I Want to Write You a Song

Won't You Stay Till the AM?

Dear Louis,

No, too formal. Harry rips the page from his notebook and tosses it aside.

Hi Boobear,

He proceeds to pour his heart out onto the page, writing frantically as if he's running out of time. In a way, he is. By the time he finishes, he's shaking on the sofa.

"Haz?"

Harry jumps in his seat.

"Hey it's just me." Louis whispers.

Harry looks up at his sleep-disheveled boyfriend. Messy fringe covers his bloodshot eyes, and he's wearing nothing but boxers and a pair of bunny slippers. Harry had gotten him those slippers for his birthday as a joke, but Louis ended up loving them.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. "Hi," he whispers.

This coaxes Louis' lips into a faint smile. "Oops."

"Lou, what are you doing up?"

Louis frowns. "I could ask you the same thing, Love."

"I just... just..." Harry trails off, staring at his hands as they fidget with his notebook.

"Couldn't sleep?" Louis finishes for him, plopping down beside him on the sofa.

Harry nods in response. "I was writing you a letter."

Louis is taken a back. "It's five AM," his arched eyebrows raise, "Can I read it?"

Harry quickly shakes his head, wrapping his arms around the notebook. "Not yet."

Louis crosses his arms. "Well when can I then?"

Harry thinks for a moment, his brows knit in concentration. He doesn't want to lie to Louis, but he doesn't know how to answer honestly. Finally he sighs and says, "I don't know yet. Hard to say."

Louis nods slowly, even though he doesn't quite get what Harry means. "Will it be soon?"

Harry swallows thickly. "I hope not."

The implications of Harry's words wash over Louis, threatening to choke him. He wants to scream. He wants to puke. He wants to hug Harry so tight that nothing can ever separate them, not even death. But Louis is tired. So so tired.

Finally he lets out a sigh. "I think it's time for bed."

He never asks about the letter again.