Foolishly Laying Our Hearts On The Table (Larry Stylinson)

Three

Another week goes by and maybe he's not thinking about it as much as he was, the conversations, the video, but Harry is definitely still thinking about it. It's proving impossible not to, when Louis is around him all the time. And Harry starts really thinking about that too, about why Louis is always around, in a way he never has before.

He knows why he wants Louis around, on an almost constant basis no less, because he's in love with him and his insides feel that bit more complete when Louis is in his sights. And he doesn't consider himself clingy or anything, it's just, if the opportunity arises for them to spend time together, Harry's going to take it, and as it happens, opportunities arise pretty often, most days in fact.

It's Louis that's the clingy one. He'd never acknowledge it, but Louis' comfort has always come from the familiar, the safe, the known. He's never relished being thrown in with a bunch of new people when he can be surrounded by family and friends he loves and trusts instead, and sometimes that ends up with him coming across as a bit needy. Harry will never openly admit how much he likes being needed by Louis, but now he's confused where that neediness comes from. Is it just, as Harry had previously suspected, comfort in the familiar, or could there be something more to it? Harry knows what he hopes for, but also sadly what's more likely.

If only he could stop tormenting himself.

***

They're walking towards the cinema to see the latest Star Wars film, wrapped up against the bitterly cold December air when Louis pats Harry's arm. "Let me just get some money out," he says, thumbing in the direction of the cash machine to their left and Harry nods his head, slowing his pace right down so Louis can catch up easily when he's finished.

He idly looks into the windows of the shops he passes as he goes, a chemist, a charity shop, one selling shoes, and pauses when he reaches an estate agent. There's a wall of A4 perspex holders behind the glass, each containing a listing of a house for sale. He's reading the particulars of a three-bed townhouse when Louis sidles up to him.

"Thinking of getting on the property ladder, eh?"

"You never know," Harry responds half-heartedly, trying in vain to bury notions of building a home with the man beside him. He fails. "If you had to buy one, which one would you go for?"

If Louis thinks the question is strange, he doesn't show it. Harry stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for him to finish scanning through the listings. "None of them," he admits eventually, sounding a bit sad about it. "They're all a bit pricey and way too big."

Harry's eyes stay glued to the window, going for casual indifference, like he hasn't been thinking about possible conversations just like this one for weeks. "Not if you were buying with someone else? Like as a family home?"

"Oh, uh, well I guess this one could be nice," Louis taps on the glass in front of him. A three-bed detached property with a nice front garden and a large, newly-decorated, open living space. It's one of the more moderately priced houses in the collection.

"Yeah?"

"What?"

"Just thought you would go for something a bit grander," Harry clarifies. "Maybe in an old castle somewhere?" He watches Louis' face for any flicker of recognition, but only gets a confusion.

"Why would I want to live in a castle?"

Harry smiles at him. "It would be fun? Could call yourself Lord Tomlinson."

Louis grins back, lips spreading and lighting up his face. "That's King Tomlinson to you." He playfully pinches Harry's side.

Harry flinches and yanks his hand from his pocket to swat Louis away. "Apologies, your Royal Highness."

"You're excused," Louis says with a wink, turning back to the window. "What would, um, which one would you choose?"

Harry points out the four-bed farmhouse in the top left-hand corner. "This one I think. Homely, nice views to wake up to, and plenty of space in the garden for the kids to run around. Maybe even have a trampoline."

Louis scoots over and cranes his neck, coming in so close that Harry can smell the traces of cologne he put on this morning, can count the freckles on his cheek. "Why does it not surprise me you'd want a trampoline?" He turns his face, eyes so blue and cheeks rosy from the wind and it wouldn't take much for Harry to lean forward and kiss him, whisper his plans of house-buying and babies and happily-ever-afters against Louis' ripe, soft mouth. To finally give in.

He takes a step back instead. "Guess you know me too well."

Louis looks back at the farmhouse once more. "Maybe," he mutters after a beat. "Come on then, we're gonna miss the film."