Brave Love (Larry Stylinson)

one

♡

Brave love, 
come, lean to my wound;
burn on, burn on.

—Sylvia Plath, "Firesong"

♡

The first thing Louis noticed upon entering their apartment was that it was pinker than usual.

He stared at a chain of paper hearts lining the wall as he kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket in the general direction of the closet. The hearts looked handmade, because of course, what else would he expect when his roommate was Harry Styles?

Walking in further was like diving into an explosion of cheesy, romantic decorations colored in varying shades of pink and red. There was a lot of glitter. It wasn't exactly Louis' style but he could still admit it looked pretty.

"Harry," Louis called out, because he knew he was home by the keys in the little ceramic dish by the door. It was the one Harry made in a poetry class for the specific purpose of decreasing the amount of times Louis lost his keys to the apartment and had to call him to let him in. He was a little disorganized which meant Harry was his better half in the way that he kept everything tidy and orderly. "Did you... decorate for Valentine's Day?"

Louis didn't see him in the living room or the kitchen, but the place was small enough that he knew Harry heard him, wherever he was.

"I mean, it's pretty and everything, but, like... why."

There was a huff of indignance behind him. Louis turned around to see him standing in the dark hallway that led to their bedrooms.

"Why not?" he countered, crossing his arms over his torso. "I like it."

Louis squinted at him, unsure. It was typical teasing but his voice sounded off.

"Is everything okay?"

Harry shrugged, tucking his chin to his chest and brushing past Louis to head into the living room. Louis watched him sit down on the couch and turn the TV on, flipping through channels without any change in affect. His arms were still wrapped around his stomach, bare feet on the coffee table.

"Do you have a cold?" Louis wondered, taking in the paleness of his face and the splotchy red that discolored it. The puffiness around his eyes, too. And- oh. Louis was over by his side before he could think about it. After years of experience, he knew what his best friend looked like after crying. They had been through it all before: sappy movies, stressful workdays, family emergencies, and even just feeling like shit for no reason at all. "Harry, what happened?"

"Nothing," he muttered, sounding vaguely bitter. He dragged his palms down his face and rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. When he pulled his hands away, uncovering his face, his gaze shifted to a spot on the floor. "I broke up with David."

"Oh." That made much more sense than whatever bad thing Louis was thinking happened to him, but it wasn't at all what he was expecting. He leaned into the cushion with his body turned toward his friend and put his arm over the back of the couch. He wanted to move closer to comfort him but wasn't sure if the close proximity would be helpful or harmful. "I'm sorry, H, that's really tough."

Harry and David had been dating since the end of summer, and since it was February... that meant they had been together for almost six months. Half a year. That was a fairly long time, but by no means the longest relationship Harry had ever been in. He was one of those people who always had a steady, serious boyfriend. No funny business with him. This was one of Louis' biggest woes.