Chapter Text
He scratches the back of his head with his fingertips, forever wishing he had longer fingernails so he could actually scratch his head and not just drag his fingers back and forth over it, hoping the feeling of itchiness would go away. But then again, he’d have to stop biting his fingernails, something Harry reminds him about every other day but a habit Louis can’t seem to let go of. It’s funny, really, how Harry always goes on and on about how Louis one day will “destroy his pretty little fingers”, but he always brushes it off whenever Louis tells Harry to stop biting his bottom lip. Louis always tells him he’ll destroy his pretty lip, but Harry doesn’t seem to care.
Louis is tired. Now, he always is when he wakes up, doesn’t matter just how much sleep he actually got, but this time he woke up after just a couple of hours. He doesn’t know if he dreamt something or if it just was the simple chilly space Harry left behind him in the bed, but either way he couldn’t fall asleep again, so he tossed his feet off the bed and stood up to find Harry. Perhaps he’s just peeing, but even if he is, Louis just wants to know he is okay. He does not know what time it is, but it doesn’t matter because either way it won’t stop him from looking after his best friend and checking up on him. You see, Harry sleepwalks every now and then and no, Louis certainly doesn’t mind bringing his curly haired friend back to bed safe and sound, but he’s still hoping Harry is actually awake this time because Louis is just a little too tired to deal with a sleepwalking Harry right at this moment.
When Louis leaves the bedroom for a walk down to the kitchen, he can feel the carpet under his feet tickling his soles and for every step he takes he’s questioning their decision to wait another week before vacuuming. Because Louis is a 100 per cent certain what he feels beneath his soles are more than just the actual carpet, though he doesn’t dare to even think about what it is he’s feeling. Still he can’t help himself – is it food, dust or even animals? He shudders at this. No, he’s not going there. Not today.
Louis leaves the carpet as fast as his short legs and tired feet let him, too sickened by his thoughts to stand there even a second longer than needed. Instead he focuses on the kitchen right before him, because that’s the only source of light in their entire flat. He makes his way to the kitchen opening and just as he steps into the kitchen and therefore into the light as well, blinking because of just how bright it actually is, he’s met by a pair of green eyes and a shaking hand holding out a tea cup for him to grasp. He must’ve heard him, as Harry has fixed two tea cups of Yorkshire tea, Louis’ favourite tea – one for him and one for Louis.
“Tea.” The word is small, quiet and a bit shaky, but enough to remind Louis that Harry is actually holding out a tea cup with his favourite tea for him and even though Louis can’t stop wondering why the fuck Harry is up in what he guesses is the asscrack of dawn making tea out of all things, he still takes the cup from his shaky hand.
Louis immediately takes the cup into his both hands and lets them get warm around it as he stares at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. He can’t put his finger on what’s wrong with the sight before him, but something is definitely not right. So he mumbles a thank you and lifts the cup up to his lips to take a small sip of the hot liquid. It burns the walls of his throat and he clears it directly after, eyes dropping to Harry’s feet which are crossed. This, Louis has learned, is a nervous manner of his and makes Louis wonder even more what the hell is going on. When he looks up again, Harry is biting his bottom lip with his front teeth, but this time Louis doesn’t even bother to call him out. Instead, Louis drops his head to the side and stares up at the younger boy before him.
“Are you high?” he blurts suddenly. He can’t think of anything else to say to be honest, but Harry’s eyes are a bit cloudy and he’s acting really strange. Harry immediately frowns. “N-no, why would you think that?”
“Well, you’re shaking pretty badly.” Louis mutters. Harry just shrugs.
“’M not high.”
“Then what the fuck is up? Because I wanna go back to bed and you’re kind of scaring me, to be honest.”
Louis feels quite selfish to say this, but he can’t help it. He’s so extremely tired and no, he doesn’t mind taking care of the younger boy because after all, he’s his best friend and he’d do anything for him, but sometimes a prince needs his beauty sleep, you know?
Harry sighs and shakes his head. “It’s complicated.” he mutters.
“Well, everything’s complicated in the early hours, innit?”
Louis has barely touched his tea, and neither has Harry. He just stares, but Harry seems to only have eyes for the ceiling. And perhaps something actually interesting is up there, but Louis doesn’t care because he has decided, as the annoying fuck he is, to stare at Harry until he gives in and tells him what the heck is up so they can go to sleep again.
And Louis continues to stare. And Harry continues to take in every inch of the white ceiling. And Louis can’t help to wonder what is going on in that boy’s head, because he is only seventeen and he’s acting like sixty fucking three or something.
Then suddenly, Harry clears his throat. Louis’ eyes flicker to his Adam’s apple and he can see it gulp up and down. Louis immediately softens, because Harry seems so nervous and he just wants to hug him tight, but then he might never find out what Harry is doing up and what he’s thinking about, because Louis knows that if he gives in and hugs Harry, he’ll let go of all the worries and just drag him back to bed so they can spoon. And that’s a tempting thing to do, but not now, because for once Louis is determined to stand straight and wait out Harry’s explanation.
So, he pushes him. Just a little.
“Sooo…?”
Harry sighs. He licks his lips and suddenly he looks right at Louis, and Louis becomes extremely aware of how intense the green colour in his eyes actually is. It’s almost a shining colour – or maybe it’s the light – but it even gets him to the point where he’s quite terrified. Still he stares back, right into his eyes, green meets blue, and Harry parts his lips to say the least expected thing in the whole wide world:
“I'm in love with you.”
Louis can feel the tea coming up again. He coughs, quickly swallows it and clears his throat over and over to make the burning feeling of vomit in his throat disappear. His palms are suddenly sweaty, the cup slipping from his hands and the heartbeat is loud in his ears. He blinks and stares wide eyed at Harry with a gaze that translates to what the fuck did you just say. The silence that follows grows between them like a wall, thicker and worse than any carpet Louis has ever stepped onto, including their own earlier, and he hates it.
Louis is the one to look away first. He’s panicking and swallows his own saliva with such force he almost chokes. Then he mumbles:
“It’s not mutual. Sorry.”
He quickly puts away the tea cup on the kitchen table beside him and leaves the room without looking back. But if he had, he would’ve seen Harry stand there with his lips pressed together in a regretting manner, tears forming in his eyes. But Louis doesn’t look back. Though, can’t shut out the sound of a tea cup slipping from Harry’s fingers and breaking into a thousand pieces when it collides with the floor.