As the light poured through the living room windows, Harry's eyes fluttered open. He couldn't help but smile at the warm brunette boy still asleep and pressed against his chest. Harry quickly glanced at the space above Louis' head, seeing that He still had the one, pulsing above his head. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes again and savoring the peaceful moment.
Louis, on the other hand, had been pretending to be asleep for the past three hours. It wasn't that he didn't love being in Harrys arms, but he was afraid.
Harry was hiding something from hin, and he knew it. It was pretty easy to tell that Harry kept nervously looking above his head, and didn't he once gasp when he looked there? Louis wasn't stupid.
Louis' heart stopped as he felt a kiss to his forehead. He grabbed Harry's shirt, cuddling deeper into him.
"Louis, what's wrong?" Harry asked softly, meeting Louis' gaze as he opened his eyes.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Louis mumbled, his voice deeper than usual.
Harrh frowned. He was feeling great, so what was Louis trying to say?
Oh.
It couldn't be. Had Louis already figured out Harry knew something that Louis didn't? Fuck, he had never had to explain his number... thing before.
Harry coughed.
"Are you going to tell me, or not?" Louis pressed.
"Later? Please, this is hard."
"Fine."
-------------------------
Harry frowned, ruffling his dark curly hair. How does one make scrambled eggs? It seemed so simple.
Cooking is stupid, actually.
The eggs were starting to burn, which created a displeasing odor that filled the apartment. Harry could hear Louis laughing from the living room, which meant he realized that Harry couldn't cook.
"This shouldn't be amusing, Lewis!" Harry yelled, completely frustrated with his lack of skills in preparing simple meals.
"What did you just call me?" Louis yelled back playfully. "Hey, is this your guitar?"
"Louis, dont touch tha-"
"I'M PLAYING THIS AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" Louis laughed, while Harry could hear him tuning his precious. Heh, he sounded like that one weird character from that one thing. What was his name? Hmmm.
Harry dropped the spatula as he heard Louis singing (and playing, on his fucking guitar, not like Harry was getting mad or anything pshh) a song he wasn't quite familiar with. But damn, Louis was talented.
"Hey there Delilah
What's it like in new York city
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty, yea you do
Time Square doesn't shine as bright as you
I swear its true."
Harry, of course, got distracted by the music. The eggs that were once only slightly burnt, became a charred and unrecognizable pile of black shit in the pan.
Louis walked in, handing Harry the guitar.
"I'll cook, you play." Louis ordered, pulling various things out of the refridgerator.
-----------------
After a surprisingly nice meal which consisted of toast, bacon, and pancake and equally nice guitar playing courtesy of Harry, Louis frowned. He was opening up really fast to Harry, and he'd never done that before. He didn't like it.
Louis wasn't one to push out of his comfort zone. At the moment, he just felt fat and bothered.
Louis pulled down the sleeves of his black jumper, deciding what to do. He and Harrg were seated on the couch, and Louis kept trying to inch further and further away.
Louis coughed. "Harry, I don't want to do this."
"What do you mean? Sitting? Okay that's fine we can go for a wa-"
"No, Harry."
Harry stopped talking and frowned, waiting for Louis to continue.
"Last night I said things I've never told anyone. I admitted to things I didn't want to admit. It's... scary. I don't want to have a reason to be here, but I can't even think of how it would feel to leave you without feeling sick to my stomach. I'm a scared little kid, practically, and I'm overwhelmed." Louis spoke, his eyes becoming glassy.
Harry felt horrible. Of all things, he especially didn't want to make Louis feel scared or confused in his presence.
Louis left.
--------------------
If Harry were with Louis after he had went back to his house, Harry would have noticed that Louis' number fell back to zero. If Louis knew that Harry could see such things, he would have assured Harry that it shouldn't be surprising. Louis still felt pretty dead inside, and some cuddles weren't going to fix everything Louis had been through.
Louia sat on his bed, eyes closed, thinking. He liked to look at everything with as many perspectives as possible. How did Harry feel? Should he be afraid? Was this stupid?
Louis began to feel bombarded with question, even though they were from his own mind, and it became harder to clear his thoughts. He opened his eyes, and they immediately drifted to his dresser drawers. The top drawer contained the things he'd always keep to himself: his blades, his pills, and his journal.
Louis' journal had a list of people in it, for a very important reason.
And maybe, just maybe, it was something that needed to be shared. Of course, Harry was the only person who he'd even consider sharing it with.
Louis opened the top drawer, struggling to ignore the blades catching the sunlight next to his journal. He quickly grabbed it, rubbing his thumb across the journal's brown leather.
