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Louis had never been a morning person.
He wasn’t an up-at-3:00AM kind of person either but Harry - who had gone to celebrate a friend’s birthday whom Louis absolutely detested (hated with every fibre of his being, really) interacting with – wasn’t there.
He couldn’t sleep and it was his fault. Louis huffed, knowing that was unfair. Harry loved all his friends but he knew Louis didn’t necessarily feel the same way so he spared Louis the suffering that would come from spending a full weekend with them. Basically, Harry was an angel.
Louis climbed out of bed and went to make a cup of tea. The moonlight streamed through the glass mosaic window Harry was obsessed with. The colours danced over their empty foyer like ghosts of every moment of their life together. He sighed. He knew Harry would have preferred to have Louis by his side. But he just couldn’t. Louis had been feeling down for a couple of days, would have been absolutely horrid company. Even then, Louis knew that Harry would have still wanted him there. He always wanted Louis there.
(Even when Louis was whiny, needy, cactus-like and drunk off his arse.)
He stopped for a minute. What was he doing?
He really couldn’t stomach tea right now, the guilt of not being with Harry was overwhelming. They hadn’t argued but Louis knew how disappointed Harry had been, saw the sadness creep into his eyes as he let a reassuring smile fill his face. They hated spending time apart. And this time, it was Louis’ fault.
He went up to the roof, grabbing his book and pen. Maybe the midnight air would soothe Louis’ guilt. He lay down on the tiled roof; the stars twinkled above him, seemingly knowing exactly how he felt. He knew their love for each other was strong. Neither of them had ever doubted it. He knew that no one could ever make him feel anything close to the way Harry made him feel when his green eyes lit up, when Harry held his hand or kissed his hair, or nuzzled into him like the kitten he was or- Louis was getting off track.
He gave up. His thoughts were useless. They just made him miss Harry more. They hadn’t fought. Louis knew they were fine. He just hated disappointing Harry. He wished that he was drinking pretentious drinks and eating whatever fancy food Harry’s friend had deemed appropriate for her party because at least then, it would have meant he was by Harry’s side (where he should always be). He decided to focus on something else. The stars were indescribable. Just like Harry. He huffed a laugh.
(Even when he was trying not to think about Harry, Harry was all he could think about.)
The way the stars shone set off this deeply incomprehensible emotion inside of Louis, the way only Harry could. Louis had always been the kind of person who adored the sun, but the stars owned his heart; Harry owned his heart, his soul - everything. From the minute Louis met Harry, he just knew. With one shy smile, Harry had taken everything Louis had, and Louis willingly gave everything. He left him hollow and the space within Louis could only be filled with harryharryharry, only green eyes and awkward angles and dimpled grins lived inside of Louis now, along with that deep, unknowable, incomprehensible emotion that was love, but also so much more. (It was everything.)
An idea dawned on him. He thanked the stars as he scribbled his nth love letter. Messy lyrics in chicken scratch - the only language Louis knew when it came to expressing his feelings for Harry. He doesn’t know how long he sat out there but the sun rose, and with it came Harry, his car pulling up in their driveway. Louis scrambled off the roof.
Harry tiptoed around the house as he quietly shrugged his coat off and dropped his keys in that horribly malformed bowl that Louis had made in that pottery class they had taken on their third anniversary. It was blue and green and Harry loved it. Despite Louis’ protests (and attempts to throw it out), Harry kept it. He had, of course seen right through him. He always could.
(It would have been chucked straight into the bin. It was misshapen, unevenly dipped and looked so out of place compared to the rest of their home but it was the perfect combination of harryandlouisandlouisandharry and just so incredibly… them. Louis liked it. And Harry knew that. So, it stayed.)
Louis leaned against the wall and watched as Clifford ran up to Harry and barked. Harry shushed him gently. “Hush now, love. We don’t want to wake your dad up now, do we? You know how cranky he gets.” Clifford licked Harry’s nose and he giggled in response. Louis, who had been fondly watching his two boys decided to make his presence known. “Oye. If I’m that cranky, why do you put up with me then?”
Harry only jumped a little before his face split into a dimpled grin and his eyes filled with warmth and love and everything that Louis was overcome by just how much he had missed Harry even if he was only gone for two days, thirteen hours and a couple of minutes. (Louis wasn’t counting. He wasn’t.) Tears formed in his eyes and he hastened to wipe them away but Harry was already there, soft and comforting and full of reassurances. Louis knew that Harry could read him, could tell how sorry he was, how much he missed him, how much he loved him but his sleep deprived brain babbled out a stream of nonsense Louis wasn’t even sure were words. Harry cut it off with a kiss, carefully cupping Louis’ face. His arms went around Harry’s waist. They broke away gently, their foreheads rested against each other.
“I know, Lou. I know.”
Louis all but melted into Harry’s arms and held him tight, afraid he was going to disappear. Harry smiled softly as he carded his fingers through the feathery brown hair and kissed it.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
It was all the reassurance Louis needed before he dragged Harry off to their room; the bed that had only looked far too big, far too cold and far too empty for Louis these past two days, now looked perfect.
Or maybe it was just the love of his life cradled in his arms (where he should always be), reading the newest additions to Louis’ book that made it perfect.
The sun was shining through the window but Louis didn’t care.
He was holding all the stars in his arms - and they loved him back.