Golden | ls au

23.

"Do you know what I love about New York?" Harry speaks, voice almost lost within the city noises around them. Louis looks at him, finding the sight of features he's grown to love bathed in the beautiful and colorful lights of Times Square. "It's so busy and crowded that we get to do this without being bothered."

Harry squeezes their laced fingers together as they walked side by side on the busy boulevard. Louis smiles at the gesture, squeezing back and dropping his head in fondness. He hears Harry chuckling. "Or, maybe it's because it's night time and you're wearing this bloody coat that goes up to your ears."

The singer shrugs, glancing at his boyfriend. "No one's recognizing us yet, at least." Harry says, bending down and speaking low as if he's telling Louis a secret. 

The smaller man glances around, losing his gaze among the hundreds of unknown faces and buildings. He quite enjoys the ordinary parts of their relationship, the normality that doesn't come to them often. They manage to grasp that feeling by taking a walk on the busiest area of the busiest city, hand in hand with no destination in mind. 

It's endearing to see Harry looking around as if he's never been there before, pointing at places that held some sort of history to him and sharing tales that Louis is positive he will keep in his memory for as long as he can. 

"I missed this." Harry states at a certain point. Their eyes meet as they're waiting for a green light at the edge of a sidewalk. "You look wonderful, you know that?" Harry mutters, tone wavy and holding adoration.

"Shut up," Louis shakes his head and feels glad that the huge screens above them are disguising the blush that rises to his cheeks. The singer touches his jaw just as the pedestrian's lights flash green. Louis shivers, either from Harry's cold fingertips or the gesture itself. "Haz, the light's green," He informs, but the singer doesn't waver in his movements.

"Don't care." He pouts and laces his hands on his lover's face, cradling his features like it's made of gold. Louis drowns in Harry's eyes gazing down at him. "Wanna kiss you," He whispers just before their lips touch, warm and soft amid the gelid breeze.

It's ironic, how slow the time seem to pass in the seconds they spend there, lost within each other, all while being surrounded by nothing but hurry. When they break apart, the lights are flashing, and the couple runs to cross the busy avenue, a smile displayed on their faces like a prize. 

Luckily, no one recognizes them, or, if someone did, they didn't want to bother the moment and their kiss underneath the city lights.

The next morning, Louis wakes up alone.

He stretches his arms around the large mattress, in search of Harry's heated skin, longs limbs splattered on the sheets beside him, but he doesn't find it. Fluttering his eyes open, he confirms that Harry's side of the bed is empty, but still warm. 

His feet drag across the floor, pacing through the loft, wincing at the bright sunlight that invades the area from the rounded windows. He finds Harry in the kitchen, with his back turned to him, mixing something in a bowl quietly. As he approaches, Louis admires Harry's shirtless body, golden and tanned underneath the natural light, tattoos decorating his torso.

Harry barely jumps when he feels Louis' arms wrapping around him from behind, embracing tightly. "Morning, Lou," He mutters with a raspy voice. Louis is certain that he could write an entire song about the way that Harry melts into his embrace, letting out content breaths and going pliant under the display of affection.