Golden | ls au

8.

"Will you want to see me again after you go back?"

Harry's voice is quiet, barely listenable, muffled by the blankets around their bodies. Louis raises his head from where it was tucked, on the crook of Harry's neck, to fixate his vision on the singer's face.

There's a hint of a frown there, and Louis decides he hates any negative feeling stamped on Harry's expressions. "Of course, Hazza," He laces his hand on the other man's jaw, running his thumb in circles. Harry closes his eyes, cherishing the touch like it's the last. "What makes you think I won't want to see you again?" Louis adds, finding himself frowning too.

Harry shrugs, although the answer is tickling his lips. "It's just, you know how my life is," He pauses. Louis wants to grin at the characteristic slow speech. "You've been speaking to me for weeks and I think you got a good grasp of how my routine is and how much I travel around," He sighs, as if recognizing how he's rambling. Louis, on the other hand, finds it incredibly endearing. He continues, "Anyway, I want to say that I understand if you decide that you don't want to be a part of that, or if you get bored because I won't be able to give you proper attention all the time and I already have to go back to work in a couple days and-"

Even if Harry's voice is nothing but lovely to Louis, he interrupts his speech with a quick peck. The words that were echoing between the sheets were painful to hear, and the tone was coated in heartache that Louis never wants to listen again coming from Harry.

He pulls away and softens his voice as much as he can, "Breathe, love,"

Harry inhales then.

"Haz, I told you before, it does make me a bit nervous, but," He sees comprehension laced with hope in Harry's expression, dark under the dimmed light of his bedroom. He proceeds, "Since you've entered my life, I've been the happiest person alive." Louis says it with such sincerity that it even himself is stunned. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this."

"I feel the same, Lou." Harry's grinning, and Louis achingly spots the small tears that threaten to form on the singer's eyes. Louis understands it then; Harry doesn't have to tell him because he can read it. All the heartbreaks and deceptions that Harry probably went through, during all these years of fame. He can detect hints of past lovers who twisted his soul, and what's worst is that he can also identify guilt.

Louis kisses the top of his nose and ignores his own prickling tears. He tucks a curl behind Harry's ear, "You've changed my life without even trying."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully. "What can I say? I'm special."

"You really are." Louis confirms, loving the way the man is grinning. "My Hazza." He adds and he swears he feels Harry's melting inside his cuddle.

"I really like the sound of that." He kisses Louis' collarbone. "And you're my Lou?"

"I am. And you were right before, we are really disgusting." They chuckle tiredly and in unison. It's true, but neither of them would have it in any other way.

It's Louis that makes the first move, in the chill afternoon of the next day.

They're under the covers, curled up into each other on Harry's couch, an empty bowl that sits in the coffee table show the existence of popcorn once before. A third romantic-comedy - Harry's choice, of course - is playing on the large TV, and their fingers are intertwined together. The house echoes their voices, soft words and eventual laughter that rips the quietness around them.