ⵢ₊˚it's not the same as it wasⵢ₊˚

"for every question why, you were my because."

[hattalove]

hey. come closer.

do you understand.

[stylinsonwish]

Happy Birthday, Boobear

"Harry?"

The December wind rushed into his house through the door but it's the warmest he has been in a while.

"Hey you," Harry said, a bouquet of sunflowers held between them. He had crinkles by the his eyes because of his smile. A smile that was like a thousand suns, "Happy Birthday."

"But you said you wouldn't be here until after New Year's Eve?"

Harry brushed a kiss over the back of his hand, "What, you thought I wouldn't be here for your birthday? My husband? My sun? My Lou? My sunflower? My boobear—"

"Oh, enough."

One interview and he wouldn't ever live this down.

"Happy Birthday, Boobear," One kiss to his forehead, "Happy Birthday, Boobear," He slid his hands down to Louis' waist while he kissed his eyelids, his cheeks and the tip of his nose, "Happy birthday my Boobear. Happy birthday, Boobear."

"H, you know I don't mind Boobear when you're the one who says it?"

It elicited a soft laugh out of Harry, "Sure, Lou."

Louis buried his head into his shoulder to hide his smile, "Thank you."

"Why, because I forgave you even when you didn't choose me to play you in your biopic? Or when you said boobear is a horrible nickname?"

"Oh, you little shit—"

"I'm taller than you."

Louis shook his head, "Thank you for being here and there is no need to be sassy on my birthday, Mr. Styles."

"It's Styles-Tomlinson for you, sunshine."

[stylinsonwish]

Louis Tomlinson deserves the world

[stylinsonwish]

can we talk about the fact that his eyes are blue????

[stylinsonwish]

"i don't want to talk about the way that it was" no because what the fuck-

[stylinsonwish]

this is a closet glass case i want to cry😭

[stylinsonwish]

you're the habit that I can't break

He wishes he could describe the heartbreak with words when he traces his fingers over the stagnant side of the bed, the sheets surrounded by a hint of his cologne but there are no words for all this, no words he can turn into lyrics because words can't show a sliver of what this is.

The silence in his room is broken by the knocks on the front door - who the fuck decided to show up to his house at this hour?

Louis slides out of bed, a soft weight over his chest and went towards the door, "Who the-"

Oh, shit.

Louis' words trail, a breath caught in his throat by who is on his door and all that he is blinded by are his green eyes - eyes that had been his home and all he had done is run from that home, "Harry?"

"Is habit about me?"

Louis couldn't believe it, "You couldn't call me once in years and now the first question you ask is if Habit is about you?"

"I wasn't the one who decided to run from you, Louis." Harry whispers out, a slight tremor held in his voice.

"I didn't run from you."

"But you did - you ran from me, you ran from us and I want to ask you why but I won't."

"I didn't want to run from you."

Louis reaches out to touch him but Harry holds his hand instead and his hands tremble, "Don't, Lou."

Lou, Lou, Lou.

It's all he wants to hear - the whisper of his name from Harry, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't want to run from you, I-"

Harry tightens his hold on Louis' hand, "No, no, no wait - is habit your response to falling, Lou? Is it for me? Or is it for -"

"Who would it be for if not you, Harry?"

The smile that lights up on his face is worth the light of a thousand stars and that is when Harry raises Louis' hand to his own face to cradle it, "What am I now?"

Louis traces his cheekbones with his thumb, maps out his face to be sure that this is real, that he is real, "You're the habit that I can't break."

"What am I now?"

"You're the feeling I can't put down."

"What am I now?" Harry turns his face into the curve of his palm and kisses it while a tear slides down his cheek.

"You're the shiver that I can't shake, you're the habit that I can't break." He didn't have to choose - all he wanted was in front of him, his home, the lighthouse of his universe and a habit that he couldn't break.

A habit he didn't want to break.

Harry rests their foreheads together with a soft sob and Louis can't resist a hint of a smile there because he could hold Harry now, "What was the line that -"

"Princess park."

"Our home."

"Yeah," Harry brushes a kiss to his forehead and Louis can hear the hint of a smile in his voice when he whispers, "Our home."

[stylinsonwish]

send me home (to you)

It's said that when you don't have a home for your heart, you trust the universe to send you home and that is what the universe did.

Blue ink, nights that ran together, soft tunes and words that turned into music on the bedroom floor - that was home.

It was all he had wanted.

It's all he wants for the rest of his life.

"Do you wish we could show all the songs we've written together to the rest of the world?" Louis said while he ran his fingers over the words written on the paper - a new song that they were writing together.

"Lou, where did that come from?"

"I - we have all of this, all the songs we've written about each other and we've shown it to the rest of the world but what about the songs that we write when we're here on the kitchen floor - the ones we write about us, our story, our love?"

Harry reached out, rested his hand over Louis' cheek and traced his thumb over his cheekbone, "We'll show it to them, we'll write an album together and twitter will blow up and we'll do more of that one day, I promise."

Louis leaned into his touch, the pages held between them, "When, Harry?"

Harry brushes their noses together, "Soon, love and besides, it's obvious to them that all your songs are about me and that mine are about you - we aren't subtle with it."

"Yeah, yeah, we aren't."

"We weren't subtle with little things, were we? Not when I said I'm in love with Lou and all his little things."

"Or when you said sixteen to the crowd when we were performing 18 on stage - true, you aren't subtle."

"Oh, I'm not subtle? Should we discuss about No control?" Harry weaved their fingers together and raised his hand up to brush a kiss on the back of his hand.

"Should we discuss about the fact that you show it's about you?" Louis whispered with a soft laugh, his nose scrunched up that endeared Harry more than it should.

"On purpose, honey," Harry delivered a light shove to his shoulder, "why shouldn't I when the lyrics are that poetic - waking up beside you I'm a loaded gun I can't contain this anymore, I'm all yours-"

"Cause, I am all yours."

"Oh, is that so?"

Louis' fingers brushed the hem of his shirt: worn cotton, old and blue and reached forward for a kiss; soft yet immersive, tender yet powerful all the same, "Yes."

"One day," Harry whispered back while he rested their foreheads together, "we'll show the world all the songs we've written together and we'll show them that-"

"We'll show them that I'm your home and you're mine?"

"Yeah, we'll show them."

Yes, the universe had sent him home.

To Louis.