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I'm stuck on where this story should go :D

this is a filler chapter so sorry if it's shit lol

hope you guys are doing well! don't forget to vote and shit, love you all, don't be stupid or get arrested or anything, wear a mask ❤️

ps: ik i said i would try to make this a little longer, but i had a huge bio test today and didn't have time to write a whole lot, i'm sorry :( chapter 6 should be up tmr!
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Louis wakes up positively sweating, the sun from the blinds shining right in his eyes, mocking him further.

He tries to turn so he could get the blankets off of him, but a large arm- that might as well be a space heater- is wrapped around his middle, keeping him snugly in place. He lets his eyes adjust to the light, before seeing a mop of chocolate curls in front of him.

He quietly coos at Harry, daring to gently brushing his hair out of his his face, trying his best to not wake him. When he moves Harry's hair from his eyes, though, his eyelashes flutter before revealing his bright eyes, pupils dilated. Louis places his palm on Harry's cheek, coaxing him to wake up, a little.

"Morning," Harry croaks, his voice heavy with sleep, sounding incredible, to say the least.

Louis strokes his thumb against Harry's cheekbone, admiring how gorgeous he looked in the morning, with his lips just a little plumper than usual, his voice just a little more raspy. Louis doesn't think he wants to wake up any other way, which scares him. He's already too used to having Harry around. He's too attached. That just means it'll hurt more when all of this inevitably goes to shit.

His thoughts take pause as Harry boldly leans in, their lips molding together. Louis pushes back, scrunching his nose.

"Gross," he remarks, making Harry furrow his brows with confusion. "You have morning breath- you haven't even brushed your teeth, yet."

Harry's face contorts into a fake pout, his smile giving it all away. "You have morning breath, too! You can't say I'm gross," he says.

"Well, yeah," Louis deadpans. "But I'm used to my own breath, and you're the one who kissed me, so. I have the right to call you gross. Convince me otherwise," he challenges.

Not letting Harry argue, he moves his arm out of the way, standing to go brush his teeth. His knee gives out again for some reason, the second time in two days, which isn't good.

Harry had gotten up to follow him, though, and before Louis could hit the ground, his hands grabbed his waist, pulling Louis' back into his chest to help him regain his balance.

Harry turns him around so they're facing each other, raising an accusing eyebrow.

"Louis."

"Harry." This came out more reluctant-sounding than Louis would've liked.

"Are you doing PT like I told you to?"

"Would you even believe me if I say yes?"

"No."

"Well, then, there's your answer."

Harry rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to discipline him. Louis interrupts him before he can get his little lecture in.

"Don't condescend me- I'm not a dumbass. I have PT after practice today, before work," he explains, hoping his answer is satisfactory enough.

Harry's face relaxes for a moment, despite Louis' sass, before the famous line between his eyebrows returns. "How long is your shift?" He asks.

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