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There was almost never an escape to the flashing of bright lights, frenzied screams and desperate grabs for attention, though the heavy swells of relief finally begun to hit as weakened legs begun their quiet ascent up the front steps. Loud shrieks and sobbing continued to ring throughout the expanse of Harry’s tired mind, constantly reminding him of his fame and power over the young minds of his fans. It had been another long day, another long day of avoiding the only thing that could bring the smile to his face even when all he wants to do is head butt the pillow and sleep for 48 hours.
It was only as Harry was turning the door knob gently in between his fingertips that the screams dulled into a quiet murmur. Perhaps it was the calming aroma filling the walls of his household or perhaps it was the bubbly energy suddenly encasing him tightly. Wow, only 3 steps within the door and Louis had already managed to latch himself onto Harry’s figure. New record.
See, no matter how foul Harry’s mood is, whether he be tired or overworked, one glimpse of the beautiful cerulean pupils, one hearty chuckle roused from an immature joke, one smile designated only for him and all his stresses immediately washed away. If only Louis knew of these intimate inner thoughts, Harry would get the absolute mick taken out of him. Though even he can’t deny it’s ridiculously cheesy.
“Hey babe,” Louis breathed contentedly against Harry’s chest, breath ghosting over the inking of his tattoos. The sound rings loud in Harry’s ears, all former noises completely forgotten.
“Hi Lou,” the Cheshire lad replied, sleep lacing through his words. Louis turned his eyes up, concern glinting in his irises. No matter whether Harry was a couple feet taller, Louis was always going to be the oldest. He took pride in being able to protect and bring comfort to Harry in ways that others could not.
Leaning up onto his toes, Louis brings himself to eye level. Green meeting blue, he gingerly runs a hand through the slick curls, styled away from his face. More tamed. Though Louis did miss the days where those curls lay haphazardly across Harry’s forehead, sometimes getting in the way of his sight. Good times.
“How are you feeling?” his tone softened, soothing. He can see the way it affects Harry with the fault in his breath. It was not easily mistaken. “Harry, if there’s something we need to talk about-“
“Please, Lou. Can we just…” he inhales deeply, steadying his emotions. He was often known as the more sensitive member of One Direction and though he had hardened himself up a little more since 2010, he still wasn’t used to keeping it all bottled up. It was especially difficult in Louis’ presence. Louis allowed Harry to gain his composure, eyes watching his trembling lips, shaking hands as they raked through uneven curls. “Can we maybe give it a raincheck? I just can’t right now.”
“Harry, no, it’s completely fine. Don’t even worry about it, mate. Just, let’s…. close the door.” Louis nudged the slightly opened door closed with his foot before carefully leading Harry through into the lounge room. Louis kept his hand wrapped tightly in Harry’s (abnormally) large ones, guiding him away to be seated on the couch. Even when they were both comfortably seated, asses planted on the firm leather of the couch, Louis kept holding on.
“I just-“ Harry paused, lifting his glistening eyes up to meet Louis’. The tears clouded his emerald eyes, bringing a lump to Louis’ throat. He could never hate this boy. Honestly.
“C’mere.” Louis tugged Harry down, head of curls resting against Louis’ shoulder. He would always be this boy’s shoulder to cry on. Post for him to lean on. He was his best friend and even more. “Harry,” he cooed, hand massaging soothing circles along Harry’s spine. A quiet sniffle resonated from the younger boy and Louis was about to press a comforting kiss to Harry’s forehead before he jolted up suddenly.
“Is that…” Harry sniffed the air once again, searching for that smell. “Burning?”
“What are you- oh fuck!” Louis practically back flipped off the couch, legs frantically carrying him to the kitchen, otherwise known to be the source of the horrid burning smell. It was obvious Harry was right beside him with the gentle clicking of boot heels against the floorboards. “Crap!” Louis screamed exasperatedly, picking up the tea towel beside the stovetop, busily fanning at the steaming saucepans.
Harry watched over his shoulder, eyes quickly darting to each safety hazard (otherwise known as Louis’ cooking). The saucepan filled with water was steaming, spilling over the edges of the metal and down onto the hotplate. The mince burned away in the frying pan, starting to appear more like charcoal than actual food. And of course, the oven had a burning loaf of garlic bread with cling wrap still layered heavily over the whole food.
Harry let out a loud sigh, moving Louis out of the disaster zone with a firm hand. He moved to carefully turning off all the hotplates and oven before picking up the saucepan of water, patiently lowering it all into the drain. With patient, thorough movements, Louis’ disastrous meal was binned and kitchen cleaned. The only thing remaining behind to give a hint to the former events was the unmistakable burning aroma.
“Nothing a burst of air freshener won’t fix,” Louis smiled cheekily as Harry scrunched up his nose at the smell. Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at his completely oblivious housemate.
“Really, Lou?” Louis shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of a reply. “Well, was that meant to be dinner?”
“I like the use of ‘meant to be’.” Louis replied, idly playing with his hair. Harry had pointed out earlier that morning that his current length reminded him of back when he first met Louis at the auditions of the X Factor, nostalgia blossoming inside the both of them. “But uh, yeah. I tried to make spaghetti bolognaise for you before you got here but you kind of distracted me so deep down this is all your fault, Styles!” Louis added a mischievous chuckle to the end.
Harry laid his face down in his hands, sighing loudly into his palms. How is it that he managed to become best friends with the most loveable deviant in all of Britain? “Cereal again?” he lifts his eyes up to meet Louis’, giving him an exhausted smile.
“Corn flakes?” Louis pointed to the pantry questioningly.
“That’d be lovely,” Harry said, rising to his feet, arms stretching high over his head. A massive yawn ripped throughout him, showing how over-exhausted he was.
“Go lay down and I’ll meet you up in you a few minutes. Then we can watch some Breaking Bad.” Harry slowly made his way up the stairs to their shared room, looking back behind him to watch as Louis began preparing his specialty; corn flakes.
He shook his head to himself, signature smile appearing on his lips. He couldn’t help it. The slight whisper came through without thought.
“God, I love you.”