All That You Are Is All I'll Ever Need

35

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Harry takes Louis from the group, though, insists on showing him more of the house. At first it was an excuse to get him alone, kiss him hard and deep and breathless. He needs it, needs the feeling of Louis pressed close to him, needs the high from his lips to make him feel buzzed, make everything so surreal, so heavenly.

Louis sees the photo album, and Harry doesn't get his deep and breathless kisses. Louis flips through the album, photos of Harry at the lake, patches of baby fat and dimples wide. There are ones of him and Gemma, fighting and cuddling and laughing, it’s perfect. Each flip of a page is another page of watching Harry grow up. From eight to twelve to fifteen. Every birthday cake and awkward haircut. Pictures of Harry with family members, old friends, him.

Louis sees the picture, and he doesn’t need Harry to tell him who it is. He knows, can tell. The man's arm is wrapped around Harry’s waist, nails digging into his hip. Harry looks so frozen, yeah it’s a fucking picture, but everything about him looks wrong; tense, scared. He can see it, the stiffness in his smile, the dullness in his eyes, the way only one dimple is showing up. There’s a bruise, on the side of his face, his wrists, on his hip, where Marks nails are tucked under his shirt and scraping the softness. Louis wants to puke, wants to puke, and yell, and burn the photos. He wants to burn a lot, break a lot, ruin a lot. Most of all, he wants to hold Harry.

He does. Neither of them say anything, they both know. Louis closes the photo album, presses his back to the frame of Harry’s bed from where they’re sitting on the floor, and pulls Harry to sit in the bowl of his crossed legs. His hands wrap around Harry’s back, fingers gently rubbing the spot on his hip where nails were previously. Harry lays his head on Louis’ shoulder, his bum fitting between Louis’ crossed legs, and his own legs laying over one of Louis’ thighs. Louis kisses his cheek, peppers it with love and gentleness, covering the expanse of his face in light presses of his mouths, mouthing small ‘love you’s,’ holding him, always holding.

Louis reaches over, pulling the box full of Harry’s old stuff towards them. Looking inside, he finds a white stuffed animal, a bunny. He smiles softly, gently grabbing its paw and pulling it from the box. It’s stained and patched and obviously treasured. He’s careful when he rubs over one of its little ears. He gently places it on Harry’s tummy, taking its head softly and pretending that it is kissing his tummy, all the way up to his face, where Louis makes the little stuffed animal pepper Harry’s face in kisses. It makes him giggle, giving the bunny a little kiss and then pushing it away to kiss Louis too.

There’s a cough, and they both look up to see Anne in the doorway. She’s smiling, tired and smiling, so wide, so happy, eyes shining. “‘M going to bed,” she murmurs, “so c’mere and give me kisses goodnight.”

Harry unfolds himself from Louis’ lap, biting his lip when he feels Louis’ hands gripping his hips, helping him stand. He turns, offering Louis a hand and helping him stand.

Anne smiles fondly, opening her arms and pulling her son into her arms. “I love you so much, baby,” she murmurs into his neck.

“Lo’ you too, mum.”

“So good to hold you again, give you kissies,” she says, pulling back and giving her boy a big kiss to his forehead.

Harry smiles, pulling his mum back in, squeezing her tight.

When he pulls away, Anne looks to Louis. “You too, c’mere.”

Louis blushes, heart squirming as he steps into the woman’s arms, letting her hold him tight.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, “and sleep well, love.”

“You too,” he murmurs back, rubbing the woman's back softly, before pulling away and stepping back next to Harry.

She turns to leave with a final smile, walking down the landing to her room, calling out, “And boys, don’t be too loud.”

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They lay in Harry’s small bed, pressed close to each other, sharing small kisses and private words; lingering touches and soft laughs. They’re so in love it’s impossible, they did it though, god have they done it.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs. He’s watching his fingers that are softly tracing Louis’ collarbones, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Louis bites his lip, watching Harry’s lips, “Do anything for you, Harry,” he murmurs, “‘s'bit terrifying.”

Harry swallows. “I really love you.”

“Good,” Louis whispers, moving his head forward just enough to rub his lips against Harry’s, “because I really love you too.”