you're cold and I burn (on hold)

*****
“Y’know, sometimes it seems like the weather here is always grey.” Harry’s nose wrinkles, his
leather jacket pulled tight over his torso, “always so cloudy <strong>and</strong> gloom.”
“Or maybe you’re just a grump.” Louis shrugs, swaying heavily to the left to avoid Harry’s
inevitable shoulder nudge of disapproval.
“Me? Grumpy?” He squares his shoulder, “Never.”
“Sure babe.”
“Sure babe,” Harry repeats in a high voice, which earns him a hard smack to the chest, losing step
<strong>and</strong> clonking his torn boot against the sidewalk. Bambi.
“Hush <strong>and</strong> enjoy the breeze.”
“How? It’s fucking <strong>cold</strong>, Louis.”
“I told you that you could bring my thick lavender sweater, it’s the best one to keep you warm.”
Louis reminds him, knowing for a fact that Harry won’t respond because he’s still inept on
keeping his hard-boy exterior for the general public. Only soft <strong>and</strong> delicate in oversized clothing
for Louis’ eyes. The silence falls briefly as Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling
him in <strong>and</strong> bringing his lips to his ear, “you look pretty in it, princess.”
The giggle that slips from Harry is sweet <strong>and</strong> light, “That’s what I go for.”
The park is empty today, spare a few dedicated cyclists <strong>and</strong> the occasional dog-walker. Louis’
gonna pin it on the fact that it’s not a pretty day by anyone’s st<strong>and</strong>ards. The sky is grey <strong>and</strong>
covered in a thick cloak of clouds, wind whipping around non-stop <strong>and</strong> making the leaves on the
trees rustle louder than necessary.
It rained earlier, so it smells nice <strong>and</strong> Louis wants to enjoy it. Harry just insisted on coming along
<strong>and</strong> even though Louis knew he wouldn’t have a good time he couldn’t refuse Harry. Can’t say
no, ever.
They’re walking side by side, the soles of their shoes rubbing against the concrete <strong>and</strong> it’s a
comfortable quiet. It’s easy <strong>and</strong> feeling Harry beside him makes it feel just like when Louis is in
his flat, warm <strong>and</strong> serene <strong>and</strong> simple. Only the comfort isn’t coming from the decorations, or
smells, or colors. It’s coming from one person with floppy curls <strong>and</strong> long, unsteady legs.
“I might start wearing the sweaters out soon, I need you to help me pick some of my own out.”
Harry says softly, not looking up from his own feet.
“‘Course, love. Just tell me when.” He replies, <strong>and</strong> the words are unthought <strong>and</strong> unchallenged,
“you gotta promise me you’ll still wear mine around the house, though, I love seeing you romping
around n’em.”
“Promise.”