me, him, and the moon ☾ l.s.

eight - blue eyes

First thing in the morning, as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Louis snuck back into Harry's bedroom. Harry was still fast asleep, tiny puffs of air escaping his slightly-parted lips. The corners of Louis's mouth tugged up fondly at the adorable sight, and he climbed up onto the window seat, planning to watch as the abandoned main street started to come to life. Instead, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Harry's sleeping form.

Louis had spent a restless night tossing and turning in his bed, desperate to know if Harry was okay. Vivid images of the curly-haired boy bleeding on the forest floor haunted his memory, and he could just imagine Harry's wound reopening in the middle of the night, leaving him forever cursed by the fact that he had left the boy to bleed out while he was sleeping.

Somehow, Louis let himself trust Harry's magic. It was nothing he had ever seen before, but he could trust any miracle if he knew that Harry was the one behind it.

After just a few minutes, Harry stirred, groaning quietly as he stretched. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was Louis, watching over him intensely from his perch on the window seat. Harry smiled, rubbing his eyes a few more times to make sure he wasn't still dreaming.

"Sleep okay?" Louis asked, his voice still thick and raspy as he spoke for the first time that morning. He gracefully hopped down from the window and crouched beside the bed so that he was face to face with the younger boy.

Harry shook his head, pouting. "I feel awful," he complained, snuggling further into the blankets.

"Are you sick? Is it your shoulder?" Louis worried. He brushed his knuckles across the soft skin of Harry's cheek. He felt a bit warmer than usual, but nothing too serious.

"Shoulder's fine. I don't know if I'm sick. I don't think I am," Harry replied, his words still slow and drawn out, as if speaking took every ounce of his drained energy. "Just tired. And weird."

Louis frowned, his concern left unappeased. "Well, maybe you need to sleep some more."

"It's too cold in here," Harry whined, burying his face in his pillow.

"Want me to close the window?" Louis asked, already standing up from his kneeling position to move toward the open window.

Before he could even reach it, a gust of wind blew through the room, slamming the window shut with a loud bang. Louis glanced back at Harry over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Harry just sighed contentedly, snuggling further into the blankets.

"You don't have to get up now. Just go back to sleep for a while, and hopefully you'll feel better when you wake up later," Louis said, barely resisting the urge to reprimand Harry for using his magic so carelessly. He could let it slide just this once, only because it was just the two of them.

"I have to work this morning," Harry informed him, sighing dramatically as if he had only just remembered. He already felt a bit less sleepy, although he felt like his exhaustion had already settled deep into his bones. "I'll be fine, though, I just need to --"

"I already spoke to Niall," Louis cut him off. "I told him what happened last night, and he's covering your shift today."

Harry froze, gaping up at the older boy. His eyes flicked toward the window, clearly assessing time based on the warm, dim light that shone through the glass. "When did you have a chance to speak to Niall? It's only just past dawn."

Louis shrugged nonchalantly. "As soon as I left here last night, I went to tell him what happened. And I told him you wouldn't be working today."

"You woke him up in the middle of the night?!"