larry stylinson oneshots

but darling, stay with me

Louis really wished things were different. He wished he would walk through the front door and the kiss he was met with was warm and fulfilling. He wished it didn't feel like a routine. Like it was something they just had to do. He wished more than anything that they were still teenagers in love, just them against the world, because, god, it hurt knowing that they weren't. They weren't HarryandLouis against the world. They were Harry and Louis, nothing more than two men who shared a flat.

Harry wished he didn't have tears streaming down his face every night as they slept. He wished Louis still felt like home and that he would be there forever. He wished that he was still in love because nothing hurt more than the way he failed to make Louis' eyes light up. He missed the warmth of his hands and how he used to kiss away every single tear.

They say that falling in love is like taking a leap of faith. It's plunging headfirst into the unknown but knowing that someone will be there to catch you. It's the way your souls are so connected that everything works, and you know them like the back of your hand. But it's so much more than that. It's diving into the unknown, but you're holding someone as you both drop, diving in together. It's fitting so perfectly that you know them better than you know yourself. You know their routines that make them, them; it's why you subconsciously leave everything in the right spot for them. You know the difference in their smiles; the one reserved for work, the one when they're biting back a laugh, the one where it's not 100%, and you only know that because their eyes aren't crinkling. Then there's the one where there's no crinkle, but their eyes aren't shining as they usually do. They're not looking at you like you're their world and you can't see them as the one who gave you the universe. It's the one Harry sees when Louis' eyes settle on him. It's the one Louis saw as the sparkling gold flecks in Harry's died out one by one until they were no longer there. Louis decided that day was the day Harry admitted it to himself.

What they don't talk about is how it feels to fall out of love. How it feels to fall, but this time your grip is loosening on the person in your arms. How you see routines change, but you still practice them because maybe one day you'll fall back together. How they're smiling at you, but it's not genuine, and you think back to how it's been like that for a while.

Harry thought falling out of love was the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. He thought that every single time he cried into Louis' hair until he was out of it for good. Louis saw it then as well because, unlike Harry, he didn't realize leading up to it. When Harry wasn't home to greet him, and he didn't notice the abnormality until later that night, he had to let his tears fall down his face as he nursed his broken heart.

All his life, Louis thought it would be him and Harry. They had grown up together, went through all of school together, endured the pressure of long-distance schooling for university, and living together after graduation. Sometimes he thinks it's because they didn't get married. He never really thought it was important and neither did Harry because, quite frankly, marriage wasn't anything special. They knew they were endgame, and that was enough for them.

Harry wants to talk about it sometimes. He's not sure what he'll do when they finally end it all, but he tries not to think about not having Louis in his life anymore. That usually outweighed the urge to sit Louis down and lay everything out in the open. He did try it once. He really did.

"Louis..."

"I know, darling. I know."

That was the only attempt made, and that was all it took for Harry to break down. Louis pretended he didn't hear Harry crying in their bed every night, so he couldn't help it when he made no move to comfort him. New force of habit, he supposed. It did evoke something in him when he saw Harry's eyes, raw and full of... Well, Louis could see a lot in his eyes. Joy, pain, anger, stress. He didn't see love, though, and maybe that should've hurt.

In the end, they're sure it'll kill them both, but for now, they'll stick with broken routines and tear-stained faces. Love was all they'd ever known, and pretending it was still theirs was something they could handle.