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Harry spots Louis on the corner of the street, a paper bag covering the bottle in his hands and snowflakes falling in white clumps onto his bright right hat. They aren’t the swirling wind blown shards that sometimes whip through the atmosphere, but thick wads of snow that drift down onto the street, muting the night to a whisper and resting thick on Harry’s windshield.
Louis is standing in the glow of the streetlight and it paints him a strange kind of orange, dusky flakes floating slowly around him. It’s gone quiet on the street, a few cars carefully winding through the storm, but from inside the cabin of the car the night feels like it only holds them; Harry waiting for the light to change and Louis with his lips to the bottle.
The light goes green and Harry presses on the gas, sliding through the intersection and pulling into the Walgreens parking lot, the snow making his tires slip just the tiniest bit as he turns into a parking space, barely inside the yellow lines. He doesn’t bother turning the car off, just puts it in park and heads out into the cold.
He spots Louis doing a half job across the lot, the pom pom on his hat bouncing a bit with every stride.
“Watch the ice!” Harry calls, shoving his hands into his pockets and waiting for Louis to reach him.
“I am!” Louis returns, waving the champagne (because for some reason Louis has decided that cheap champagne is his favorite thing in the world) and closing the distance between them, smashing his lips to Harry’s before he can say anything. His mouth is cold and slick with alcohol and Harry smiles against it before Louis pulls back, sliding a bare hand into Harry’s pocket. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Harry replies, pressing another quick kiss to Louis’ mouth. “Everything alright?”
The other boy nods, eyes crinkled and fond, snowy crystals sticking in his eyelashes. “It is now.”
Harry smiles, accepting the answer for the moment. Louis does this a lot, acting like everything is perfect until he is physically incapable of keeping himself together. Though he was completely ridiculous playing Danny Zuko in Grease, Harry is pretty sure he’s the best actor he knows. “C’mon. I’m freezing my balls off.”
“God forbid that happens.” Louis replies, bopping his nose quickly against Harry’s and scurrying over to the passenger side, throwing himself inside. Harry follows him in with an amused roll of his eyes, holding his hands over the heating vents as Baby It’s Cold Outside plays over the radio.
“Fucking love this song.” Louis says, taking a dainty sip out of his bottle, the green top poking out of the bag he’s thrust it in. “Totally classic.”
Harry pulls out into the street, trying to suppress a smile as Louis starts to hum along, staring out into the night like if he refuses to acknowledge that he’s doing it then maybe Harry won’t notice. Louis has a lovely singing voice, its pretty and soft but also like he’s pouring everything he has into the sounds, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hear enough of it.
Harry gives him a pointed look at the next red light, starting purposefully in with his best bass, taking the women’s part an octave down. “I ought to say no no no sir...” The man on the recording takes the other part, Louis’ hum cutting underneath it.
He raises his voice, reaching out to jab Louis in the arm. “At least I’m gonna say that I tried.”
Louis just laughs in response, hitting Harry back in way that’s probably not safe while they’re driving down a snowy road, even a small suburban one.
Harry tries to increase his annoyance factor, singing louder so his voice fills the car. “I really can’t stay!”
Louis gives him a look, a grin breaking across his face as he joins him for the final line. “BABY ITS COLD OUTSIDE.”
He breaks into giggles as Harry rolls his eyes, the song dissolving into an instrumental. “That was a yell. You did not sing, you yelled.”
Louis shrugs, sassing him from the passenger seat.
“You’re the worst person ever.” Harry pouts as the next verse starts up, avoiding eye contact so he’ll be able to keep from smiling. “I’ve got a boyfriend who played the lead in the musical and he won’t even sing cheesy christmas duets with me.”
“You love me.” Louis leans over, pressing the top of his bottle to Harry’s lips, nearly spilling liquid everywhere.
Harry splutters, pushing the rim away from his mouth. “What are you even doing?”
“Apologizing with alcohol.” Louis replies, taking a prim sip.
Harry glares over at him. “I liked it better when you were apologizing with bjs.”
Louis raises his eyebrows. “Like you could drive while I sucked you off.”
Harry tries his best to look affronted, trying not to imagine too vividly what would surely end up with the car in a ditch. “This could all be avoided if you sang with me.”
Louis rolls his eyes, reaching over to rest his hand on Harry’s thigh like he sometimes does when he thinks Harry isn’t paying quite enough attention to the road. It doesn’t help him pay all that much attention to driving, but he doesn’t really feel like telling Louis that. “How can you do this thing to me?” Louis sings, softly at first and then gaining confidence.
“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” Harry replies, threading his fingers through Louis’, leaving his left hand on the wheel.
“Think of my lifelong sorrow...” Louis pleads, going typical overdramatic performing kid on him, eyes getting bright as he pulls his eyebrows high.
“I hate it when you pull show choir facials on me.” Harry grumbles, missing his next line.
“IF YOU GOT PNEUMONIA AND DIED.” Louis sing songs in response, his expression falling into something more genuine as he watches Harry navigate into the parking lot of his building.
“I really can’t stay...” Harry sings as he pulls into the space, his front bumper hitting up against the concrete stopper. He puts his hand on his keys but doesn’t take them out, determined not to miss the final lines.
“Get over that hold out...” Louis replies, taking one last gulp of his drink and stashing it in the back where Harry can only pray it doesn’t tip, turning back to the front for the last line.
“Oh baby its cooold outsiiiiide!” Louis takes the high harmony, his voice stretching up to the high note while Harry takes the lower, their voices tangling together as the song ends.
“I love hearing you sing.” Harry says as he turns off the car, stepping out into the snowy night, his converse sinking into the two inches that have fallen since the plow last came through.
“Well I love you.” Louis replies, smirking over at Harry, his eye crinkling up at the sides.
Harry sticks his keys in his pocket, sloughing through the snow towards Louis and threading their fingers together as they head towards the doorway. They stomp the snow off their shoes on the industrial carpet, the hallway of Harry’s apartment complex smelling like baked goods instead of wet cardboard for once, the rosy wall lights casting them in a soft glow.
Harry sticks his key in the lock, pushing into their kitchen where Gemma is making a cake from scratch, flour speckling her apron white. She waves her batter covered spoon at them when they enter, looking surprisingly friendly. (Harry suspects that might be Louis, he often suspects Gemma likes his boyfriend better than she likes him.) “Have you seen the mixer?”
Harry shakes his head, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the row of hooks, ignoring Louis’ fond eyeroll when he insists on helping him out of his. “Not since you made brownies.”
“A real help you are.” She replies, but there’s no real venom there. “What’s up with you, Lou?”
Louis shrugs, heading over to dip his finger into the bowl, coming up with a pinkie covered in cake batter. “Nothing much. Parents, you know. It’s always worse around the holidays.”
She nods sympathetically, giving him a quick hug from behind on her way to the sink. They’ve both gone through their fair share of divorce, its not exactly a foreign subject to any of them. “I know.”
He shrugs, sticking the pinkie in his mouth. Harry does not think filthy thoughts. “Not much you can do about it.”
“Still sucks.” She replies, washing out the cup measures. “Want me to bring you guys cookies when they’re done?”
“You’re being nice and it’s freaking me out.” Harry jokes, though if he’s honest Gemma is a great sister, as sisters go, she generally shares her baked goods and has only once brought up the time Harry put her lipstick on, but he has to keep up some appearance of sibling rivalry.
“Oh stop it, loser. You know I don’t totally hate you.”
Harry laughs, swooping in to give her a completely melodramatic kiss on the cheek. “How could you?” He asks as he pulls Louis out of the kitchen and to his broom closet of a bedroom, flicking on the light and heading for the only sitting space in the mess. He has to shove some clothes on the floor, but he makes himself a space on the bed, crossing his legs as Louis follows behind him.
“I like your room, it makes mine look clean.” Louis remarks as he shuts the door, stepping over a guitar and a stack of magazines that look like they’re about to topple.
“Our rooms are equally messy, mine is just more condensed.” Harry replies, smiling as Louis makes his way over to the bed, curling into Harry’s covers without a second thought.
“Want to talk or watch tellie?” Harry asks, curling a hand into Louis’ feathery fringe, because this is not the first time this has happened and he knows the drill by now. He thinks this might be one of the things he loves most about Louis, the familiarity that rests in every movement. Louis surprises him too, with the strength of his love and how caring he is and the soft noises that fall from his mouth when Harry kisses him, but he likes the way they fall into each other without having to think about it now. He knows at one point he existed without Louis but he’s not sure he remembers how anymore.
“Can we just sleep?”
Harry smiles, crawling over Louis and pushing through piles of dirty clothes to get to the light, switching it off so the only illumination in the room are the numbers of Harry’s alarm clock, the orange streetlight filtering through the tiny window by his bed, and the yellow warmth creeping under the door. He peels his jeans off, keeping his warm socks on as he curls up with Louis, pulling the covers over their heads.
“Your mom won’t mind you staying over, right?” Harry asks, feeling for Louis in the dark and pulling him close. It’s kindof innocent really, the two of them curled in the middle of Harry’s twin bed, arms and legs tangled for comfort and warmth, breathing into each other’s mouths. Louis still smells a little like champagne, but he also smells like cologne and shampoo and that Louis smell that Harry wishes he could write into songs but can’t.
“Probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” Harry gives him a disapproving look, and Louis seems to sense it even in the dark. “I left her a note, don’t get all worried at me.”
“I can’t help it.” Harry replies, nudging his nose against Louis’ in the dark.
“I know. I like that you worry.”
And that makes something in Harry’s heart twist because Louis hates it when people care. Because Louis is all about fixing everything for everyone and sometimes he forgets to fix himself. Sometimes, when they fight and Harry feels awful and stupid he rests in the knowledge that Louis needs him, even though he doesn’t always know it. Louis Tomlinson can care for the entire world, and Harry can care for Louis.
“Somebody has to.”
Louis lets out a soft sigh that sounds like contentment, saying after a long moment. “Do you ever wonder where we’d be if we hadn’t met? Do you think someone else would be in your bed?”
Harry thinks on it, because he honestly doesn’t know. There were always other boys, but somehow he never wanted them like he wanted Louis. He wonders if maybe he would have thought that was love when he kissed them, if he could have ever told them his secrets, if he could have cared. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d have met someone.” He begins slowly, and then, as the silence draws out. “I would have missed you.”
“Do you think you could ever find someone you could love like you love me?” Louis asks, his hands creeping up to curl around Harry’s jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his lips after the last word.
“I don’t think so.” Harry says, because the soft voice in his ear when he’s scared is Louis and when he pictures himself moving out it’s with Louis and his entire life is Louis and he can’t picture anyone else fitting into the Louis shaped place in his heart.
Louis nods shortly. “I don’t think so either.”
There are a million stupid things to say running through his mind but he’s gotten all jumbled up inside and all he can do is hold Louis close and press kisses to his shoulder because he loves him.
But there are no I Love Yous, no fierce declarations of love. They don’t fuck each other or kiss until their lips hurt.
They fall asleep together, tangled in each other’s arms, the snow outside covering the world in a blanket of white.