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Be Your Everything

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The air in the house was thick. The silence was deafening. Louis sat on the edge of his and Harry’s king bed. His small body is covered in articles of clothing that belonged to Harry. A large grey sweater, of which the sleeves went past his hands. A blue and red headscarf curled into his palm. Every so often he would bring the soft fabric up to his face to feel the material against his cheek and smell the woodsy scent of Harry through his nose. Brown wool socks are over his numb feet. Everything of Harry’s was in this room besides Harry.

Harry was sent on a prearranged “date” with Paige Reifler in London so paparazzi could spot them together and begin rumors on the internet. Usually Louis was the one sent on “dates”. It’s been a while since Harry’s had to do this and Louis forgot how miserable it is to stay at home or in a hotel room all alone and wait for his true love to get home from a fake date with a fake girlfriend. It’s equal to the feeling of being cheated on but neither person has any control over it.

How Harry is strong enough to do this so often pains Louis to even think about. He knew it hurt him, but hadn’t experienced it enough himself to really know how it feels. And now he’s gained a new respect for the younger boy being so strong.

Louis’s mind fills up with all the times he has come home from a “date” with Eleanor and found Harry on the opposite side of their bed than what he usually sleeps on. Sometimes Harry would be asleep, dried tears on his cheeks, curled up with one on Louis's t-shirts on. Sometimes he would be watching tv with a blank look on his face. Sometimes he would be mad at Louis even though he knew Louis didn't want to be gone from him either. Everytime Louis would come home, he would hold Harry tight in his arms until he'd calm down and everything would feel mostly okay again. Louis knew that Harry always looked to him for comforting, but now all Louis wants is for Harry to comfort him.

The clock read 12:14 when Harry finally stepped through the front door. Louis had started crying around 11 pm and made his way under the covers of the bed on Harry’s side since then. His heart hurt. He felt weak. He always has to be the strong one. He doesn’t feel strong right now, nor does he want to feel strong.
Harry got into the bedroom after taking his light jacket off and sighed when his eyes met Louis’s motionless body in the bed. Thinking he was asleep, Harry continued to undress himself, put on pajamas, and brush his teeth. When walking out of the bathroom connected to their room, Harry was suddenly attacked by Louis jumping in his arms.

“I love you so much,” Louis mumbled, wrapping his legs around Harry’s toned torso and his arms around Harry’s neck. “I love you with my entire being.”

“I love you too,” Harry responded, his heart swelling. His strong arms wrapped themselves around Louis’s small frame to envelope him in his love. He pressed kisses on Louis’s head and rocked him gently in his arms, still standing in the middle of the bedroom.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this all the time, I don’t know how you do it, I’m so sorry.”

Harry carried Louis to the bed set him down before getting himself into bed and feeling Louis curl into his side. “I do it because I know you love me and not her. And this sounds crazy, but I feel like these horrendous fake dates bring us closer together… kinda.”

Louis poked his head up and let Harry kiss his pouty pink lips.

Harry looked down and spotted one of his favorite head scarves, the blue and red one, laying in the sheets. He picked it up, quirking his eyebrow towards Louis.

“I, uh… It smells just like you.”

Harry smiled fondly. “Did you wear it?”

“No, I just held it,” Louis said quietly. “I don’t know how you fucking tie it on your head.”

A small giggle escaped from Harry’s mouth and he rolled the scarf in his hands. “Like this,” he said, and proceeded to tie it on Louis’s head the exact way he puts one on himself. “There.”

Louis’s hands reach up to his head and he traces his fingers over the soft material.

“I’m not used to having to comfort you, Lou,” Harry whispers. He sighs. “Sorry I’m shit.”

“You’re doing a fine job,” Louis whispers back, finding Harry’s hand and playing mindlessly with his long fingers. The house is silent. Quite frankly, Louis doesn’t know why they’re using hushed voices but he continues talking in one. “I’m sorry I can’t be strong for you all the time.”

“I’m sorry I make you feel like you have to be the strong one all the time.”

Louis sat up and placed himself on Harry’s thighs, face just inches apart from the younger boy’s. His thin lips slotted into Harry’s plump, minty lips so perfectly as he kissed him hard, resting his hand on Harry’s cheek.

“I love you.” Harry didn’t whisper this time.

“I love you so much.”