drabbles; fleeting and forever (harry/louis)
prompt: #2 - metaphor
summary: it's everything, it's nothing, it's louis.
notes/warnings: pretty tame, just random rambles about my precious little snowflake's feelings for his boyfriend. not very long. idk.
*****
It’s the sun.
Not just the sun, it’s the way the that it finally peeks through the clouds after it’s been raining over London for three weeks straight and everyone who’s been feeling miserable and claustrophobic and weighted down by the clouds for what feels like forever looks up and sees it shining and can’t help but smile.
It’s unmade beds, unwashed sheets and messy bedrooms. It’s crashing down onto the mattress after the longest day and sighing contented with being at rest and at peace and waiting patiently for heartbeats to slow.
It’s tea, and he takes it white with one sugar; one cup with breakfast, another an appropriate amount of time after lunch, and finally one in the quiet moments somewhere halfway between dinner and bed time (give or take another five cups a day) and Harry hands it over smiling like it’s the best thing he’s ever made even though it’s the same every time.
It’s fireworks and the way that some children are terrified of the noise but in love with the look and the colours in the sky and the shockwaves of brilliance and light and sound and the excitement of the occasion that roll out through the air in the aftermath.
It’s casual touches and accidental brushes and hand holding and hugs and soft kisses and rough kisses and kisses in secret and it’s wild, passionate sex and slow, gentle love making and listening to his heart beating; it might just explode.
It’s love and it’s fleeting and forever and crazy and passionate and soothing all at the same time and it’s beyond Harry’s wildest dreams.
It’s more alive than he’s ever felt in his whole life.
And it’s Louis.
summary: it's everything, it's nothing, it's louis.
notes/warnings: pretty tame, just random rambles about my precious little snowflake's feelings for his boyfriend. not very long. idk.
*****
It’s the sun.
Not just the sun, it’s the way the that it finally peeks through the clouds after it’s been raining over London for three weeks straight and everyone who’s been feeling miserable and claustrophobic and weighted down by the clouds for what feels like forever looks up and sees it shining and can’t help but smile.
It’s unmade beds, unwashed sheets and messy bedrooms. It’s crashing down onto the mattress after the longest day and sighing contented with being at rest and at peace and waiting patiently for heartbeats to slow.
It’s tea, and he takes it white with one sugar; one cup with breakfast, another an appropriate amount of time after lunch, and finally one in the quiet moments somewhere halfway between dinner and bed time (give or take another five cups a day) and Harry hands it over smiling like it’s the best thing he’s ever made even though it’s the same every time.
It’s fireworks and the way that some children are terrified of the noise but in love with the look and the colours in the sky and the shockwaves of brilliance and light and sound and the excitement of the occasion that roll out through the air in the aftermath.
It’s casual touches and accidental brushes and hand holding and hugs and soft kisses and rough kisses and kisses in secret and it’s wild, passionate sex and slow, gentle love making and listening to his heart beating; it might just explode.
It’s love and it’s fleeting and forever and crazy and passionate and soothing all at the same time and it’s beyond Harry’s wildest dreams.
It’s more alive than he’s ever felt in his whole life.
And it’s Louis.