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The first time Harry's crown loses a flower is also the first time that Louis feels true heartbreak.
It hits his chest hard the way Harry's shoulders slump and his curls seem to get less springy, his eyes even dim a little, not noticeable if you were to just glance over the boy but Louis never misses a beat.
Not one, not when Harry's involved.
Ever since then, Louis had made sure to always carry flowers in his pockets. The cliché rose, tulip and sunflower combo was all that Louis had in his arsenal to begin with and each time Harry lost a flower, the other boy would be there with three replacement flowers.
Harry's face would light up brighter than any sun. He was by far the biggest and brightest source of light in Louis' universe. That's why he loved to make flower crowns; his delicate fingers making work of even more delicate flowers and somehow twining them together without breaking, elegantly twisting the stems between his stumbling yet totally careful forefinger and thumb. The concentration took the curly-haired boy away from his troubles, if even for a short while and Louis made sure that he did everything in his power to make sure that his sun never dimmed.
Both boys are sat in the garden or in Louis' case, sprawled out clumsily in Harry's lap, peering up at him through bright, blue eyes that Harry knew held answers to every question in the universe. Blinking, Louis watches the rhythmic and somehow incredibly soothing movement of the other boy's long fingers as he knots together stems and feathers out a whole rainbow of different coloured petals.
"Harry?" Louis' raspy voice breaks the quiet atmosphere, a slow smile taking over his face as he waits for Harry to snap out of the haze he's currently in.
Harry's brows furrow before anything else which causes his concentration to shift, sending his fingers fumbling and with one quick flick of a stem, his attention is entirely on Louis. His face never once dimming, if anything, it's brighter now but Louis is obviously seeing things because Harry couldn't ever be interested in him like that. No, nope, no. Boys that glow and have the universe on its knees every day, boys like Harry, don't even glance at boys that stay up late and party, drinking their body weight in alcohol, boys like Louis. But here they are, looking up at each other with all of the love and admiration in the world combined.
Because Louis gives Harry flowers and Harry gives Louis the universe.
Once Louis knows he has Harry's attention, he beams, his lips stretch up into a wide, bright and totally fond grin. Eat your heart out, sun. He reaches behind him and pulls out a bouquet of flowers, some a little wilted from the amount of time they've been confined to his jeans pockets. In his grasp, he holds arbutus, aster, pink, red and white camellias; each meaning a different kind of declaration of love.
"I got you some more flowers, love." Louis is quick to take Harry's hands into his own, curling his fingers free from around the flower crown to let it fall slowly from his grip so that Louis can lace their fingers together.
He'd been researching, you see. Researching the thousands upon thousands of different clusters of flowers and which ones meant love, he then drove frantically to his closest florist and bought them, just for Harry. For Harry and their forever.
Louis wanted Harry to combine their forever into things that he enjoyed doing, things that he did everyday so he couldn't ever forget about it or him and as flowers bloom, so does their love. As flowers get their life from the sun, Louis gets life from Harry. They weren't much different; Harry&Louis and flowers.
"They're so beautiful, Lou." Harry murmurs, voice as soft as the wind currently blowing.
His fingers fall from Louis' to rub the pad of his thumb across the warm pink of the camellia flower, eyes blinking out the sunlight to focus on the petals. He looks up soon after and studies the other boy with a fond look, a smile curling onto his lips before he parts them.
"I love you.”
These three words and Harry's smugly yet somehow shy stare has Louis choking on his spit from inhaling so quickly in surprise. He's pretty sure he just sucked up a bug from how hard he inhaled, his eyes huge with bewilderment because his universe just told him that he loves him.
Him. Him, who is a fucking thorn in a beautiful bouquet of roses. He isn’t the subject of love, he is the indefinite heartbreak that comes with love. This isn’t him, he isn’t used to this. But he can’t even force himself to do anything other than gape at the captivating boy in front of him, his lips parted in nothing more than disbelief and wonder. Before he can stop himself, he grasps the skin of his forearm in a sharp pinch, testing the waters and to see if this is well and truly happening.
And ouch. This is real.
Louis' cheeks are alight with a hue of blush, much like the pink of the camellia, his eyes now downcast as he frantically avoids Harry's concerned filled stare at his lack of response.
“Lou…” Harry, drawls while outstretching his limbs to quickly bundle up the smaller boy into his arms. Nuzzling his face into Louis' soft, fluffy hair, a noise resembling a whine falling from his lips in frustration at the silence filling the air.
The other boy is still for a few long moments before he's grasping the fallen flower crown between his fingers, being as careful as he can. Placing it atop Harry's head, smoothing his curls down around it before he's properly looking at Harry again.
"I..." Louis' lips part. "I love you, Harold Styles."
Harry's lips twitch up into full-blown grin as he's overcome with just pure love and adoration for his boy. He could stay like this forever, completely absorbed with love while the sun rains down on the both of them. Utterly content with this version of forever in paradise.
"It's Harry." protests the curly-haired boy despite the fond grin now tugging on his lips.
He sits up a little straighter now, eyes taking in the lush grass surrounding them while he wills his racing heart to calm down. All but exploding with the affection flowing through him.
"Yeah, yeah. Harold, that's what I said." Comes Louis' sarcastic response.
Just by those words, Harry can imagine the way the other boy's face is scrunched up into the utmost fond look; eyes scrunched and bright, cheeky smile and all.
Harry wants Louis to always be happy and to smile but Louis’ happiness lies with Harry, so to maintain this everlasting cycle of bliss. Louis makes sure to bring Harry a new flower every day. For every new flower, there is another meaning of love. Another promise of happily ever after.