The Larry Book [ completed ]

owly you're dear to me

By : ( starsfate )
Summary:

harry learns to say 'i love you' in every language while on tour, louis' a fond little duckling in love and can't help buying a ring, or getting a new tattoo for that matter.

( kind of similar to 'riding on a shooting star' )

Louis doesn't notice it until they're in Germany.

They're on the tour bus waiting to get ready for their show tonight. No one's doing anything productive just lounging around: Harry has his head in Louis' lap as he runs his nimble fingers through the thick brown locks, tangling them in between and tugging just how Harry likes. The other boys are strewn around them, Liam playing FIFA with Niall and Zayn probably trying to get some amount of sleep in somewhere in the back.

Harry has his phone, Louis sometimes thinks that thing is like another limb to Harry, raised above his head as he scrolls through Twitter, Instagram, plays some stupid game he probably downloaded at 3 a.m while laying awake in a bunk that's a bus away from Louis' own. His heart tugs at the thought; he tugs a little harder on Harry's hair.

Tilting his head up, Louis can see every shade of green in Harry's eyes in the soft light that pours through the blinds over the windows. His skin reflects the light like the moon does the sun; he looks beautiful. Louis sighs as a fire erupts in his chest.

"What?" Harry drawls. He blinks and his eyelashes cast a thin shadow over his cheeks.

Louis shakes his head, smiling down at his boy that he still can't believe he has. "Nothing."

Before Harry even starts to smile back Louis can feel the skipping of his heart, and when his smile is full and dimpling, just like the moon, (Harry is a lot like the moon, Louis thinks) Louis catches the glint in his eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, a silent question.

"Ich liebe dich," Harry says, his accent is horrible around his words, to heavy on some syllables but what would Louis know? All he can tell is that it's German, but he has no idea what he's on about.

"What're you on about?" More firewood is added to the furnace in his chest.

"It means 'I love you' but in German." Harry beams; Louis' chest burns brighter than the sun.

He rolls his eyes, fondly of course, before saying in a soft voice, "What am I going to do with you?" he chances a glance back down at Harry. It's not the first time he's done this, confessed his love for Louis in a different language. He did it when they were in France, walking on cobblestone before they snuck into a shop for chocolate croissants, whispered with a fudge smear on his cheek, "Je t'aime." Then once in Amsterdam when Louis was high and kissing up and down his neck, while seated comfortably in his lap. Harry had groaned around a lovebite Louis was working on before pulling him up and saying in a slow, even more horrible than his German accent, "Ik hou van jou."

Louis doesn't say anything because of the look Harry as on his face right now: it's soft around the edges, the fire that's in Louis' chest personified across the arc of his nose and tired bags under his eyes, "Keep me."

"As if I was that crazy," Louis says sarcastically, but he knows that the affection, that's taken almost a permanent residence on his face since 2010, betrays his words.

"You may be even more crazy than you think, babe."

"Well if I'm crazy than you're crazy," Louis deadpans, fingers still carding through Harry's hair. His phone is resting on his chest now and he nuzzles up into Louis' hand and actually purrs; Louis' eyes may actually fall out.

"If you're a bird then I'm a bird," Harry states.

"Idiot."

"Hey, you set yourself up for that one." Harry points out.