Ecstatic wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how Louis felt when he heard Harry was coming back into town. It’d been at least 6 years since Harry’s family had moved, out of their neighboring house to the Tomlinson’s. He was so beyond ecstatic that for once, he bothered to pick up his room. He threw clothes in the washer, using far too much detergent but he was determined nonetheless to be at least somewhat put together. He even made his bed and straightened up collections of old objects to the best of his ability.

He didn’t sit still the entirety of the drive to the airport, the smile unable to vanish from his lips as they got closer and closer. As he got closer and closer to finally seeing him again.

The car came to a stop in a parking space, and he was already opting to jump out, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt. He was tempted to sprint to Harry’s gate, wanting to great him the moment he stepped foot off the plane, only to instead be stopped by a very disapproving hand and an annoyed look from his mom. He sighed and relented, waiting (impatiently).

Arms folded across his chest as his eyes darted to the clock every 30 seconds, anxiously anticipating Harry’s arrival. When a rush of people started to flood in, he was on the tips of his feet, trying to spot a glimpse of that curly head of hair.

Scolded by his mother to remain patient, his eyes snapped to her with a prominent frown settled on his lips, his attention diverted long enough for something — or rather someone — to crash against him. He lost his breath, the wind being entirely knocked out of him. Finally regaining his senses, he found Harry snuggly tucked against his chest, clutching onto him with a dopey smile on his lips. Louis gave a breathless laugh, securing his arms around him.

“Jesus, Haz, could’ve knocked me on my arse,” he joked, his voice light and far too soft to sound like a tease.