Pairing: Larry, Louis/Harry, Lourry, whatever have you.

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with any members of One Direction and blah blah blah.

A/N: So this is….this. It's really short and it makes no sense really, but here it is. Feedback would be really appreciated. Thanks. xo

Louis would never admit it aloud, but the truth was, he absolutely adored Harry's name.

It was strange because, well, to put it bluntly, Harry's name was so common. It was just Harry. You could find a Harry anywhere; go out into a big city like London or somewhere in the US , such as NYC, and you could probably bump into about six or seven Harrys whilst simply walking down the street or stopping for a cup of coffee. A lot of people would claim that a name such as Harry was overused and had become overly recycled throughout the years, not to mention the fact that whomever bared the name was always faced with constantly being compared to the famous 'Harry Potter' (not that that was a particularly bad thing, not at all really, but still).

Harry was everywhere. There was a Harry at your Uni and a Harry living in the flat above yours and a Harry working at the local bakery and a little boy you babysat on weekends named Harry and, hell, even your boss' name was Harry. It was such a hackneyed name, so run-of-the-mill, so every day. A lot of people would argue that there was nothing special about the 5 letter thing at all, and to be honest, Louis couldn't blame them.

But even despite this, well, Louis absolutely loved it.

And he didn't even know quite why that was, to be honest.

Of course Louis could agree that, yes, Harry was a very common name and, yes, it had become rather worn out over the years. Yet for some unfathomable reason, he was particularly fond of the thing.

Perhaps, Louis pondered, it wasn't even the name itself that had drawn him in towards it at all. Maybe it was just the person attached to the name; a person so wondrous and bright that he had the ability to take such a monotonous label of sorts and meld it into something so positively beautiful, all without even trying to do so.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Louis couldn't picture Harry as anyone but Harry. The fact that those unruly chocolate curls and those warm green eyes and that impossibly blinding smile (with that infuriating little dimple too; Louis swore some days it would be the death of him) wouldn't feel right if they weren't Harry. Those features couldn't belong to a Joseph or an Andrew or a Robert, they were purely Harry and everything about them screamed Harry and their entire essence was justHarryHarryHarry; for it to be any other way was practically impossible.

Or.. Louis' fondness towards the name could be for another reason entirely. Maybe it was the way it felt to say it early in the mornings; when his voice was still groggy and his speech slow and slurred. Or how it rolled off of his tongue so effortlessly late into the night, when it was all skin against skin and lips against lips and nothing but just LouisandHarry and HarryandLouis and it was almost natural to let those five letters spill from parted lips.

It could be how it tasted upon his tongue, almost like it lingered there when he spoke it; so sinfully delicious and yet so sickly sweet all at once. Or the reaction it earned him when it was whispered against pale flesh, in the shell of an ear or against swollen lips.

It could be the way Louis would sometimes wake up to find it scribbled onto his hand as an aftermath of one of their "let's-write-all-over-each-other-and-desecrate-each-other's-bodies-" fights, how it almost endearingly refused to be washed off.

Perhaps it was how it had been spoken when the two had first met in the toilets that one fateful day, when Louis had first laid his gaze upon that breathtaking smile and those hopeful eyes. An exuberant "hi, I'm Harry!" that had been spoken with so much confidence, so much youth and happiness with a voice full of so much potential.

Or, maybe, it was the way that Harry was apart of Louis and all over Louis; in his hair and in his eyes and in his dreams and in his smiles and in his heart. How every thought the blue-eyed teen possessed swirled and intertwined with Harry and how his hands screamed for Harry and how if you were to look through his eyes—eyes so clear and so blue that you could peer through them like a sheet of tangible glass—all you would see in them would be Harry. Harry was within him and apart of him and sometimes Louis didn't even remember where he ended and Harry began.

But there was something else too. Something else about the name that Louis had grown to love.

It was the fact that Harry himself defied everything the name had ever stood for, flipped the whole concept of it upside-down. It was remarkable, really. And maybe it was silly that Louis had thought this far upon the entire subject at all, or maybe he was getting too deep into his contemplations, but it was just one of those things that simultaneously baffled and astounded the eldest all at once.

The thing was, Harry was such an ordinary name, but Harry was possibly the most extraordinary person Louis had ever come to know. To Louis, Harry was just this big, immeasurable entity of beauty and individuality. He was bold and beautiful, rough and rugged, gentle and sweet. He was outspoken and not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve, brave and intelligent. He was a goofball and a bloody idiot and a dork. He was adorable and sexy and beautiful and he was just so Harry and the younger boy really didn't give a fuck what other people thought of it.

The name though, it was so bland. So plain. And Harry himself was anything but. Names were supposed to meld with personalities— like Louis'. It somehow seemed to fit the older lad, it was exuberant and fun-loving, much like himself. But Harry and Harry repelled each other in some sort of odd way. They were completely unalike.

But that's what was remarkable about it all. Because although the name was so common and the person so incredibly unique, they somehow clicked.

They clicked because it just proved even further how bright and beautiful Harry was, how unique he was, that he had the power to outshine his name and prove it wrong, show you that there was so much more to Harry than just the typical stereotype of 'boring' and 'unassuming' that it held. And it was all a confusing circle from thereon, because Harry really was meant to be Harry when Harry and Harry didn't seem to fit at all—and, well, you got the point.

Whatever it really was about it, in the end, Louis loved it. Louis loved Harry and Harry, everything about the name and the person who held it.

"Louis?"

And suddenly Louis snapped out of his stupor, his eyelids snapping open and his gaze drifting towards the beautiful boy that lay contentedly in his arms. The older quirked a gentle smile upon seeing the expression of his lover, who looked so adorably sleepy as he fought to keep his eyes pried open.

"Yeah, Harry?" Louis replied softly, and he silently relished in the feeling of that gorgeous name falling from his lips.

Instinctively, Louis' hands moved up to thread lovingly into Harry's curls, earning a contended little noise from the younger.

"What are you thinking about?"

Louis laughed a little at that, because well, what was he supposed to say, he was thinking about Harry's name? No, that would be utterly absurd, and Louis briefly wondered on how he had gotten on the subject in the first place.

"Just you, sweetheart," Louis said with a smile, and the eldest could've sworn his heart skipped a beat at the drowsy little smile he received in return.

"Mmm, okay." The younger boy's eyelids began to flutter dangerously then, and soon they were sliding all the way closed, the need to sleep finally overtaking the younger boy as he snuggled further into Louis' chest. "Just promise me if you want to wank you'll do it in the shower. I'm too tired to do anything tonight and I don't want you waking me up."

Louis just shook his head as another laugh escaped him, though by now he too was practically fighting against the urge to fall asleep. "Promise," he giggled into the other's hair happily. Harry, however, didn't reply and Louis could tell by then that the younger lad had finally drifted into a deep slumber.

And Louis' last thought before he followed Harry into dreamland was that really, whatever Harry's name happened to be, he wouldn't care. Louis' heart would always beat a constant litany of it. His heartbeat was HarryHarryHarry but if it had to be RobertRobertRobert or JosephJosephJoseph then that was fine too. In the end, his heart belonged to this beautiful boy, this beautiful boy with the strangely beautiful name and the beautiful eyes and the beautiful smile. And honestly, that was all that really mattered.

A/N: I feel like this is way too incredibly short, especially considering how long I worked on it but oh well. It's a oneshot and oneshots are oney and shotty. Thank for reading, if you did, and again, feedback would be greatly appreciated. Later. xo