Louis falls asleep before I do, and from the couch I watch him. Should I forgive him? He was drunk...
No. I'm not letting it slide again. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. It would be foolish to fall for his apologies once more. In the morning, I'm going to buy a plane ticket and go back to America.
I toss and turn but the couch is unforgiving and hard, and no matter which way I lay, I can't get comfortable. Not only that, but I can't get the image of Louis kissing that boy out of my head. I feel a tear slide down my cheek and I wipe it away. I can't cry. Not again. After all, I should have seen this coming.
When I wake up a few hours later, tired and irritated, I don't feel much better at all. If anything I feel worse. I go online to book a plane ticket but to my dismay find that the flights have been delayed and cancelled. There's at least three feet snow on the ground and more is still falling from the sky, whiting out the view from the hotel room.
Louis is still sleeping, sprawled out on the bed so that he takes up almost every available inch of space. I try to hold back my smile but he looks so peaceful laying there, a lock of brown hair falling into his face and mouth slightly open.
At once, I make a decision. I have to stay. It could be the best or worst decision of my life, but I know I can't give up on true love. Just the memory of how miserable I was without Louis makes me shudder. I'm not going through that again. I'm not sure I could bear it.
I'm still watching Louis when, a few minutes later, his eyes flutter open. He immediately sits up, surprised to see me still here, despite my contradictory words last night.
"Harry, you're still here," Louis says, seemingly at a loss for words.
"Yup," I reply, my voice weak. "All of the flights to America were either canceled or delayed. It's snowing again."
"Oh," Louis says, looking forlorn. "So you're leaving when you can get a flight, then?"
"No," I respond, choosing my words carefully. "I'm staying. I can't give up on this, I can't give up on you."
Louis' eyes fill with tears. "I couldn't give up on you if I tried," he manages.
I fall into his arms and Louis just holds me, stroking my hair and whispering "I love you," in my ear repeatedly until I feel better.
"Louis, I was so worried that you didn't love me anymore," I say truthfully, feeling a bit foolish.
"I love you more than anything," Louis tells me earnestly, his blue eyes staring into mine. "I wasn't thinking straight and he told me I was good looking and I don't know what happened. I just...I don't know. It was always you, it is you now, it will always be you, Harry. Never doubt that."
I wipe a tear from Louis' cheek and smile at him. "I believe you."
"Let me make you lunch," Louis suggests, his eyes lighting up with the thought.
"You? Cook?" I ask, laughing a little. Louis is possibly the worst cook in the entire world, he has a knack for ruining even the simplest recipes. He can barely make himself microwave mac and cheese, that's how limited his capabilities are. "Louis, you're good at many things but cooking is not one of them."
Louis frowns at me. "Well, are you going to support me or aren't you?" he asks sassily.
"I will," I say slowly. "I just don't really want to get food poisoning, that's all."
"Shut up," Louis says, hitting my arm. He winces a little, and I study him closely.
"Are you okay?"
"Headache," Louis replies through clenched teeth. "I shouldn't have had that much to drink last night." He presses his fingers to his temples. "Nevertheless, I will make you lunch. I insist."
"Alright," I say reluctantly. "Do you want medicine?"
"No, I just need a shower," Louis informs me. He jumps off the bed and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I busy myself cleaning up the room while he's getting his shower. I'm a very clean person, but Louis is the exact opposite. He leaves messes wherever he goes. In fact if he ever went missing, you could probably just follow a trail of messiness and trash and you would find Louis.
His clothes are strewn about on the floor and his other belongings are thrown on the coffee table, the sofa, and the dresser that the TV is on. A pair of his shoes is on top of the fridge, although I'm not sure how they even got there in the first place.
I put all of his clothes back in his suitcase, his shoes beside the suitcase in neat little rows, and his phone on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.
When he comes out of the bathroom, he looks around. "Where are my things?" he asks.
"In your suitcase," I reply proudly. "I cleaned up. It was a real mess in here."
"Now I can't find anything," Louis whines. "When it was messy I knew where everything was. Now that it's neat and clean I won't be able to find anything."
"Poor you," I say, fake pouting. My reaction makes Louis stick his tongue out at me and he heads to the kitchen area.
"I'm running to the store to get what I need," Louis tells me. "Want me to get you anything while I'm there?"
"Nope," I respond, settling down on the bed to watch some TV.
"Okay, I'll be back in like half an hour," Louis says and blows me a kiss.
I pretend to catch it and he grins before leaving. I can't help but wonder what he's going to make. It surprises me that he even knows a recipe off the top of his head, but then again Louis always has been full of surprises.
Twenty minutes later Louis is back with a bag full of groceries and a frown. "Remind me to take you along next time I go anywhere that has everything written in French," he mutters, pulling out the ingredients from the bag.
He sees me peering curiously at the contents and he waves a hand at me. "No looking," he scolds.
He putters around the kitchen, occasionally swearing and dropping things, but it only takes him about an hour to finish the lunch.
"Behold, the best thing I have ever made and will ever make," Louis says grandly, pulling out my chair for me as I sit.
I stare down at my plate, amazed at how well it turned out. Then again, I haven't tasted it yet. "So what is it exactly?" I ask.
"Chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash," Louis replies. "Sounds good, right?"
"I'll be the judge of how good it is," I comment, taking a bite. It's savory and cooked just right and to my utter surprise, completely delicious.
Louis smirks when he sees my expression and he takes a bite. "You doubted my skills, but I showed you who the real cook is around here," he says.
"It's still me, Louis," I inform him, laughing.
He pouts. "You're crushing my dreams, Hazza." We eat in silence and more than once I catch Louis staring at me. He blushes each time I catch him and every time he looks away quickly.
"Can I help you?" I finally ask when I see him looking at me for the fifth time.
"No, um," Louis stutters, his face turning bright red. He stares down at his plate decidedly.
"Louis what is it?" I inquire.
"I just, uh, really want to kiss you," he mumbles.
I hear him perfectly fine, but I want to see if he will repeat what he just said. "What?" I ask. "You're too quiet. I can't hear you."
His blush deepens but he replies, "I want to kiss you."
"Why don't you then?" I respond. I raise my eyebrows at him and he meets my gaze somewhat nervously. We sit there for a tense few seconds, but then Louis gets up and walks over to where I'm seated.
He looks at me silently for a moment, then leans down and kisses me. I don't know if it's the fact that he just made me the best meal I've ever eaten or if it's the fact that something that has changed between us since yesterday, but this kiss feels deeper than our other ones. I find that once I start kissing him it's nearly impossible to stop.
Eventually we pull apart but it doesn't matter because I know that Louis loves me and the feeling of his lips on mine is permanent anyways.
"Do you forgive me?" Louis asks me softly.
His blue eyes plead with me, begging for forgiveness. The seconds tick by and he fidgets. "Do you?" he repeats.
"Of course I do," I reply. "It would be dumb to give up on true love."