Okay so this one is still all weird and disjointed but here’s part of it anyway:
“I’m not a fucking flower child,” Louis yells, hurling his dirty shirt at Harry as hard as he can manage.
Harry lets it hit him in the chest, which only makes Louis madder. “I know you’re not,” he says, hands open and up in the air, placating. “I didn’t say that you were.”
This entire week has been so fucking irritating, and this is only making it even worse. He throws the next closest thing at Harry, aiming for his face. It’s only a jacket, but his blood boils even more when Harry catches it and lets it drop to the ground, material pooling at his feet.
“Don’t fucking treat me like I’m fragile, then,” Louis spits, spinning around so he can find something else to use to fuck up Harry’s face. Maybe there’s a water bottle he can use to drown him.
“When have I ever treated you like you’re fragile?” Harry demands. His voice comes from much closer than Louis was expecting, so he grabs the open bottle of apple juice Harry was drinking earlier. It’ll do nicely.
He spins around with the intention of sloshing the entire thing in Harry’s face, only to get his wrist grabbed with a grip so tight Louis can’t shake it off.
He glances between his wrist and Harry’s face a couple of times, raising his eyebrows. Harry only raises his eyebrows right back, not loosening even a little.
Louis contemplates using his other hand to throw it in Harry’s face anyway, just for a second. He decides not to, because he’s not actually a hundred percent sure that he could do it before Harry grabbed that wrist, too.
“Every fucking day,” Louis says, letting the bottle drop from his fingers, uncaring of the way it splashes all over the carpet and Harry’s shoes.
“What are you even talking about?” Harry asks. He looks like he’s about five seconds away from using his grip to shake Louis into agreeing with him.
Nearly every single reporter they’ve ever talked to has made some comment about how different they are, what an unlikely team they make, but the last time Louis has felt it to this degree was that very first day they got paired together.
“Don’t touch me,” Louis says, trying to yank his wrist out of Harry’s grip. “I need to get changed, let me go.”
For a second, it seems like Harry’s going to grab Louis’ other wrist. Then he lets go all at once and takes a step back, letting his arms drop down to his sides.
Louis isn’t sure that he’s ever seen him look so hurt.
He can’t think about that without wanting to cry, though, and the last thing he wants right now is for Harry to see him cry yet again, so he turns around and pops the button on his stage pants, starts wiggling out of them.
He’s got them around his knees when Harry starts talking.
“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Harry says. Louis can hear the frustration in his voice, and he knows, better than anyone, how much Harry struggles to let people know how he feels about them when he’s not writing lyrics, so he kicks off the trousers and listens.
“I don’t - fragile is the last word that comes to my mind when I think about you,” Harry continues. “God, I wouldn’t have any of this without you. None of this would be possible without you, and I know that I’m not the best at saying it, but you’re practically my entire world, you know that, right?”
God. Now Louis feels like crying for an entirely different reason.
“I don’t have a lot of people,” Harry says, right behind Louis now, “Not ones that I really trust, anyway, and I get a little obsessive about you, sometimes, but - “ He breaks off with a frustrated sigh, putting his hand on Louis’ left shoulder and then, when Louis doesn’t protest, slips it down to rest on his belly, pulling them together, until there’s no space between them. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
Louis nods a little dumbly. “There’s been a lot of darkness in my life,” Harry says, squeezing Louis tight, other arm slipping around his waist, “and it can be hard to remember that there are things that are good, sometimes, but all I have to do is look at you and it’s like, you’re my light.”
Louis’ breath catches, stutters in his throat. “And it’s just - I would give up everything else, everything we’ve built, if it meant that you would be safe and happy for the rest of your life.”
So much for not crying again.
“I know that you hate the way people look at us and think that you’re the vulnerable one because of the way I look,” Harry says, rocking them a little, the way he always does when he holds Louis like this, “And I get it, I do, but sometimes it’s like you’re the only good thing in my life and the only thing that I want is to keep it that way.”
It’s hard, trying to get Harry to loosen his grip enough for Louis to turn around, but he manages, linking his arms around Harry’s neck and pressing his lips to his cheek. “I love you too,” he says, because it doesn’t matter what words Harry uses to say it. He knows. He can feel it every day, how much Harry loves him, and it’s going to be so fucking hard when Harry realizes that the way Louis loves him back isn’t exactly platonic, but for now Louis can just let himself have this.