Young & Beautiful

over, grabbing for Louis’ hands, his shirt, his face.
“I’m filling up the sky with my love for you,” Louis says simply, catching his breath with a shrug.
“So whenever you look up, it echoes back.”
“No matter where I am?” Harry asks, his smile softening as he nuzzles gently into his cheek,
breathing him in, nose brushing his jawline and sending cascades of shivers down his spine.
“No matter where you are,” Louis affirms. “There’s only one sky.”
“We all share the same sky,” Harry agrees. He pauses, skimming fingertips across Louis’
collarbones. “But I should always like to hear you say it,” Harry whispers, almost tentatively. “Not
an echo. I want you beside me under every sky. Always.”
Things are sizzling inside Louis, snapping and stealing his breath.
“Will always be beside you, Harry,” Louis murmurs, cradling his face. “The sky’s just the backing
track, of course.” He smiles.
Harry glows.
“Of course,” agrees.
They stay there a moment longer, Louis pulling Harry down to brush cool lips against his own,
losing himself in the sensation of everything Harry, everything exquisite. He allows him to steal
his breath—through the warmth of his mouth and the cadence of his lips that slide so sweetly
against Louis’ own.
A perfect match.
“Let’s go home,” Louis eventually says, pulling back to watch Harry’s eyes refocus.
He nods, face glazed in a soft smile that blends with the muted lights and the glinting shop
windows and the flickering streetlamps that stand so tall all around them.
“Let us,” he agrees, before suddenly grinning—rather manically—and throwing his head back, his
chest filling. “I LOVE LOUIS TOMLINSON!” he bellows, far more impressively than Louis (he
sounds like an absolute Titan, his voice akin to thunder) and closing his eyes blissfully before
dropping his head back down, his kissed lips very pleased with themselves.
“What was that for?” Louis laughs, surprised.
Harry opens his eyes.
“Because I love you,” he smiles slow. “And because I want a backing track, too.” His grin is
lopsided.
“Come on, you idiot,” Louis laughs, refusing to give into the flush of his skin as he pulls Harry
along, stumbling over his clicking, sleek boots.
And as they walk, fingers laced with fingers and the clicks of their heels synching together as they
laugh, laugh, laugh, Louis swears he can hear their voices mingled in the sky, dancing between
the stars.
**