built memories | a sequel

19 - Tattoo

It comes the night and Louis doesn't hear what he is used to. The silence. He was never sure if the silence was something he could hear because it's supposed to be the otherwise, right? Something we don't hear, that can't bother us because it doesn't exist. Well he is sure that it is something that bothers him and if it makes him deaf then it is in fact something.

But tonight is so different. The blinds from the window are opened. That's something incredibly new by now because he was used to the darkness from this room that it made him forget how amazing the shades and contours from the place look like at night. He listens to his sister outside the room and Peter laughing at something Fiona says while they go to their rooms.

And now the main point. His room isn't empty, he doesn't feel alone and it sure isn't because he has a mattress on the floor that it isn't used in years. Literally, it's even the first time Peter is realising its existence.

"Is that thing even comfortable?" Louis asks getting comfortable in bed. He is wearing his usual sweatpants and let's hope Harry doesn't realise that those and the T-shirt he is wearing aren't his. Well, the sweatpants are old, even though they are the perfect size for Louis now but Harry probably doesn't recall them. The t-shirt is an update, a close up from the present Harry.

"Very." Harry answers and he doesn't sound convincing, he actually sounds in pain.

"That shit must be covered with minuscule insects... And dirt."

"I will survive." Harry says and Louis hopes he isn't being too obvious. It's not like there's something to be obvious about... maybe. But if that Harry isn't understanding so either Louis is safe or disappointed.

"Okay." He simply answers, pulling the covers up, almost reaching his chin, his fingertips and head only showing. He looks by the corner of his eyes at Harry, he has his hands underneath his head, as a pillow (as if the real pillow is useless for him), he is looking up at the ceiling and the covers reach only a little bit above his hips. He looks comfy and Louis just really wants to stare, memorise more and more of his new features. He wants to learn everything so he can have a clear image in his head so it cannot be able to be forgotten and appear blurry in his mind.

Harry tilts his head to one side, naturally resting it on the pillow and his eyes go direct to Louis. His lips twist into a small smile, quite cheeky even, similar with his eyes. Green shinning for blue.

"Hi." He says in a husky tone and Louis mentally takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. This is making him crazy. He is even feeling his cheeks warming up, probably getting flushed and it's a cold night. The room isn't even well illuminated for him to feel like this. He can't do this he – and Harry – need to chill.

Louis quickly looks away trying to act as normal as almost breaking your neck in the pillow can be. Harry laughs, of fucking course, but it's not really an I'm mocking you laugh is more like a that was cute laugh, which is quite disgusting really.

"Rude." He jokes then and Louis can't look back at him so he keeps looking forward, with his lips pressed and his eyes bored.

"What?" he asks and doesn't understand why his raspy tone of voice, but Harry takes it as a joke so that's fine.

"I said hi and you just dumped me." Harry answers in a childish voice.

"Hi." Louis answers in an annoyed one, which takes him a bit of effort because he feels like laughing. It'd come out as a giggle so really better if he keeps it quiet.

"Wow Tomlinson," Tomlinson, fucking Tomlinson. "such enthusiasm."

"Don't call me Tomlinson." It's as wrong as mate and really Louis doesn't need this. Louis is okay, Lou it hurts too much so that's why there's his name, what most people call him for. Make it normal, Styles. "It makes it sound so formal."