Today is just a weird day. Because Harry isn't sitting in that ugly chair when Louis walks in the room.

"Hellooooo, Lou Will!" he says ecstatically, calling from the bed. Louis drops the chocolates he brought as a present in shock.

"Shit! Don't scare me like that, Curly!" he shouts while picking up the chocolates. Harry giggles.

"Sorryyy. I decided that we should sit on the bed today. And do I smell chocolate?" Harry sniffs, instinctively leaning forward. Louis rolls his eyes.

"Yes, you wanker. I bought them for you."

Louis climbs onto the bed, which really is soft beyond belief, and opens the box of chocolates. Carefully, he opens Harry's palm and places one of the peanut-butter-chocolate ones in his hand.

Harry raises it to his mouth and pops it in with ease, chewing cheerfully. "Oo. Thank you, Lou Will."

"So, have you decided the color for today, Curly?" Louis hums, popping a chocolate of his own into his mouth. Harry's face looks up, wondering what color, and he pops his lips. "Purple."

"Purple?"

"Purple. But I have one condition. There's no way, even the slightest possibility, that you can describe purple... without holding my hand."

Louis laughs and scoops Harry's hand up, and hopes that his hands aren't nearly as shaky as his heart. Harry's hand is warm. And soft. And big – holy shit, it's big – and it wraps around Louis' spindly fingers, carefully, like they could break. He holds Louis' hand with care, like he's treasuring each second of their hands touching. And it swells Louis with fondness.

"Alright, Curly. Purple is... purple is the color of grapes. I think it's also the color of royalty. Purple is in a sunset too – that sliver of a moment, just before the sun goes to sleep. Mountains are purple, and some flowers are purple, and grape jelly is purple. Purple is majestic, and dramatic. If Purple was a person he'd totally be a cliché, drama-queen gay boy. Erm, purple is... the sky. It's the color of the sky before it turns totally black, that perfect moment where the stars are dancing and the moon is singing."

Harry is tracing Louis' hand, touching down the lines and dips, softly caressing each inch of skin. "Thank you, Lou Will," but he says it so fast it sounds like "Lewell." Which is odd, because Harry is usually so slow and punctuated with his sounds, carefully speaking each word. "That was nice."

"What's wrong, Harry?" Louis says immediately, nudging Harry's stiff side. Harry breathes in slowly and keeps on tracing Louis' hand, savoring his skin.

"My surgery. On Sunday. There's a 30% chance I won't survive," he says frantically. Louis might stop breathing – for just a second – and he slowly rotates and grips Harry shoulders.

"Hey. Curly. Don't worry about it. You'll survive, I know it. You're gonna see the sunset with me, remember? And we're going to go hiking in the forest, and go stargazing? You're gonna do that with me. I know you will. So don't worry, okay?" Louis says quietly, gradually bringing his and Harry's entwined hands and offering it a meaningful kiss. Harry smiles above him.

"I know. I know. I shouldn't even worry about it."

"Right," Louis smiles, and he leans in and presses a kiss to Harry's lips.

"Do you know, Curly, that I might possibly be mad for you?" Louis mumbles while stamping a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. Harry hums in delight and laughs softly.

"Don't worry about it, Lou Will. I might possibly be mad for you, too."

They spend the rest of the evening sitting in the bed, giggling and swapping silly stories, slowly informing each other of their lives. Harry has a cat named Dusty, which Louis already knew, but what Louis didn't know was that Harry loves, loves cats. Harry has a sister named Gemma. Harry wants to become a photographer, once he can see. Harry loves the idea of a rainbow, and he adds it to the list of things he can't wait to see once Louis describes it to him. Harry is (Louis still can't get over this part) mad for Louis. Harry loves color.

They are so deep in conversation that they don't even notice Maisie walk into the room until she's setting the tray of medications on the nightstand. "Boys," she scolds playfully, eyeing Louis with a mischievous glint. "We're staying clean, aren't we?"

Louis laughs and nods, pushing himself off the bed and gathering his things. Harry calls for him just as he's about to leave. "Goodbye, Lou Will! Expect a text tonight! I might even send you that soppy Fault in Our Stars stuff!"

"Of course, Curly!" Louis replies, and he changes his mind. There is no possibly involved at all – Louis Tomlinson is mad for Harry Styles.

When he gets home, to a complaining Beau and a messy kitchen, he doesn't even get upset. He just scruffs Beau behind her ears, runs the dishwasher, prepares some EasyMac (he's never been much of a cook), and starts an episode of Sherlock. (He still can't get over Benedict Cumberbatch's voice.) (It might be even better than Harry's.) (Just kidding.)

And at 9:14 (Louis isn't keeping track of the time, nope) he receives a text. From a certain, curly-haired, color-all-its-own-eyed boy.

"I fell in love the way you fall asleep. Slowly, and then all at once."

Chapter end notes: Okay, that was definitely a TFIOS reference. Heh.

im at winterlouie at tumblr if you'd like to have a chat. or ask.fm/More_Than_Stan :)