for harry watching liam wake up in the morning, his hands lazy and searching. for the shadows of his lashes and harry's lips on his shoulders and the sliver of sunlight splitting his skin into gold. for the tree roots growing up the walls, the dusty guitars under the bed and the pawprints inside their hearts.

"hi," harry murmurs against the soft slope of liam's back, kissing him full of the sunrise and liam hums like a sleepy harmonica, fitting into harry's affection like a second skin.

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