Like most sorrows, one day he’ll wake up finding himself able to breathe again.

Once they’re done with breakfast, they sit a while longer, refilling their cuppa and enjoying a tea while holding hands in plain view of the other customers.

“Who knew post-coital Harry would be such a brat uh,” Louis teases before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “How about if I promise to big spoon you ,” he says in a poor imitation of Harry’s low drawl, “once we get to bed? And if I promise you won’t have to go too far?”

“Of course, you were sitting on the floor waiting for me,” he adds, taking the jacket off and putting it on the counter. “May I ask why?” Louis says, both hands pressed on the counter on each side of his jacket.

He wants him to come back, wants him to have the feeling he’s chasing, wants him to never go without.

They keep Louis busier than he’s been in months, which is exactly what he was hoping for. He barely has the time to miss Harry at all, though he can’t help but always worry about him a little.

Unsurprisingly, Harry shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “You don’t need books to tell interesting stories.” “No,” Louis smirks. “I suppose I don’t.”

quiet life in the lighthouse

“You’re empty until the end of March?”

“I knew you were younger than me,” Louis jokes. “You’ve got that glowing skin of a youngin’.”

And when the B&B is empty Louis can go straight from his bed to the top of the lighthouse in one minute to enjoy the view. It’s pretty amazing, considering.

But now that he knows Harry the way he does, Louis knows Harry cherishes the quiet the way only someone who doesn’t get enough of it does. That those songs are of great comfort to him.

He’s fully awake now and he knows there’s no way he can let Harry sleep on the floor of the tower in February, especially not half naked.

Harry kisses him for the first time on his birthday.

Quickly enough, they’re both sprawled on the sand together, the day beautiful despite the cold and Louis gets Harry to eat at least a small part of his birthday cake, humming happy birthday to him under his breath while Harry laughs and brushes crumbs off his face.

God, no wonder people all around the world go crazy for him.

Louis sighs. “Does it matter? What the label thinks?” He lets his thumb rub against the skin of Harry’s inner wrist. Harry shrugs. “I’m under contract so it really should. But I’m not sure anymore.”

“Nah, I reckon you’ve got something a bit more exciting than that,”

“My new album is coming out in a few months,” is what he says next, taking Louis completely by surprise. “Oh,” Louis exclaims, giving Harry an encouraging, but somewhat confused smile. “That’s great, H. That’s… that’s amazing. Congrats.”

Harry’s guitar arrives in the middle of the second week of January.

Besides, Louis is used to living with the unknown, the uncertainty. It’s what winter on Fair Isle is made of, nothing can be predicted. And it doesn’t scare Louis.

do you ever think about how fair isle became louis' home and then louis became harry's home?

Louis listens with a smile on his face and sings along when Harry gets goofy like he’s on stage and starts saying things like “you sing!!” while he points a non-existent microphone at Louis.