“The thing about it is,” says Harry, and he’s got one hand still in his hair, frozen in the act of pushing it further out of his eyes, “is that we’re sort of brothers, now. I’ve not had a brother, ever, you know–,”

“Most of us haven’t,” Louis adds, mouth quirked in what could be a smirk or a smile; it’s hard to tell, with the way he’s looking at Harry and the way he keeps making cheeky remarks, leaning casually back against the couch and up into Liam’s side. Liam is rubbing casual circles into Louis’ shoulder.

“Yeah,” Harry continues, grinning at Louis, eyes so brilliantly green and earnest that any trace of slyness seems to melt right off of Louis’ face. “And now we’ve each got four, haven’t we?”

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