Chances - Larry Stylinson

Part VI

That night, a few hours after they’d got home (way past midnight) and gone to their respective beds, Louis sneaked into Harry’s bedroom in the dark. It’s wasn’t that he had to sneak; it just felt like something necessary when it came to moving around places at night. He nearly walked into Harry’s bed and fell into it face first, but he stopped just in time, and prodded at the sleeping mass under the covers.

Harry grumbled when Louis whispered for him to wake up, and he’s sure he saw Harry’s eyes open just a tiny bit, even in the impenetrable darkness. “Lou? What are you doing here?” He mumbled, sitting up slightly.

Louis didn’t respond, just pushed Harry out of the way and snuggled into small bed beside him, tucking his head into Harry’s neck. “Can I sleep with you tonight? I’ve always wanted to, since that day when you fell asleep on my shoulder,” He admitted, and Harry laughed quietly. He was close enough that Louis could feel the vibrations from his laughter. “You didn’t even wait for an answer,” he replied, already falling back into sleep, and Louis smiled. “Would you ever say no to me?”

Harry mumbled something that Louis couldn’t make out; his words clouded with sleep, and wrapped an arm around Louis. He was safe and warm and nice, and Louis thought he liked to sleep in someone’s embrace, or maybe it was just the Harry effect.

Louis thought he wouldn’t mind falling asleep like that every night.

They woke up late the next morning. Louis was up first, surprisingly, without the help of an alarm clock or anything like that. Harry was still sleeping, his arm all the while curled gently around Louis, who was still comfortably trapped in his embrace. The blue-eyed boy shifted, moving carefully to avoid waking Harry up.

He stared at Harry, taking in everything about him, the way he looked so peaceful when he slept, his normally sparkling green eyes closed, and pink lips slightly parted, breathing soft and light. He had a reason to stare now. He’d always had to restrain himself. He couldn’t stare because it would be weird, who stares at their best friend with such fascination anyway?

Now, though, it was like he had the right to stare, and it was justified, because boyfriends were made for staring at, out of many of their other purposes, weren’t they? Maybe stare was the wrong word. Admire, maybe, because Harry was just something he couldn’t take his eyes off. And he wouldn’t, if he didn’t have to.

Yesterday – or rather, a few hours ago, Louis realized, since it was still the same day – had been crazy. He didn’t even know how he’d worked up the nerve to ask Harry that question, but he guessed that Harry must have brought up the note in the bottle for a reason, he had said to pretend he had never written the note if Harry hadn’t felt anything back for him. Regardless, it had left Louis buzzing with happiness and something more, and he could still feel that feeling right now as he stared at Harry’s sleeping form.

Harry’s suddenly moved, and he rolled over to lie on his back, eyes still closed. It was Louis feel strangely exposed, without Harry’s arm around him, and he wondered if the other boy was going to fall off the bed. It wasn’t exactly made for two. Louis thought he was soundly back to sleep, though, and he probably wouldn’t fall off, until he began speaking. “Your staring is starting to creep me out,” he muttered, in a sleepy morning voice that barely sounded anything like his normal voice at all.

Louis felt himself blush, and he buried his head into the pillow they had shared the entire night. “Sorry. I like looking at you, though,” he said, and it felt like a confession, some secret guilty pleasure.

“I know I’m pretty,” Harry replied smoothly, eyes still closed, and Louis suppressed the urge to smack him or something like that. “But of course, so are you,” He added, almost as an afterthought, opening his eyes and grinning.