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Awaking with a groggy headache and a rough surface he tries to examine his surroundings. Liam's chest below his head and soft snores above him. Past the large window, he admires the stars that litter the sky outside.

Enveloping him in a familiar aroma of flowers and warmth, a comforting scent he has grown to love and register as safe. When bringing his gaze down to Liam, he notices a pair of eyes that land on his.

"Good morning," He says, chuckling at the fact they had slept through their afternoon. "Well, good night, I should say,"

"Mhp," He murmurs before dropping his head.

Liam smiles, trying to adjust himself from the uncomfortable position.

"You're on my spleen," He croaks.

Louis chuckles before shifting around.

"I think we had one too many drinks too early," He shakes his head, hiding his face in Liam's chest.

"Didn't help the fact that we were both exhausted," Liam mumbles.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep on you," Louis chuckles, twisting his ankles.

"I don't mind; I woke up a while ago when you pressed too hard into my ribs," He laughs, "Couldn't be bothered moving you,"

Louis squints his eyes and laughs.

"You're getting old Payno, you used to sleep on the floor for fun,"

Liam smiles, "Between this couch and you on top of me, sleeping on the floor seems incredible."

Louis smirks moving off him, "Should've woken me up."

"Hey, when do you sleep otherwise?"

Stubbornly he shrugs, "Okay fine, that's true-"

Suddenly there's a sound of a door opening across the room. Both freeze as their eyes interlock, they had both thought Harry had gone to sleep hours ago.

The door shuts and the sound of footsteps patter toward them.

Harry walks swiftly past the sofa, but he double-takes, observing the place where the two lay.

"Oh, you're both awake," He blurts.

Louis' eyes wander down his torso, eyes following the line centre of his stomach, tattoos litter almost every inch of his skin, little to no colour, it's a feeding frenzy for his goggling eyes. Once bringing his attention back to Harry's face, he notices how his hair is wet and heavy, curling up around his face and brushing his shoulders.

Louis hates just how beautiful he is, calling Harry an angel would be too ambitious, yet anything else wouldn't seem close enough. A cherub is too cute, a fairy seems out of place, but angel... angel feels just right.

Harry doesn't seem to notice the intense staring.

"Your hair is down," Louis announces as if Harry didn't know.

It channels droplets of water down his defined torso, running graciously. Confused but also intrigued, Harry picks a loose curl and fixes it.

"Yeah, it does that," He nods, obviously.

Louis feels like slapping himself in the face.

"right," He chuckles.

Liam looks between Harry and Louis sheepishly.

"What time is it?" Liam asks Harry.

He looks at his wrist.

"3:15 am," Harry says.

Buy Me Purple Flowers First | L.S   [REWRITING]Where stories live. Discover now