we'll blow them all away: harry/louis
title: we'll blow them all away
rating: pg
pairing: harry/louis
word count: 502
summary: louis doesn't dream, but harry can't sleep.
disclaimer: i am not affiliated with one direction other than being obsessed with them. title comes from "i'll hold my breath" by ellie goulding (x)
until you see me in your dreams
we'll stay awake beneath the trees
we'll watch the buildings turn to dust
a sky of diamonds just for us
*
if harry lay just so, he could feel louis’ heart beat underneath his ear. he could feel the steady rise and fall of his bare chest and he used his pointer finger to lightly trace patterns and pictures across his stomach. louis was a deep sleeper. his eyes would never have any movement behind his eyelids, and harry once asked him if he dreamt at all.
“if i do, i never remember them in the morning,” louis explained.
harry had simply nodded then.
this had been the third night in a row that harry had awoken with a start in the middle of the night. the clock was moving towards 04:30 and louis had laid as still and unaware as ever. louis didn’t move in his sleep; he had said before that his little sisters would constantly crawl into his room to find comfort from their nightmares and if he rolled around too much they would shove at him until he stopped.
harry wasn’t having nightmares. that wasn’t why he kept waking up at odd hours, only to be coaxed back to sleep by feeling louis’ arm tighten around his waist. he was starting to think he that kept waking up to make sure louis was still there.
louis is the most silent sleeper, and the only thing that convinces harry that he’s still alive is his steady heartbeat and the melodic rise and fall of his chest.
harry loves to look at the way that lou’s eyelashes lay in a crescent, dusting against his cheekbones, and how his hair wisps across his forehead. harry reaches his hand up to lightly brush his hair away from where it was falling onto his eyelids and rubs his thumb against his forehead, smoothing out the indents of the lines that creased there when louis gave one of his “judging you” faces.
harry moved his hand back against louis’ shoulder and placed his ear back over his heart, breathing in the smell of his skin. louis smelled like grass and fresh air, like mint and black tea. harry watched as the light from the moon leaked through the blinds of their room, creating striped patterns across louis’ chest and harry’s hands. sometimes harry stayed awake long enough to watch the light change through the window, and the soft daylight would turn louis’ skin into a soft orange, to a light pink, to the muffled yellow of the sunrise. the strips of darkness against their skin would soften and louis would be woken up by the sun’s beams hitting his eyelids.
louis would wake up slowly, as if his entire body would adjust to catch up with his brain and senses. he would roll over onto his side and pull harry into him tighter, breathe into harry’s curls before leaning down and pressing soft lips against his forehead.
“hi, curly,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. harry smiled and wrapped his arms around louis’ neck, burying his face where it curved into his shoulder.