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It was not a thing. They were not a thing. Except, like, okay maybe it kind of was a thing?
There was nothing going on between them outside of the normal bro-pal-laddy-dude things every other set of best friends did. All sets of best friends did things like this. You know, hanging out every day, staying up late, and chatting until the wee hours which usually ended up as a sleepover and bed-sharing. There is nothing going on between them.
That is what Harry was going to keep telling himself and everyone around them, anyway because it is the truth, after all.
Pulling his hoodie over his head, Harry reached blindly for his overnight bag as he headed out the door to his dorm and into the hallway, pulling it shut behind him. He quickly patted himself down, feeling for his phone and keys in the pockets of his joggers before he hoisted the bag over his shoulder and began his walk.
About an hour ago, he received a text that simply read ‘ spoon time tonight?’ that had sent him into a frenzy to get ready as quickly as he could. This meant finishing and submitting the assignment he was working on, taking a quick shower, and dressing in his comfiest clothes before he was on his way, barely checking the contents of his bag beforehand. It was fine, he had extra things at Louis’s anyway.
You see, spoon time was important to him. To them, really. And it was completely normal to do with your best bro-lad-dude-pal. Even if it made his heart stutter in his chest and butterflies erupt in his stomach and up to his throat every time his phone dinged with a text notification. Even though it was the third night this week he had received said text and it was only Wednesday. It’s fine.
Harry and Louis had been best friends since before Harry could speak full sentences and Louis was still having accidents at night. They had grown up in each other's pockets, sharing and doing everything with one another. Their mums grew inseparable shortly after the Styles family moved into the house next door to the Tomlinson’s. It only made sense for Louis and Harry to also be inseparable as they got older.
Of course, it only made sense for Harry to attend the university where Louis had gone. And, of course, it made complete sense for Louis to get an apartment not far from Harry’s dorm after he graduated, a year ahead of Harry. Obviously, that’s what you do when you're best friends who are very obviously protective of one another, do not know what personal space actually implies, and are, by no means, possessive of the other.
(Niall will probably never let him live down the time they were at a bar and some man brushed Louis’s knee in greeting and passing, leading Harry to reach over and pat Louis’s knee in the same place reassuringly. As if something had actually happened apart from a fleeting touch and greeting. As if Louis had eyes for anyone else in the room or would ever forget Harry’s presence.)
The walk to Louis’s apartment is a short one. Harry’s long legs must have been carrying him on autopilot because in the next moment, Harry blinks and his hand is reaching for the call button with the label ‘L. Tomlinson’ next to it. He barely gets a chance to press and hold the button before the lock to the front door is clicking and allowing him access to the building.
It is a nice apartment building in a decent area. Louis complains about the lack of space and the leaky faucet in the bathroom, but Harry thinks it’s a lot nicer than his dorm. (And he would know, he spends more time within these walls than he does those walls, especially as of late). He loves his dorm, don’t get him wrong, his scholarship including housing has saved him a fortune, but. But. There was just something about all of the time he spent inside Louis’s apartment, that’s all.
Taking the stairs quickly, nearly two at a time, Harry is knocking on apartment door 28A in mere moments. Trying to get his breathing under control from rushing upstairs, Harry fidgets with his fringe before shaking it out and pushing it to the side in a way he knows Louis likes. Not that Louis has ever said he disliked anything in particular when it comes to Harry, but he also knows that Louis does prefer his curls sitting some ways rather than others.
When the door swings open, the sight that greets Harry makes him want to melt into a puddle where he stands. Louis is wearing blue pajama pants and a v-neck white t-shirt, his feet clad in fuzzy socks that Harry had gotten him for his birthday a couple of years back. What really steals the show, though, are the simple black glasses perched on Louis’s nose. He doesn't wear them often, usually just for studying or reading, but any chance Harry gets to see them, which is objectively more than most people see them, is always a blessing.
He looks beautiful, is what Harry wants to say, which makes his own cheeks flush. What can he say? He’s a simple guy with eyes. As if Louis could read his mind, his eyebrow quirks up though his gaze is averted, seemingly shy. “Well, hello there Curly,” Louis greets, stepping back to allow Harry in, his hand automatically finding the younger’s lower back in the process of shutting the door behind them.
The weight of Louis's hand on his back is comforting, and grounding, as Harry toes off his shoes by the door and walks further into the apartment. Pulling his keys and wallet out of his pocket, he sets them on the small table where Louis’s previously discarded belongings lay. It should not make his face heat to see their stuff together in such a domestic manner, it has always been like this. Dragging his eyes away, he looks back at Louis. “Hi babes,” he murmurs, stepping closer to slide his arm around Louis’s waist.
They have always existed like magnets around each other, always gravitating toward one another before finally connecting in some way. As if guided by an invisible string, there was no Harry without Louis and no Louis without Harry, especially if they were in close quarters to one another. Their friends always tease that one of them will float away if the other isn’t there to hold them down. But, there has always been touching involved with them, they have always been very tactile with one another.
That is kind of how their spoon nights came to be. One sleepover a while back lead to Harry waking up the next morning to them very much wrapped around one another. It had been the best night of sleep Harry had had in what felt like ages, but he was nervous about how Louis would feel to wake up and find them in such an intimate position. He had tried scooting away, even attempted to pry Louis’s arms off of him but the older of the two merely pulled him back in, snuffling into the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck before settling once more.
There was never an official discussion about it, it just kind of happened. And, then it kept happening. Next thing Harry knew, it had its own name and was happening at minimum three nights a week.
Walking down the hall towards Louis’s room, Harry tugs his hoodie off as Louis flips the lights off behind them as they go. Entering the familiar bedroom, he lays his hoodie on the chair by the door and rubs at his face, suddenly feeling exhausted. Pavlovian response, he supposes.
He turns to find Louis’s eyes already on him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Sleepy?” He asks quietly as if to not disturb the peacefulness of his own room.
With a nod, Harry shimmies out of his joggers and socks, leaving them on the floor with the intention of grabbing them in the morning before walking to his side of the bed and flopping down. Leaving him in nothing but his briefs and a loose t-shirt, Harry buries his face in his pillow and inhales slowly, letting the familiar scent invade him as his eyes closed.
Louis wasted no time crawling into bed beside him, arms snaking around Harry’s waist and pulling the boy back against his chest. The action leaves them connected from head to toe as their legs snake together habitually. Louis’s hand finds Harry’s, interlocking their fingers together and squeezing gently. The action renders Harry breathless for some reason.
(He knows the reason, he has only been pining after Louis for years).
Taking a deep breath, Harry starts to gently play with Louis’s fingers, looking down at their interlaced hands and chewing the inside of his cheek briefly. “Hey, Lou?” The words come out in a whisper as he tries not to disrupt the quiet that has surrounded them, nuzzling his head against Louis’s gently.
“Yeah, love?” Louis’s response comes back just as quiet against the shell of Harry’s ear, causing the curly-haired boy to shiver.
"I’m feeling quite spoiled, you know? This is the third time this week that I’ve come over for spoon night. Not sure how I'm gonna be able to sleep without you when the time comes…” Harry trails off, worrying his lip between his teeth. Well, it’s out there now.
Louis stills behind him, lifting his head slightly to look down at the other boy with his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean when the time comes? Got another lad that’s going to be sleeping in your bed, sun?” The words taste bitter in his mouth, an ugly fit of jealousy twisting in his gut at the thought.
Harry’s head is shaking before the question is even out of Louis’s mouth, his hold on the other boy tightening instinctively to keep him close. “No, no! I just… well, I kind of figured you would have someone else in yours? Probably?” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he can hide from the response. In all honesty, he’s afraid of what the answer might do to him.
Louis disentangles his arms from Harry, causing the younger boy’s heart rate to accelerate as the wheels in his mind start turning rapidly to keep up with what is happening. Why was Louis letting go? Did he already have someone else to take Harry’s side of the bed? Is that what this was for? One last spoon night before Louis moved on? The panic was rising before Harry could get a cap on it.
“H? Baby, hey!” Louis exclaims, cupping Harry’s face in his hands after he had sat up, looking down at the beautiful boy below him. “You silly boy, why would I have someone else in my bed when I have you right here?”
Which… what?
“What?” Harry asks dumbly, albeit, a little breathlessly as he works to calm his initial panic, staring back up at Louis as he leans into the touch on his face greedily.
“Was on the phone with me Nan earlier, she asked when I was bringing the lovely boyfriend of mine back home to visit cause she missed him dearly,” Louis states with a chuckle, his thumb brushing over Harry’s cheekbone delicately. “Couldn’t wrap my head around what she was saying, thought she had seriously gone off her rocker this time. And then, she said your name.”
Harry was still chewing on his lower lip as he looked up at Louis, trying his best to wrap his head around what he was hearing. “I… am I? Are we…” His eyebrows furrow as he processes what he just heard. “Louis,” Harry asks slowly, fighting the smile threatening his face, “Louis Tomlinson… are we dating?!”
He can’t fight the giggles then, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as he stared at Louis’s shocked face. It doesn’t take long for Louis’s brain to also catch up, breathy giggles now leaving the blue-eyed boy as he held Harry’s face, a devastatingly bright smile on his face now as his eyes crinkle in the corners.
“Harry Styles, I have to say, I think the only people in the world that are surprised by this information are the two individuals in this bed right now.” This brings another round of giggles from both boys, Harry’s hands moving to gently hold Louis’s neck just below his jawline on either side.
Their faces have moved closer together on their own accord, Louis’s eyes searching Harry’s as he presses their foreheads together. “I think… I think I would like to kiss you right now if that’s alright?”
Harry is nodding and closing the distance between them eagerly, sighing at the first press of their lips. The kiss is absolutely everything and yet, it is nothing like what he expected anytime he daydreamed of this moment. It is soft and welcoming, so familiar and as natural as breathing. It is filled with emotion, unspoken words being passed between tender presses. It’s home. Louis is his home, has been since they were younger, and hopefully will be for the rest of their forever. In this life, and the next.