larry oneshots

i've got my eye on you

a/n: hey guys LOOK milo's not dead

for shade cos they're a loser and made me write hurt/comfort instead of just hurt

The first thing Harry hears is Louis.

"Curly," is the first word that spills out of Louis' lips, quiet. It's murmured, cautiously, almost simultaneously to him opening the door, causing Harry's hand to dangle uselessly in midair, fingers searching for a doorknob he'd never have to open. Louis had known he was outside already, had been listening for his car to pull up, had been listening to his tired footsteps as they dragged themselves across the concrete of the garage, "You're late again."

There are a million emotions that are pulsing through Harry at the moment, so many he wants to say, wants to scream. Under the comfort of darkness, Harry is ready to spill, if not for the fact he's exhausted. So many words to choose from, so many thoughts running through his mind, and yet, his lips feel like speaking none.

"Yeah," is what he settles for instead. It's all Harry could muster.

"You sure?" Louis prods gently, and Harry's eyes immediately drop to the ground, as he tries to hide his face from Louis. It's not very difficult, the room is dark and any semblance of light casts nothing but shadows on his complexion. For once, he's glad.

There's a brief moment of silence, in which Harry hears nothing but shuffling. He knows Louis, he does, and he knows Louis wants to ask, wants to pry. It's in Louis' nature. He's a curious person, he likes to solve the problem right away and mitigate the effects rather than wait. He wants to know, wants answers.

He doesn't. He doesn't do any of that.

The shuffling stops, and Harry realises his eyes are still staring straight at the ground. At some point, he'd crossed the threshold and was now standing in their home, toes touching the cold wooden floorboards. He catches a glimpse of Louis. He's standing in front of him now, facing him. He feels something in his eyes, and as a hand tries to rub it away, it comes back wet.

Oh.

Harry hadn't realised the tears had already started flowing. Sometime between rushing out with his car with a lingering promise that this wouldn't affect him and him coming home, he had decidedly broken said promise. Because this was getting to him, it was affecting him a lot.

Louis seemingly takes his silence as an answer, because Harry feels a gentle hand brush upon his chin, tender and loving. He goes to raise Harry's head to look at him better, but he resists.

"Wait."

The hand pauses, and Harry cries harder. It's quiet, but Harry knows Louis can feel the tears dripping onto his fingers, soaking his fingertips. There's a beat, one that both want the other to fill, but there's nothing but neverending stillness.

It seems that the tears have forced Louis to make up his mind, however, because his hand instead grabs Harry's arm and begins to drag him into the light. Into the light where Louis can see him better and where Harry will finally recognise that he is home. And maybe he knows. Maybe Louis knows because this is not the first time Harry's done this; not the first time Harry has gone home, knees close to buckling and spine drooping from weariness, not the first time he's seen Harry so fatigued from the events that the day has decided to throw at him. Maybe he knows because he's experienced the same thing Harry has, has gone through the same emotions and turmoil Harry is experiencing right now. But Harry is tired, he's so tired, so he lets Louis. He allows his hand to be dragged, for his body to be followed, for his head to be lifted, and for Louis to let his eyes meet Harry's own.

When they're finally away from the drooping darkness, the first thing Louis sees is a trembling lip.

There's a silence that hangs heavily in the air, one that weighs down on Harry's lungs. It's suffocating, and Harry wants nothing more than to hide back in the darkness forever. As Harry finally has the courage to look up, he sees Louis' face set in deep concern, as his eyes soften into something that's soft but filled with worry and a feeling of 'I understand'. And Louis does; Louis understands and knows what Harry is going through at the moment, even if Harry never utters a word.

"Oh, Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry rushes out, as more tears well up and fall down his cheeks, a stinging sensation in his eyes as little needles pierce his heart at how sad Louis sounded. His hand instinctively comes up to grip Louis' waist, needing something to perch onto as he haunches over, face pressed into Louis' shoulder. It hurts, it really does, "I'm really sorry."

"Shh," Louis whispers, as warm arms come up and embrace Harry tight, one hand coming up to slowly lift his head back up to wipe away his tears, warm familiarity trickling through Harry like the sun melting away the snow. His touch is gentle, and it's clear he's done this before; it's a far cry from how he was when they first met, clumsy and uncoordinated, smearing the tears everywhere instead of wiping them away. If Harry wasn't so gutted by life, he'd laugh.

But alas, there is nothing to laugh about, nothing to laugh as Harry and Louis stand there, just inches away from the front door, Harry's grip growing tighter and tighter as he's encompassed by everything that is Louis.

"Stunt?" Louis finally dares to ask, and Harry grips him tighter, like he's trying to force Louis inside his heart where he can just live in, forever.

There's no answer from him, which he knows is an answer in itself, as Louis just hugs him tighter, hand balled up into a fist, crumpling his shirt. The smell of Louis begins to calm him, and he feels his waterworks slow.

"I just want it to end," Harry murmurs, and it's bittersweet, but Louis' hugs are worth everything, and he is everything good, "I want it to stop."

"I know," Louis sighs, and Harry can feel him crying too, feel his tears soak into his shirt, "I know."

Nothing more is said, as Louis and Harry embrace each other under the light, in their home, and Harry is safe. Harry is home. Harry is in Louis' arms, and for just a while, a little while, as Louis maneuvers them to the couch and cuddles his warm body into Harry's snuggling into him as his warm hands slide under his clothes and touch his cool, bare skin, Harry feels his heart grow a bit lighter, his lungs constrict just a little less, and his brain eases up just a little. It's the little things. It's the little things that make Harry feel a little better.

**

("I love you," Harry murmurs later, after waking up and realising they've both fallen asleep on the couch but being too tired and too comfortable to even consider moving them to the bed, instead sleepily cuddling up closer to Louis, "You are more than everything for me."

He thinks Louis is asleep, but it's as he's drifting off, wisps of cotton already filling his mind and making him half-conscious, a sleepy hand tracing shapes on Louis' back, that he hears a faint, faint voice.

"I love you more, Curly.")

**

hope u guys liked !!!

summer's been so busy

i promise y&b will come one day

- m.