You're the place my life begins. [l.s]

Part IV.

       Harry comes back to their flat at night. He enters the place trying to make the lesser noise possible because he wants to surprise his lover. So he takes off his shoes and tip-toes to their shared room, -which once was only Harry’s -, and when he’s about to yell ‘surprise!’ he notices that the bedroom is empty. He frowns, and goes back.

            “In the kitchen, Styles!” He hears a yell from the other side of the place, and he can’t help the smile, even if his little surprise has been ruined. What on earth is Louis doing in the kitchen? He will definitely find out.

            When he enters the area, Louis is right in front of the stove, with a spatula in a hand and a frying pan in the other. He is wearing a loose Hulk t-shirt and sweatpants, and to Harry, he looks comfortable and cuddly. His hair is sticking out in every direction possible, except for the strands closer to his forehead -which are styled messily to the left- and the ones that are damp with sweat and have stuck to his skin. He turns around and discharges the content of the pan in two plates. Gosh, a blue apron is hanging from his neck, and if the sight does not melt Harry’s heart, then he does not know what the tingling between his ribs is.   

            “I made dinner.” Louis announces, smiling proudly and pointing at the dishes to prove his point. The younger man’s face softens and he swears his heart is doing all kinds of pirouettes at the gesture. And since he has been in a flashback mood lately, he remembers when Louis cooked his very first meal ever, when they were still in The X Factor House, just for Harry.

            “Good, because I’m hungry!” Harry declares and Louis delicately pushes him to their dining table and makes him take a seat.

            “Wait here,” Louis orders as he points at him with his index finger, all eager and energetic, and goes back to the kitchen. He comes back with two plates, places them on the table, returns to the kitchen and then comes back with two cups and wine. Harry only watches him go back and forth, amused.  Lastly, he takes a seat by his boyfriend’s side in the huge table.

            When people think about romantic dinners, they usually have the image of a table lit with candles and all types of fancy food, but that is not this case. Louis does not cook, at all. So, what he has made is spaghetti with a spicy onion sauce which recipe he has found on the blog cooking-for-dummies.

            Harry tastes the food, the pasta is a bit sticky and doughy and, the sauce is a little watery, but Harry has never enjoyed any meal this much. He thinks the fried vegetables are a nice touch, and he is one hundred percent positive that the other man’s dedication has been the main ingredient.

            “This tastes horrid,” Louis says as he finishes chewing on a few noodles, disappointment taking the place of his former enthusiasm.

            “I love it,” Harry says, because it is true and he wants Louis to know, wants Louis to know how much he appreciates what he has done.

            “You do?”

            “Yeah,” as if to prove his point, he takes a mouthful of noodles to his mouth, beaming in delight, “but if you don’t like it, then, more for me!” He makes an attempt of grabbing Louis’s plate, but his hand is slapped and the plate is taken away from him.

            “Shove off, Styles!”

            During the rest of the dinner, Louis watches Harry eat. Fondness crystal clear in his blue eyes. Because he is aware that the dish is not good, yet Harry eats it, genuinely pleased. He wonders in what point of his life he has gotten so lucky.

            “Oh, Harry, what were you doing at your mother’s?” Louis asks, only a bit curious, with the intention of creating a conversation and wanting to know about the other’s day.

            “I, um,” the question has taken him by surprise, so he struggles to come up with a lie, and he feels like the most horrible human being for not being honest to his lover, but he guesses that this time, the end  justifies the means, “I… well, she wanted to show me, like, Gemma’s ultrasound.”

            “Woah, that is amazing!” Louis exclaims, all excited. He has been witness to many births, (his sisters, Lux, Liesel, keep counting) but babies always fill him with anticipation and eagerness. “Why didn’t you tell me to go with you? I would have loved to see the baby too.”

            “Um, no worries, um, it’s just an ultrasound, she has another, um, in two weeks, I think.” He stutters a bit, his gaze down on the food. Louis frowns because it is not like Harry to take something so important that lightly, but shrugs it off.

            When they finish their meal, they head straight to the sofa for a movie marathon. They pick Despicable Me, Love Actually and Ju-On: The Curse. Harry protests, he does not like horror movies. But they have a deal when it comes to their weekly movie marathon: Harry gets to pick one, Louis picks one and the last one is picked by both. And Louis has picked The Curse, just because it is really terrifying and a scaredy Harry is something he cannot resist.

            In the end, he falls asleep halfway through Love Actually, and though Harry is usually asleep by the time the second movie gets to its fortieth minute, he cannot close his eyes for longer than what it takes to blink. There are two questions floating in his mind: where will he propose and, how?

            He thinks about a dinner in Rosso, but that is too cliché, even for him. He thinks about going hang gliding and have the words marry me written on the field so Louis can see it from above, but that would be to go overboard. And he would be scared shitless, but he is not close to admitting that. The idea of a dinner in a lonely beach also goes through his mind, and so does the idea of making a special breakfast and pop the question while Louis is still on bed. But none of his ideas give him the excitement he is looking for.

            It’s only after Harry has grabbed the remote and turned off the TV that the perfect idea comes to his mind. And with a foolish smile, he falls asleep on Louis’s chest.

*

I feel like this wouldn't be a proper LouisandHarry fic if I didn't include Love Actually,haha. If you read this, thank you! Please, tell me if I have grammar mistakes, English isn't my native language