Harry groans at the sudden shove to his shoulder, pushing back with his momentum as he flops over onto his stomach.
“This is simply a rip-off. I agree to sacrifice my thrilling weekend off to spend a few days at home, and I’m not even fed!”
Feels a grin forming on his lips as Louis flops backward onto the mattress, dramatically resting his wrist against his forehead as if he might faint.
“I feel dizzy, and malnourished… This is abuse. I’m dying.”
Harry watches the corner of Louis’ lips turn up, clearly enjoying himself. If Harry had more energy, he might reach out and pull the boy closer, close enough to tip his head and kiss the little grin into a full smile. Instead, he watches.
“What’s that—do you see that bright light, too, Harold? Oh, God! Killed by my own boyfriend at the ripe age of 21! I was only a child! What a life this has—what?”
Harry shakes his head slowly, nuzzling into the pillow, only pausing for a moment to wish it was Louis’ shoulder instead.
“I love you, Lou,” he lets his eyes drift shut once again, stealing one last moment of sleep from the undersides of his eyelids, “So much.”