Caught [l.s] (boyxboy)

IM Crazy

this is such a cute chapter asjkn dhfjn

i swore i wasn't gonna do this but i couldn't helP i t okay

also go vote for me in the bromance awards or you're fired 

____________

It's been four months. 

A good four months, Louis might add. An excellent four months. He might even go as far as to say that they had been the best four months of his life, actually. 

Harry is great. Louis is great because Harry is great. Part of the reason behind Harry's greatness is Louis, so really, it's a win-win situation. They're about to start their next tour and they've got the support of millions of people behind them, a more ideal situation than Louis had anticipated, and Louis's head has cleared up a drastic amount in the past weeks. Harry is more Harry and less Asshole, making Louis more Louis and less Dickhead, so it's great. It really is. 

It's a sunny Thursday morning and Louis is wakes slowly to the sound of birds chirping and cars whizzing past on the streets. Harry is already awake, green eyes peering at Louis as he squirms and eventually turns on his side to stare right back. The darkness of Harry's hair against the white pillowcase is a beauty of its own. Louis marvels at it, actually, letting his heavy eyes slip shut as he tries to burn the image in his brain. You know, for the rest of time. 

Harry speaks so quietly and suddenly that he almost misses it. "Marry me."

Louis freezes, one curious eye popping open to meet Harry's. He pinches the skin of his thigh just to make sure he isn't actually asleep or dead or something, and then he sits up, leaning on his forearms and blinking slowly at Harry. Harry doesn't move, doesn't even flinch, but his gaze follows Louis the entire time. "Come again?"

"I said," Harry mumbles, scooting his bum further up the bed and facing Louis better. His voice is much clearer when it's not muffled against a pillow, so Louis is certain he's heard him correctly. "Marry me."

Louis doesn't know what to say. He feels like he's been struck by lightning. A wave of an inexpiable shock rolls throughout the entirety of his body and his fingertips feel like they're pulsing with energy. His tongue becomes a heavy, dry lump of sandpaper and his breath becomes as cold as ice. "Oh." 

Harry cocks an eyebrow at him, all pretty and proper as he sits up and folds his hand in his duvet covered lap. "Oh?"

"Oh," Louis breathes. Or doesn't. He's not sure. "I- are you-"

"Joking? No."

Louis swallows his retaliation when Harry beats him to it. "And I'm not pranking you either."

He's speechless, is the thing. Louis literally can not for the absolute life of him remember how to say anything. So, without much of a choice, he sits and stares at Harry. He's pretty sure his jaw is in his own lap, but he's too numb to really be certain. Harry, being the polite saint that he is, scoots closer to Louis, hands still folded, and waits patiently for his response. He has this small trace of a smile on his face that makes Louis want to stab himself repeatedly, because goddamn, Harry is beautiful.

He's shirtless and tanned and muscled and Louis just wants to claim every square centimeter of his body, really, and when he's done he's certain he wouldn't mind wrecking Harry as well. Or the other way around. Louis is flexible, he can deal with either or. 

Finally, finally, finally, after a solid thirty seconds Louis remembers how to function. He plans out his response strategically and with great care but he sort of throws that away as soon as his mouth opens. "You are fucking mental."