you're cold and I burn (on hold)

Harry. He’s home, in Louis’ closet, his upper body covered in one of Louis’ sweaters. He wears
them big so that they kind of engulf him, but they’re still a bit smaller on Harry than what looks
comfortable. It’s the light yellow one, he wears it mostly when he knows a day will be gloom,
rainy or just hard to get through. The yellow adds in a sense of happiness <strong>and</strong> glow, it makes him
feel better.
Harry’s fingers are casually scanning over the wide array of clothing, feeling the soft fabric.
Louis’ raises his h<strong>and</strong>s to face, covering his mouth to conceal the sound of his breathing, just in
case he gets caught. It still smells like Harry, <strong>and</strong> it finally makes sense that, maybe this isn’t the
first time Harry’s been in here, trying on his sweaters.
The fabric falls looser on his shoulders, the vibrant color so perfect against Harry’s skin. He’s
trying his best to look littler in the sweater, swaying his body back <strong>and</strong> forth with the sweetest
smile hinting at his lips. He looks like he should always wear it, like it’s his favorite thing in the
world. Louis shifts to his left foot, to lean against the wall <strong>and</strong> watch just bit longer. But, the
floorboard creaks at the movement, <strong>and</strong> Harry jumps to automatically face Louis.
Fuck, he hates his floor sometimes.
“Louis,” He blinks, erratic <strong>and</strong> nervous, “Uh, all my shirts are dirty, I was just- I just,”
“Harry, it’s fine.” Louis keeps his tone as casual as he can, he wants Harry to know this is no big
deal, “You can borrow some if you like.”
“No, no.” Harry shakes his head, in a quickened attempt to remove the sweater.
Louis’ h<strong>and</strong>s fly to Harry’s where they’re grabbing the hem, “Don’t,” His word is more like a
breath, but it makes Harry halt, “Keep it on, Harry, you look good in it.”
Harry doesn’t say anything right away, but his h<strong>and</strong>s fall to his side. He sort of shifts himself away
from how close Louis’ st<strong>and</strong>ing, shrinking into the sweater <strong>and</strong> it’s so obvious he’s embarrassed, a
bright red stinging his cheeks.
“Harry,” Louis scoots closer, “you can wear them, anything you want to wear. It doesn’t bother
me, I promise you. Don’t be embarrassed, you’re so beautiful in them, how could I possibly be
mad?”
“You weren’t supposed to know.” Harry says, its weak <strong>and</strong> light.
“Why don’t you want me to know?”
“Because,” He shrugs, allowing Louis’ h<strong>and</strong>s to wrap around his waist, both of them facing each
other, “I wasn’t ready for anyone to see me in them just yet. I took what you said to heart, I really
did. But I’m just coming to terms with being like-“ He glances down <strong>and</strong> back into Louis’ eyes, “-
this, wearing stuff like this.”
“And take all the time you need, okay, I’m not rushing you. But, since I have already seen you in
them, maybe you can keep it on, just for me to see. You know that you can be yourself around
me, sweaters <strong>and</strong> all.” Louis pulls at the fabric stretching it out a bit more to look even bigger on
Harry. He doesn’t mind that it’ll be more like a dress on him now, because Harry’s face is so full
of happiness.
“Maybe I’ll leave this one on, just for today.”
“What happened to the plans later?”