No amount of money, no mansion in California, no designer clothes or fancy shoes would Harry rather have than Louis.
His muse, his love of a thousand life times. The only thing he'll ever need. A walking ray of the brightest sunshine Harry has ever seen, warming him from the inside out and giving him a reason to wake up in the morning.
The stars dull in comparison to the eyes of his lover, the moon never as beautiful as him. Birds singing are out of tune in the shadow of Louis' voice waking Harry in the morning.
A wit too fast for the sharpest man, a smile too pretty for the most unswayed, tears too passionate for the most stoic.
Too many times has Harry wished he could capture Louis in a frame in his mind to be burned into his memory forever.
Too many times has Harry let his pen glide over the paper of his notebook, trying to pour every essence of Louis' beauty into a song worthy of him. Trying but failing, always failing.
This was one of those times.
Harry sat in a mess of white sheets, eyes glued to the image of his perfect boyfriend out on their balcony while he chewed the end of his pen.
Louis' hair was slightly fluttering in the breeze of the morning as he stared out into the world, the only world he'll ever see. Harry thinks he deserves more.
They make eye contact when the older boy finally notices the intense stare from across the way, standing up and traipsing in through the glass double doors.
"I could hear you thinking from outside," he says, climbing into the bed and moving Harry's notebook from his lap, taking its place.
Harry furrowed his brow and wrapped his arms around Louis' waist, still staring out over the balcony at the city below them, a city of people that will never experience Louis the way he does. He feels a bit special.
"I want to write you a song." He says simply.
Louis giggles and kisses Harry's cheek, turning around so his back was pressed to his boyfriend's chest, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "You always write me songs, Harry."
"But none ever as beautiful as you." He presses a kiss to Louis' temple.
"Oh, be quiet. You say that too much."
That's not true, Harry thinks. He tells Louis he's beautiful every chance he gets, afraid that if he doesn't Louis might not know. He tells him when he wakes up in the morning, when Louis' eyes are fluttering open and his hair is strewn over the pillow. Tells him when he laughs at Harry's stupid jokes. Tells him when they dance around the kitchen to Ed Sheeran. Tells him when they make love. Tells him when he blushes at Harry's "I love you"s. But that's not too much. Never too much.
He likes to think he got lucky somewhere in life, did something extraordinary somewhere along the line to be granted this perfect person, but he'll never know what he ever did to deserve this.
After a few minutes Harry laces their fingers together and lifts they're hands just because he can, turning his head and singing softly into Louis' ear. "I've got sunshine, on a cloudy day."
Louis giggles at the lyric, turning so his nose is brushing on Harry's lips from how close they are. Harry takes the opportunity to kiss his nose, of course.
Louis smiles softly. "You're a dork."
Harry smiles just as soft. "I may be a dork, but I'm a dork that is in love with an even bigger dork."
"While this is true that you are in fact in love with me, I am not a dork."
Harry grins and kisses his forehead. "You got me there," he says, shutting his eyes and leaning back.
Louis plays with his fingers and looks up at the ceiling. "I love you"
"And I love you."