your lipstick stain is a work of art » stylinson

⚤nineteen

part nineteen

⚥

“she’ll love you, baby, quit fidgeting, please,” harry chuckles fondly, grabbing louis’ hands as he starts to fiddle with how his dress is situated on his body. his comforting only gets him a scowl and eye roll. “i’m serious, lou, she’s going to love you,” he adds, pulling louis into his chest, kissing his forehead. he doesn’t know if he should regret telling louis that his mum was coming down, but it’s too late now. he would be meeting her, regardless.

louis scoffs, tucking his head under harry’s chin. “what if she doesn’t, though? what if she thinks that I’m... weird?," he whispers, memories of all of his mental breakdowns playing in his mind. he really can’t have that right now, not at this dinner. “harry, she’s flying all the way up from kansas to be here, to see you — what makes you think she’s interested in seeing me?,” he asks, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

it’s been a little over 7 months since the car accident that cost harry a foot and louis 2 toes, and harry’s mum has just roused up enough money to fly from the states, over to the uk. louis still fells bad, because when they were in the hospital, he had an arsenal of visitors: jesy, leigh-anne, ashton, his mum and his 6 siblings at his hospital door. and harry had calum and zayn, with the occasional michael and perrie. and he was much worse than louis — he had to stay in the hospital for nearly over a month.

after what felt like an excruciating amount of time, but was only about 2 weeks, he was able to be with louis in his room for extended amounts of time. which meant he also got louis’ visitors. which also meant ashton. which meant a clingy and possessive harry who wouldn’t move his arm from his shoulder, kissing his hair whenever he got the chance.

he hasn’t gotten over that yet, the clinginess, and it’ll have been a year in 5 months. “of course she’ll want to see you, she didn’t save up for this long to not meet you,” harry rolls his eyes, “i just wish she would’ve taken some of the money i offered her. it's from my dad's paycheck... but she doesn't know that,” he chuckles, and louis cracks a little grin, pulling away from harry a little to kiss his jaw before stepping away completely, making harry pout.

placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at harry, pursing his lips. “okay… well if i’ve gotta be there, i have to clean up a little,” he points out, his eyebrows furrowed and harry’s rolling his eyes now, obviously wanting to give the ‘you-don’t-need-to-clean-up’ card, but louis holds out an extended hand and harry – grudgingly – lets himself be led through louis and jesy’s flat and into the toilet, clumsily plopping down on the side of the bath tub — still not used to the prosthetic foot — as louis pulls out his make-up bag from under the sink. “mm… what time is she suppose to be here?,” he asks, harry settling on the cold surface of the tub.

this has become their thing; louis doing his make-up while harry sits on the tub and keeps him company, maybe adjusting how the foot attaches to his leg. “we’ve got to meet her at the airport in fourty-five minutes to pick her up. then we’re going to go out and eat… use the candy floss colored one?,” harry suggests absently as louis uncaps a lipstick, and louis smiles at him through the reflections in the mirror. harry always requests that he wear that color. “and maybe just a light mascara. and that wing-thingy you did with your liquid eye stuff?,” he adds, and louis’ lips become a flat line to keep himself from bursting out in laughter. “what?,”harry huffs in defense, crossing his arms over his chest, pouting, making louis lean forward and dab a little bit of the pink lip stain onto his lip, causing him to blink in surprise, then look at louis crossly.