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The cabin was quiet when Louis woke up. That soft, golden kind of morning light filtered in through the frost-kissed windows, casting delicate shadows on the floorboards. The fire had long gone out, and the only sound was the gentle rustle of blankets and the occasional sleepy creak of wood settling.

Harry was still asleep beside him, his curls a complete mess, arm loosely draped over Louis' waist. Willow sat perched at the windowsill, tail flicking gently as she watched the snow outside—composed, content, already halfway back in city-cat mode.

Louis reached out and scratched behind her ear. "You ready to go back to civilization, your highness?"

Willow didn't even turn. Just blinked, slow and imperial.

⸻

The packing was lazy. No one really wanted to leave, but they all knew it was time. Niall wandered around sleepily in mismatched socks, Zayn and Liam shared a mug of coffee like some kind of domestic ritual, and Harry floated through the cabin humming under his breath as he folded things.

Louis stood near the fireplace, looking at the photos on his phone—Willow in her sunhat. Harry laughing with marshmallow fluff on his nose. Niall trying to feed Willow a potato chip (and getting slapped for it).

Zayn walked past, saw the smile on Louis' face, and nodded. "We needed this, huh?"

"Yeah," Louis said. "We really did."

⸻

They pulled up to their apartment in the late afternoon. The familiar sight of their building felt warmer than usual, like something old but newly treasured.

Inside, Louis dropped the bags by the door and collapsed dramatically onto the couch. "Home," he sighed. "Where the WiFi connects automatically and the neighbors only own a reasonable number of cats."

Harry chuckled as he set Willow down gently on the floor. She gave a little chirp, walked one full loop around the apartment, then jumped onto her favorite windowsill like she'd never left.

"Did you miss your kingdom?" Harry asked her.

Willow flicked her tail and faced the window, perfectly poised.

Louis leaned back into the cushions as Harry sat beside him, pulling his legs into his lap. "I loved the cabin," he murmured. "But this... this is ours."

Harry nodded. "Our mess. Our mugs. Our weird corner plant that leans like it's tired."

Louis grinned. "Our moody cat and her hat she pretends she didn't love."

Willow sneezed like she heard that.

They sat there, watching the soft glow of the city creep in through the windows, limbs tangled, bags still unpacked, and hearts a little fuller.

Because the trip had been beautiful.

But home was where they grew.