A Piece of His Heart / larry uni AU

chapter eight

By the time November comes to a close, Louis is waking up at midnight naturally, seconds before the chime of his mobile.

He's hauling on far too many layers to count, shutting the flat door quietly behind himself before bounding toward the lift and into the street, the moonlight reflecting off of the frosted pavement below his shoes. The wind bites at his skin, his breath falls from his mouth in white billows, his lungs burn with exhaustion, but he never minds, he couldn't mind, because Harry's waiting for him at the pitch.

Then it's on—shoes to the grass, wits out the window, shouting windswept banter back and forth across the field as the football does the same, until they're sprawled out on the grass under the hazy moonlight, having fun like they haven't known each other for only two months. Louis may not know what home is, but he might've found the closest thing to it.

And even during the pangs of strangeness Louis feels when he thinks about what he's doing, really thinks about it—how he's completely comfortable around someone that he hasn't known as long as Zayn, or someone who isn't Zayn—Louis wouldn't want it any other way.

(Minus the occasional night where Louis wakes an annoyed and exhausted Zayn whilst entering the flat at four in the morning, for which Louis can't even try to be apologetic because his mind is just so full of Harry, Harry, Harry).

☆

            The temperature in the flat has dropped at least ten degrees in the past two hours. Or, at least, that's what Louis is claiming.

Because there is no way that his teeth should be chattering like this, his skin goosebumped and his hair raised, as he darts back into the living room from the toilet.

"Did you make it?" Harry calls out, one arm strew over the back of the sofa, his attention locked on some late-night sitcom rerun, "Because, for a minute there..."

Louis narrowly avoids the coffee table as he practically leaps back under the blanket, latching to the boy's side as the heat floods back into his veins, "Of course I made it." he chatters, but honestly, there's nothing obvious about it. He wouldn't have if the boy hadn't shoved him off the sofa and ordered he go to the toilet. Louis was beginning to vibrate.

Nevertheless, "Lou, you're freezing," Harry murmurs, finally tearing his eyes away from the television as he shimmies closer to Louis, "You've got on like a million layers... what's wrong with you?"

Louis shoves his icy toes under the boy's thighs and he doesn't even react, "Cold blooded." Louis admits, before tucking his face into the boy's neck. Luckily, Harry doesn't mind physical contact. Luckier, Harry's body radiates heat like a furnace.

Harry shifts his hips then, taking Louis' hands in his own. He rubs them back and forth, and then presses them to his chest. Louis can feel the heat under his palms.

"Why are you so warm? What's wrong with you?" Louis mocks, shutting his eyes as he exhales. His hands shake when the boy laughs, and when his hands are freed, Louis almost cries.

Until, "Come here." Harry whispers.

Louis' eyes pop open, looking at him skeptically, "What?" he asks.

The boy laughs again, sending shockwaves down Louis' spine. Then, without comment, the boy begins to lie down, the movement bringing Louis down with him. Louis ends up lying in front of the boy this time, his back presses to the boy's chest, the boy's arms wrapped around him.

Louis clicks the television off. Moonlight takes over. The room silences around them.

A moment passes.