#no. 50

Are we discovering another headmate so soon. Anyway Hiiiiiiiiiiii (4/24/26)

PT under cut

Eat Sweet Things by No. 50

You're a sap ☻

50. ... out of love

Harry pictured this day since he was eight-years-old. From those days, he always knew Louis would be the person he married. He followed Louis around like a little duckling, enchanted by the way he moved and enticed by the way he spoke.

Louis fucking Tomlinson, his wonderful, witty, clever best friend.

He never stood a chance, really. He was fully and utterly whipped. Of course he fell in love with him.

He was admittedly scared at first, back when they started dating. He saw so many people fall in and then out of love; his parents, Louis' parents, his aunt and uncle and the list went on and on.

He never wanted that to be their fate. He could never imagine a day where he had stopped loving Louis.

Even now, watching him slow dance with his mum, his hair slightly tousled, dress shirt half untucked, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows and suit pants hugging his thighs; Harry was completely gone for this man. For his husband.

He beamed when it occurred to him. They were married. Finally fucking married. After twenty years of knowing each other and a decade of loving each other.

He was staring. And, as always, Louis knew when he was. He caught his eyes immediately, smiling so softly at Harry that Harry wanted to whimper, melt away into the seat.

He saw Louis whispering something in his mum's ear before excusing himself from her walking towards Harry, their eyes locked on each other.

Harry bit his lip. He was feeling so happy, so sated; he never knew he could feel this way before he met Louis.

"Hey, you," Louis stepped between his legs where they were spread opened over the stool.

Harry smiled, welcoming him, resting his hands over Louis' hips. Louis pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and so full of love that Harry thought his heart was going to explode.

It was so delicate; Louis cupped his face between his hands, teasing his tongue against his bottom lip and tugging lightly at the bottom of his hair.

When he pulled away, Harry's eyes were still shut, a grin on his face. Louis' forehead fell onto his.

"May I have a dance, my love?" Louis asked him in a private, sweet whisper.

Harry finally opened his eyes, meeting Louis' blue ones. They were shining and gentle and just so Louis.

"Yes you may, babe," Harry happily agreed.

"First of many as a married couple, I hope. Even though you have two left feet," Louis smirked, holding Harry's hands as they stepped onto the dance floor.

Harry laughed, "better get used to it 'cause you're stuck with me now."

Louis stopped in the middle of the floor, his hands over Harry's waist, pulling him close. Harry's hands automatically clasping behind Louis' neck.

"No one else I'd rather be stuck with then," Louis said quietly. They were close. Harry could smell his cologne and the champagne on his breath.

"I love you," Harry surged forward before Louis could even return the sentiment and kissed him again.

Louis chuckled against his lips, kissing him back, soft and slow.

The sound was like music to Harry's ears. He would never get tired of his laugh, his voice; gentle but raspy, his smile; beaming and happy, his lips, plump and pink.

He couldn't wait to start a life with him. As partners. As lovers. As husbands.

As best friends.