next to you ❀ l.s.

fifty - thursday nights

The night passed them by, long and heavy. The next day dragged on, too, traces of paper grocery bags and strawberry shampoo that crawled in long shadows across the floor as the sun set.

For a lack of a better term, Harry was exhausted. The unexpected series of two episodes over such a short time had completely worn him out, both physically and mentally. Luckily, he had the day off of work anyway, so he just holed up in his apartment with a new book and some tea.

As much as he wanted Louis to stay and laze around with him all day, he had to practically shove the older boy out the door for his classes -- because "No, you're not skipping any more lectures for me! I'm a nineteen-year-old human adult, Louis, I will be fine for three hours on my own!"

And he was fine; but his brain was still fuzzy, and the blurred edges only came back into focus when Louis came strolling back through his front door later that afternoon.

He found himself curled up in bed early that evening, tucked safely between Louis's arms. He was laying on his side, his knees folded to his chest. Louis was hovering over him, propped up on one elbow with his other arm draped over Harry's ribcage, his head resting over the side of Harry's own.

"Do you want me to call the boys and cancel?" Louis offered. He turned his nose into Harry's cheek, nuzzling affectionately at the soft skin. "You know they won't mind."

Harry shook his head, careful not to jostle Louis too badly. "I want to see them," he said, trying to sound convincing. He really did want to see Liam and Niall, but his energy levels were so depleted. He wanted his friends to enjoy the night, too, and he knew he wasn't good company.

"Okay," Louis agreed easily, confessing, "I really want to beat Niall in FIFA."

"You're the worst. Liam's going to be so angry with you if you throw another controller at him," Harry mused absentmindedly, tickling the rough pads of his fingertips over the soft backside of Louis's hand. "The last one left such a giant bruise. I think it lasted for almost a month."

"He deserved it," Louis defended himself. His jingle-bell laugh sent vibrations rumbling down Harry's spine. "He was throwing pillows at me, wasn't he?"

"Pillows are soft," Harry pointed out. "Plastic is not."

"I did what I could with the resources I had."

"He had just thrown pillows at you that you could've thrown back!"

"They were nowhere near me! He has really terrible aim."

"So . . . they didn't even hit you?" Harry scrunched his nose. "What was the point in retaliating?"

"It's the thought that counts. He had malicious intent."

Harry snorted. Louis kissed his cheek, then the side of his neck, then cuddled him closer.

"We should probably get up," Harry pointed out, although he wiggled back against the older boy's chest he spoke. "I think we told them eight, and Liam's always early."

"Yeah," the older boy reluctantly agreed. His arm stiffened around Harry's stomach, and he added quietly, "And I, um. I want to talk to you about something before the boys get here."

Harry frowned. He rolled further back against Louis's chest, craning his neck to look up at his boyfriend with a furrowed brow. "What is it?"

Louis took a deep breath. "Well, I . . ." he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll just show you. Meet me in the living room in a few minutes?"

Harry nodded nervously, starting to untangle himself from the covers. His movements were slow and sluggish, and they had been for a few days now. "Okay," he agreed easily.