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Louis has no idea what Harry’s constantly writing down in that wretched, ugly journal that he carries, but lord knows, it must be bloody important. He won’t leave it anywhere unattended, and he’s forever jotting away at the off-white pages. He’s sitting there, and he keeps writing and writing and writing. Louis nudges his hip with the toe of his shoe, and Harry glances up, those green eyes making Louis melt a little. He swallows that down, though.
“You’ve still never told me what you keep writing in that ridiculous journal, Haz.”
“And I’m not going to tell you, Lou.”