7 Up

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and drops his head to his shoulder. Harry pulls him in close. “I don’t
know what happened. I never have any trouble watching them, ever. They’re my sisters, yeah? I
don’t know. I just got really overwhelmed and panicked and the first person I thought of was you.”
He traces along Harry’s knuckles. “Thank you.”
He pulls Louis’ hand up to his lips and kisses the back of his hand. “You do a good job with them.
They love you so much.”
Louis squishes in closer, draping his legs across Harry’s lap. They sit like that in silence for a bit,
Louis with his head on Harry’s chest. Harry imagines Louis can feel how wildly his heart is
beating.
Eventually, he leans down to kiss Louis, softly and slowly, and Louis wraps his arms around
Harry’s neck, using that as leverage to pull himself up, sitting astride Harry’s hips.
The kiss never gains momentum, though. It remains sweet, and Harry gently runs his hands up and
down Louis’ spine. Louis sighs into Harry’s mouth, tongue running along Harry’s lips, and he
can’t get enough of how Louis feels beneath his hands.
Eventually, they pull back, and Harry rubs his thumb along Louis’ puffy bottom lip. He’s
completely disheveled, a product of a stressful night. His glasses lenses are smudged, his hair is
starting to become greasy, his shirt is wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes are deep and purple.
Harry’s breath catches in his throat. His boy is so beautiful.
He leans in and presses his forehead against Louis’s, eyes going crossed when he tries to meet
Louis’ gaze. His lips quirk upward when he says, “You could probably use a shower, Lou.”
Louis leans back and rolls his eyes. “You’re a prick. We were having such a nice moment and you
had to ruin it with your honesty. I know I look like shit.”
Harry laughs, and leans forward again. “You’re still breathtaking.”
Louis chews on his bottom lip and scrunches up his nose. “If you say so.” He flicks Harry on the
forehead and climbs off his lap. “‘m gonna go change. Don’t leave.”
He smiles. “I’ll be right here.”
Harry hasn’t told Louis he loves him yet. Louis has to know, though, Harry figures. He feels like it
oozes out with every look, touch, thought… He’s buzzing with how much he loves his boy, and he
has to actively stop himself from saying it whenever Louis so much as glances in his general
direction. It’s what he’s done for years.
But when Louis reappears a few minute later, face washed and sporting a clean pair of pyjamas,
Harry absolutely cannot hold it in any longer. And why should he have to?
Louis sits back down besides Harry, throwing a blanket over their laps, and he reaches for the
remote to the telly. “What do you wanna watch? I’m feeling generous. You can pick tonight.”
Harry looks at Louis, almost vibrating out of his seat. “Lou, I’m in love with you.”
Louis’ eyes go wide as he turns to meet Harry’s stare. “Because I’m letting you pick the film?”