Red Brick Heart

11

He hears footsteps so hurriedly shoves the letters back under the bed, leaping on top of the duvet and doing the only thing he can think of – pretending to be asleep. He keeps his breathing even as Louis barges through the door, announcing, "Bloody hell, that's better, it's like knives in me eyes...Harry? Harry, you all right? Harry?"

Harry forces himself to stay still as Louis' hand comes up to gently touch his hair, before smoothing down his face to cup his cheek and – Harry nearly breaks at this point – press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Never mind, then, love," he says softly, and the next thing he knows Louis is tossing his duvet over him, crawling into be next to him and holding him tight. He presses a little kiss to Harry's shoulder, thumb stroking over his abs before his breathing starts to slow, and Harry only lets himself breathe properly again when he can tell Louis is asleep, snoring softly. He manoeuvres them into a more comfortable position on their sides, Harry spooned up close behind Louis just like always – except this time he's naked and all Louis is wearing is a pair of old trackie bottoms.  And the thing is – the thing is his head's still fuzzy and he's still pretty horny and he would've probably let Louis fuck him if he hadn't found the letter. It had been – everything was just so normal, Harry had forgotten that Louis isn't meant to be in his room. By rights they never should even have met but for an administrative fuck-up. The thought makes his chest physically ache.

"I love you," he whispers, still slurring a little, into the back of Louis' head. He snuffles in his sleep and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, arms tight around Louis' stomach. "I love you, don't leave me, I love you so much, I can't be without you, don't leave. Please."

He's drunk and his head hurts and the room's all spinny and he can feel the tears at the corner of his eyes, so he just presses his face as close as he physically can be to Louis and, to his surprise, falls asleep almost straight away.

When he wakes up, he's squished up against the wall with his arms awkwardly bent behind his head and the end of the pillow covering half his face.

"Mmff," he grunts, blinking and nosing at the pillow. Louis is still asleep, head tilted towards him and dry lips slightly parted, nose whistling as he breathes and long eyelashes casting little delicate shadows on his cheeks. It's the cutest and the most gorgeous thing Harry has ever seen.

Harry watches him for a little while, rearranging himself so his face is actually on the pillow, head still spinning more than a bit. His mouth tastes foul from the combination of stale alcohol and come, and then – oh, then last night's slightly blurry memories flood back to him. Louis. Everything Louis.

"Morning," Louis croaks, as Harry tries to inconspicuously reach over him for the water. He pats his chest distractedly as he comes back up, briefly checking his phone for the time.

"Sorry, shit – didn't mean to wake you-"

"Was already kind of awake, I think." Harry drinks some water, offering the last of it to Louis; he finishes it and chucks it somewhere on the floor, settling back on the pillow so that they're just watching each other. Harry almost doesn't dare blink as Louis' hand comes up to stroke his cheek, tucking some curls behind his ears.

"Hi," he breathes.

"Hi," Harry repeats dumbly. Louis' hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly dropping down until his loose fist is resting on the warm mattress, knuckles just brushing Harry's sternum.

"Did you have a good night?" Louis asks. They're whispering over the noise of the boiler and someone in the flat downstairs having a shower, but it still feels like they're the only people in the world to Harry.