Louis tugs his heavy coat around him and sighs indignantly, his breath coming out in fluffy white clouds as he trudges down the sidewalk towards their apartment. While the sidewalk is clear, there are still melting snow drifts on the curbs, causing big puddles of dirty slush, some of them deceptively deep. Louis is glad Harry convinced him that he needed rubber boots; as hideous as they are, they’ve saved his ass more than once in the past few months.
Boston, it seems, has not yet gotten the memo that it’s fucking March. Flowers should be blooming, the trees should be covered in little green buds, and birds should be chirping happily. Instead, it feels like there is no end to winter in sight.
He fishes his keys out of his pocket as he reaches their new building, Harry having given up his little student apartment on BU’s campus when Louis moved up at the end of December so they could find a place equidistant from both of their schools. Even though it’s been three months, Louis still can’t believe that he’s here, in Boston, after everything. He’s halfway through his first semester at Wheelock and he’s doing well in his classes, taking to his new major like a fish to water. He’s making new friends, and Zayn, Liam, and Niall are just a Skype call away, even planning to come visit them next month. He gets to go home to Harry, the love of his life, every night.
Life is good.
If only the weather would get with the fucking program.
Louis unlocks the door and steps inside their apartment, making a big show of dropping his backpack by the door and pulling off his wet boots.
“Hey, baby,” Harry greets him from his nest on the couch, adjusting his glasses as he sets aside his heavy textbook. “How was your day?”
“Harold,” Louis huffs grumpily, shedding his coat and pulling off his beanie. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Um, Wednesday?” Harry replies, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“It is March 20th,” Louis states, crawling into Harry’s lap, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. He presses a kiss to Harry’s collarbone and then looks up at him, pouting dramatically as Harry’s eyes sparkle in amusement. “Otherwise known as the first day of spring.”
“Ah,” Harry hums, running his big hands up and down Louis’ back. “I see.”
“It’s still fucking cold,” Louis whines, snuggling closer to him, absorbing his body warmth, grateful that Harry is always like a human furnace. “I hate it.”
“I know, baby,” Harry soothes, kissing the top of his head. “It sucks.”
“I know we’re like, pursuing our dreams and all that shit,” Louis mutters, playing with the long ends of Harry’s curls. “But next time we do that, can we at least choose to do it in California or something?”
Louis feels Harry’s chest rumble with laughter.
“I’ll take that under advisement.”