I
Title: I
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry and Louis are alone at dusk. Very brief.
Louis switches off the television and, in the dark room, turns his head to look at Harry. His features are not quite in silhouette; the lights from the street and the dying sun outline the slope of his nose, his cheeks, the shadow of his hair. “What?” Harry mumbles, more out of sleepiness than embarrassment.
“I just...” Louis trails off, and Harry nods, squirming his way into Louis’ arms and settling his head just beneath Louis’ chin, his back to Louis’ front. Louis wraps his arms around him, one resting straight across Harry’s clavicle and the other reaching under the younger boy’s arms to settle across his upper abdomen. Harry hums contentedly, and Louis smiles into his hair. They lay there a bit, just like that, breathing.
Eventually, as the night outside grows more lit with traffic lights and jumbotrons than sunset, Harry turns over in Louis’ arms. “What?” Louis murmurs.
“I want...” comes Harry’s muffled reply, as he presses his ear to the center of Louis’ chest.
“Oh,” Louis says. Harry’s got his own arms around Louis now, lazily loose but entirely sturdy. Louis reaches up a hand to card his fingers through Harry’s curls, and Harry gives a little sigh. It occurs to Louis that, considering the position they’re in, and Harry’s height... “Are your feet falling off the side?” he asks.
Harry chuckles. “Just a bit. I don’t mind.” Louis laughs along with him, breathing in the scent of Harry’s shampoo mixed with cologne. They lie quietly for a moment, and Louis thinks that Harry has fallen asleep, when--“Lou,” he murmurs.
“What?” Louis murmurs back. Harry doesn’t answer. They breathe almost in unison, until Louis repeats, “What do you want, Harry?”
Harry exhales. Then, slowly, he says, “I...”
And Louis hears the end even though it wasn’t said out loud. “Oh,” he says.
“Yeah.” Harry’s eyes are probably closed; Louis can feel his breathing start to even out.
Louis says, “I.”
And Harry lifts his head. “Yeah?”
Louis eases that mop of hair back down to its resting place on his rising and falling chest. “‘Fraid so.”
“Don’t fall asleep,” Harry slurs. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”
“I won’t,” Louis responds. “Hey.” He rolls out from under Harry, finding the other boy’s wrist and tugging him off of the bed. “Come to the window,” he says, so Harry does. They kneel, side by side, on the floor, their faces illuminated by the city below them. Louis watches a small tourist family struggle to merge with the group of crossers in the intersection. The little girl is on wobbly legs, probably from traversing the city all day. Her father lifts her onto his shoulders as they reach the corner of the opposite side of the street, and Louis smiles vaguely.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Harry murmurs into Louis’ shoulder.
“What is?” Louis asks, partially turning to him.
“How many people there are,” Harry replies.
Louis nods. “More than six billion, and we’ll never know their names.”
“They might know ours,” Harry adds wryly, and Louis shoves him lightly with his shoulder.
“Comforting thought, that.” He watches Harry’s face as Harry continues to watch the city. “Still tired?” he asks.
“Not really,” Harry says, yawning, and Louis grins.
“Bed, then,” Louis suggests.
Harry gives him an incredulous look. “Not to sleep!” he whines.
Louis laughs, quietly but enthusiastically, throwing his head back. “Fine.”
They return to the bed. Harry lies supine and Louis prone, one arm flung across the younger boy’s body and nose buried in his neck. After a time, Louis lifts his head and pulls back so that the two are lying face to face on a single pillow. “What?” Harry murmurs, and Louis is fascinated by the shape of his lips.
“It’s silly,” Louis whispers. “Kisses. Kisses are silly. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a mouth touching another mouth.”
“It is a big deal,” Harry says, his eyes large and earnest as always. “It’s crossing a line from one thing into another thing.”
“You’ve kissed loads of people,” Louis points out.
“So have you,” Harry returns, turning his head back up to face the ceiling. “But... it’s different.”
“Yeah.” Louis reaches up a hand to trace Harry’s jaw with a single finger. “This light, it’s...” he can feel Harry’s breath on his fingers. “You’re lovely.”
“Lou,” Harry says roughly, and it sounds to Louis’ ears like a plea. He’s looking at Louis again, eyes still wide and shining.
“How can we call it crossing a line, Haz?” he asks. “From where I’m standing, that line looks long-crossed.” He hides his face in the curve where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder.
“What are you afraid of, then?” Harry half-whispers--Louis can still hear his voice in the words, even though it’s mostly air.
Everything, he doesn’t say. “I,” he says instead, helplessly.
A choked little laugh bubbles out of Harry’s throat. “I,” he replies.
Louis makes a thumbs-up against the side of Harry’s face, fingers curled in the hollow of his cheek and thumb swiping from the bridge of his nose to the far end of his cheekbone. “Silly,” he murmurs, and Harry inches forward. Eyes half-lidded, they each breathe in and out slowly onto each other’s lips, barely centimeters apart. Finally, Louis’ lips brush Harry’s, and Harry gives a shaky little sigh. Louis presses harder, and Harry presses back, and their arms wind around each other and their heads tilt just the right angle, and Louis is as frightened as he’s ever been of anything in his life, but feels simultaneously at ease.
“Don’t want to sleep,” Harry murmurs against his lips, his hands gripping Louis’ hands in his curly locks.
“Have to eventually,” Louis says fairly. He feels Harry’s grin, and it’s contagious.
“I just want...” Harry tries, losing his train of thought as Louis peppers kisses up and down his jaw.
“I just...” Louis continues between his simple series of pressures of lips to skin.
“I,” Harry teases, giggling.
“Yeah,” Louis says, settling his mouth just above Harry’s temple and squeezing his arms tightly around the younger boy. “I, too.”