you're cold and I burn (on hold)

first, he runs the coffee pot <strong>and</strong> makes them a bowl of cereal (he hasn’t quite perfected the art of
cooking, but eh.) After eating, they’ll separate to their rooms <strong>and</strong> get ready for the day, Harry’s
usually consisting of going out for whatever reason, while Louis tries to work up inspiration for an
art piece, or a walk in the park.
In the evening, Louis will cook dinner while Harry sits at the counter <strong>and</strong> watches. He usually
cocks his head to the right <strong>and</strong> mentally takes notes of Louis’ ingredients <strong>and</strong> preparation. Then,
he’ll get lost in a conversation <strong>and</strong> completely forget, then complain about it later when he realizes
he’s lost track.
And Louis will say “I can just write down the recipes,” <strong>and</strong> Harry will reply, “It’s more fun to
watch you.”
Then Louis will pick out a movie or television show from Netflix while Harry goes to Louis’
closet to find a sweater of his choosing, flopping down on the left side of the couch <strong>and</strong> tucking
his toes into the cracks of the cushions.
Right now, it’s seven in the evening <strong>and</strong> they have their bellies full of lasagna <strong>and</strong> they’re
watching HGTV, as per Harry’s request.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks, <strong>and</strong> Louis blinks, snapping his focus back into
place <strong>and</strong> locking his jaw at the pink blush spreading over Harry cheeks. He catches Louis staring
at him all the time, he should be quite used to it by now.
“Thought about what?”
“Reupholstering the chairs, like with a kinda funky pattern to spice the place up.”
“Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes, “the flat is decorated in bright tangerine, I’d say it’s pretty spiced
up.”
Harry pokes his lower lip out, tugging down the sleeves <strong>and</strong> covering his h<strong>and</strong>s. It’s ‘sweaterpaw’
eternally for Louis now, with Harry’s long ass arms, but he doesn’t mind one bit. His h<strong>and</strong>s
get <strong>cold</strong> often, anyway. “We should do an ocean blue next.”
“Because blue is calming, does it relax you?”
“No,” Harry shrugs, looking down at the comforter covering his body, “It’s your eye color <strong>and</strong> I
think it’s pretty, is all.”
“You’re only saying that because I made you lasagna tonight, you suck-up.” Louis jokes,
laughing to lighten the mood. His insides are melting <strong>and</strong> gooey but that’s beside the point.
“Not true,” Harry argues, “I always tell you how pretty your eyes are.”
“You’re just precious,” Louis leans over, pressing his index against the top of Harry’s nose,
“cutie.”
Harry smacks his h<strong>and</strong> away too late, Louis’ already shuffling into the kitchen. He’s getting a
glass of water, <strong>and</strong> deciding whether or not to get out the vanilla ice-cream or wait another hour.
While contemplating, he hears the floor boards creak, signaling Harry's approach into the small
kitchen.
“You’re going to miss the home reveal.” He says, stepping up to st<strong>and</strong> directly in front of Louis,
Louis’ h<strong>and</strong>s immediately raising to rest on Harry’s hips. Everything seems to be real <strong>and</strong> in
control, it’s like second nature. They’ve not gone past kissing, but the lingering touches <strong>and</strong> holds