hi! this is a snippet from a fic i’m currently working on, which will hopefully be done soon! lauren @daggersau read some and really kindly drew me this lovely piece of art to go with this part of the fic, so i really wanted to share it! i hope u enjoy x
Harry shifts closer and closer to Louis on the sofa as another film plays on (they’ve been at this for a while now, light from outside steadily creeping away, film afternoon having turned into a film evening), and Louis is slowly losing his ability to regulate his breathing properly. He can feel the warmth from Harry’s body, can feel Harry’s thigh touching his, and even though it’s a small couch, there’s still plenty of space, so Harry doesn’t strictly need to be this close. Louis doesn’t dare say anything, though. Doesn’t want to.
Harry does get up, though, and Louis misses his presence immediately. Jesus. He spends an hour with Harry in close proximity to him and now he can hardly bear being apart for a mere minute? How pathetic.
Louis’ not suffering for long; Harry’s just come back, along with even more drinks for them all to have. He also brought a blanket, the same one that he’s now draping over them both, all soft and fuzzy and pink. Louis realises, as Harry’s arranging the blanket, that it almost matches Harry’s nail colour; a glossy, pale rose that he hadn’t noticed before. And of course. Of course this hardened boy who wears tough leather and harsh black eyeliner, and does too many drugs to count, also owns a fluffy pink blanket. How very Harry.
“Love the colour, H,” Louis whispers once Harry is settled, because fuck it, if Harry’s allowed a nickname, Louis is too.
“It’s my favourite,” Harry smiles shyly, as if there’s anything to be shy about. Louis focuses his eyes on Harry, and in the low light, the colour of his glowing cheeks almost seem to match the blanket. Louis is helplessly endeared by this boy. Of course his favourite colour is pink, too.
“Hey, lovebirds, stop your whispering,” Louis feels his cheeks heat up at the comment, and he also feels called out. Is he being that obvious? He’s going to kill Niall, honestly, “There’s a time and place for that. You’re the ones who wanted to watch this film in the first place,” Louis head finally whips over to the source of the sound, to see Niall grinning, who’s not actually irritated in the slightest.
“Shut up, Niall,” he hears Harry mutter from next to him, after a beat, voice slightly breathless, and he sounds a bit distracted, attention probably back on the film already. Maybe it’s not such a big deal then; it’s probably just a joke to Harry, Niall’s comment. Louis wishes it could be just a joke to him, would make things, controlling his feelings, mainly, a whole lot easier to deal with. Louis lets out a deep breath. He’s going to be having words with Niall later. “It’s those two you should be worried about, anyway,” Harry adds, gesturing to Zayn and Liam sitting next to Niall.
Niall looks over - they all do - to where Zayn and Liam are sitting together. They’re all curled up to each other, oblivious to the conversation around them even more oblivious to the attention on them. They’re in their own little bubble, reciting the lines from the film to each other. It’s sweet.
Louis remembers the conversation he’d had with them in the pub, weeks ago now. Remembers what they’d said about feeling secure in each other, how they just knew.
“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” a whispered voice travels to Louis’ ear, barely loud enough. He knows who’s said it though.
Without looking away from the couple, he responds, “Yeah. They’re lucky.”
“They’ve always been my gauge, you know? Ever since they first got together. They fell in love straight away, I think, even when we were kids you could tell,” Harry continues, voice low so as not to earn another comment from Niall. Also, perhaps to keep their conversation private, too. Louis stomach flutters at the simple prospect of him and Harry having secrets together, exclusive discussions that only they hear. Fuck. Louis’ already in so deep if this is what he gets excited about.
“Your gauge?” Louis whispers back, confused at what he means.
“Like, my measurement. For relationships, I mean, people I meet. I’ve always been a bit nervous that I’d never actually find anyone, because my standards are so high, but it’s important to me,” he continues, a bit sheepishly. “I say to myself, if they don’t seem like they’re gonna make you feel like Zayn and Liam make each other feel, that almost tangible feeling of just… pure love, then what’s the bloody point?” Harry responds, light humour in his tone, but Louis can tell, is able to tell now, when Harry’s being genuine or not. And he is, with this. He obviously admires his friends’ relationship a lot.
“Oh. I see,” Louis says softly, and then decides he’s just going to risk saying the next thing he says before wimping out, “So… has anyone lived up to that yet? For you?” Louis doesn’t know why this question makes him so nervous, why he has to work on regulating his breathing yet again in preparation for the answer. (He knows. Of course he knows).
“Hm.” Louis can feel Harry’s gaze latched to him now, and he moves his eyes from Zayn and Liam back to Harry. It’s always back to Harry, it seems. “Not until–” Harry stops then, a puzzling look on his face that Louis can’t quite decipher. Then, unmistakably, in their close proximity, Harry’s emerald gaze flickers from Louis’ eyes, to his lips, and then back again. Louis is almost fully sure that he stops breathing for a second there. “I’m not sure, now, actually.”
Louis has to avert his gaze, has to vacate the intense moment immediately. Harry’s heavy stare is almost too much, never mind the weight behind the words. Louis can’t, doesn’t want to think about what Harry could possibly mean, doesn’t want to take it the wrong way, because Louis always takes it the wrong way. Louis’s past, whether with his family or relationships, has been disappointing, to say the least, and he’s been let down too many times to count. It’s ironic, too, because now Louis barely ever lets himself feel anything, will never admit to himself properly how feels, out of fear of disappointment, but he can’t really help it when it comes to Harry. He doesn’t want to be disappointed, though, it’s happened too often before. Harry’s his friend, and that’s enough. It has to be enough.
A/N - This is a simple one shot and it’s just my way of saying happy birthday to one of the most amazing friends that i have, @bovaria!
Bucky woke up early, despite the lack of sleep he’d gotten the night before. Between fighting against his excitement and giving his full attention to the beauty that slumbered soundly beside him, Bucky was lucky to have gotten the few hours in that he did.
He hesistated before waking her. Watching her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, he smiled as he scooted closer to her until his bare chest connected with the warmth of her back. The faint sound of her breathing intermingled with the songs of the birds that flew by, outside. Her long brown hair took on a lighter color and shine in the spots where rays of sunlight crept through the soft curtains covering the windows.