Therapy // Larry AU ✔️

i wish i could change

Once the two got home, Harry was eager to go upstairs to his room and set his supplies out on the desk he had. Louis followed behind with a small smile and sat on Harry's bed as he grabbed his sketchbook and a pack of pencils from his shopping bag. With a few swift movements he began to draw Harry hunched over himself, a new notebook placed delicately in his lap and a fresh pen placed between his lips as he concentrated.

Little did Louis know that Harry was also watching Louis subtly, writing down everything he possibly could, every detail he could see. He wrote about noticeable things,
like how easily his hand moved across his sketchbook, then he wrote about more subtle things, like how the stubble on the blue eyes boys chin was beginning to form a moustache.

From that, more things came to Harry's mind. The flecks of gold in Louis' eyes, the way he rolls his pants up at the ankles because they're too long, the way he hooks his pinkie finger under his mug when he's drinking his tea, the way his tongue pokes out when he draws. It's all so captivating to Harry. Everything Louis does makes Harry want to write it down because it's done in such a way that's so incredibly... Louis.

Which is okay, because at that very moment Louis decided that he needs to draw every moment of Harry's life. The boy is so easy to draw. His looks are so easy on the eyes that Louis has to find the softest way possible to draw him. The way the sun is shinning down on Harry's face is casting the most stunning shadows that bring out Harry's cheekbones and jawline so well that Louis has to fight the urge to kiss them.

He makes sure to include the tattoos as well. He watches Harry's arm for a while, admiring how the rose clenches ever so slightly when Harry holds the pen tighter. When the younger boy relaxes his arm the slightest bit to take a quick break, Louis' gaze is taken from the rose and towards Harry's inner arm that is filled with white marks. Louis raises his eyebrow, not thinking much of it at the time, brushing it off as a scar from his childhood or something of the sort.

Harry feels Louis looking at his arm, which causes him to get paranoid— the voices start yelling at the moment and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from splitting in front of Louis. His mood is ruined now and he can't focus on his writing anymore. "Please don't look at them like that," he said quietly, hiding his arm, "I don't do it anymore," the lie slid off his tongue so smoothly he almost felt a pang of guilt rise in his stomach.

"What?" Louis raised his eyebrow. Harry was holding his arm close to his stomach and his gaze was fixated on the ground. It took him a second to figure it out, but then it stared to click. The lines where all uniform up and down Harry's arm, and he was saying that he doesn't do it anymore. "Oh, oh, Harry." He whispered, shutting his sketchbook and placing it to the side.

Harry whimpered, closing his notebook as well. He leaned in, letting Louis wrap his arms around the younger boy. "It's okay, Haz. You'll be okay, I'm gonna help you, remember?" Louis whispered, running his fingers through the boys hair.

"It get just overwhelming sometimes," Harry explains, muffled slightly as he talks into Louis' neck. "When the other personalities come out and makes a mess of things, I'm left to pick up the pieces and I just-" He stopped himself, shaking his head. He took a shaky breath, hoping to keep his tears at bay. His voice was quiet, wavering slightly.

Louis secured one arm around Harry's waist, the other now rubbing his back soothingly. "Don't rush yourself, darling. You can tell me when you're up for it, yeah?" Harry nodded, sniffling. "Do you wanna keep writing out here or do you wanna go rest?"

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, "Can we...?" He said quietly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Can we what, love?" Louis let the boy go, cleaning up their small mess they had made.

"Cuddle?" Harry asked hopefully, his eyes not daring to meet Louis'.

"Do I look like a man that likes to cuddle?" Louis raised his eyebrow, putting his sketchbook in his shopping bag.

Harry's shoulders fell, his features going sad. He bit his bottom lip and placed his notebook in the drawer. "I'm sorry, I just thought maybe-"

"I'm just kidding, H. Of course we can cuddle." Louis smiled, ruffling Harry's hair. He went to his room and stripped off his skinny jeans and t-shirt, trading them instead for a black Adidas jumper and a pair of dark grey joggers. He brushed his hair as well the get some of the product out before he walked back to Harry's room, ready to cuddle.

Harry had gotten the memo as well, because he was currently laying in a lilac sweater and a pair of black leggings that Lottie had let him borrow. His messy curls were pulled back in a bun, a few strands poking out. Louis smiled fondly at him and padded over to the bed, shutting the lights off. It was just about time for sunset, so he opened the window slightly so they could watch the sky change colours better.

Louis got under the covers, shivering slightly from the cold. He pulled Harry close, pressing his chest to the younger boy's chest. Harry yelped a little in surprise, then blushed and let himself fall back against Louis. He smiled, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Louis closed his eyes, the same fond smile still present on his lips as he reached for one of Harry's hands blindly. Finally finding one, he intertwined their fingers and squeezed lightly.

"Sleep well, Hazza." Louis said quietly, placing a kiss to Harry's shoulder.

"You too, Lou." He replied, nuzzling closer to Louis' chest.

For the first time in a while, both boys fell asleep with a smile on their faces.

...

1098 words.

Written: 12/12/16
Updated: 01/06/18