(no subject)
Title: Promises
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Summary: "Call him." Taylor says. And he does.
AN: A drabble in which I vent all the pain from the past 24 hours. Basically Louis needs Harry and Harry needs Louis but all they have is a phonecall and their imaginations.
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Harry shifts again, the too-hard floor of the hotel room digging into his back despite the carpet feeling nothing but soft against his bare feet an hour beforehand. He can't sleep. And neither can Taylor, by the sounds of things. The bed sheets rustle, followed shortly by a soft sigh, then a thump. (Which Harry's guessing is her trowing an arm across her pillow, but he's not too sure.)
"I'm sorry." he says, voice quiet in the dark. He doesn't even know why he's apologising. For using her? But that's not his fault. For invading her privacy? Again, all management. But then Taylor sits up, and he can see her now, pajama's loose around her thin frame and hair piled messily atop of her head. She looks exhausted.
"Call him." she says simply, rubbing at her eyes, and if Harry didn't know any better he'd say she looked so young like this, so innocent. "You know you won't get any sleep unless you do."
Harry's stomach flips a little. He remembers what Louis had been like before he'd been sent here; remembers the slurred 'I love you's and the face they all know means he's trying not to cry. And she's right. He needs to hear Louis' voice right now because he knows. He knows what Louis' feeling because for the past fourteen months he's been feeling the exact same way.
He smiles thankfully, she probably can't see it in the dark so he murmurs a small gesture of appreciation just in case, fetching his mobile from under his pillow and squinting against the harsh light from the screen. 03:22am. Louis' awake, though. He can tell.
The phone rings once, twice, then he's being connected and there's silence for a moment, nothing but shallow breathing and terribly muted sniffs until- "Harry?"
Harry bites his lip. "Hey, Lou."
Taylor settles back down, pulling the quilt over her head to give them a moments privacy, and although Harry would have much preferred to be alone, he knows it's the best she can do right now.
"I miss you." Louis admits, quiet. "And your snuggles. A-and I..." Harry shuffles onto his side, phone pressed tightly against his ear as if holding it closer would somehow bring him closer to Louis, somehow make him be there instead. "I'm so sorry. For- for everything." he breaks off, then. Only for a second but it's enough for Harry to hear the catch in his voice, the quiver he hates. "They promised me, Haz. They promised me you wouldn't have to do this."
"Shhh, love." And it's all Harry can say, all he can do because he's not fucking there. He's not there to stroke Louis' forehead, to kiss him until the tears stop flowing and wipe them away once they have. "It's alright. We knew it would never be easy, we knew--"
"We didn't bloody know, Harry! And it's not alright!" Louis cries, and Harry's heart twists uncomfortably at the sound. "They put me with Eleanor, they didn't have to put you with her, too. They fucking promised."
Harry's eyes prick with tears but he refuses to let Louis know that, refuses to be the weak one when Louis quite clearly needs him to be strong. "Whatever they do," he says, his own voice wavering (damn it) "they're not going to break us. They can't. We're too strong for that, Lou."
Louis' silent, there's a near-silent rustling though, and Harry knows that means he's nodding against his pillow, too tired and too upset to remember that Harry actually can't see him. Or maybe he does know, he just doesn't want to acknowledge it. Wants to keep his eyes closed and pretend they're talking about this together, side by side.
"I love you."
Harry smiles softly, a tear slipping out from under his lashes, and he scrubs it away as quickly as he can. "Forever. That's the whole point."
They lie there, then. Silent and listening to the sound of the other's breathing until Harry's sure Louis' fallen asleep, but then-
"Tell me about the future."
And oh. They haven't done this in a while. But Harry divulges him, anyway, fingers curling into the cuffs of his (Louis') jumper as he talks about what they're going to do, where they'll live. By 4:00am they have a dog named Francis ("France for short. You remember France, Lou? You- you gave me a ring? I've still got it. I still mean every word I said to you that night. Each and every one.") and have just finished honeymoon locations when Harry can hear Louis' even breathing, calm and deep. He's sleeping.
"And one day, Lou," he sighs, lethargy finally creeping into his voice. "One day our kids are going to ask us about our heroes, and I'm going to tell them that the bravest man I know stole my heart when I was sixteen years old."