you bring me home
warnings: none
word count: 2.7k
summary: harry’s homesick while on tour and louis comforts him.
[read on ao3]
The tips of Harry’s fingers stung from where he’d bitten off the white parts of his nails, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he continued to gnaw at the aching skin. His mind raced with too many thoughts to really pay any attention to the pain. It was only when a particularly rough bite tore the skin a bit too much and caused blood to seep out onto his tongue that he was brought back to reality and finally brought his hands down to his lap.
He looked around, then, at the walls tightly surrounding him in his too-small bunk. He thought of where he was. America. Somewhere in Colorado by now, I’d bet. Not that it really mattered where in America. What mattered is where he wasn’t, which was home. And not just his flat in London, which was beautiful and much more than Harry had ever thought he’d own. No, he wanted to be home, in Holmes Chapel with his mum and sister, getting woken up by Gemma smacking a pillow across his face because “Mum says it’s your turn to take the trash out.”
Harry loved his boys, and they were as much a family to him as his actual relatives were, but he missed home. The ache was always there, however it was usually distant and easy enough for Harry to distract himself from by playing a round of FIFA with Niall or cuddling up next to Louis (sometimes he even got away with doing both simultaneously, despite the dramatic eyerolls from Liam and teasing from Niall and Zayn).
Sometimes, though, the longing overtook him. It was always at night, when everyone else was asleep and Harry was left alone with his thoughts, too polite to wake any of the boys up, including his own boyfriend. Though he knew Louis would be more than willing to comfort him, Harry could never bring himself to wake Louis at times like this. He felt selfish, and almost humiliated at the thought. What 19-year-old needed to be held in the middle of the night because he missed his mum? It was childish.
Not that he thought Louis would judge him for it. Harry was well aware that Louis got his own bouts of homesickness, as Harry had been the one to stay up with him and run his fingers through his hair, rocking him back and forth as he struggled to find the words to express how he felt. But it made sense for Louis to miss home. He had little sisters that he had been taking care of for years, and he wasn’t used to not knowing what was going on with them. He was missing so many of their firsts, things that Louis had been waiting to experience for so long. But Harry was just a pathetic little kid whining for his mum. It wasn’t the same.
Frustrated, Harry finally forced himself out of his bunk and walked into the small kitchen on the bus. He searched for his phone in the dark, which had been plugged in on the cluttered countertop. He looked at the time, half-past three in the morning. His mum should be awake by now at home. Would it make it worse to give her a call? Or would hearing her voice be the one thing Harry needed to put himself at ease?
Without any other options, Harry rang her.
No answer.
When the call went to voicemail, the lump that Harry hadn’t yet noticed in his throat grew. He coughed lightly, willing it to go away, before the beep sounded indicating he could leave his message.
“Hi, Mum,” he said weakly into the phone, his voice thick from fatigue and disappointment. “I-it’s Harry. Well, you knew that. Um, anyways.” He let out a short laugh that caught in his throat and threatened to turn into a sob. It was much louder than he intended, but he hoped no one had heard. “I just, I wanted to tell you that I miss you and Gem, a lot, and, uh, I-I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the chance to call in the last few days.” He spoke slowly, careful to make sure he was forming coherent sentences because he was beyond tired and it was difficult for his brain to fully process what he was saying. Tears threatened to spill out from his eyes, and he was sure the slight quiver in his voice would give it away when his mum listened back to the voicemail. “I’m going to try and get some sleep, but give me a call when you can later on today. If you get the chance to talk to Gemma before me, ask her to call me, okay?” He sniffed, and he knew that there was no point in hiding the obvious pain in his voice anymore. “Love you, Mum. See you soon.” His voice shook at that last sentence, and it took everything in him to hold in his sob until he had hung up.
As soon as he set his phone down, he collapsed to the ground. He clutched at his stomach and tried his hardest to bury his face into his knees as an attempt to muffle the sounds of his cries. It must not have worked as well as he thought (or maybe Louis just had a sixth sense to know when Harry needed him), because almost as soon as Harry’s butt hit the ground, Louis came shuffling down the hall to see what was the matter.
Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Louis’ footsteps getting closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t want to see the look of pity that was sure to be on Louis’ face, he already felt embarrassed enough. Harry wanted to hang on to what little bit of dignity he had left.
“Oh, Haz,” Louis murmured, sinking down next to Harry on the floor and surrounding him with his arms. Harry buried his face into Louis’ neck instinctively and let himself sob into his shoulder, dignity be damned.
Harry didn’t even want to think about what a mess he probably looked, tears and snot running down his face and soaking into the soft cotton of Louis’ shirt. Harry knew Louis couldn’t give two fucks about him ruining his cheap shirt, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad.
Louis scratched at Harry’s back as he continued to shake with sobs. The noise was starting to die down a bit, but only because Harry couldn’t breathe enough to get anything out other than a few wheezes. His head began to go dizzy from the lack of oxygen, which Louis must have been able to sense.
“Love, you have to take a few deep breaths,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, grabbing his face with both of his hands and rubbing at his still shut eyes with his thumbs. “For me, please?”
At that, Harry managed to open his eyes for the first time since he’d hung up the phone. His vision was blurred, but even through the tears he could tell that Louis was extremely worried. After a minute or so of Louis softly repeating, “In-two-three, out-two-three,” Harry was able to get his breathing somewhat back to normal.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Harry said when he was able to form words again. His voice shook as tears that he had been too lazy to wipe away collected at the corners of his mouth. Louis kissed them away.
Against Harry’s mouth, Louis whispered, “Sorry for what?”
Despite every part of him telling him not to, Harry pulled away from Louis’ mouth and looked him in the eyes for the first time. Louis’ hands remained on either side of Harry’s face, gently wiping each tear as they continued to fall from his eyes. He sniffed. “For waking you up.”
“You didn’t,” Louis responded instantly.
“Don’t lie.”
Louis sighed, staring into Harry’s eyes and searching for something, though Harry wasn’t sure what. “I’d been awake for a while,” he admitted. “I could tell from your breathing that you weren’t asleep.”
“That’s kind of creepy.” Harry laughed, which surprised him a bit. Louis smiled and leaned in to peck him on the cheek.
“What can I say? I’m sort of obsessed with you.” Harry allowed his lips to turn up into a slight smile, but didn’t say anything because he could tell Louis wanted to say more. Louis took a breath, the gentle smile on his face fading into something of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry thought about it. He did want to talk about it. But what would he even say? Anything he thought of saying just sounded pathetic. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the life he’s living. It’s all he’s ever dreamed of--getting to perform with his three best friends and the love of his life, to fans who loved them for who they were and not for their looks or the fake personas forced upon them by the media. It was a lot to process sometimes, but it was all amazing.
But he missed the simpler parts of his life, from before any of this ever took off. He missed lazy mornings spent watching cartoons with his sister that they were both much too old to admit they enjoyed. He missed making trips to the grocery store and running into people he knew who actually wanted to talk to him, not just scream and take a few pictures. And, most of all, he missed being able to curl up in his mum’s lap and let her play with his hair like when he was younger. He missed the quick kiss on the cheek she would give him before leaving for school, and the notes she’d pack in his lunch that he pretended to be embarrassed by but secretly kept tucked away in a little shoebox under his bed.
But how was Harry supposed to articulate all of that at nearly four in the morning, with his foggy brain and head that was inches away from falling limply to rest on Louis’ shoulder so he could rest?
“Don’t know how,” Harry finally responded, looking down at his hands that had somehow found their way to clutch the material of Louis’ shirt.
As if Louis could read Harry’s mind, he untangled himself from Harry’s limbs and stood up from the floor, holding his hand out for Harry to take, then said, “Wanna get some sleep and talk about it in the morning?” Harry just nodded before taking Louis’ outstretched hand and using it to pull himself up.
Louis began to lead Harry back to their respective bunks, but Harry hesitated before they could make it much farther than a few steps. Louis turned to face Harry and stepped closer to him, not letting go of his hand in the process.
“What is it, love?”
Harry chewed at his bottom lip, oddly nervous to ask for something that they had done countless times before. He looked down at their clasped hands and rubbed his thumb along the smooth stretch of skin across Louis’ knuckles. Finally, looking up at Louis through his lashes, he managed to speak.
“Will you sleep with me?” It came out as barely more than a whisper, Harry’s lips hardly moving as he spoke. He wasn’t sure why he had been so scared to ask--they’d done much more together, after all--but something about Harry’s fragile mental state made it difficult to force the words from his lips.
It’d been longer than they both liked since they’d last gotten to properly sleep together. They tried to limit it to only when they were in hotels, because as much as Harry loved Louis, he also loved having enough room to spread out in bed and that just wasn’t possible with both of them in one of those tour bus bunks. But Harry couldn’t care less about that tonight. He just needed to be held.
Louis reached up on his toes to place a kiss on Harry’s forehead, a task that would have been much easier less than a year ago, but somehow Harry had managed to grow taller than him without Louis even noticing. “Of course.”
Instead of attempting to squeeze both of them into one of their tiny bunks, Louis just grabbed a few blankets from his bed and pulled Harry to the couch at the back of the bus. It was still rather small and they would definitely both have sore backs the next morning from sleeping on the stiff cushions, but they didn’t mind.
Louis gently wrapped one of the blankets around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him down onto the couch. He fit his arms around Harry’s torso and settled so his lips were right behind the younger boy’s ear. Harry easily settled into the weight of Louis surrounding him, loving the way Louis’ breath tickled his neck. A leg came and swung itself over Harry’s hip, and Louis shifted to breathe in the smell of his hair as he pulled Harry impossibly closer.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Harry didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but it slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it had happened, the words barely more than a whisper but enough that Louis heard.
“Harry…” Louis breathed, lifting himself up on one arm so he could look down at the younger boy. Harry turned his head to meet Louis’ gaze. Louis brought a hand up to tuck a stray curl behind Harry’s ear, then leaned in close so their noses almost touched. “You didn’t have to do anything. Just existing was enough.”
Not knowing what to say, Harry just reached up and closed the distance between him and Louis, their lips fitting together perfectly. It was a slow, patient kiss. Their lips moved in sync, just as they always did, and it was comforting. Louis’ hand moved to caress Harry’s cheek before he pulled away. Harry watched as Louis’ eyes roamed around his face, as if he were attempting to memorize every feature. The corners of Louis’ mouth pulled up into a soft smile when their eyes finally met, and Harry felt his heart flutter. Three years, and he still had that effect on him. Harry wondered if it would ever go away.
He hoped not.
“Are you feeling any better?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly. “A bit, yeah.”
Louis bent down to leave a peck on the tip of Harry’s nose. “Good, that’s good. Y’know, Haz, you can talk to me about this kind of stuff, okay? I know what it’s like to miss home, and you know that. And I hate the thought of you hurting on your own.”
“I know, Louis, I do. I just, I don’t know, I feel annoying bothering you with stuff like that. Makes me feel like a burden.” The last part came out mumbled, but Louis understood.
“You’ll never be a burden, Harry.”
“I know, I just--shit.” Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, tears blurring his vision once again. He couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at himself. Harry kept his hands over his eyes as he spoke. “Can we just talk about it in the morning? It’s too much for me right now.”
Harry could tell Louis didn’t want to wait, and it was understandable. If Harry were in Louis’ position, he’d feel the same. But Louis knew not to push it. “Sure, love.”
Harry waited for Louis to move back to laying down behind him, but instead he felt Louis tugging gently at Harry’s wrists. Reluctantly, Harry moved his hands away from his eyes.
Once Louis had Harry’s eyes locked on him, he said, “I love you. And I’m here. Always will be. You know that, right?”
Harry nodded. “Of course I do.”
“Good.”
“I love you, too. So much, Louis.”
“I know.”
Finally, Louis settled back down into their previous position, his left hand finding Harry’s and tangling their fingers together.
Harry brought both of their hands up to his lips and placed a kiss on Louis’ knuckles. After just a few minutes, Louis’ breathing evened out and his limbs hung heavily over Harry’s figure. Harry felt himself relax more than he’d been able to at all in the past few weeks against Louis’ sleeping body.
Maybe this was home.
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