licking it away with a soft moan.

Harry glares playfully, shaking his head as he continues rolling the dough. “It’s good that you’re spending time with someone else, we don't always have to be together, you twat.”

Louis scoffs in response, scooping more of the mixture onto his finger and dabbing the tip of Harry's nose with it. Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis, and Louis dabs some there, too. Then they are laughing, and then kissing, and then they are forgetting all about pastries and finals as they pull each other closer.

(“Harrryyy, leave it on your tooonguuue, I wanna lick it oooff.” “I can’t believe I’m dating such a kinky brat.” “Yeah, and I can’t believe you won’t indulge me.” “You’re eating my ingredients.” “Well I know what would taste better.” “You need to study.” “Just put it on your tooongue.” “I’m only doing this for your future.” “And because you love me.” “For your future.” “Love.” “Future.”)