Polaris || l.s.

chapter 21: threads

"What is this, then?"

He peered up at Louis with a questioning gaze, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of the material that had been dumped on his lap the very first thing in the morning. Louis seemed reluctant in answering, avoiding his gaze whilst one of his hands scratched at the nape of his neck – almost as if the silence they had landed themselves in was discomfiting for once.

It was, Harry decided. It wasn't one of the comfortable ones he had grown to enjoy.

"Do you need me to lend you my eyes?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice when he spoke, mischief tainting his otherwise gentle demeanor. "Or perhaps, a bit of common sense? C'mon, Harold, what does it look like to you? It's a bloody blanket, of course." Louis' words were accompanied by a faux sigh of exasperation as the alpha finally let himself flop on the mattress, landing just by his feet.

Eyes narrowed, he dug his foot into Louis' side. The force was directed with the aim to inflict pain and it did just that when Louis let out a quiet string of profanities before twisting away from him. "That is for calling me daft." He enunciated haughtily, turning up his nose just for the bloody sake of it. He etched the echo of Louis' laughter as a memory to remember this day by. He also had the blanket as the sweet mnemonic object now, he supposed.

"It's soft," he commented, testing the fabric of the blanket against his fingers. It was a wool-knitted blanket that seemed so redolent of the sage green one he had received from Louis just before his heat. He looked up at the sudden bout of silence, surprised to find Louis already staring at him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, curling an eyebrow when Louis' gaze didn't waver even after being caught red-handed. If the roles were reversed, Harry was certain he would have long been submerged in the lake outside. "Is this your way of compensating for eating Olympia?" He could tell the exact moment when Louis' facade broke, the alpha rolling his eyes before he shuffled forward to rest his head on his lap. This was a first time for them, he mused, staring down at Louis who had made himself quite comfortable.

"For the last time, I did not eat your fucking goat." Harry was too focused on how soft Louis looked with his head on his lap to even pay any attention to the words that were being spoken by the same man. His index finger twitched erratically when he raised his hand to move away the stray strands of hair that were barely tickling Louis' eyelids.

It was a pathetic excuse to touch Louis' hair, but it was what it was. "You did," he accused, though his tone held no such emotion, rather it was filled with everything he would attribute to softness. Louis' eyes fluttered when he finally moved the overgrown strands of hair away. A second passed by before Louis looked up at him questioningly. The moment, thankfully, was gone before he could spiral down into an abyss of self-questioning.

Louis turned to lay on his side, the alpha's face now nestled in between his thighs — goodness, could they stay like this forever?

They couldn't, his body retaliated seconds later. With how he was sat, his calves and heels ached, especially with the added weight of Louis' head.

When Louis spoke next, the alpha's voice was muffled by his flesh, "your clothes are so soft. I love 'em."

"My calves hurt. At least, let me sit properly, please?"

Louis' hair was all mussed when he lifted his head to fix him with a glare, his eyes so blue and bright that the glare did anything but its intended purpose. "Mhm, 'm quite comfortable here." Louis did let him fix his position, waiting patiently while he shuffled up to the head post of the pallet, tugging his dress below his knees unnecessarily once he had settled himself with his legs crisscrossed.