With Lips Like Fire He Burns Me

8. If Happy Is Her, I'm Happy For You

Harry wasn't really expecting anything for his birthday. Usually he spent them with his family, having quiet dinner by the beach while his mum and sister gifted him knick-knacks he hinted about wanting weeks ago. He wasn't grand on birthdays, but he did like to spend them with his loved ones. He shouldn't have been all that surprised, but his jaw dropped all the same when he opened the door to a well-timed chorus of, "Happy birthday!"

"So that's why you wanted me to do laundry so badly," Harry scolded fondly, smiling down at Louis as he wrapped an arm around his waist.

"That and I didn't have any clean clothes. Blame me for wanting to look good for my boy."

My boy. Harry liked that.

"You do look good," Harry said softly, shamelessly tracing the curves of Louis' petite body with his eyes. "Really good."

"Pfft," Louis scoffed. If Harry didn't know any better, he would've thought Louis was blushing. But Louis wasn't. Because he was straight. Louis squeezed the base of Harry's neck. Harry wantonly leaned into the contact. "I should be complimenting you, birthday boy. What's this then? Go get changed. We're gonna take pictures."

"I don't look good?" Harry asked, self-consciously touching his tousled hair from the wind.

Before Louis could answer, however, Liam and Niall embraced Harry in a three-person hug. Harry was only mildly disappointed when Louis' snug arm fell away from his waist.

"There he is!" Niall shouted happily into Harry's ear.

Harry winced but smiled afterwards when Niall was sporting the biggest smile ever.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Liam chirped, pinching Harry's cheek for full effect.

"We got you something," Niall added, presenting a messily wrapped large rectangular box. It was almost bigger than him. "We all chipped in. I hope you like it."

Harry set down the load of clean laundry he had been carrying. He eyed all three boys with a suspicious raise of his eyebrow.

"Well open it," Louis encouraged.

Harry carefully unwrapped his large present. He opened the lid of the box and gasped, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shining in astonishment. He slid the guitar out of the box, the expensive wood smooth and polished.

"It's a..." Harry drawled, his eyes round like two large saucers.

Harry's mouth flew open and closed.

"It's a Gibson ES 350," Niall finished for Harry, his eyes twinkling in mirth. "It was all Louis' idea."

"Really?" Harry asked, still starstruck and amazed at how stupidly wonderful and thoughtful his friends were.

Harry was the luckiest man in the world.

"Happy birthday, H," Louis supplied, shrugging modestly and smiling widely at him.

Harry dragged his fingertips across the guitar's surface, feeling the smooth glide of it. He gripped the guitar's elegant neck with nimble fingers, careful not to move the tuning machine. The guitar looked like it belonged in the hands of a world famous rockstar or a long-haired hipster backpacking across countries with only the guitar as his companion. It was perfect.

Harry looked up at Louis through his clumped eyelashes, something like awe brightening his eyes. He pinched the inner corners of his eyes and looped the guitar strap around his neck, feeling the nice weight of it settled against his chest. He opened his arms and embraced Louis in a tight hug, hiding his embarrassing, teary-eyed face in the place where Louis' neck met his shoulder.