Give Me Truths || l.s

chapter 15

If it weren’t for the fact that the only food-related smells Louis’ dorm ever had were those of burning things, expired things, or microwaved things, he might almost have believed his nose when he rolled over and smelled a full English cooking. What a cruel dream, he thought as he snuggled down into the blankets. If there was a god out there, he was an evil one who liked to torture uni students with the memory of substantial food.

Try as he might to return to sleep, it was too late. Louis’ stomach was growling now, a demanding rumble crying out for the creature comforts of hot poptarts and cold coffee. Not quite a full English, but worth opening his eyes for, anyways.

Harry blinked back at him from where he sat on Liam’s bed.

It took a second for Louis to register that his eyes are, in fact, open, and that Harry is legitimately in his dorm room on a Saturday morning, sitting on the opposite bed and holding a plate full of-

“Is that bacon and sausage?” Louis whispered in sleepy awe. “Oh my god. I thought I was dreaming.”

“It’s for you,” offered Harry, who placed the loaded plate on the nightstand next to Louis’ head. “I made you breakfast in bed.”

There was no need to tell Louis twice. He was propped up on one elbow shoveling eggs into his mouth before Harry was done talking. “Shouldn’t someone be making you breakfast? You ought to be in bed, hungover.”

“I can handle my liquor pretty well, actually,” Harry said quietly. “Woke up at seven and I’m not even a little hungover.”

“That’s unfair, you were smashed last night. Lucky asshole. I take that back,” Louis sighed as he dug into the hash browns. “This is incredible and you are a beautiful, wonderful person for it. Is that-are those fried onions? You’re fantastic.”

Harry’s guilty look was a perfect counterpart to Louis’ expression of rapture. “‘m not,” he protested weakly. “This is an apology breakfast. The whole point of the breakfast is that I’ve been awful.”

“Apology? What for?” Louis asked, though he knew very well. “This breakfast could make up for anything, though, just for the record. Do we have any tea?”

“Oh, I made you that too. Hold on, I’ll get it.”

In the brief moment where Harry went to fetch the mug from the counter, Louis rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Unfortunate, that such an incredible breakfast came with such unpleasant conversation- but unavoidable, if Louis was honest with himself. At least there was bacon to sooth the discomfort.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Harry said quietly after he’d handed the piping hot mug to Louis. “I’m like, horrified. I can’t believe I said that, out loud.”

Blasé was definitely the best option here, Louis decided at once. “Don’t worry about it, we all say stuff we don’t mean when we’re drunk, yeah?” he said gently, spreading baked beans on toast like it was the most interesting task in the world and all ongoing conversation was hardly worth consideration.

“But what if… what if I did mean it?”

Beans slop down Louis’ chin because he misses his mouth in shock. Harry wordlessly hands him a napkin, face beet red, waiting for some kind of a response.

“S-sorry, what?” Louis struggled to get out.

“What if I did? Want that. Those things that I said.” Harry seems determined to keep eye contact with Louis despite the flaming of his cheeks, his chin raised in a way that spoke equal parts defiance and desperation.

It’s a bravery Louis can’t ignore. “Oh. You mean you- you actually do want me to… oh.”

“Hypothetically.”