Onwards and Upwards ➢ Larry Stylinson

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

A/N: This is insanely, crazily fluffy and ridiculous on so many levels. It's so sappy and sweet and dorky that it's almost embarrassing, but, y’know. It happens.
Title/all lyrics used in this one shot are from “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran. (Listen to link on the right while reading!!)
I don't own anything/anyone....again....
Not edited, as usual, so sorry about mistakes, I will get around to fixing them at some point.
Hope you like this one, because it makes me happy and I hope it makes you happy too :)

****

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

****

Description: Louis’ really sick and tired of it all, but Harry’s there. Harry’s always there.
Reality, takes place at the Paris stop of the WWA Tour

****

“I already told you, I’m fucking over it. I’m over all of this.”

Louis is pacing back and forth inside of his hotel room, – the one with a small, single bed that belongs to him and him only, mind you, not a king-sized bed fit for two the way he’d wanted because he’s “not allowed” to share a room with Harry – trying to steady his breathing.

Harry is sitting on the edge of said single bed, looking up at Louis with wide eyes. Louis refuses to look into them, lest he break down into tears.

“We’re in bloody Paris, of all fucking places,” Louis hisses, pivoting and pacing even faster in the opposite direction, “and I’m not even allowed to go outside with you, much less be seen with you. You know how much I fucking love Paris, and you know how much I wanted to take you to that amazing crepe place that I went to last time they made me come here with Eleanor.” He’s talking so fast that he thinks his lungs might burst, but he doesn’t give two shits. He’s angry. He likes the burning sensation, feels like it’s the only thing about his life that he can control at the moment. “They’re not even letting us go out with the lads as a group -- which I really wouldn’t have minded, as long as I got to be with you -- because of the whole mobbing thing!”

“We don’t want anyone to get hurt, Lou, the mobbing thing is reasonable,” Harry says soothingly, but then a pout creeps its way onto his face. “Wait, you went to a cute crepe place in Paris with Eleanor?”

“Now is not the time to get whiny, Harry,” Louis says, a bit more bitingly than he’d been planning on. “I just fucking told you that I wanted to go there with you. Not her. She’s a friend. Don’t do this again. I hate arguing with you.”

Harry’s pout only grows into a full-on frown. “Hey,” Harry whines, just like Louis knew he would, “Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean that you need to take it out on me. I’m in the exact same position you are, love.”

Louis stops, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten in his head, the way his mum had taught him as a child. “Every time you’re upset or angry about something,” she’d said, “stop and breathe. You never want to do anything you might regret.”

And yes, Louis is twenty-two years old. Yes, he’s fully aware that he’s being foolish, that he’s acting like a toddler. But he can’t do this anymore, he really can’t.

He sinks into the small chair in the corner of the room, shoulders slumping. He can feel the tears pricking his eyes, and he swallows thickly, trying to keep them at bay. “I know,” he says in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry. I just can’t help it sometimes, Haz. I love you.” He looks up now, looks Harry in the eyes. The amount of affection he finds there still makes his gut twist and his heart flutter. “I love you,” he says again, “and I hate that they say I’m ‘not supposed to.’ I hate that they keep doing this. I want us to be able to tell them. I don’t want anything more in the world.”