17 Black

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Guys. I fucking hate myself for doing this to you I know I promised never to take this long to update and it's been literally 10 years. I did get stuck at many parts in this chapter, and had the biggest help from THE MOST AMAZING PERSON EVER @SOFTYLOU getting me out of my writers block. This is like a filler-ish chapter but it's leading up to some good stuff that I think you guys will like ;) for those of you who still have stuck with me after I've taken this long to update: ya'll are literally angels. I LOVE U ALL AND AM EXCITED TO GET BACK ON THE WRITING TRAIN WOOWOO
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When Louis finally becomes conscious, the first thing he notices is the throbbing headache that presses behind his eyes. It's so intense that he almost lets himself fall back into sleep to relive the pain. Sleep is especially inviting this morning; the blankets are so warm around his body that they seem to be pulling him in, pleading him to stay, and the sheets under his cheek smell like lavender laundry detergent and something else distinctly familiar that sends a brief shiver down his spine.

Louis opens his eyes, and that's when he remembers where he is. A mix of emotions swirl in his chest as he remembers everything that happened last night - so overwhelming that he's almost nauseous with it. He remembers the weariness in his mother's voice on the phone, and how he almost felt absurdly sorry for her as he listened to her badly concealed desperation. He remembers everything he went through over the last year that lead up to that voicemail, and he can still feel the pain of it, fresh as it had been that night months ago. But then he also remembers Harry's big hands and their steadying weight on his shoulders as he pulled Louis inside the door, and he remembers how solid Harry's chest had felt against his cheek, under his hands; and he remembers the gentleness of his fingers on his skin, the slow, thick rhythm of his voice. Louis remembers all of it - all of it - and there's so many thoughts and feelings and memories crammed up in his brain, all pushing towards the forefront. He doesn't know what to do with any of it.

Feeling ridiculously close to being on the verge of frustration tears, Louis throws the duvet off of his body and stumbles out of bed, finding himself in dire need of a distraction. And mostly just desperate to see Harry. He doesn't even think about looking in the mirror first, because he already knows that his hair is too messy, his clothes too wrinkled, and his eyes too tired to be saved.

His headache swirls his surroundings a bit as he passes through the door and into the hallway, but he is able to look past it and make it to the threshold of the kitchen. Although he had expected to see Harry there, working around the stove as he had been the last time Louis was there, he's still somehow stunned to see him. He's facing the counter and whisking something with what looks like practiced expertise, wearing a pair of soft looking, grey sweatpants and a worn light blue t-shirt that says "Meredith's Bakery" on the front. His hair is tied into a lazy bun where a few pieces of curly hair have fallen loose near his neck and temples. When he looks up and his gaze meets Louis, there's an easy smile on his face, a dimple on his left cheek, and a green in his eyes that is so striking in the - suspiciously orange and rosy - sunlight that Louis almost forgets that he should probably say something.

"Hey," he says lamely at the same time that Harry says "G'morning" in his slow, deep drawl, still scratchy with sleep.

Louis already feels a hot blush color his cheeks, but he discreetly hides it by fluffing his hair as he makes his way up to the counter. When he leans up against it, peering curiously across and over into the milky contents of Harry's whisk bowl, he catches a knowing smirk on Harry's face and tries desperately not to let it affect him.

"What's in the bowl?"

Harry still has on a small smile when he answers easily, citing out the ingredients as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to know exactly how to use them. "Just some milk, cinnamon, a little bit of egg white."