i'm doing the fully written-out parts in lowercase as well because i feel like it fits the style of the story better. i hope that's okay!

let's go! :)

***

as he steps through the doorjamb, a glaze of sunlight skims over the left-hand side of louis' frame and casts a shadow over the other. not that it actually matters but, he isn't really dressed for the occasion; he's sporting a ratty t-shirt and grey joggers, his hands gently pocketed and left eye squinted as he starts sauntering in the direction of harry's rug.

and, oh.

once he's ten feet away, he ceases on the spot. a small, self-moving smile curls upon his lips. then a little chuckle slips out, and harry's close-mouthed grin evolves into a toothy one. he's sitting cross-legged on the checkered fabric in the grass, clad in a flower-patterned button-up and a pair of fitted black pants. he's curly-headed. beautifully so. in fact, he looks fucking idyllic, like a landscape, stunning regardless of the season.

cautiously, louis steps forward halfway.

"you, uh..." he continues to squint his eye from the sun, "are you a hired actor or summat?" he jokes, and then he hears the boy laugh for the first time. which, yeah. that's beautiful. "no, i really think you are. where's harry? is he hiding in a bush?"

the curly-headed one smirks, his lips askew. "in a shrub, you mean?"

"okay," louis says, his heart galloping a little. "not an actor."

harry peers at him, his cheeks bright and dimpled. "you're uh," he gives him a once-over, "wow."

louis bites back a smile and bounces briefly on his toes. "i'm wow?"

a small sigh puffs from the boy's lungs. "i took two hours take make myself look like this, and you took two minutes to walk out looking entirely breathtaking." he tweaks a brow. "a bit unfair, innit?"

"two hours? how early did you get up today? it's like...ten."

"half six," harry states proudly, then squints an eye like louis. "got up, took a shower, got on the train, slept a little, took a cab here." he sighs a little blissfully and fiddles with a crease in his trousers. louis is still not used to that voice. it's so deep. so obscurely sexy. he snaps himself out of a trance, and harry continues, all oblivious, "i figured i had to start making the choices i think you would do, if i really wanted to solve all of this. maybe it's dumb," a mellifluous laugh sips through his sentence, "but it's all i came up with."

there's a bit of heat in louis' cheeks, his foot sole stroking to and fro in the grass. "i like it. 's quite symbolic after what happened, i think."

"can you come sit down so i can apologise properly?"

louis smiles, sauntering forward. "i don't need more apologies."

"sit down anyway," harry croons.

"are we really having a picnic?" he steps onto the rug in his slides, then adds, "or did you just bring this for the esthetic effect?"

harry laughs gently. "i brought cookies. if that makes it a picnic."

one leg crossing over the other, louis drops down in front of harry. "i suppose maybe it does," he says.

they're close. nearly touching feet. most nights, louis has laid awake wondering what this exact moment would be like, and now it's here. it's here and it's odd. first and foremost, harry looks like something out of a catalog. his eyes are even more vibrantly green than the fucking grass. and the trees. he's also much softer, in a way. he looks huggable and provocative all at once.

which, um. is distracting.

"well, you're pretty, aren't ya?" he decides to say, because it's really all he can focus on.

harry giggles airily. "d'you think?"

louis doesn't reply for a while. he's simply lounging into the reality of the scenario, gently inspecting the wholeness of harry and, well. it's so irrevocably surreal. he needs to piece everything together, needs to combine the faceless person he likes to call plum with the one sitting in front of him with long, lean limbs and a gorgeous smile.

"yeah," he breathes out after a long moment, "you, uh—remember how you said everything would change when i saw you?"

harry nods.

"there was a short second where i thought you'd lied about your age and was some old sleazebag."

a laugh gusts out of harry's flaring nostrils. "i am 26, i promise."

"and good-looking. so, yeah. i guess things do change when i see you," he adds. "because you're not old and gross—you're actually like, someone i wouldn't mind staring at for like, an odd amount of hours."

shifting cautiously, harry slips a hand over louis' wrist, a small army of goosebumps prickling the upper side of his forearm. harry takes louis' hand into his own, and—it's warm. it feels like comfort and hysteria all at once, in a way. it's strange.

"you know," louis continues before harry can even say anything. he's soft on the tone, careful, as if he'd ruin the moment if he was only a little bit louder. "this isn't quite how imagined us meeting at the platform in manchester," he says. he looks up at harry, whose eyelashes flutter when his mien falters solemnly at the memory. "it's nice, but different."

harry looks down at their hands, playing idly with louis' thumb. "what did you imagine in manchester?"

louis sighs sentimentally. "kind of wanted you to like, jog up towards me and throw your arms around my neck, and," a smile curls its way onto harry's cushiony lips, "i'd, you know, hug you really tight. and we'd stand like that, a bit mesmerised—"

without much warning, harry lets go of louis' hand and leaps forward to tackle him into a cuddle, his arms locking securely around his neck. impulsively, louis clasps his arms around harry's slender waist and chuckles over his shoulder, a whiff of a familiar cologne reaching his nose.

"hugs?" harry murmurs into louis' neck, his lips feeling dangerously close to leaving hot kisses on the spot.

fond, louis smiles adoringly and replies, "hugs."

they hold on for a while, swaying a little with louis' thumb drawing small, comforting circles into harry's lower back. it's quiet and calm, albeit louis' heart beats a little harder than normal. then, when he least expects it, there's a kiss smoothened into the skin under louis' earlobe, his neck arching as the delight ripples through him. oh my. he's so fucked. this is everything he needed today.

"is this the cologne i asked you to try out?" he asks, and harry simply hums in affirmation. "oh. you never told me you actually bought it, you know."

harry keens. "i didn't want you to think i was silly."

"you are silly, though," cooes louis, his fingers gliding up to the hair at the nape of harry's neck. he combs through it gently, easing back as they loosely release from the hug. harry fakes a pout. "smells great on ye. 's cute that you bought it."

harry stares longingly. "your accent. it's so nice."

"is it?"

"why are you here in london—you're a true northerner." harry yanks lightly at louis' collar. "we need you up there, you know."

louis' lips from a straight line. "been forced down by me mates."

"then let me force you up again," harry then suggests, a playful sheen coating his green eyes.

"how about i force you down?" says louis after a beat, then grabs harry by the waist and shoulder, fluidly prodding him against the picnic rug, supine, "right here. hm?"

harry's legs unfold under louis' thighs, louis towering over him with a hand fleeting up to his jaw. he's gentle when he cradles his face although he's just pinned him down against his will. but harry is compliant. he doesn't put up a fight, he simply stays passive, his curious eyes oscillating between louis' mouth and probing gaze. this is what harry likes. he wants to be manhandled by louis. he luxuriates in the feeling.

so when harry stops looking louis in the eye, hungrily and wholeheartedly fixated on his lips only, louis dips down on impulse and lets their mouths meet in a warm, dampening kiss. it's plush and mellow, lead on louis' initiative with harry mimicking his gestures with the delay of a millisecond. they're in sync and it's slow, developing gradually as they grow calmer and more comfortable. it's like they've fallen into a jar of liquid honey, the kiss submerging them both the further they drown. it's sweet, too. soft and ripe.

they pull away with a slick peck.

louis' chest has never felt more dopey. he feels drunk.

"oh, my. this is it."

"what do you mean?" harry laughs.

"you're it. this proves it." he leans down again, kissing harry sturdily with a gentle approach. "you're it," he repeats. "you're everything."

harry's eyes are like a whole galaxy, glittering more at each one of the words escaping louis' mouth. "i've laid awake thinking the exact same thing about you," he replies, "and i know i said this would change a lot between us,"—there's a brief pause where he fiddles with louis' fringe where it hands loose—"but right now, i only feel like it's gonna get a million times better."

both of them smile, a mutual urge pulling them back together.

it repeats.

it repeats until sundown.

and then they go inside.

***