R O O M 1 9 7 // Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson Edition

Twelve

~Saturday 31st December 2016~

06:31am

Accustomed to early morning starts to his days, Louis wakes first - slowly, adjusting his eyes when the sun's rays stretch in through the open curtains. His muscles are tight under his skin, as he sits up, turning his body away from the light and placing his feet on the white rug below him. And, if it isn't for the darkening love bite he finds settled on the side of his chest, he may have forgotten what happened last night. Or atleast believed it to be a dream.

He turns now, looking back over his shoulder to the body sprawled out across the left side of this bed, entangled with sheets, his hair a mess of brunette on the pillow. Harry doesn't wake from his slumber, as Louis tenderly runs his hand through the thick curls that encircle Harry's face. He smiles widely at the peaceful expression that Harry holds when he lets out a quiet snore, and traces his fingers over the beautiful shapes that dance along his skin as the sun rises.
Louis leaves the room, after closing the bedroom curtains - and starts making tea with the tea bags that Harrison bought him for his birthday in the small kitchen, hoping the loud noise won't awaken Harry. He takes this moment of alone time to stand by the large window and look out across the city around him, finding some peace in the chaos. The sun is dull now, hiding behind a group of grey clouds, but Louis can still feel it's warmth as the city of Chicago wakes up. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out - not out of frustration or stress, which had become his core emotions, as of late - but, because he genuinely feels relieved. And, dare he say it, happy.
Tomorrow will be a whole new year. A whole new sunrise.

The drawn-out yawn that comes from the adjacent room a few minutes later, makes Louis smile again, as he strolls over to the bed, two cups of tea in hand. Harry is stretching, sitting up in the centre of the bed, as Louis appears, placing both mugs on his bedside table, before sitting himself down beside the tired boy.
"They both for you?" Harry asks, smirking already, nodding towards the steaming cups. Louis chuckles, shaking his head, as he grabs one and passes it, placing it into Harry's waiting hands. Harry's fingers are cold as Louis grazes past them.
"No." Louis grins. "I could use a second cup, though. After last night." he adds, winking at Harry as he takes his first sip of the boiling liquid. Harry almost spits his drink out, at Louis' words, shocked at his shameless mention of last night's antics. But, he stops himself, swallowing the tea and matching Louis' smile with his own, as Louis brings his hand to Harry's knee, in a gesture of fondness.
They both finish their drinks in near silence, before Harry stands to dress himself.

"You can't wear that!" Louis comments, as Harry separates his uniform from the pile of clothes left on the floor. Harry shrugs his shoulders in a gesture of 'why not?'. "You wore it yesterday. It'll be all sweaty and gross by now." he adds, laughing quietly at Harry's perplexed face.
"What else am I supposed to wear, then?!" Harry says, putting a hand on his hip, which makes Louis only laugh louder. "We're in your hotel room, Louis. I have no other clothes." Harry is half-tempted to wear his stinky uniform just to spite Louis, as he speaks.
"You can wear something of mine." Louis suggests, matter-of-fact, leaning back against the headboard, his arms locked behind his head, admiring the view. "And thanks for finally calling me by my actual name. It's a nice change from the constant 'Mr Tomlinson'." he says, cheekily, winking at Harry again, to which Harry over-dramatically rolls his eyes.

"Slight problem with that. I don't know if you've noticed, but I am a whole head taller than you. There's no way anything belonging to you will ever fit me...Mr Tomlinson." Harry objects, adding the last part just to spite Louis, before gesturing at his lanky body. Louis moves now, walking over to the large black wardrobes that cover the right side of the room, and opening a single door, tapping his fingers against the painted wood, in a rhythmic manner, thinking, as Harry waits.
"Ahhh," he announces, his head reappearing from out of the closet door, a grin plastered across his face. "I have just the thing!" Louis yells out, and Harry rolls his eyes again.