"What's your middle name, Louis?" is the first thing Louis hears when he walks into Room 15.

Louis scowls, but more fond than actual scowl, and purses his lips. "Why?"

Harry is sitting in that God-awful chair again, his face turned to the window. Louis can't help but stare as the rainy day outside casts flickering shadows over Harry's seriously cute (or cutely serious – either way) face – okay, back on topic. Harry just giggles.

"Well, I was thinking about yesterday. When you called me Curly, you know?"

"Yes," Louis says, setting down his bags and things and drawing a chair next to Harry.

"And I thought, well, it'd only be fair, if you called me Curly, that if I get to call you something as well. So, tell me your middle name?"

"No," Louis pouts, making sure to emphasize his joking so that Harry knows he's being silly.

"Aw, come on," Harry whines, now turning away from the window to face Louis. Instead of staring directly at him, his gaze is aimed blankly at the door behind Louis.

"Noppeee," Louis teases.

"Please??"

"Mm-mm."

"Louis, come on man –"

Realizing the conversation will not be ending anytime soon, Louis rolls his eyes and swiftly interrupts Harry's pleas. "William."

Harry pauses, a sly grin slowly forming on his face. "What?"

"It's William, you wanker," Louis repeats, reaching over to muss Harry's hair. Harry pulls away, adorably, and giggles.

"How excellent. I already have the perfect nickname for you."

There's a few beats of expecting silence before Louis clears his throat. "Well. Aren't you gonna tell me?"

Harry simply smiles. "Later. Now, about this color thing. Do you think you could talk about orange, perhaps?"

Louis places his fists on his hips in mock-disappointment and grins. "Could I talk about orange? Jesus Curly, you always go for the boring ones."

Harry smiles winningly and shrugs. "What can I say?"

Louis sighs and strokes his chin, finding the perfect words. "Well, orange is an orange. Duh. A nice, clean orange that you never have trouble peeling. Orange is also popsicles – because orange-flavored popsicles are always the best. Orange is that perfect moment in the sunset, the one that lights up the entire sky and makes everything glow in the best possible way. Orange is loud, too. And silly. And fun. I'm sure if Orange was a person, he'd be a great partier. Orange is family. And fires. Oh, yes, orange is definitely a fire. A campfire, late at night, when the stars are out and you're roasting marshmallows. Orange is brave, and strong. Orange is the color of Doritos, too."

Louis finishes with a sheepish smile when Harry starts applauding earnestly.

"Job well done, Louis. That was perfect. I liked that part about the sunset. That's one of the things I'm most excited to see – the sunset," Harry says thoughtfully, folding his large hands into his lanky lap.

Louis smiles. "Tell you what, Curly. When you can see, and you're all happy and shit like that, I'll go take you to my favorite spot on my favorite hill and we can watch the sunset together."

"Oh?" Harry says, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm-hmm.  And we'll have a grand old time feeding each other grapes and listening to The Fray."

"Ah. Sounds great. You promise then?"

Louis giggles, jabbing Harry in the side. "Yes, Curly. I promise. Now, about that nickname thing –"

"All good things to those who wait," Harry sing-songs, gripping his walking stick and standing up from the ugly chair. Louis stands up with him – hands always guarding, in the incident he falls – and whines brattily.

"Come on, Curly – I told you my middle name! Pleassssee," Louis adds, with a pouty lip, and then curses in his head because he realizes Harry can't see his pouty lip. And goddamn, that's unfortunate because the pouty lip always works.

"Tsk, tsk," Harry clicks as he stares in front of him with a fond smile, hands reaching down below and feeling against the drawers on his nightstand. "Someone is impatient." His fingers grip the handle of his drawer and he slides it open, then he picks up a small-strange looking device. He holds it tightly and then sets his walking stick down, sitting on his bed and opening up the thing. It looks similar to the thing that Jenna Marshall has in Pretty Little Liars (and damn, Louis hasn't seen that show in forever. He needs to start watching it again – Mr. Fitz probably misses him).

"In case you're wondering," Harry smiles sharply as he begins tapping away at the gizmo, "this is my phone. Tell me your number, Tommo, and I'll text you your nickname tonight."

Louis pouts again, more for himself this time, and slumps his shoulders. "Tonight? I can't wait that long and – did you just call me 'Tommo'?"

Harry gives an amused smirk and chuckles. "Yes. But that's not it."

And of course, it's in that moment that Maisie walks into the room. Looking as sunny as ever, she greets Louis with a bright smile and holds Harry steady. "Time for your meds, love," she says to Harry, eyes gently informing Louis it's time to go. Harry turns, in the assumed direction of where Louis is standing, and speaks in his honey-like voice.

"What's your number, Louis?"

Louis crosses his arms grumpily. "867-5309."

Harry pauses for a moment and then bursts out laughing, Maisie tittering squeakily next to him. Louis' heart immediately thumps irregularly, because holy shit Harry has a fucking nice laugh. It reminds him of popcorn, and a sunset, and honey. It reminds him of eating honey-popcorn while watching a sunset. "Oh, good one, Tommo!  But, for real – what's your number?"

Louis sighs and flicks his too-long, too-messy hair out of his eyes. He mumbles his number, still in a grumpy mood, and Harry quickly punches it into his phone.

"Allright. Expect a text message at 9 sharp, Louis. Catch you later!" he says while Maisie is laying him down and popping the caps of his medication containers.

Louis waves, then sputters out a flushed "Bye," and then leaves Room 15.

**

Louis is asleep when his phone buzzes at 9, sharp, just like Harry said. He sputters awake, scaring off Beau, and his bowl of half-eaten Ramen noodles goes flying off of his chest.

"Shit!" he curses when the bowl lands on the carpet. He quickly fetches some paper towels and tries to sop the mess up, then checks his phone.

It's from Harry, and Louis smiles the instant he sees it.

"Goodnight, Lou Will. :)"

~

Chapter end notes: ta-dah! Hope you enjoyed. Just in case you didn't get the 867-5309 bit, that's the tile of an old 80's song. 867-5309, I mean. Look it up! It's actually a pretty good song.

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this! You are all my sunshines :3