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Posted originally <strong>on</strong> the Archive of Our Own at<br />

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5479688.<br />

Rating:<br />

Archive Warning:<br />

Category:<br />

F<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om:<br />

Relati<strong>on</strong>ship:<br />

Character:<br />

Additi<strong>on</strong>al Tags:<br />

Stats:<br />

Mature<br />

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings<br />

M/M<br />

One Directi<strong>on</strong> (B<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>)<br />

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlins<strong>on</strong><br />

Harry Styles, Louis Tomlins<strong>on</strong>, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik<br />

Artist Louis, Harry is trouble, Smut, Fluff <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Smut, Fluff <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Angst,<br />

Painting, I suck at tagging, I'm Sorry, side Ziam, Alternate Universe,<br />

Fanficti<strong>on</strong>, larry fic, Louis likes pretty colors, Bottom Harry, Top Louis,<br />

Sexual Tensi<strong>on</strong>, a lot of sexual tensi<strong>on</strong>, Sex Toys, Daddy Issues,<br />

Liam Payne & Louis Tomlins<strong>on</strong> Are Brothers, Gay Sex<br />

Published: 2015-12-21 Updated: 2016-01-05 Chapters: 11/? Words:<br />

61714<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> (<strong>on</strong> <strong>hold</strong>)<br />

by styles_allure<br />

Summary<br />

Louis' love for pretty colors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> aesthetics, paired with his immense passi<strong>on</strong> for painting<br />

beautiful flowers has stars in his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thoughts of a successful career.<br />

unfortunately, budding artists will struggle at first, so, cue the unwanted roommate. it <strong>on</strong>ly<br />

gets worse when the new additi<strong>on</strong> is a sarcastic, flirty, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> style-ignorant annoyance. all<br />

complete with a dingy leather jacket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a vast array of tattoos.


One<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

Everything is lavender.<br />

Intricate swirls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> various shades of color. The <strong>on</strong>e that embodies simple <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> calm, quiet. It’s the<br />

color of nature’s most beautiful flower, sending your brain into a perceptual relaxati<strong>on</strong>. It’s all<br />

around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it hangs from the ceiling, all the way to the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then lacing the walls. It’s so pure,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it feels like a dream, like an after thought <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a slight brush of the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> over hot clammy skin.<br />

It’s the deep breath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the expansi<strong>on</strong> of your lungs as your eyes close <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the stress seems to<br />

evaporate. The forgiving smile, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way the air seems to hit you just right, sending chills up<br />

your spine. It’s all lavender.<br />

As a (self proclaimed) artist, Louis sees the finer things in each color, giving them each a<br />

pers<strong>on</strong>ality <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> describing how they make him feel. And sometimes it’s simple <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sometimes it’s<br />

a little more intimate. Like that obvious difference between red <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sky blue. Lavender though,<br />

that is where he’s been floating around for the past few days. And suddenly his wardrobe seems to<br />

c<strong>on</strong>sist of it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> so do his shower curtains.<br />

It gives the flat that relaxing feel, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if you d<strong>on</strong>’t enjoy the scent then you, my friend, have not<br />

experienced it’s full effect.<br />

His feet seem to glide over the hardwood, humming quietly to himself as he lights the third c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le<br />

today, because they’re not nearly str<strong>on</strong>g enough al<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis wants to completely submerge<br />

himself in the delightful aroma. His canvas is still quite blank <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> vacant, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s pursing his lips,<br />

because yeah, it’s fucking frustrating that he’s still not put a painting out this week. But art can’t<br />

be rushed, you see, as each <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> every piece comes with ample time <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thought. It’s laid in the<br />

middle of his living room, propped up with various brushes in fr<strong>on</strong>t, waiting to be used, pretty<br />

much screaming not to be neglected.<br />

But how does <strong>on</strong>e simply force themselves into motivati<strong>on</strong> without the proper amount of<br />

inspirati<strong>on</strong>? He’s sat in fr<strong>on</strong>t of that canvas for hours, begging his brain to think deeper, trying to<br />

weasel into the crevices of his mind to find forbidden treasures that would most certainly make an<br />

exquisite painting. But every single fucking time he’s coming up empty h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ed, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then it just<br />

gets worst from there. Because nothing beautiful ever comes from anger <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> annoyance. Only<br />

glossy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fogged percepti<strong>on</strong>s of reality, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he wants no part in that, no. Because he wants to<br />

make people feel good, or elated.<br />

So, with a small <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> slight shrug of his shoulders he’s sauntering off into his room, flopping down<br />

<strong>on</strong> his bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> letting himself get lost in the thick blankets. He feels like he’s being suffocated in<br />

the best way, perhaps in an array of clouds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s floating around. Lost in bliss. And no, he’s<br />

not thinking about the stress of his upcoming bills <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> no, he’s not going to acknowledge the pit<br />

of worry that’s eating away at his stomach. He refuses to linger <strong>on</strong> the negatives in the world for<br />

as l<strong>on</strong>g as he possibly can.<br />

Which lasts for a total of about five sec<strong>on</strong>ds before his ph<strong>on</strong>e is ringing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> breaking him from his<br />

peaceful endeavor. Hopefully, it’s not the l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>lord asking where Louis’ rent is, c<strong>on</strong>sidering he’s<br />

around three days late. Or the electric company, or the water company. (he’s falling a little behind<br />

<strong>on</strong> his bills, but no <strong>on</strong>e said life as an artist would be easy.) It’s always hard at first.<br />

Luckily, it’s a familiar face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> name that’s lighting up his screen, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the small smile is more than


evident <strong>on</strong> Louis’ face as he scrolls to answer. “Liam, how’ve you been, beautiful?”<br />

“Most divine, thank you. You seem to be chipper today, what’s the oh-ccasi<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

“Nothing, just enjoying the world, I’ve decorated in lavender, Liam. You know, the color of<br />

calm?” Louis picks at his nails, removing any remnants that may have been lodged during his last<br />

little project. Which actually turned out to be a complete bust.<br />

“What happened to ‘tree-canopy’ green?”<br />

“Still <strong>on</strong>e of my favorites, but after all the stress of this week I needed to be surrounded in<br />

something that would help me breathe a little easier. The color of nature doesn’t do much when<br />

you’re bordering a panic attack, you know.”<br />

“Why are you bordering a panic attack? Is this because of m<strong>on</strong>ey, again?”<br />

Louis lifts himself from the bed, blissfully <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> easily as he finds his way into the bathroom,<br />

lighting another c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le before running a stream of <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing hot water, “M<strong>on</strong>ey is but an object,<br />

something that defines worth, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s not going to bog me down. I refuse to worry about paper,<br />

when my mind is better occupied elsewhere.”<br />

“You live al<strong>on</strong>e, Louis. You need a steady source of income. You have resp<strong>on</strong>sibilities <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> such,<br />

it’s not the time to brush everything off like it’s not important.”<br />

“What other choice do I have, exactly? I cannot force myself into a painting, you know that they<br />

come when they’re ready. There’s nothing I can do to speed the process. Is this news to you?”<br />

“No. But, you’re like a brother to me <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I refuse to watch you lose yourself in debt because<br />

you’re so focused <strong>on</strong> being artistic about everything. Call dad, tell him you need a little help. But<br />

you need to start looking for another job, just t’give you that stability, okay?”<br />

“Breaking every individual b<strong>on</strong>e in my body sounds more enjoyable than that, Liam.” Louis<br />

murmurs. Steam is rolling over the surface of the water as he dips his toes in, feeling the heat run<br />

in bursts up his legs. All over his body, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he sucks in a sharp breath. “I told him if he wouldn’t<br />

be supportive of my lifestyle, then I didn’t want him in my life at all. He pounded it into my head<br />

that I would certainly meet failure, but this is what makes me happy. I can’t give him the<br />

satisfacti<strong>on</strong> of knowing I need his help.”<br />

“So you admit it,” Liam says through the line, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ body is matching the temperature of the<br />

water, mostly because he’s starting to get really pissed off, “You need dad’s help?”<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t fucking start this, he has a formal invitati<strong>on</strong> to kiss my ass, that’s about it. I d<strong>on</strong>’t want his<br />

pity.”<br />

“You spend too much m<strong>on</strong>ey decorating your flat in all different colors, then you d<strong>on</strong>’t even have<br />

enough to pay your fucking rent, Louis. Do you see a problem here?” Liam’s generally kind voice<br />

cuts through the line like a sharpened dagger. And it slices through Louis’ veil, <strong>on</strong>e that cloaks<br />

him in faux n<strong>on</strong>chalance.<br />

There’s a silence, the heated water jostling under Louis' touch as he tries to stop the inevitable sad<br />

that’s spreading over every inch of his body. When he speaks, his voice is a mere whisper, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

c<strong>on</strong>veys everything that Louis is feeling right now, “The colors make me feel better.”<br />

A deep breath, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can almost hear Liam shake his head, “I’m sorry, I know they do. I’m<br />

looking out for what’s best for you, we’ve grown up together. And your dad might have wanted a<br />

different career path for you, but he loves you, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he will always help you if you need it, Louis.


And you do need it.”<br />

Louis hates, absolutely despises having to go to his dad for any kind of m<strong>on</strong>ey. The thought of it<br />

makes his stomach churn <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his eye brows scrunch together. Worry is starting to prick <strong>on</strong> the<br />

edges of his skin now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it <strong>on</strong>ly makes the situati<strong>on</strong> worst. “I’ll find another way.” Louis states<br />

dryly, before hanging up the ph<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sliding it across the bathroom floor. He’s looking at the<br />

ph<strong>on</strong>e like it’s the most disgusting thing <strong>on</strong> this planet, which in this exact moment, is precisely<br />

what it is.<br />

He knows that Liam <strong>on</strong>ly wants the best for him, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> though blood is not a c<strong>on</strong>necti<strong>on</strong> they share,<br />

they did grow up under the same roof. So yes, he knows that since Louis was little he has always<br />

been more interested in his art class than his mathematics class. And that his brain just functi<strong>on</strong>s<br />

differently. He likes to indulge <strong>on</strong> the tiny details that are always overlooked regularly. He<br />

struggles with anything remotely close to calculus <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> passing world history was a miracle in<br />

itself. But he can recite to you the famous artists of the Baroque era, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how they compare to<br />

artists in the classical time period.<br />

When he earned scowls from his math teacher <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> praise from his art teacher, he knew where his<br />

future truly bel<strong>on</strong>ged. But his dad was positively furious. Disappointed. Because his s<strong>on</strong>, in<br />

comparis<strong>on</strong> to mastermind Liam, was <strong>on</strong>ly spectacular in everything that didn’t matter. He threw<br />

away Louis’ sculptures like they were rubbage <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hung Liam’s math tests <strong>on</strong> the refrigerator. He<br />

looked down <strong>on</strong> Louis, the s<strong>on</strong> who would never amount to what he was supposed to. It shattered<br />

Louis’ entire being. Because he wants nothing more than to have some<strong>on</strong>e be proud of him, to<br />

look at him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> be impressed with the hard work he puts into every single piece.<br />

But that was an empty hope. And this c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le isn’t str<strong>on</strong>g enough because his heart beat is louder<br />

than his thoughts.<br />

He focuses <strong>on</strong> the water instead. Dipping his fingers in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> out, running them over the surface.<br />

His body is c<strong>on</strong>torted, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s looking bigger when they’ve delved into the water than when<br />

they’re free in the oxygen. The c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le is flickering <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sound of fire cackling is making his<br />

eyes weary <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tired. But falling asleep in the bathtub would most likely end in him drowning.<br />

And he’s not about be found dead while he’s naked. He’s got a lavender bathrobe hanging <strong>on</strong> the<br />

door, that’s dangerously close to the lit c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le <strong>on</strong> the counter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s kind of wishing it would<br />

catch fire <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> this place down with him in it. And maybe Louis has a habit of exaggerating.<br />

Just a bit.<br />

So its a quick wash of the hair, dragging the soap over his body in a rush so that he can escape<br />

from the heat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> move to the bed, rather. The c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>s with Liam almost always make<br />

Louis feel better, but now he’s overthinking everything. W<strong>on</strong>dering what he could possibly do to<br />

make up the m<strong>on</strong>ey that he’s short <strong>on</strong>. And maybe spending a couple hundred <strong>on</strong> all these neat<br />

lavender decorati<strong>on</strong>s wasn’t the best idea. But in the way Louis justifies things, it made complete<br />

sense. It always does. And when his body is relaxed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he feels at ease he knows it was worth it.<br />

But maybe it wasn’t this time. He’s not quite sure.<br />

His mind is a scattered mess now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thank you Liam fucking Payne for that. (He was<br />

completely fine <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in a state of pure c<strong>on</strong>tent before he had to call <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ripple the satin smooth<br />

comfort Louis was feeling.)<br />

It looks like a sleepless night is about to ensue, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> though Louis is utterly annoyed he knows that<br />

no matter how fast his legs can move he can’t run away from all of his problems. He always has<br />

this habit, of losing his head in the clouds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> stepping away from anything that could cause any<br />

kind of stress. Which is why he failed so many exams, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forgotten about so many assignments,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> had spaced out when he should’ve been taking notes.


And fuck, Louis was such a bad student.<br />

Either way, there was no sense in dwelling <strong>on</strong> the past, letting unnecessary memories overtake<br />

your mind <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watching your body helplessly react. So he slams his face into the pillow instead,<br />

not bothering to get dressed before he intertwines himself <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his still-kind-of-wet limbs into the<br />

blankets.<br />

****<br />

When the sun streams through the windows, it seems to be looking down <strong>on</strong> its golden kingdom,<br />

lighting everything in the room, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> casting hanging shadows. It’s simply beautiful, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if there<br />

were any way to capture the elegance of a sun ray in his paintings, he would most surely do<br />

exactly that. He’s not sure that he ever wants to get up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> endure any kind of social interacti<strong>on</strong><br />

when his brain is already feeling pretty sore after the c<strong>on</strong>templati<strong>on</strong> of calling his asshole of a<br />

father, all hours of the previous night. But, as he world might have it, he does have to go out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

visit a few art museums <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> try for any kind of unseen inspirati<strong>on</strong> that could be the breeding<br />

ground for numerous works of art.<br />

And maybe <strong>on</strong>e day he could have his paintings hanging <strong>on</strong> those displays.<br />

He has absolutely no trouble recreating Assumpti<strong>on</strong> of the Virgin by Annibale Carracci, but he has<br />

the hardest fucking time getting himself out of bed in the morning. And after getting a cumulative<br />

three hours of sleep last night he was justified for his body feeling emphatically like a bag of<br />

bricks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he wanted nothing more than to relocate to the couch, blanket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not move a<br />

single inch. For hours. Maybe days. Maybe even forever. Because the real world has people who<br />

have their shit together which is the exact opposite of Louis’ situati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the whole<br />

embarrassment thing makes him want to shove his head through a wall.<br />

“Yeah, you may have a house that you can afford <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a well paying job, but I have a pretty<br />

shower curtain <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the bath towels to match. So, whose the real winner here?”<br />

Time was pressing with every tick of that analog clock (which is also lavender, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> yes, very<br />

pretty.) And the coffee maker is beck<strong>on</strong>ing him from the kitchen. He’s half debating throwing a<br />

tiny swig of bourb<strong>on</strong> in it to wake him up a bit. But c<strong>on</strong>sidering alcohol is a depressant, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

not a drinker, it would probably <strong>on</strong>ly make his day even worst than it already is. When he finally<br />

st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, he realizes he’s still butt-ass naked, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the freedom feels lovely. Because yeah, this is his<br />

flat. And if he wants to walk around with his wanker hanging all over god’s creati<strong>on</strong> then he will<br />

as he damn well pleases.<br />

However, with a shallow sigh <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a sad attempt to tame his fringe, he’s walking into the kitchen.<br />

His eyes run over all the decor, lighting up with the intricate flower vases, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the matching<br />

lavender dish set. It’s quite charming, actually, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he couldn’t be more proud of the way his flat<br />

has turned out this week. Perhaps he should be an interior designer, but he much prefers paint<br />

brushes over furniture <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this way he doesn’t have to work al<strong>on</strong>gside a crew. He’s always been<br />

more of a freelance pers<strong>on</strong>, if you will. Though he knows how to keep a c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> going, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he’s more than likely to make every<strong>on</strong>e a friend rather than a stranger. When it comes to art, he’s a<br />

bit more serious, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it all comes from the c<strong>on</strong>fines of his brain. He just wouldn’t be able to<br />

c<strong>on</strong>vey his ideas to another pers<strong>on</strong> without warping it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> changing the end masterpiece all<br />

together.<br />

Peinture <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Artista Gallery seem to be <strong>on</strong> his to-do list for today, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> while the coffee is heating,


he’s picking out an outfit for the day. Something that’s nice enough to be presentable, maybe hide<br />

the fact he feels like absolute shit, while being casual enough to not make him seem over the top.<br />

He doesn’t very much feel the need to look like a prince today. He may have eaten a glass of ice<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a pickle for dinner last night because that’s all the food he has in his house, but he sure as hell<br />

w<strong>on</strong>’t let any<strong>on</strong>e else know he’s proper poor.<br />

Running his fingers over his wide variety of comfortable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cashmere sweaters, his fingers l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong>e in particular, a soft purple that matches his lavender theme seems to be <strong>hold</strong>ing him like a<br />

magnetic c<strong>on</strong>necti<strong>on</strong>. And he can pair it with black skinnies <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a neutral scarf. It would simply<br />

be the perfect outfit, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he smiles as he pulls the article out from his collecti<strong>on</strong>. When he’s sure<br />

the sweater is falling from his shoulders in the best way, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that he looks equal parts innocent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

able to seduce you without trying, he pads off to the bathroom. Hoping that somehow he can fix<br />

the mess of brown chaos that sits atop of his head. Most likely, it’s going to result in some hair gel<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a broken brush, but hey, good hair days roll around every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again.<br />

Br<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ishing unsightly black shadows beneath his eyes isn’t the kind of accessory he had in mind,<br />

but there’s not anything he can do to fix it. So embrace it, why the fuck not? Right.<br />

Please, for the love of fuck, let him come back with an idea in his head that's sure to sell for some<br />

(any) m<strong>on</strong>ey. Louis’ tired of checking his bank account religiously to make sure he’s not even<br />

further in the negatives. Yes, the admissi<strong>on</strong> is lingering <strong>on</strong> the tip of his t<strong>on</strong>gue, begging for him to<br />

say the words <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make the c<strong>on</strong>necti<strong>on</strong> in his mind. That yes, he’s royally screwed himself over<br />

by not going to university <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> giving him something to fall back <strong>on</strong> if the whole art gig didn’t<br />

work out like he had planned. He’s pretty much fucked himself with his pride <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shamelessly<br />

enjoyed every sec<strong>on</strong>d of it. He’s a pain in his own ass.<br />

But, he’s not calling his dad for any help, period. End of discussi<strong>on</strong>. He’d bungee jump with a<br />

broken cord before doing that.<br />

His vans are beginning to fall apart by the exhausti<strong>on</strong> of wearing them everywhere. Mostly<br />

walking to the nearest tube stati<strong>on</strong>. Because his insurance was suspended <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his car is emptied of<br />

any petrol. He’s about as broke as they come. But the weather is stunning, cool air masked by the<br />

gentle heat of a bright sun. The leaves are dancing across the pavement, being looked down up<strong>on</strong><br />

by an empty sky with endless splotches of blue. It’s going to take approximately forty five minutes<br />

to get to his first destinati<strong>on</strong>, so he decides to pull his ph<strong>on</strong>e out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> welcome al<strong>on</strong>g any<br />

prospective company.<br />

He <strong>on</strong>ly has to think for a few sec<strong>on</strong>ds before a name pops into his mind. Some<strong>on</strong>e who has been<br />

his friend for years now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> though they're utterly loud, he can't think of another lad he'd rather<br />

spend his day with. C<strong>on</strong>sidering this <strong>on</strong>e has happiness oozing from his pores all hours of the day.<br />

And he never stops smiling. He'll wear you out faster than a day at the gym. But, he's Irish, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

sometimes his accent makes it less annoying.<br />

Niall Horan, he’s most likely free <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he enjoys having the day occupied with the likes of Louis<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his never ending sarcasm.<br />

The ph<strong>on</strong>e <strong>on</strong>ly rings <strong>on</strong>ce before a distinguishable Irish accent is half yelling <strong>on</strong> the other end,<br />

“Louis fucking Tomlins<strong>on</strong>. Mate, how the hell have you been?”<br />

“We just talked two days ago, no need for the excitement, though it’s much appreciated, thanks.”<br />

Louis snorts, waiting for the tube to appear.<br />

“Missed ya anyway, so why’ya callin’ then? Need some<strong>on</strong>e to listen while you aimlessly talk<br />

about the ignorance of why people d<strong>on</strong>’t underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the color spectrum?” Niall asks, completely<br />

unfazed.


“Not quite, plus that would be a pointless rant any way. I’m dabbling in a bit of an art adventure<br />

this w<strong>on</strong>derful afterno<strong>on</strong>, was w<strong>on</strong>dering if you wanted to join <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> give me some<strong>on</strong>e to talk to,<br />

what d’ya say?”<br />

“Of course, of course. Have you left already? Think I hear people talking in the background.”<br />

Louis gasps in fake offense, “What makes you think I d<strong>on</strong>’t have people over at my flat?”<br />

“Because,” Niall says, voice completely barren of any emoti<strong>on</strong>, “You’re anti social <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you hate<br />

everything. And last time you had people over you told me that was enough social interacti<strong>on</strong> for<br />

the year.”<br />

“Moving <strong>on</strong>,” Louis raises his brows, knowing Niall can’t see anyway. Not every<strong>on</strong>e can be as<br />

excited about everything as him, after all. We’re not all loud Irish men with bright-ass bl<strong>on</strong>de hair<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even brighter blue eyes. Plus, every<strong>on</strong>e seems to like his jokes, Louis just deadpans the puns<br />

away. “You are the <strong>on</strong>e human out of a few who d<strong>on</strong>’t make me despise my entire existence.<br />

C<strong>on</strong>grats.”<br />

Once, when they decided to have a nice dinner with Liam, Niall had every<strong>on</strong>e in the restaurant<br />

laughing off their asses, even though those jokes were nowhere near funny. They were laughing<br />

because Liam was cackling so hard he was clapping like a seal. And if Liam weren’t already<br />

interested in a certain raven-haired fellow, Louis would most definitely assume he had a bit of a<br />

crush <strong>on</strong> Niall. He was probably just elated that Louis had a best friend to spend his time with<br />

instead of always begging Liam, like when they were a kid. In fact, Louis had given up <strong>on</strong> Liam<br />

l<strong>on</strong>g before he met Niall, because he would always shoot Louis’ plans down with the obligati<strong>on</strong>s<br />

of “homework.” or “studying.”<br />

What a proper bore.<br />

“An endearing compliment. Did you want to grab something to eat while we’re out? We can turn<br />

this into an all-day event, I have nothing better t’do.”<br />

“I can’t even afford a loaf of bread.”<br />

“Shit, m<strong>on</strong>ey problems again?” Niall’s voice got softer towards the end. He hates, absolutely hates<br />

that every<strong>on</strong>e knows him as the <strong>on</strong>e whose always submerged in ‘m<strong>on</strong>ey problems.’ Knowing<br />

that he’s pretty much fucked in every aspect because he just had to do something that made him<br />

happy versus trying to force himself into some scholarship that he would’ve dreaded every sec<strong>on</strong>d<br />

of. Why did he have to suck at anything involving numbers, or equati<strong>on</strong>s, or anything that wasn’t<br />

particularly pretty? He just enjoys the aesthetics of life, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there was an obvious fault in that.<br />

Because until his work was finally discovered, he would be barely getting by <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> substituting<br />

meals for gum, being that he can’t afford a proper meal. Or his rent, which he’s now four days late<br />

<strong>on</strong>. Lovely.<br />

It’s sad. No, it’s more than sad, it’s pathetic. It’s pathetic that he can’t support himself. And even<br />

more pathetic that he can’t, just can’t bring himself to ask for help. He couldn’t look at himself in<br />

the mirror <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> face defeat, knowing he failed, just as his father had told him. And he’s taken<br />

Liam’s words to heart, he really has. About, “it’s not wr<strong>on</strong>g to go to your parents for help.<br />

Every<strong>on</strong>e needs a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again.” But Louis could <strong>on</strong>ly reply with, “except for you,<br />

of course.” And that was the end of that c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>. Liam’s a full stepping stool above him, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

how embarrassing is it that while he can live without any problems <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a damn good job, all while<br />

attending university, Louis is lucky if his water doesn’t get cut off before he can take a full<br />

shower.<br />

“Not in my vocab, sorry pal. Nothing is a problem, just a mere obstacle, is all. But, Doesn’t


matter, I’m heading to the Artista Gallery now, how fast can your short legs get you there?”<br />

“I can leave here in about fifteen, just hop in the shower for a quick scrub <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I’ll be good t’go.”<br />

He loves that Niall doesn’t press the situati<strong>on</strong> further. But after their last argument it was the<br />

smartest choice for him to make. It started as friendly banter, then moved to the whole m<strong>on</strong>ey<br />

situati<strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as so<strong>on</strong> as Niall asked if Louis needed a bit of a loan from him, he lost his absolute<br />

shit. No, he doesn’t want any h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> outs. This place was where he l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ed based <strong>on</strong> his own<br />

decisi<strong>on</strong>s, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not about to syph<strong>on</strong> cash off of his friends. There it is again, that damn pride.<br />

“Perfect, shoot me a text <strong>on</strong>ce you’ve arrived <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I’ll come to meet you, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> vice versa. Deal? I<br />

could always look for a bl<strong>on</strong>de quiff sticking up above every<strong>on</strong>e else, but I’m feeling particularly<br />

lazy today.”<br />

“Yeah, yeah. Deal.”<br />

****<br />

The art gallery is simply stunning, paintings covering the walls in massive precisi<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> so much<br />

talent is packed into this place its almost overwhelming. Louis adores it here, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at the same time<br />

it makes his heart crumble to pieces because this is his dream. Everything he’s ever wanted in his<br />

life is to have his work put <strong>on</strong> these walls. His name held up with the likes of extremely talented<br />

artists. It’s a far cry, knowing there’s a <strong>on</strong>e in a milli<strong>on</strong> chance that this would ever happen to him.<br />

And those aren’t the best odds, he knows, but it’s worth a try. It’s full of intricate sculptures <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

some of the weirdest shit to ever grace his eyes, but it’s so, so lovely. Almost breathtaking, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it<br />

almost feels like home. No classroom, nor textbook, or cubicle office could ever compare to the<br />

warm feeling he gets looking over every piece <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> admiring the work each pers<strong>on</strong> has put into<br />

with sweaty h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sleepless nights.<br />

Art is so beautiful.<br />

Louis’ surprised he’s made it here before Niall, c<strong>on</strong>sidering Niall has an actual car while Louis<br />

depends his heart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> soul <strong>on</strong> public transportati<strong>on</strong>. He finds himself asking how quickly he’d die<br />

if he walked straight into the busy traffic filled street when he glances at his ph<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> see’s the<br />

inevitable missed call from his l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>lord. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he’s evicted he’s going to be calling a<br />

cardboard box ‘home’ <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the thought makes him instantly nauseous. He knew it was coming, he<br />

was anticipating it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> trying to wrack his brain for a good excuse. Because as much as he’d like<br />

to believe, saying “I’m broke because I want to paint pictures instead of getting a job with a<br />

paycheck, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> daddy is not going to help me because he’s a proper fuckhead <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I d<strong>on</strong>’t want his<br />

help anywhere near me.” just w<strong>on</strong>’t work very well.<br />

He hasn’t told his l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>lord that he currently doesn’t have a job nor a steady source of income. He<br />

also hasn’t told her that he wasn’t really planning <strong>on</strong> getting <strong>on</strong>e either. He just wants to shoot her<br />

a text that says, “I’ve fucked up, please d<strong>on</strong>’t kick me out yet.” But, no.<br />

The little voicemail ic<strong>on</strong>’s popping <strong>on</strong>to his notificati<strong>on</strong>s bar, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> since Niall still hasn’t messaged<br />

him, it’s time to go ahead <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> listen to it, get it over with. His heart is starting race when he brings<br />

the speaker to his ear, crossing his fingers tightly in his jean pocket.<br />

“This call is for Louis Tomlins<strong>on</strong>. Good afterno<strong>on</strong>, this is Marice calling. I figured you were<br />

expecting this c<strong>on</strong>sidering I still have’t received the rent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was due promptly <strong>on</strong> the third of<br />

this m<strong>on</strong>th. Because I underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that things come up, I’m going to allow you a bit more of a


grace period to see if that helps anything. I’m giving you till the end of the m<strong>on</strong>th <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if the rent is<br />

still not delivered, I’m sorry to say that your residency will be terminated <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you will have to find<br />

other grounds to live <strong>on</strong>. Give me a call if you have any questi<strong>on</strong>s, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> have a great day. Hope to<br />

receive the payment from you so<strong>on</strong>er versus later.” And then the line goes dead.<br />

There’s an odd mixture of relief <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> panic. Because great, he wasn’t immediately kicked out, but<br />

how the hell is he supposed to come up with the m<strong>on</strong>ey by the end of this m<strong>on</strong>th, c<strong>on</strong>sidering a<br />

job w<strong>on</strong>’t pay until two weeks after your first day? His entire body is aching to get home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sit in<br />

his lavender living room with scent of his c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les floating all around him. Louis’ trying to remain<br />

as calm as humanly possible <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not let the stress fade evidently over his face. But it’s just not<br />

possible. He’s going to loose his house, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the thought is starting to become grave <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

unchangeable.<br />

A text from Niall tries to snap him from his thoughts, but worry has already engulfed him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

there’s no escaping it this time. He pulls his sweater up to his nose, using the sleeves to cover his<br />

face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> letting the soft color overtake him. He’s messing up, screwing himself <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his life over,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he just wants to be happy. He <strong>on</strong>ly wants to be happy.<br />

Why is that so much to fucking ask for?<br />

He’s being childish <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> immature, running away from his problems, that much is obvious. But no<br />

matter how hard he’s trying, he can’t break himself from what he loves to do, the <strong>on</strong>ly thing that<br />

makes him feel like a normal pers<strong>on</strong>. Everything else is too hard to comprehend <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes him<br />

feel like an idiot, like he’s not good enough. But there’s this sense of pride that washes over him<br />

every time he lays eyes <strong>on</strong> the art he’s created. The feeling simply can’t be matched. His ph<strong>on</strong>e<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tinues to vibrate, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall’s calling now, so Louis raises the ph<strong>on</strong>e to his ear <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> paints a<br />

smile <strong>on</strong> his face that could fool any<strong>on</strong>e, maybe even himself.<br />

“Sorry mate, didn’t see your message until just a sec<strong>on</strong>d ago, are you here already?” Louis says,<br />

keeping his voice light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> acting like he isn’t drowning in his own mind.<br />

“Yeah, right outside the doors, wanna meet me out here? Gotta present for you!”<br />

“If it’s anal beads, return them immediately, I’ve already got enough.” Louis jokes (half jokes),<br />

waiting for Niall to hang up before putting the ph<strong>on</strong>e up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> walking towards the fr<strong>on</strong>t door. Niall<br />

is waiting right beside them, looking akin to a fucking ray of sunshine with a smile plastered <strong>on</strong><br />

his face that can probably be seen from the mo<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“There’ya are, look here, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> d<strong>on</strong>’t get too excited. There’s no toys.” Niall pulls his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> from<br />

behind his back, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there’s a tiny little statue. It’s kind of abstract, but it’s smooth as marble <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

it’s tinted in lavender. Louis blinks as he <strong>hold</strong>s the little sculpture between shaking fingers. “How<br />

did you know.. about the lavender?”<br />

“Talked to Liam last night, was asking if he knew how to help me with this math questi<strong>on</strong> I had<br />

been stuck <strong>on</strong> for hours. We got to talking about you. Said you were <strong>on</strong> a lavender kick <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I<br />

immediately thought of you when I saw it passing the shops right over there.” Niall explained,<br />

pointing to the tiny antique shop right down the street. “And you better appreciate it, you little<br />

fuck, I stood in line for a whole three minutes."<br />

Louis could <strong>on</strong>ly nod al<strong>on</strong>g, at a loss for words as he ran his touch over the smooth material. It’s<br />

the prettiest thing he’s seen, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he cannot wait to get home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> put it right in the middle of his<br />

coffee table. Niall is probably (not probably, most definitely) the best, best friend any<strong>on</strong>e could<br />

ever ask for. He’s rocking back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth <strong>on</strong> his feet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> looking expectantly at Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his new<br />

additi<strong>on</strong>. Worry is replaced temporarily with appreciati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the warmth that <strong>on</strong>ly beauty could<br />

give him, al<strong>on</strong>g with a certain calming shade of purple. “Three minutes? You were withering


away then, huh? But I love it, Niall. You shouldn’t have-“<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t even worry about it. I couldn’t tell you what the hell it represents but it’s pretty <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s<br />

the right color, hopefully. I’m not sure what the difference is between light purple <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lavender.”<br />

“Yeah.” Louis smiled, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> its more genuine than before. “And lavender is not simply “purple.”<br />

That’s like saying maro<strong>on</strong> is just red. You overjoyed marshmallow.”<br />

“Maro<strong>on</strong> is just red.” Niall murmurs under his breath, which Louis choses to ignore because there<br />

is no sense in trying to explain the difference to Niall when he has the attenti<strong>on</strong> span of a squirrel.<br />

Said with love, of course.<br />

N<strong>on</strong>etheless, Louis wants to throw his arms around his neck <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hug him for as l<strong>on</strong>g as it takes for<br />

Niall to pull away. But that would be weird, so, no. Plus, Niall can see the happiness in Louis’<br />

eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s all he needs anyway. The wispy moment <strong>on</strong>ly lasts for a couple sec<strong>on</strong>ds because a<br />

realizati<strong>on</strong> has hit Louis with the intensity of a freight train. He’s run out of all opti<strong>on</strong>s, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> time,<br />

for that matter. He’s d<strong>on</strong>e everything he thought would help. Speaking with nearby artists, calling<br />

around to any art galleries who may be looking for new pieces to add. Hell, even posting some<br />

shit <strong>on</strong> craigslist. Yeah, he’s dropped that low. There’s nothing more that can be d<strong>on</strong>e. And he<br />

pats Niall <strong>on</strong> the back as they walk into the Gallery. Because he’s going to enjoy these next<br />

couple hours before he has to go home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> do what will probably suck him into the gates of hell<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> him alive.<br />

Because he’s calling his fucking dad t<strong>on</strong>ight.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I read over these drafts pretty quickly! I'll be<br />

going back through to re-revise shortly, hope you all enjoy the story!


Two<br />

It’s the most repulsive admissi<strong>on</strong>, the worst possible end to this scenario <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as the time<br />

approaches closer <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> closer, his skin is crawling. He really, really doesn’t want to do this. He<br />

doesn’t want to speak to his father, doesn’t even want to hear the sound of his voice, let al<strong>on</strong>e<br />

actually ask him for m<strong>on</strong>ey. Or help, or anything. He’s essentially crawling back <strong>on</strong> his knees, all<br />

the way up his father’s pristine st<strong>on</strong>e steps <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hanging his head in defeat. Because of all the times<br />

Louis was told, “This w<strong>on</strong>’t work, you need a true job, you’re going to regret this decisi<strong>on</strong>.” He<br />

never thought it would be the truth. Everything apart from the regret, of course.<br />

Is he exaggerating? No, absolutely not.<br />

Knowing it's his <strong>on</strong>ly saving grace is making Louis want to take a l<strong>on</strong>g walk off of a short pier.<br />

Maybe take a relaxing bath in hydrochloric acid, perhaps. Taking a screw <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sliding it up<br />

underneath his fingernails <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> popping them off individually. One by <strong>on</strong>e. All of that, sounds<br />

c<strong>on</strong>siderably, m<strong>on</strong>umentally better than dialing his father’s number <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> knowing he’s looking at<br />

his ph<strong>on</strong>e with the smirk of some<strong>on</strong>e who knew they were right. All fucking smug <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes<br />

Louis sick, positively sick. Maybe if he had been blessed with parents that actually supported their<br />

children (what a crazy thought?) instead of a dad whose never impressed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a mother who has<br />

jello for a spine.<br />

Either way he’s screwed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can’t image how much worst this could get.<br />

Niall looks miserable sauntering over to the same sculpture he’s been vulture-circling for an hour<br />

now. But what can Louis say? Of fucking course he’s going to procrastinate this shit as much as<br />

he possibly can. Squeezing out every blessed minute before he has to go home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hope the<br />

exquisite lavender decorati<strong>on</strong>s are enough to keep him from popping a blood vessel during this<br />

ph<strong>on</strong>e call. He’s been religiously checking his email <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hoping any <strong>on</strong>e has sent him a message<br />

about a prospective business enquiry, but it’s nothing but spam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Bath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Body Works<br />

coup<strong>on</strong>s.<br />

Go fuck yourself, Bath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Body Works.<br />

“Louis, as much fun as I’m having, I can’t help but w<strong>on</strong>der how much l<strong>on</strong>ger I can look at the<br />

same things for over four hours now, it getting a bit redundant.”<br />

“Stare at each piece <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> try to tell a story using the imagery.” Louis shrugs, taking a seat <strong>on</strong> the<br />

wooden bench <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> re-checking his email. There’s the same messages that that were there when he<br />

checked two sec<strong>on</strong>ds ago. S<strong>on</strong> of a bitch.<br />

“You told me that an hour ago. Louis, let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay.” Niall’s essentially<br />

begging now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he has this uncanny resemblance of a child whose mother’s been at the grocery<br />

store a bit too l<strong>on</strong>g. Louis’ a bit scared he’s going to throw a temper tantrum here so<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

too damn big to be making a scene in an art Gallery, so dinner it is.<br />

“Sure, sure, sure.” Louis nods, “Where were you thinking?”<br />

“Anywhere but here.” Niall says under his breath, which earns an eyebrow raise from Louis that<br />

he seems to brush off without a sec<strong>on</strong>d thought. “Let’s just hit up that cafe that’s a few blocks<br />

from your place? You like that <strong>on</strong>e right? Said something about rich ambiance or some shit.”<br />

“Not shit Niall, it’s an observati<strong>on</strong>, you should learn to be more involved with the envir<strong>on</strong>ment<br />

around you.” Louis explains, looking off into the distance <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ignoring the annoyed blue eyes that


are dead set <strong>on</strong> Louis’ face. It is nice, you just get certain feels from each place <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> some feel<br />

better than others. That pretty cafe makes him feel warm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> was the inspirati<strong>on</strong> behind the<br />

cappuccino theme he went through a few m<strong>on</strong>ths back.<br />

“Remind me again, why t’hell are we friends?”<br />

“Because you love me <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> my step brother helps you with your math homework, so you have to<br />

hangout with me. Plus, d<strong>on</strong>’t act like you d<strong>on</strong>’t enjoy my presence, I’m a pleasure to have.”<br />

“What an elated ego you’ve got there.”<br />

“What an eloquently annoying voice you’ve got there.” Louis fires back, scrunching his nose in<br />

Niall’s directi<strong>on</strong>. “I’m just trying to be c<strong>on</strong>fident <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s not hard when you’re as dapper as I, my<br />

dear friend.”<br />

“Shut the fuck up.” Niall turns away, walking towards the door without looking back. He really is<br />

ready to get the hell out of here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ pretty sure he’s trying his best not to fully sprint out the<br />

door. He just doesn’t appreciate art.<br />

Louis’ right <strong>on</strong> his heels, trying to match his strides with (unfortunately) short legs, though they’re<br />

still equipped with a pair of thighs that he’s more than proud to showcase in skinny jeans <strong>on</strong> a<br />

regular basis. In fact, Louis is just petite by nature, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s okay because he’s never been super<br />

insecure about it. Until some<strong>on</strong>e thinks calling him ‘tiny’ is funny. Which is just stupid, in his<br />

h<strong>on</strong>est opini<strong>on</strong>. St<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in fr<strong>on</strong>t of a mirror <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> scrutinizing every little thing about your<br />

appearance, like the color of your eyes or the size of your nose, is just proper useless. And it’s<br />

substantially easier to appreciate your own unique beauty when you’ve acknowledged it’s there in<br />

the first place.<br />

Finding the buried <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hidden beauty in every thing has always been something Louis has loved<br />

to do. It’s a shame that the world is so easily looked over. And how you can walk past a tree <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

not see the way the sun filters through the leaves <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is complimented by the rough hickory brown<br />

of the bark. Or the natural symmetry of the flowers lining the pavement, the soft mixture of colors<br />

that seem to be painted in pastel shades, all at the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> of something more magnificent than he’ll<br />

ever underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. It’s impressive, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s all so minuscule that if you’re not paying attenti<strong>on</strong>, you<br />

could miss it completely. That goes for people as well. Too much time is spent hating specific<br />

things, when there is so much to appreciate.<br />

Like the girl in his psychology class who hated her small lips, but didn’t see the way her<br />

cheekb<strong>on</strong>es lined her face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shaded her skin in just the right places. Or when he hears some<strong>on</strong>e<br />

with brown eyes say it’s a dull color, that they hate it. But up<strong>on</strong> closer inspecti<strong>on</strong>, they’d see the<br />

compilati<strong>on</strong> of creamy caramel <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> chocolate embers that are peppered into each inch of their iris’.<br />

Igniting the esteem in a pers<strong>on</strong> brings out that ability to see without a veil of what beauty is<br />

supposed to be, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> what’s aesthetically pleasing to you may not be what the articles in your<br />

magazine say. And that’s okay.<br />

Niall is walking in step with Louis, pairing the sound of soles hitting the c<strong>on</strong>crete in accidental<br />

synchr<strong>on</strong>izati<strong>on</strong>. The night sky is cloaked over L<strong>on</strong>d<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> everything sleeps protectively<br />

underneath. The mo<strong>on</strong> is casting a path <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s unobscured shine is free to flow without the city<br />

lights trying in unnecessary competiti<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“The truck is parked over here, public transportati<strong>on</strong> isn’t my thing, too much waiting.”<br />

“Patience is a virtue.” Louis smiles, at least a tad bit happier that he doesn’t have to wait for the<br />

tube.


He misses it, having a car. Being able to sit al<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> drive, without worrying about anything but<br />

the road in fr<strong>on</strong>t of you. He never really understood how good he had it until he didn’t have it<br />

anymore, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> so to speak, he misses it so fucking much. Being dependent isn’t really Louis’ thing,<br />

he likes to have this c<strong>on</strong>trol over his decisi<strong>on</strong>s, his life, what happens next. Which is odd,<br />

c<strong>on</strong>sidering the positi<strong>on</strong> he’s in now. He wanted to be independent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe shove a successful<br />

career down his father’s throat, watching as it forces him to eat his words. It makes his mouth dry<br />

out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his teeth clench knowing that wasn’t a possibility. And after t<strong>on</strong>ight, any success Louis<br />

has will be partially because of the help he received from daddy-dearest.<br />

He’s so fucking aggravated.<br />

Hoping the gentle <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> soft aroma of the cafe will help, Louis climbs (yes, climbs) into Niall’s toofucking-big<br />

truck. H<strong>on</strong>estly, there is no need for a truck this huge, but Niall had to have it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it<br />

makes Louis feel like he’s going <strong>on</strong> an adventure just getting in the stupid thing. Maybe Niall<br />

liked the sound of the engine, or the paint color, or the height from the ground. Or maybe he’s<br />

over-compensating. Whatever.<br />

He looks pleased as a peach with Louis’ annoyed huff <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> stern grip <strong>on</strong> the seat as he struggles to<br />

pull himself up. Okay, he’s not gifted with a nice amount of upper body strength. Or any upper<br />

body strength, for that matter. But he’s an artist <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they d<strong>on</strong>’t have to heavy-lift, so it’s excusable.<br />

But it still doesn’t stop Niall from chortling like a damn child when Louis gives up. “I can’t get in<br />

the fucking thing.”<br />

“Y’need a step stool, maybe a ladder?”<br />

“I need you to shut up before I take my foot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shove it right down your fucking throat.” Louis<br />

sasses, trying <strong>on</strong>ce more to haul himself into the death trap Niall f<strong>on</strong>ds over for no apparent<br />

reas<strong>on</strong>. He hates this thing. Fucking hates it.<br />

"You gotta reach my mouth first though, d<strong>on</strong>’tcha?”<br />

Louis has to fight, mentally <strong>hold</strong> himself back from taking his shoe off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> flinging into Niall’s<br />

stupid smiling face. He couldn’t care less about the short jokes, but he could use a bit of help here<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall throwing his head back in a fit of laughter is doing absolutely nothing for the cause.<br />

He hates this truck.<br />

With a valiant effort, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe the gods are tired of watching Louis struggle, he’s able to finally<br />

hoist himself up, immediately smacking a hard h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> to Niall’s shoulder. Which just earns more<br />

laughter. He’s a child, literally a child. The truck thunders to life, obnoxiously loud <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> grabbing<br />

the attenti<strong>on</strong> of every<strong>on</strong>e within a <strong>on</strong>e mile radius, he’s sure. It’s painted bright red <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> screams<br />

rickety, but it gets them where they need to go, so Louis is neutral. He wants to cringe at the fact<br />

that he can’t even hear himself think, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he is silently sending his c<strong>on</strong>dolences to Niall’s old (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

quiet) car that had to be replaced with a hunk of metal that screeches whenever they come to a<br />

stop.<br />

May you rest in peace.<br />

Niall’s talking, Louis can tell by the way his lips are moving, but he can’t hear a damn word he’s<br />

saying. Not feeling the desire to shout over the engine, he just nods al<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hopes this isn’t<br />

some heartfelt story while he breathes out a generous laugh. Niall laughs in return, so it’s a safe<br />

bet. It doesn’t take them l<strong>on</strong>g to get to the cafe, but Louis wants to enjoy all the scenery around<br />

while he can. L<strong>on</strong>d<strong>on</strong> is such a beautiful city, with it's low casting lights <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> quaint stores huddled<br />

between crowds of people. It looks even prettier at night, when the atmosphere is calming from<br />

the previous chatter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> voices that <strong>on</strong>ce filled the space die down to a faint memory.


The sun has rested for the day, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing over the bat<strong>on</strong> to the mo<strong>on</strong>. Each cobblest<strong>on</strong>e road is<br />

empty <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> winding, leading way through green trees <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> exp<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing fields. It’s the less industrial<br />

side of the city, though Louis wouldn’t call it abundantly nature-filled either. But still a beautiful<br />

sight n<strong>on</strong>etheless.<br />

The tiny cafe comes into view within minutes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s a tug of war between his emoti<strong>on</strong>s. He<br />

loves this place, loves the wide array of teas <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coffee <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pastries they offer. But it’s also a sign<br />

that he’s closer to home. Closer to that inevitable ph<strong>on</strong>e call. Suddenly his ph<strong>on</strong>e is heavy in his<br />

pocket, weighing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing against his thigh. There’s always been this mask Louis could so<br />

easily slip <strong>on</strong>, a face that says, “I’m better off without you,” but he’s going to be removing that<br />

safety net <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> going in completely bare. Crumbling into c<strong>on</strong>fessi<strong>on</strong> as he comes forth <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> says the<br />

words his father has been waiting to hear. The words he knew he’d hear.<br />

“You alright?” Niall asks, causing Louis to jump, not even noticing that he turned the truck off<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> was waiting to go in.<br />

Louis lets a smile spread over his face, washing away any worry that may have been present in his<br />

features. He may be eating himself alive over his eventual torture, but no <strong>on</strong>e needed to know that.<br />

He hates when people pity him. As much as he wants to believe, to tell himself he is, he’s not<br />

“alright.” Far from it actually. Louis’ not even sure if Niall knows just how much Louis hates his<br />

dad, how much his dad hates him. Either way, it’s not something he’s going to bring up,<br />

especially not when he’s trying to enjoy the night out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> relieve his mind of the plans he’ll<br />

endure later.<br />

“Yeah, I’m just fucking starving, my stomach is eating itself.”<br />

Niall nods in complete underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing, he’s always hungry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis' about a hundred percent<br />

sure that Niall has three stomachs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s never really full. But it’s quite comical to watch the<br />

small bl<strong>on</strong>de boy gulp down a four course meal with room for a dessert <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> still have enough<br />

energy to play an entire game of footie. Louis can’t help but see just the tiniest flash of worry in<br />

Niall’s eyes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he knows that his excuse was weak <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> embarrassingly transparent, but Louis<br />

just clears his throat, opening the door to this incredibly over-sized truck.<br />

He basically falls out of the damn thing, feeling a blunt pain in the arches of his feet as his soles hit<br />

the harsh pavement. The air is a bit cooler than usual, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it almost hurts to breathe in it, filling his<br />

lungs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> exhaling slowly, taking his lower lip between his teeth. His ph<strong>on</strong>e still feels like it<br />

weighs a t<strong>on</strong> in his pocket, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his mind refuses to w<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>er in the least bit, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s panicking, he<br />

can just tell. Louis’ st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in a solitude of a rapid heartbeat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> whirling head. How does he<br />

phrase his sentences? How does he make himself seem less pathetic than he truly is? The cool air<br />

isn’t enough to drain the heat from his cheeks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he feels suffocated though he’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in the<br />

wide open.<br />

It just cruelly distressing, it shouldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t dread talking to his father. It’s<br />

normal right? Normal to ask your parents for help when your compromised. But, this is also the<br />

same man who looked at a young Louis, no older than ten, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> telling him that he was stupid,<br />

ignorant, for wanting to pursue art, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not something in the business field. Hell, he was <strong>on</strong>ly ten<br />

years old for fucks sake, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that pressure was there, already. That young. It took a huge heart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

a brave stance to ignore the c<strong>on</strong>stant remarks against his desires, but he did it. He dealt with all the<br />

ridicule <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> grew up to cover himself, shield himself, with a thick skin <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> an even thicker skull.<br />

But, look where that’s gotten him. He’s royally fucked.<br />

Niall’s hooking his index in the loops of his jeans, dragging them up, because he wholly refuses to<br />

buy a belt. He’s ridiculous, but he’s also the best friend Louis has always wanted. One that joked


with him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> supported him, which was something he just wasn’t quite used to. “Starved, yeah?<br />

Hopefully a croissant will fill you up, they d<strong>on</strong>’t really serve much more than that here.”<br />

“I enjoy a croissant.” Louis shrugs, walking past Niall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pulling the door open. The smell is<br />

almost orgasmic, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can’t help but flutter his eyes closed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> letting the aroma of warm bread<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coffee grounds engulf him. French vanilla, mocha, hazelnut, more than Louis can even<br />

pinpoint.<br />

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach, that’s why this place fills you up, like an appetizer for<br />

me, if that.” Niall scoffs, immediately walking to the glass case <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> eyeing the variety of pastries.<br />

A buffet would suit him better, but Louis can admit he’s more than scared he wouldn’t be able to<br />

drag Niall away before he cleaned the place out.<br />

Ignoring the comment (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> silently agreeing, but not eating much for the past few weeks shrinks<br />

your stomach c<strong>on</strong>siderably) he heads up to the counter, with pursed lips scanning over the menu,<br />

finally deciding <strong>on</strong> a bagel <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> macchiato. “You can get everything in the case if you so desire,<br />

but not all of us eat like a cow.”<br />

“Rude.”<br />

“Truthful.” Louis shoots back, fighting back a small smile at the offense <strong>on</strong> Niall’s face.<br />

Louis gives himself <strong>on</strong>e more hour before he has to go home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make the call. Only sixty more<br />

minutes left before the worst moment of his fucking life. Three thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, six hundred sec<strong>on</strong>ds<br />

before Louis admits he couldn’t do this by himself. He’s failed. This night is going to end with a<br />

bang, how exciting.<br />

****<br />

He’s nearly full <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ready for a nap by the time he’s walking up to his door. With each step closer<br />

his heart is beating quicker <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his breathing can’t seem to keep up. Louis had successfully<br />

ignored Niall’s pleads the entire way home, begging to know what was going <strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> why he<br />

seemed so “off.” Talking about his problems sounded like the worst possible thing to do. He<br />

didn’t even want to think about how this would go, let al<strong>on</strong>e talk about it. The air is whipping<br />

around, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it feels angry, impatient, like the time ticking by is mocking the situati<strong>on</strong>. He really<br />

should’ve started selling cocaine or something <strong>on</strong> the side of the fucking road, maybe get involved<br />

in the black market.<br />

He has an ass for a male stripper, but he also has morals, so.<br />

With a deep breath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a click of the turning key, he’s pushing open the door of his flat. The <strong>on</strong>e<br />

he can no l<strong>on</strong>ger afford <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his self c<strong>on</strong>fidence is taking a bit of a hit. It does really suck to know<br />

that he’s pretty much helpless, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the worst part is, he’s gotten himself into this mess. But art has<br />

always been so much more to Louis, he see’s it as something to be surrounded in, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he wasn’t<br />

going to be happy unless he was. Career <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all. Fucking excuse him for wanting to be happy<br />

with his life. But, c<strong>on</strong>tent was about as far as possible from what he’s feeling right now.<br />

He couldn’t care less if he’s disappointed his father, but he’s disappointed himself. That’s what he<br />

can’t seem to accept.<br />

Each <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> every c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le throughout is lit, in hopes that the comforting scent will be enough to help<br />

defuse him just a little. The flickering of each flame is the <strong>on</strong>ly thing providing light, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s


almost eerie <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unsettling, but that could just be Louis’ nerves. The shadows are dancing off the<br />

walls, the warm glow doing nothing for the drum of Louis’ heart, hammering harshly against his<br />

ribcage. With no more time to procrastinate, he pulls his ph<strong>on</strong>e out, biting his cheek at how it's<br />

searing like a hot coal in his palm. He doesn’t want to do this, but he’s got no other choice. A<br />

short debate takes place in his mind, begging him to launch the ph<strong>on</strong>e right at the wall with a<br />

valiant, “Fuck you dad, I’ll find a way.” But the loss of his flat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> being thrown into the<br />

negatives in his bank account are pulling him harder.<br />

So he scrolls to his father’s name <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> presses the little ph<strong>on</strong>e ic<strong>on</strong>, crashing his teeth together with<br />

enough force to give him a headache. When the answer comes, it’s not a greeting. “Louis, I was<br />

expecting your call.”<br />

Pretentious fuck wad. “And why is that?” Louis resp<strong>on</strong>ds, keeping his t<strong>on</strong>e cool <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> relaxed. The<br />

interior of his body is shaking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> so are his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s.<br />

“I spoke to Liam earlier today, he told me you.. weren’t doing very well.” The sentence carries no<br />

trace of worry, but a matter-of-fact t<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

Louis stays silent, Liam is an asshole. He decides that he’s going to light a bag of shit <strong>on</strong> his<br />

doorstep. He knows for a fact that Liam will be over in just a few hours to profusely apologize, as<br />

always, for talking to their father about Louis’ problems, so he might push him down the stairs<br />

instead. He’s not sure yet.<br />

“Can’t say that I was surprised, Louis. I told you this-“<br />

“Yeah, I got that. Skip the ‘I told you so,’ bullshit, I already know.” Louis spits, trying to keep the<br />

acid in his voice at a low level. If he has too much of an attitude, he can kiss any hopes of getting<br />

help goodbye.<br />

There’s a deep breath coming from the other end of the line, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s sure his father can taste the<br />

venom in his words. “I underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that you need help, is that correct?”<br />

“I’ve been eating bread for dinner for the past week, what do you think?”<br />

“Louis.” His father warns, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can almost see the frown <strong>on</strong> his face, “Do you need the help<br />

or not?”<br />

“Yes.” Louis sighs, rolling his eyes.<br />

There’s another silence, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> with each sec<strong>on</strong>d Louis’ stomach starts twisting <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> turning. He just<br />

wanted to hear Louis say it, to hear the admissi<strong>on</strong> come from his mouth after he had insisted that<br />

he could make this work. It really just hurts to say.<br />

“When I spoke to Liam he gave me a good idea. So I’ve arranged for you to have a flat mate.<br />

Some<strong>on</strong>e who will split the rent with you. I’ll pay this m<strong>on</strong>ths rent so you aren’t evicted, but<br />

you’ll have to get a real job <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make it yourself, this will give you some financial relief.”<br />

“You know how much I hate it when you say ‘real job,’ when I do have a job. Just because it<br />

doesn’t involve sitting in a cubicle all day l<strong>on</strong>g doesn’t mean it’s not real.” Louis replies, feeling<br />

the anger bubbling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he feels like a child again. He feels the way his eyes drop to the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his cheek is almost raw from how hard he’s chewing <strong>on</strong> it. He feels guilty, like he shouldn’t be<br />

doing what he’s doing. He hates the way his father makes him feel.<br />

“Right, because drawing flowers is a job, right?”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t draw, I paint. And I paint flowers because I love it, I like the colors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the shapes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>


the natural curves. There’s a meaning behind everything I paint. Not that you would underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>.<br />

Try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> learn about it in a textbook.” The ferocity is <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in his veins <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s painful to keep<br />

everything bottled up, so it’s starting to spill over the edges. His phrases are overflowing with a<br />

hidden anger thats become more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> more apparent with each syllable. For some reas<strong>on</strong> Louis<br />

knows that his dad is sitting in his desk chair, face neutral <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> uncaring, tapping his foot to a beat<br />

that’s not there.<br />

“How’s that working for you?” His dad asks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s most definitely a rhetorical questi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

Because Louis knows, he knows that it’s not working out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his father is right, always has been<br />

right.<br />

“Whose the flat mate?” Louis swerves the questi<strong>on</strong>, starting to pick at his nails, something he’s<br />

always d<strong>on</strong>e when he’s gotten aggravated.<br />

“You’ll find out so<strong>on</strong> enough. The child of <strong>on</strong>e of my co-workers, makes a substantial amount<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is just moving out, so the opportunity was perfect. D<strong>on</strong>’t go <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> screw it up, I know you’re<br />

good at that. One of your <strong>on</strong>ly talents.” Stated as a fact rather than an opini<strong>on</strong>, it still hits Louis<br />

like a bullet.<br />

“I could’ve found a flat mate, you’re not doing anything I couldn’t do for myself.” Louis argues,<br />

knowing it’s not true. He doesn’t want a flat mate. He doesn’t want to deal with any<strong>on</strong>e else <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he definitely doesn’t want to have to live around them. Louis likes to wake up when he wants,<br />

walk around purely nude when he wants, redecorate whenever he wants. What he doesn’t want, is<br />

dealing with company, people he doesn’t know, cleaning up their messes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> censoring himself.<br />

He doesn’t want a flat mate. He would’ve found a flaw in every applicant <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that would be the<br />

end of that.<br />

“I have to go, I have to get up early for work, hopefully this works out for you, I’m not giving you<br />

any h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>outs.” He says, before the line goes dead <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the call is effectively ended.<br />

It leaves a t<strong>on</strong> of unanswered questi<strong>on</strong>s. He doesn’t know who the hell is going to be moving in.<br />

Did his father do a background check, what if they’re a murderer? What if they’re crazy? It’s all<br />

very c<strong>on</strong>cerning <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he isn’t even sure when he can expect his mystery guest to show up. It could<br />

be as early as tomorrow morning <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it could be in a week or more. Does his father even know<br />

the extent of his crisis? Apparently, he didn’t very much care to discuss it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes Louis<br />

frantic.<br />

So he starts slipping off his clothes as he walks to the bedroom. His lavender robe is ripped off the<br />

hook <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thrown over his body, shoving his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s into the cott<strong>on</strong>y sleeves with a huff <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a<br />

poked out bottom lip. He’s pouting, he’s really pouting like a toddler <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s pretty comical.<br />

Refusing to turn <strong>on</strong> any lights, he crawls into bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> slams face first into the pillow, kicking his<br />

toes <strong>on</strong> the cushi<strong>on</strong> of the mattress. The c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> wasn’t as bad as Louis had expected, but it<br />

was still enough to drain him mentally <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now his mind has no plans of slowing anytime so<strong>on</strong>.<br />

He’s never really been the best at calming his thoughts, always overthinking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> overanalyzing,<br />

though you’d never be able to tell by the expressi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> his face.<br />

He can’t help but marinade in the anger, feeling the disapproval course through his rigid body <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

think of how this is nothing new. Every single fucking time he speaks to his father he feels this<br />

way, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes no sense. Because how could his father be so spiteful at the way Louis wants to<br />

live? He saw it coming, the snide comments that were said without an ounce of shame. Because<br />

Louis’ dad doesn’t like him, hasn’t liked him for a l<strong>on</strong>g time, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he makes it clear. That’s why it<br />

makes Louis laugh whenever Liam says, “He’s your dad, he loves you.” It’s utter bullshit. Louis<br />

doesn’t like paperwork, or being c<strong>on</strong>fined in an office. He isn’t good with m<strong>on</strong>ey <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he focuses<br />

too much <strong>on</strong> the way certain things make him feel. He doesn’t fit into his family, he always st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s<br />

out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s not a good thing. He became the black sheep early <strong>on</strong>, but it didn’t matter because


Louis always had art.<br />

He painted when he was mad, when he was crying or when he was c<strong>on</strong>fused. He watched the<br />

way the paint brush ran over the page <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how each emoti<strong>on</strong> filled the trails. So<strong>on</strong> enough the<br />

emoti<strong>on</strong> would be drained from his body <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> was soaked into the picture instead. His favorite<br />

thing to paint was flowers. Mostly because they were so unique <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> held so much beauty. The<br />

way the tint would change when it was getting closer to the tip of the petal. It was odd, yes, to<br />

pour your feelings into a painting of a flower, but it worked. It worked every single time. Anger<br />

turned into tiger lilies, sadness turned into hydrangeas, c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong> turned into pe<strong>on</strong>ies.<br />

So he grew up, his mind was dead set <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> nothing would ever change it. Nothing made him<br />

happier than his art did, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s what he focused <strong>on</strong>. Despite the lectures coming from his<br />

family <strong>on</strong> how idiotic it was. How idiotic he was.<br />

Here is where he ended up. Twenty four years old, spiraling into debt <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unable to afford a meal<br />

<strong>on</strong> a daily basis. Pretending for m<strong>on</strong>ths that he was doing just fine, when he knew that things were<br />

heading downhill super quickly. Having to admit to his father than he couldn’t save himself this<br />

time. And now, he’s going to have a flat mate, <strong>on</strong>e that he doesn’t even know.<br />

Which reminds him.<br />

He needed to layout some rules. No <strong>on</strong>e can say anything about the color of the flat, because color<br />

plays an important role in his life <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he would simply lose his cool if he wasn’t able to put up<br />

decorati<strong>on</strong>s that match his theme. They can’t say anything about the fact that he does this at least<br />

<strong>on</strong>ce a week (of course he’d leave their bedroom al<strong>on</strong>e, but everywhere else is fair game.) The<br />

new additi<strong>on</strong> can’t be bringing home people all hours of the night <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he will not c<strong>on</strong>d<strong>on</strong>e parties.<br />

When Louis is painting, they can’t make stupid comments <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> jokes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> actually, they can’t say<br />

anything that’s negative, because it will throw off his entire vibe.<br />

Louis is just a tad picky.<br />

But after living al<strong>on</strong>e for such an extended period of time, he just grew accustomed to it. He had<br />

friends over but took relief in the fact that they would be leaving <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as so<strong>on</strong> as they did he could<br />

kick his shoes off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> run a hot bubble bath without any judgement. He could hangout <strong>on</strong> the<br />

couch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> laugh loudly at stupid jokes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not worry about if some<strong>on</strong>e was listening <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> getting<br />

annoyed. He’d always really preferred to be al<strong>on</strong>e, to live al<strong>on</strong>e. He didn’t know if that had<br />

anything to do with the fact that he grew up al<strong>on</strong>e. A pris<strong>on</strong>er of his own mind <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the bars would<br />

finally cease when he could get his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <strong>on</strong> a canvas.<br />

The silence of the flat is defending <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his thoughts are starting to drive him mad. He half<br />

c<strong>on</strong>siders calling Liam, asking him why the fuck he felt the need to call <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tell their father how<br />

pathetic Louis is. He could’ve d<strong>on</strong>e that all by himself, thanks.<br />

It’s a sweltering bath instead, because he h<strong>on</strong>estly doesn’t feel like another argument right now.<br />

And he’ll end up forgiving Liam anyway, like always. Before he can make it into the bathroom,<br />

making an awkward observati<strong>on</strong> at how he really needs to trim his gruesome toenails, there’s a<br />

slight knock <strong>on</strong> the door. It’s hit in a rhythm, something Liam is notorious for. Louis tilts his head<br />

in a smile, thinking to himself but saying aloud, “Wow, who knew I could predict the future. I’m<br />

good.”<br />

His bare feet pad <strong>on</strong>to the hardwood floor, stomping loudly enough to make the flames <strong>on</strong> each<br />

c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le falter as he walks by. He purposefully slides <strong>on</strong> the sassiest expressi<strong>on</strong> he can possibly<br />

muster, putting a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> his hip before flinging the door open.<br />

It’s not Liam, it’s definitely not Liam. In fact, Louis doesn’t know who the fuck it is. He’s tall,


lanky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a smirk is plastered <strong>on</strong> cherry rose pink lips. A messy array of brown curls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> spirals<br />

are pushed to the top of his head, resembling a quick roll out of bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the inability to use a<br />

brush, if he even knows what a brush is. The sloppy style doesn’t end there, c<strong>on</strong>tinuing to black<br />

jeans that cover never-ending legs (he’s so fucking tall) <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a charcoal shirt that has seen better<br />

days, tiny holes peppered al<strong>on</strong>g the bottom hem. The entire ensemble is complete with a worn out<br />

leather jacket, which is just so nifty.<br />

He smells like <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>t rubber, smoke <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> diluted alcohol. He smells like danger <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bad decisi<strong>on</strong>s.<br />

His eyes are an electric green <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’re doing an amazing job at burrowing into Louis’ soul,<br />

dropping to his body then immediately being switched into pure c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong>. “Are you wearing a<br />

purple bathrobe?”<br />

Really? Really.<br />

The sound of his voice is almost startling, deeper than Louis ever imagined it would be even with<br />

his rough demeanor. It’s smooth <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> raspy at the same time, each word dictated slow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

curiously. But, Louis is more offended than anything at the moment, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can’t stop his lips<br />

from pulling into an obvious scowl.<br />

“It’s lavender.” He scrunches his nose up, shaking his head, “Obviously.”<br />

“Obviously.” The boy says, soaked in humor, his eye brows shooting up. His visi<strong>on</strong> flickers<br />

momentarily to the room behind Louis, earning a deeper smirk, “You really like lavender, huh?”<br />

“Who are you?” Louis ignores his questi<strong>on</strong>, removing his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> from his hip to cross his arms over<br />

his chest. He looks defensive, which is exactly what he’s going for.<br />

“Okay, so we’re skipping the small talk, I see.” The boy raises his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s in defense, his eyes<br />

mockingly cautious, before he can c<strong>on</strong>tinue, Louis’ eyes catch the strap that’s slung over his<br />

b<strong>on</strong>ey shoulder, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s c<strong>on</strong>nected to a backpack that stuffed so tightly it’s barely zipped. The<br />

realizati<strong>on</strong> hits almost instantaneously. Oh, fuck no.<br />

“If I made an assumpti<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> said you were here as the new flat mate, how right would I be?”<br />

“Ding,” He smiles, pointing up towards the sky, “We have a winner.”<br />

When Louis opens his mouth to speak, well, object, he is interrupted by the boy pushing past him,<br />

straight into the flat. Louis stops with his mouth wide open, eyes not blinking as he turns <strong>on</strong> his<br />

heel, “Woah, excuse me?” His voice raises in pitch, highlighting his surprise with the brash<br />

acti<strong>on</strong>s.<br />

“Why do you have eight c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les lit? You doing a seance or some shit?” The boy asks, completely<br />

ignoring Louis’ stunned remark. He’s so rude <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> entitled, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> who just shoves their way into<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e else’s home? Well, this is technically his home too, but that’s not an excuse to not have<br />

any manners.<br />

“No, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the polite thing to do would be to wait for me to invite you in, you know?”<br />

Without missing a beat, he resp<strong>on</strong>ds easily, “Actually, it’s <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> as fuck out there right now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the polite thing to do would be to invite me in from the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> instead of trying to have a<br />

c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> with me while I slowly catch pneum<strong>on</strong>ia, you know?”<br />

Louis wants to come back with even more sass, but instead he huffs outs a breathy laugh, in<br />

disbelief at the audacity coming from this complete stranger. He’s debating asking where the rest<br />

of his luggage is, but Louis' almost positive it's hidden in his dimple, the <strong>on</strong>e <strong>on</strong> his cheek that


seems to be deeper than the Atlantic ocean. It’s an easy admissi<strong>on</strong> that whoever the boy is, he’s<br />

attractive. It’s undeniable, really, but trouble is pouring off of him in waves <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis doesn’t like<br />

the way it feels. His every movement is fluid <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unthought <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s wearing a now-visible gold<br />

watch <strong>on</strong> his left wrist.<br />

A watch that costs more than Louis' entire life, probably, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> yet his shirt’s got holes in it. He’s an<br />

equati<strong>on</strong> that doesn’t add up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> everything about him is setting off alarms in Louis' head.<br />

“So, you like c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretty colors, aren’t you the cutest?” He inquires, dropping the bag to<br />

his feet to survey the room, picking up the nearest c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> reading the label, he doesn’t look<br />

over when he asks, “What’s your name? Or shall I refer to you as boy-in-the-lavender-bathrobe?”<br />

Both questi<strong>on</strong>s seem to take Louis off guard, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s half embarrassed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> half pleased, but then<br />

he remembers that he is, indeed, <strong>on</strong>ly wearing a bathrobe. One that’s a bit too short for any<strong>on</strong>e to<br />

be seen in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is quite fluffy, but his entire body is <strong>on</strong> fire at the realizati<strong>on</strong> that it’s the <strong>on</strong>ly thing<br />

he’s wearing. And it’s pretty obvious c<strong>on</strong>sidering the strewn out path of clothes that are leading to<br />

his room. St<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing right in fr<strong>on</strong>t of a r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om pers<strong>on</strong>, insecurity weasels it’s way up. And without<br />

thinking Louis' crossing his legs, swaying back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth under his stare. This whole situati<strong>on</strong> is<br />

just d<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>y <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is just the perfect way to end an already fucked up night. Great. Bless. Now he’s<br />

feeling shy.<br />

“It’s Louis.” He states, simply, pulling the robe closed even tighter, “Your turn.”<br />

“Louis, I like that name. It suits you.”<br />

“I’m waiting.” Louis reminds him, blinking twice, trying to keep a neural <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> carefree expressi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

The boys lips pull into another smirk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis w<strong>on</strong>ders if he always smiles like that. The dimple<br />

in his right cheek is <strong>on</strong> full display, looking more prominent in the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>lelit room, falling over his<br />

skin <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deepening the shadow, “It’s Harry.”<br />

It’s Harry.<br />

“That’s royal.”<br />

“So I hear.” Harry states, taking a step closer to Louis, not showing a bit of hesitati<strong>on</strong>, so sure of<br />

himself. But Louis takes a wide step back, blinking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> letting a faux friendly smile spread over<br />

his face, “Nice to meet you, I appreciate pers<strong>on</strong>al space, you should too.”<br />

The comment <strong>on</strong>ly makes Harry smile wider, “Right. Well,” The way Harry’s eyes seem so<br />

focused, observant, Louis’ sure he can make just about any<strong>on</strong>e melt. The charm is there, but,<br />

unfortunately, it's not working right now, “May I ask where my room is?”<br />

Louis points to the door next to his. He watches as Harry picks up his bag, shaking the curls from<br />

his eyes as he leans down. He really is too tall for his own good <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his legs resemble Bambi<br />

slightly, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has to <strong>hold</strong> back a laugh at the thought. He hasn’t had anytime to prepare for a<br />

new flat mate, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s quite clear in the way clothes are littering the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> food wrappers are<br />

still sat atop the tables in the living room <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> kitchen. Harry doesn’t seem to mind as he readjusts<br />

the strap <strong>on</strong> his shoulder, giving Louis a slight wave as he walks towards the room that's now his<br />

new bedroom. Because he’s going to live here. Lovely.<br />

“Wait, I have more questi<strong>on</strong>s, how do I know you w<strong>on</strong>’t kill me in my sleep?” Louis asks, a bit<br />

too panicked, which earns a deep laugh, the sound reverberates through the entire flat, richer than<br />

all the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les combined.<br />

“You can interrogate me in the morning, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as for the sec<strong>on</strong>d questi<strong>on</strong> then,” Harry shrugs, “I


guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He doesn’t wait for Louis’ answer before he walks into the<br />

dark room out of sight. “Goodnight, Louis.” And that’s the last thing he hears before the door is<br />

clicked shut.<br />

And he’s left st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there in a cloud of c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> curiosity. Because now he’s officially<br />

sharing a flat with a boy who is surely an enigma, <strong>on</strong>e who looks wobbly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> persistent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s as<br />

scary as it is enticing.


Three<br />

The first night is absolute shit, Louis sleeps like absolute shit. Because he swears he can hear<br />

Harry unpacking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> banging around in there, a slight mumbling every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again. And it<br />

shouldn’t keep him up, but it evidently does. Which is just precious. He’s still laying in bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

choosing to ignore the clock <strong>on</strong> his nightst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that undoubtably reads somewhere after four in the<br />

fucking morning. And Harry is still awake. With the amazing luck Louis is blessed with, Harry is<br />

apparently nocturnal. Like a bat, but a lot less quiet.<br />

Harry is boisterous bat.<br />

It may be in combinati<strong>on</strong> with the aggravati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> nerves, but every time he’s <strong>on</strong> the brink of<br />

falling asleep, he jolts back awake <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not <strong>on</strong>ly is it incredibly annoying, but it’s also very<br />

tiresome. The sheets d<strong>on</strong>’t seem to be helping the matter in the least bit, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’re almost<br />

suffocating at this point. Hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heavy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not even the ceiling fan can cool him down. So, he’s<br />

flicking off the comforter, then feeling vulnerable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sliding it back <strong>on</strong>. Then getting hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

flinging it off again. It’s like this all hours of the night <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sun is starting to paint the sky in a<br />

faint blue. He’s most likely going to be a walking zombie tomorrow. He really needs to welcome<br />

himself into the lovely job market, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> going in for an applicati<strong>on</strong> while looking half-dead usually<br />

isn’t the best way to go about it.<br />

The room is filled with the tempo of the fan’s motor, the blades catching the air <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making a<br />

whooshing sound. That, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the ugly sound of his teeth grinding together, his eye lids drooping<br />

but not allowing him to succumb. It’s akin to torture, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe not getting any sleep is how<br />

Louis dies. Hard boots <strong>on</strong> the floor, then a slight slam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> another mumble. Why the mother fuck<br />

is he still walking around in there? Is he having some sort of <strong>on</strong>e-pers<strong>on</strong> home warming party?<br />

Whatever it is that he’s doing, he needs to stop <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get his curly headed ass in the bed before<br />

Louis beats his door down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tosses him (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his lack of manners) right out the bloody window.<br />

He gets a bit cranky when he’s sleep deprived, obviously.<br />

His eyes have already adjusted, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> with the help from the morning sun, the room is no l<strong>on</strong>ger<br />

dark. In fact, it’s a bit too bright for Louis’ taste. He likes to sleep like he’s in a cave, pitch black,<br />

unable to see a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s two inches from his face. He can probably credit that to the fact that his<br />

parents never allowed any light in his room after bedtime when he was younger. They complained<br />

he would stay awake all night <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> draw <strong>on</strong> his walls, <strong>on</strong> his arms, <strong>on</strong> his nails. And yes, maybe he<br />

painted his nails but it was just a few times because the colors were so pretty, how could he not?<br />

Then his mother found all her missing nail paint bottles lodged under his bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost chucked<br />

them at Louis’ head.<br />

After that, it was no night-light allowed. Purely dark, an abyss, really. It was terrifying at first.<br />

Because he swears <strong>on</strong> his grave that there were things moving around in that room. And the lamps<br />

looked like silhouettes of people <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they all had odd faces. The negatives of being artistic, is<br />

having an overly active imaginati<strong>on</strong>. The first night he slept in the black of his room, he imagined<br />

people walking back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth just past the foot of his bed, it scared him shitless <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his parents<br />

couldn’t bother to care. Because yeah, they no l<strong>on</strong>ger cleaned the walls or had to search high <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

low for stolen polish; but their five year old s<strong>on</strong> dreaded going to bed because it was horrific.<br />

They didn’t care. What’s new.<br />

But, ir<strong>on</strong>ic enough, Louis loves the dark now. Can’t sleep if there’s any light whatsoever.<br />

So, the sun is c<strong>on</strong>sequently ending any hopes of sleeping t<strong>on</strong>ight. And there’s another thump from<br />

the next room over, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has officially had enough. He flings his legs over the edge of the


ed with a dramatic huff, his hair surely sticking up in all directi<strong>on</strong>s. He most likely looks like he’s<br />

just stuck his finger in a light socket, but he can’t bother to give a single fuck. The floor is freezing<br />

beneath the pads of his feet, sending a steam of <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> chills up his legs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> to the tips of his fingers.<br />

The room is frigid without the heat of the blanket, so he pulls it from the bed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wraps it around<br />

his shoulders. Which, actually, does a nice job of covering his brief-clad body quite nicely.<br />

He looks like an angry penguin, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> feels like it too with the way he’s waddling, the blanket<br />

wrapping him like a coco<strong>on</strong>.<br />

His brows are nit down, making the frustrati<strong>on</strong> more than apparent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he opens his bedroom<br />

door, well he really kind of throws it open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> feels like a child throwing a temper tantrum in the<br />

process. But he’s tired <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> running <strong>on</strong> less than enough energy to deal with his annoying flatmate,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s still not sure why the fuck this guy is up so late. He better not do this every night, or<br />

Louis will pack his shit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sleep in a box <strong>on</strong> the side of the road, he likes his rest.<br />

Louis’ st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Harry's door, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> for some reas<strong>on</strong> the nerves are back but they’re<br />

completely covered <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> overpowered by frustrati<strong>on</strong>. The light is peaking out from the crack<br />

between the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the door, lighting up Louis’ feet, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he forgot to trim those gruesome<br />

toenails. He makes a mental note, again, as he picks his feet up, taking a bit of a closer<br />

examinati<strong>on</strong>, before putting them back down quietly. When the bedroom door flies open, Louis’<br />

stomach drops out of his ass, jumping back at the speed of lighting, the thud of his heart too<br />

fucking loud in his ears. The light is bright <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost blinding at first, though it’s just a dull glow<br />

from a single lamp, he has to blink until his eyes finally adjust.<br />

Harry is st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there, looking wide awake <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> exactly the same as he did when he first walked<br />

in. Only his the whites of his eyes are shaded red <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he looks so c<strong>on</strong>fused it’s comical. “Louis,<br />

what a surprise for you to come visit me. Can I help you?”<br />

“Yes, actually,” Louis starts, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is a bit thrown off by the hoarse raspiness of his own voice,<br />

“Can you quiet down in there? I haven’t been able to sleep all night, you keep banging around<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wreaking havoc, it’s distracting.”<br />

Harry’s brows shoot up immediately, blinking twice before resp<strong>on</strong>ding, “What the fuck are you<br />

<strong>on</strong> about? I haven’t made any noise.”<br />

“Hah!” Louis laughs, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it comes across as fake as he planned it to, “That’s hilarious.”<br />

Harry doesn’t say anything, just leans his head <strong>on</strong>to the frame of the door, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sliding down<br />

to rest <strong>on</strong> the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le. It takes a few moments of sassy stares <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> an ever sassier head tilt from<br />

Louis before he finally says anything. “Be h<strong>on</strong>est here, did you just make up an excuse to talk to<br />

me?”<br />

What the fuck?<br />

“Are you kidding me? Why the hell would I do that? I hear you walking around, some annoying<br />

thudding, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it sounds like you’re talking to yourself. So, after however many god forsaken<br />

hours of trying desperately to fall asleep, I gave up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> came to tell you to quiet the fuck down.”<br />

Louis snaps, even more agitated by Harry’s outward c<strong>on</strong>fidence <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he wants to kick him in the<br />

shin. Fuck wad.<br />

“Ah, I see.” Harry purses his lips, nodding a few times, “Your hair looks cute right now, you just<br />

get electrocuted or something? Is that why you’re so grumpy?”<br />

Louis’ mouth opens with a pop, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s looking directly at him, blinking innocently, a small<br />

smile playing at the corner of his lips. It’s not enough to bring out that crater-dimple, but big


enough to see. “I want to push you out that window, that’s how grumpy I am.”<br />

“We’re <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong> the first floor,” He hides a laugh, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ body ignites in so much irritati<strong>on</strong> it’s<br />

making his fists clench, “So, go for it.”<br />

“You little-“ Louis begins, words coming out from behind clenched teeth, interrupted before he<br />

can even finish his insult. Harry’s voice comes out in more of a coo, teasing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> playful, “You<br />

little what?”<br />

His mind is pulling a blank, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s sorting for something, anything, to say but suddenly his brain<br />

decides it’s now that it wants to stop working. Harry’s looking at him expectantly like the ass he<br />

is, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ just st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there with his mouth open, empty words lingering <strong>on</strong> the tip of his<br />

t<strong>on</strong>gue. It’s embarrassing to say the least, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> getting t<strong>on</strong>gue-tied is not something that’s comm<strong>on</strong><br />

for Louis. He’s so quick at coming back with harsher words than needed in the moment, but now,<br />

it’s like he’s stuck. Harry seems less than bothered, face relaxed in a neutral <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> patient<br />

expressi<strong>on</strong>. The lamp behind him makes his outline sharp, every curve <strong>on</strong> his body exaggerated.<br />

Louis can make out every individual hair <strong>on</strong> his head, the way his shirt is twisted with his torso,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way the hem sits just atop his hip.<br />

When his eyes c<strong>on</strong>nect with Harry’s they’re colored with humor, even lighter green than before<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that damn dimple is popping out again, “Were you just checking me out?”<br />

“No,” Louis shoots, taking a step back, shaking his head quicker than necessary. He wasn’t<br />

checking him out, but c<strong>on</strong>trast is always interesting, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry just so happens to have enough<br />

curves to study. But he was not checking him out. Absolutely not.<br />

“Sure, sure.” Harry says easily, running his t<strong>on</strong>gue over his bottom lip, “Whatever you say,<br />

Louis.”<br />

It takes a full deep breath until Louis can muster up the next sentence. He’s worn out, tired, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

there’s no sense in st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> arguing with Harry when, clearly, he will always have the<br />

last word. Louis gets the feeling he has siblings, for some reas<strong>on</strong>. “There’s no hope for t<strong>on</strong>ight,<br />

but when tomorrow night comes, will you please go to bed instead of staying up all night <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

keeping me up while you do it? It would be greatly appreciated.”<br />

“Anything for you, doll.” Harry smiles, more joking than polite before he turns to close the door.<br />

Just before it shuts, there’s a glimpse of his left arm. There’s black ink absolutely covering it, in so<br />

many designs he couldn’t hope to make out just <strong>on</strong>e before Harry’s out of sight completely. He<br />

didn’t even notice the leather jacket was removed, probably because he was too distracted with<br />

Harry’s ‘I think I’m funny, when I’m actually not’ comments.<br />

Louis’ never liked needles anywhere near him. Avoids shots at all costs. Piercings <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tattoos<br />

make his knees weak, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as much as he’d like to deny it, he has a very low pain tolerance. Even<br />

the thought of a needle penetrating the top layer of some<strong>on</strong>e’s skin, injecting dark ink<br />

permanently, leaving a forever mark, it makes him shudder. Yes, tattoos are beautiful, they’re<br />

another form of art, but they’re the most terrifying form of art. He’s not sure why the image<br />

surprised him, as Harry definitely looks like he’d be <strong>on</strong>e to care less about the pain of a tattoo, it’s<br />

more interesting than anything.<br />

What could Harry possibly have that he likes so much he wanted it permanently attached to his<br />

skin? Are they meaningful? Are they funny? Do they tell a story or are they just r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>omly<br />

peppered al<strong>on</strong>g? Are they all over his body? Just his arm? Ribcage tattoos are actually really<br />

attractive.<br />

Before he can think into it any more, he’s coming to realize that he’s still st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in fr<strong>on</strong>t of


Harry’s door like an absolute creep. So, he slides his feet away, heading straight for the kitchen to<br />

turn the coffee pot <strong>on</strong>. There’s really no reas<strong>on</strong> to try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> go back to sleep, especially when it’s<br />

inevitable that he’ll surely be up for good after the sun has officially risen. Maybe the smell of<br />

coffee grounds will put him in a better mood. It’s not the first all-nighter he’s pulled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it<br />

definitely w<strong>on</strong>’t be the last, so there’s no sense in sulking around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dreading the day ahead. So,<br />

he pours the water, the pot is bubbling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ plopping down <strong>on</strong> the couch. His day will just<br />

have to start at a crisp five in the morning, how d<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>y.<br />

A positive from this whole thing, is getting to watch the sunrise. The sky is a mixture of fuchsia,<br />

orange <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> purple, a light blue near the top. It’s like water color, each shade meshing with the <strong>on</strong>e<br />

right next to it perfectly, flawlessly, naturally. It’s stunning, something else Louis could never<br />

hope to capture. It’s the entire sky, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s cloaking everything, it knows how beautiful it is. It’ll<br />

<strong>on</strong>ly be a matter of time before the blue is overtaking the other colors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> replacing them, leaving<br />

them to come back another day. If the sky could always look the way it does when the sun sets<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rises, every<strong>on</strong>e would just get accustomed to it. It seems that when things come in small<br />

durati<strong>on</strong>, we appreciate them more. It’s funny how that works.<br />

The flat is misted in silence <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the <strong>on</strong>ly light is the natural rays. It’s serene <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> calm, it’s perfect.<br />

The smell of hazelnut blend coffee is floating through the air, but Louis can’t seem to break away<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make him a cup. He just wants to sit. Sit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> take in the scene, memorize it. Remember the<br />

way it makes him feel, the way his mind is slowing down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s no l<strong>on</strong>ger aggravated.<br />

Remember everything he's seeing, repainting the image in his head to make an exact copy. His<br />

fingertips feel numb, his lashes flitting against the skin of his cheeks whenever he blinks. It has to<br />

be the most tranquil he’s felt in a l<strong>on</strong>g time, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this is exactly the feeling he was going for when<br />

he chose lavender to decorate his flat with. He wanted to feel this peace, he wanted to be able to<br />

dissolve himself from the world <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost melt away with the breeze. He just wanted to get<br />

away.<br />

This fuchsia is a pretty color, this will be his next color.<br />

When the hues diffuse into a soft blue, Louis finally decides to saunter over to the coffee pot. The<br />

light in Harry’s room has finally g<strong>on</strong>e off, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s probably going to be sleeping until five this<br />

afterno<strong>on</strong>, but whatever. He has no milk or sugar, so he has to drink it black <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> with barely any<br />

food at all in his stomach, he’s going to be bouncing off the walls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> riding a caffeine high in no<br />

time. Either way, he needs to go to the grocery <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pick up some food or he’s going to stave<br />

Harry, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> himself, to death, so he pulls out a piece of paper, starting a shopping list. With the<br />

other member of his two-dude squad sleeping, he’s free to walk around in just his briefs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> let his<br />

skin breathe, even if it is a bit chilly in here. The blanket coco<strong>on</strong> was starting to get a bit hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his limbs were too c<strong>on</strong>stricted to be comfortable.<br />

Having absolutely no idea what Harry likes to eat, he just begins with the essentials; bread, milk,<br />

eggs, sugar, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cheese. Cheese? Every<strong>on</strong>e likes cheese, right?<br />

The coffee is bitter but at the same time it tastes like tears of the divine. He can feel the effects of<br />

exhausti<strong>on</strong> wearing <strong>on</strong> his body already, his head starting to ache. And he’s a bit of a baby, but<br />

he’s not usually <strong>on</strong>e to be up all night, especially after a day like yesterday. The liquid <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>s<br />

against his lips, the steam pouring over his face, making his entire body warm. Hopefully it’ll<br />

wake him up so<strong>on</strong>er versus later. Because according to the fine advice of his genius father, he<br />

needs to find a job, he’s not giving Louis any more help. Or as he so lovingly worded it, ‘no more<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>outs.’<br />

Louis doesn’t want his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>outs anyway, no thanks.<br />

Something part time will do, just enough to help Harry out with the rent, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> still giving him


enough time to still paint abundantly <strong>on</strong> the side. The determinati<strong>on</strong> of any<strong>on</strong>e ever discovering<br />

him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> seeing any talent is dwindling with each day that passes, but giving up isn’t something<br />

he’s ever planning to do. If it means he has to get a job doing something he hates to push himself<br />

al<strong>on</strong>g in the meantime, then it is what it is. Maybe he’ll get lucky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> actually like his job, like<br />

working in an art gallery, or giving tours in a museum, because art is his life so he’d be well<br />

qualified. Of course, he’s self taught in almost every aspect, so it’s not something he can brag<br />

about <strong>on</strong> a resume, that’s what happens when college was something that was put permanently <strong>on</strong><br />

a back <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>er. He’s still kicking himself over that.<br />

The mug is empty, just a tiny amount of coffee left in the bottom, but that just w<strong>on</strong>’t do, so he<br />

pours another cup, knowing he’ll regret it later. If job hunting is <strong>on</strong> the to-do list today, then he<br />

better start looking for an appropriate outfit. Something professi<strong>on</strong>al <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> t<strong>on</strong>ed down, something<br />

that says “hire me.”<br />

He tries to keep his steps quiet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost inaudible as he walks past Harry’s door, basically<br />

tiptoeing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>hold</strong>ing his breath as he does so. He’s reaches a safe z<strong>on</strong>e when he’s in his room,<br />

shutting the door <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cringing when it clicks. Everything sounds so much louder when the flat is<br />

void of any sounds, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> waking up Harry is the last thing he wants to do at this point. His closet is<br />

packed full of clothes (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> getting rid of some might be a good idea, but no.) <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it might take a<br />

while to pick out something he’s sure he’ll love. Jeans come across as a bit too casual, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dress<br />

pants are trying too hard. But there’s a pair of khaki skinny jeans that should work just fine.<br />

Maybe paired with a butt<strong>on</strong> down, a light blue if possible.<br />

His lips purse automatically as he feels through the fabrics, trying to find a cott<strong>on</strong>y textured article.<br />

It takes a good five minutes before he comes across <strong>on</strong>e that he thinks will look okay, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pulls<br />

the hanger out with it. The outfit will go perfectly with his brown shoes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong>ce he’s pleased<br />

with his choices it's time to drown himself in the steam of a hot shower. Maybe it’ll even wake<br />

him up a little more.<br />

The hot water feels more than amazing <strong>on</strong> his skin, loosening it up from the stress of yesterday.<br />

Louis lets his head fall back, eyes closed as the he breathes the mist in through his nose, releasing<br />

it from between his lips. He stays like that for a while, letting his mind stop <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his body do what<br />

comes natural, just breathing. Breathing until every single inch of him is unwound <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> composed.<br />

Droplets are building, tracing the crevices <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then falling off his skin like rain. Water pools<br />

mainly in the dip of his collarb<strong>on</strong>es, filling then spilling out. It’s strange to think that water can be<br />

in tiny beads, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then be what makes up the roaring waves of ocean. It’s calm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> placid, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at<br />

the same time its colossal <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unfathomable. It’s magnificent.<br />

But he’s wasting time.<br />

After the quick washing process (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe he used too much body wash because he likes the<br />

tingling of the bubbles) he’s finally getting out, dripping water <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> possibly sweat. Padding the<br />

towel to soak up the water, rubbing <strong>on</strong> some lavender scented loti<strong>on</strong> then throwing <strong>on</strong> a pair of<br />

briefs, his morning process is almost complete. Because he doesn’t feel like getting dressed right<br />

this sec<strong>on</strong>d, just <strong>on</strong>e more cup of coffee doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, so he lets the stream<br />

pour out of the bathroom while he makes a beeline for the kitchen. The coffee has been sitting for<br />

a bit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s probably even str<strong>on</strong>ger, but no matter, he’s still feeling kind of tired <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this is the<br />

nectar that will solve his problem, or so he hopes.<br />

The entire flat is bright <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> awake <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lovely, still silent. The mug is <strong>on</strong>ly about halfway full<br />

before he can hear his voice start dancing from his throat, humming some absurd s<strong>on</strong>g that he<br />

can’t even pinpoint.<br />

It takes about three sips before he recognizes the tune, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s ‘D<strong>on</strong>’t fear the Reaper’ as r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om<br />

as it may be, but he’s feeling chipper right about now so he just bobs al<strong>on</strong>g to the music playing in


his head. About ten minutes later the two previous cups have hit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he's floating <strong>on</strong> a caffeine<br />

buzz, walking around the flat using his (now) empty mug as a microph<strong>on</strong>e, because who the fuck<br />

cares, it’s beautiful outside <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his head is swimming in a hazelnut induced haze. He’s not the best<br />

singer, his pitch is all over the place <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s sure that if he tried hard enough he could rupture<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e’s ear drum, he’s got talent like that.<br />

“Then the door was open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the wind appeared, the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les blew <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then disappeared..” Louis<br />

sang, smile causing his cheeks to hurt <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this third cup was not a good idea. It’s a combinati<strong>on</strong> of<br />

two shitty nights of no sleep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> too much damn caffeine but he’s <strong>on</strong> cloud nine <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s kind of<br />

having a blast. It hit him out of nowhere <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> will probably disappear just as quickly, so might as<br />

well enjoy it while it lasts.<br />

“..The curtains flew <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then he appeared, saying d<strong>on</strong>’t be afraid..”<br />

“Are you singing Blue Oyster Cult right now?” A deep voice croaked, causing Louis to fling his<br />

mug, sending it crashing to the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> erupting into shards. He’s going to have a heart attack<br />

he’s sure of it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his eyes are so wide they just might pop right out of his head, because Harry’s<br />

st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there, full view, brow cocked <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> laughing his ass off. Where the hell did he even come<br />

from, did he just teleport his way here?<br />

“Do you ever fucking sleep?” Louis screeched, the shock making his voice a full octave higher<br />

than normal, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> placed over his heart, feeling the heavy thud. “And did you just float in here<br />

or what? I didn’t even hear your footsteps.”<br />

Harry’s laughing so hard tears are pricking at his eyes, bent over in hysterics, the sound bounces<br />

off the walls. His mug is in a hundred pieces all over the floor, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his heart is cracked in half, <strong>on</strong>e<br />

side sinking completely. He loved that mug-slash-microph<strong>on</strong>e. He got it <strong>on</strong> vacati<strong>on</strong>, it even said<br />

his name. It takes more than a full sixty sec<strong>on</strong>ds before Harry is composed enough to finally<br />

speak, wiping the wet from his cheeks with the back of his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. The tattooed arm is in full<br />

display, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s surely covered, barely any skin showing through the designs. He’s inked in even<br />

the most painful of places, the underpart of his arm, just under his bicep, that must’ve hurt like a<br />

bitch. It looks like a realistic heart, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s drawn quite beautifully.<br />

Harry stares for <strong>on</strong>e brief moment, “Come <strong>on</strong>, baby, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> she had no fear.” He sings, his smile so<br />

wide its obscuring the words. The shattered glass at his feet doesn't seem to detour his mood, at<br />

all.<br />

“I hate you.” Louis squints, trying not to pout while he searches for the broom. Harry just laughs<br />

again, making it a point to lean against the wall <strong>on</strong> his shoulder, folding his arms across his chest.<br />

“By the way, I do sleep. But why would I? Especially when I have a view like this.”<br />

“What view?” Louis asks, whipping his head around. He catches Harry’s eyes, doing a slow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

sure scan of Louis from head to toe, his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyelashes are fanned<br />

across tanned cheeks, hair messily falling across his forehead. He looks focused <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> intrigued.<br />

And then the air felt <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>. Because it’s everywhere. Because Louis' <strong>on</strong>ly wearing briefs. Why the<br />

fuck is he always getting caught wearing the most inappropriate articles of clothing he owns?<br />

His face blooms a bight red, heat flooding <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> trailing over the bridge of his nose, pooling <strong>on</strong> both<br />

of his cheeks. His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s shoot to his body, trying to cover any skin that he possibly can. Harry lets<br />

out a breathy laugh from between parted lips, bringing his eyes to meet directly with Louis’ in <strong>on</strong>e<br />

sharp movement. Why the hell is his breathing so labored? Oh, right, because he’s about to die of<br />

embarrassment. His stare is so deep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>centrated, but so light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> easy, c<strong>on</strong>trolled. Harry<br />

<strong>hold</strong>s the eye c<strong>on</strong>tact without hesitati<strong>on</strong>, jade green <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing like it’s ignited, he blinks <strong>on</strong>ce before<br />

cocking his head slightly to the side, “You’re shy, very cute.”


Is he joking?<br />

Every single inch of Louis’ skin is tingling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shaky, his eyes fluttering bey<strong>on</strong>d his c<strong>on</strong>trol, he<br />

can feel that his face is crims<strong>on</strong> by now, but he can’t care, because he’s too busy trying to get his<br />

feet to take him to his bedroom, but he’s cemented under Harry’s eyes. Still c<strong>on</strong>nected <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there’s<br />

a tensi<strong>on</strong> between them, so str<strong>on</strong>g that it’s making his mind fuzzy. He has no idea why Harry has<br />

him locked in place with just his eyes, but its so piecing, protract. Harry’s lips are pulled into the<br />

tiniest smile, because he can tell he has Louis pinned, like it comes so easily to him. He’s not even<br />

trying.<br />

“I- uh, I’m-“ Louis stutters, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his voice reflects exactly what his body is feeling, it reveals him<br />

completely. He’s nervous. How embarrassing. Harry's blinking slowly, allowing some<br />

momentary relief from the intent, fiery green. It feels like minutes have passed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis still can’t<br />

move.<br />

Just like it was as casual as possible, Harry looks away, taking the intensity with his gaze. He<br />

walks over to the coffee pot, opening up cabinets to most likely find a mug, like nothing ever<br />

happened. Something in Louis’ head screams at him 'that shouldn’t have happened,' <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry<br />

was seeing if he had some kind of c<strong>on</strong>trol over the situati<strong>on</strong>. And he definitely did. It couldn’t<br />

have been more obvious, which is a little intimidating. With the entrapment evaporated, suddenly<br />

Louis’ feet have remembered how to walk. He immediately heads to the room, taking a deep<br />

breath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hoping his face will drain, because it’s too damn hot right this sec<strong>on</strong>d. When the door<br />

shuts, he leans back against it, feeling the wood cool <strong>on</strong> the bare skin of his back. He can feel<br />

every insecurity pull at the corners of his brain, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now he feels too exposed, especially to<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e he has to live with from now until who knows when. The <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in his face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ears<br />

refuses to c<strong>on</strong>strain, so he st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s there a while, not moving, the sound of Harry humming echoes<br />

through the flat behind him.<br />

What the fuck just happened?<br />

****<br />

“So, I presume it’s not going well, then?” Niall asks, sipping up a strawberry banana smoothie<br />

though his straw. He’s been listening to Louis complain for over an hour now, all about how<br />

much he already hates having a flatmate. Once he finally calmed enough, he jerked <strong>on</strong> his clothes<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> made a run for the fr<strong>on</strong>t door, not bothering to see if Harry was still in sight before he<br />

slammed it behind him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> left. Then he called Niall, because he’s obviously shaken up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall<br />

has this way of getting your mind off things sometimes. So they’ve stopped for a smoothie, which<br />

Louis can’t bear to drink right now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall has gulped it down in a matter of sec<strong>on</strong>ds.<br />

“No, I d<strong>on</strong>’t like it.”<br />

“Is he an asshole or something?”<br />

“I mean,” Louis shakes his head, “No, I d<strong>on</strong>’t think so. I mean, he’s kind of entitled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cocky,<br />

like he knows what effect he has, I d<strong>on</strong>’t know if that makes any sense.” And he doesn’t really<br />

know Harry, not at all. He's not sure why Harry is getting under his skin, it’s like he’s out to get<br />

<strong>on</strong> Louis’ last nerve, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> who knows, maybe Harry never wanted a flatmate either. They’ll make<br />

a terrible team.<br />

Niall nods al<strong>on</strong>g, biting his cheek between his teeth. He seems to think over Louis’ answer before


esp<strong>on</strong>ding. “Well, it’ll get better, you just have to get to know each other first, it’s always<br />

awkward in the beginning, give it a chance.”<br />

Louis knows he’s right, it’s <strong>on</strong>ly the first morning, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s already almost seen him<br />

completely naked, so there’s that. He’s never been quite so flustered, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> plenty of men have seen<br />

him in next to nothing. But Harry’s coming off as some<strong>on</strong>e who knows what he does to people,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis hoped he wouldn’t fall victim for that, but apparently he’s not immune. Either way, it<br />

was <strong>on</strong>e time, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was because Louis isn’t used to other people being around, but it will never<br />

happen again. There doesn’t need to be any awkward moments that could compromise the<br />

flatmate relati<strong>on</strong>ship they’ll have to form. Which means being fully dressed all hours of the day, or<br />

at least when he’s not in the privacy of his own room, or the shower, of course.<br />

Niall doesn’t seem to mind Louis being deep in thought, more focused <strong>on</strong> the empty smoothie cup<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he looks pretty disgruntled about it.<br />

He joins Louis to apply at every place within walking distance from his flat. Including some cafes,<br />

some markets, retail stores <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even a petrol stati<strong>on</strong>. So far every<strong>on</strong>e has seemed polite <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

interested in Louis getting a prospective job there, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s hoping <strong>on</strong>e of them will call him<br />

so<strong>on</strong>er versus later for an interview. He’s not looking forward to the break from his art but he is<br />

looking forward to a steady source of income, which is exactly what he needs right now. With the<br />

rent being cut in half, it should be more than affordable with around twenty five hours a week,<br />

which isn’t bad at all. And he refuses to say this flatmate thing was a good idea, but it is a little<br />

helpful. He still needs to call Liam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bitch him out. He definitely has not forgotten about his<br />

betrayal, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing shit bag is still a bold possibility.<br />

The job at a museum or gallery still sounds amazing, but he’d have to take the tube everyday there<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> back, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he needs to focus more <strong>on</strong> c<strong>on</strong>venience than interest. It sucks, it really does, but it’s<br />

life.<br />

“I have no doubt you’ll be getting a job so<strong>on</strong>, mate, you’re very good with people, even though ya<br />

hate them, really.” Niall assures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder for a quick side-hug.<br />

It’s as awkward as it is comforting. Niall can sense when Louis is tense or thinking too much into<br />

something, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> intervening is just what Louis needs. Sometimes Louis’ own mind has the<br />

capability to drive him mad.<br />

“Thanks, that’s what ‘M hoping for.”<br />

Those three cups of coffee are starting to hit full devastating effect right about now, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s<br />

are shaking, he can barely <strong>hold</strong> his cell without almost dropping it. That’s the last time he<br />

purposefully tries to overdose <strong>on</strong> caffeine, everything about that decisi<strong>on</strong> was wr<strong>on</strong>g, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

whole heartedly regretting it. He’s h<strong>on</strong>estly looking forward to going home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> crashing,<br />

hopefully he’ll be dead asleep in a matter of sec<strong>on</strong>ds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> avoid the “can we not talk about what<br />

happened earlier” c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>.<br />

People are jostling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> laughing all around them, lost in their own worlds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> enjoying the<br />

weather while they can. It’ll be <strong>on</strong>ly a matter of time before the day feels like the night, freezing<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> uncomfortable. Louis hates being <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>, unless he’s sleeping, then he likes the air to be almost<br />

frigid while he lies underneath thick blankets. It almost feels protective <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> disc<strong>on</strong>nected. The<br />

thought of sleeping makes him yawn almost instantly, because he’s shaky from the coffee but he’s<br />

also starting to feel tired again. The effects never really last l<strong>on</strong>g, <strong>on</strong>e minute you’re singing with a<br />

coffee mug then the next your wanting to pass out <strong>on</strong> the c<strong>on</strong>crete <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> take a full nap. It’s all very<br />

annoying <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s <strong>on</strong>ly because he didn’t get any fucking sleep last night. (cough, Harry, cough.)<br />

“You still g<strong>on</strong>na paint, Lou?” Niall asks, his accent str<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> snapping Louis from his mind.


“Course I am, I just need a steady source of income to keep my flat, y’know? I can’t just rely <strong>on</strong><br />

my paintings, it’s just not working out for me.”<br />

“The talent is there, for sure, but I agree, backup plan never hurt ya, plus you might actually like<br />

it.” Niall has always been so supportive, he has a painting of Louis’ hung up in his house, the <strong>on</strong>e<br />

he painted for Niall’s birthday. He claims that it makes him look more ‘cultured’ <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes<br />

Louis laugh every time.<br />

With the applicati<strong>on</strong>s knocked out, Louis <strong>on</strong>ly had <strong>on</strong>e more thing he wanted to do before heading<br />

back to the flat. He half debates asking Niall to tag al<strong>on</strong>g, but he’s sure that Niall would rather<br />

walk into traffic <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’d been out for a few hours now so he’s probably bored anyway. He<br />

walks Niall back to the truck, thankful that he’s not going to have to try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> climb into that thing<br />

when he’s already missing most of his energy. Louis want’s to go pick out the new fuchsia<br />

decorati<strong>on</strong>s for the flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the shop he normally goes to is <strong>on</strong>ly about a twenty minute walk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he could use some time to be al<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> stop thinking about everything. He’s just going to focus<br />

<strong>on</strong> this color <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the pretty things he can use to bring the theme to life.<br />

When Niall leaves, Louis can hear his truck for another mile before the engine is muffled by the<br />

chatter of lively people. He’s been coming to this shop since he’s moved into his flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the<br />

cashier knows him by name, it’s like another home. One that always empties his wallet but makes<br />

his heart heavy, so. His pace is steady the whole way there, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the more time that’s put between<br />

now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this morning, the easier it is to ignore it all together, though the task is still daunting.<br />

Walking through the small glass door is like crossing over into a different world.<br />

Of course, the variety is wide <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it brings a grin to Louis’ face in no time at all.<br />

He could spend thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s in this store, easily. It’s all full of different things. Dish sets, curtains,<br />

c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les, pictures, frames, flowers, laundry baskets, waste bins. Even has a full secti<strong>on</strong> for loti<strong>on</strong>s<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> body washes. It’s like Bed Bath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Bey<strong>on</strong>d <strong>on</strong> steroids, is the best way to describe it. He<br />

falls more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> more in love every time he comes, so he wastes no time selecting a cart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

strolling the isles. He can already tell he’s going to love the way this lights up the flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the feel<br />

it’ll put off. Maybe it’ll change Harry’s mood <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’ll suddenly be polite <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unproblematic. But<br />

colors are interpretati<strong>on</strong>s not miracle workers, so he doesn’t dwell <strong>on</strong> the thought for more than a<br />

mere sec<strong>on</strong>d. And even then it’s a mere sec<strong>on</strong>d too l<strong>on</strong>g.<br />

As he picks up items from the shelves, watching the cart fill up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pushing the guilt to the back<br />

of his mind, he tries to forget everything that happened this morning. He tries to forget the <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing<br />

he felt <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s trying to pretend like he wasn’t actually intrigued by the way he reacted. Because<br />

still, what the fuck was that all about? Anyway, he really doesn’t have the m<strong>on</strong>ey for this, but<br />

happiness carries no price tag, so it’s whatever. Plus, he’s got some financial help now, so he<br />

doesn’t need to stress so much, right? That’s most likely a lie he’s telling himself so that he’ll feel<br />

better about the whole situati<strong>on</strong>, but to each their own.<br />

He’s always catching himself w<strong>on</strong>dering why he feels the desire to c<strong>on</strong>stantly rearrange his flat<br />

based <strong>on</strong> the color he likes best that week, but he just does. And at first it was simple, it was<br />

changing up the towels <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> soaps in the bathroom. Then it extended to getting new<br />

bedsheets <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> curtains. And before he knew it, his entire flat was decorated, each individual room<br />

laced <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> covered in the pretty color <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was overwhelming. It was the most amazing feeling,<br />

his escape. When he was stressed, it seemed to dissolve the moment he walked through his fr<strong>on</strong>t<br />

door. He plans to do this till the day he dies, because life is bl<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> black <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> white if you d<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

allow yourself to feel the way each shade carries a different ambiance.<br />

He never makes a list of the colors he plans to use, because they always come <strong>on</strong> a whim. He<br />

could be walking home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, boom, inspirati<strong>on</strong>. Or he could be <strong>on</strong> the tube, in the grocery store<br />

(which is very rare, granted.) He could even be relaxing <strong>on</strong> his back deck with a cup of tea <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>


it’ll hit from nowhere.<br />

Well, he hopes that Harry likes fuchsia, because it’s going to be very prevalent for just a while.


Four<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

Louis doesn’t even want to comment <strong>on</strong> the sheer amount of purely overblown decorati<strong>on</strong>s he’s<br />

scooped up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is now struggling to carry through the thres<strong>hold</strong> of his flat. He might have just<br />

g<strong>on</strong>e a touch overboard with this particular theme, but no matter, he’s going to make it work <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it<br />

shall be especially eloquent. He’s actually pretty c<strong>on</strong>fident in the fact that this color will be his<br />

new obsessi<strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s even gotten a stylish <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> chic ph<strong>on</strong>e case to match, because he absolutely<br />

had to. It was there, essentially screaming his name as he walked by <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how could he possibly<br />

say no? And Louis might have absolutely no self c<strong>on</strong>trol when it comes to his pers<strong>on</strong>al<br />

indulgence, but anyway.<br />

It’s quite possibly going to take an impressive <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bustling few hours to get all these up before he<br />

needs a cup of tea <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe a power nap. He’s got pretty much everything he could get his<br />

grimy little h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <strong>on</strong>, with no shame whatsoever as he proudly strolled out of the store with a<br />

brilliant glow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his expressi<strong>on</strong> matching the bright fuchsia in his cart, probably. Without a<br />

sec<strong>on</strong>d thought he’s heaving the bags (that are much too full <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> could plausibly burst open at any<br />

moment now) <strong>on</strong>to the counter tops <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then running out of space, using the kitchen table as well.<br />

Before he’s registered the magnitude of his quantity, the whole kitchen is filled with bags <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> no<br />

he doesn’t regret a single purchase. He’s used up most of his ‘flat-decorati<strong>on</strong>’ savings account,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unabashedly, at that.<br />

In the moment, he’s pretty aware that the flat is missing a particular tenant, a curly <strong>on</strong>e with an<br />

annoying tendency to get under Louis’ skin without even trying. Oh, darn.<br />

On that note, he’s pulling out his cell, not at all surprised that no notificati<strong>on</strong>s are brimming <strong>on</strong> the<br />

screen, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making way to the dock to plug in the auxiliary cord. S<strong>on</strong>g after s<strong>on</strong>g, album after<br />

album, are passed by with a quick swipe of his thumb, searching high <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> low for the perfect tune<br />

to fill the flat with. He wants the musical notes to dance, to bounce off the walls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shuffle al<strong>on</strong>g<br />

the floorboards, he want’s to hear <strong>on</strong>ly the lyrics <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> no thoughts, disc<strong>on</strong>nect <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lose himself in<br />

the feel, in the vivd ambiance. The most important part of this whole experience is making sure<br />

that its thoroughly enjoyable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not at all tedious or forced. It should flow with the easiness of an<br />

immaculate <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unstirred creek, time shouldn’t be a c<strong>on</strong>cept, minutes melting into <strong>on</strong>e another. He<br />

avoids any music that’s just too uppity or maybe too slow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> depressing, finally deciding <strong>on</strong> a<br />

classic ‘House of the Rising Sun,’ by The Animals, figuring that it will be superb for the task at<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>.<br />

So, he’s got quite the impressive list. A new rubbage bin, new curtains, new dish sets, new h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

soaps, bath towels, a shower curtain, a new toothbrush. Adding also; a new bed set, bathrobe,<br />

slippers, loti<strong>on</strong>s, door mats, decorative pillows, lampshades, potted plants, picture frames, even a<br />

new loofa.<br />

His most abundant? C<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les, so, so many c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les. They’re all of similar color (of course) but they<br />

come in a few different scents. There is <strong>on</strong>e that smells of drag<strong>on</strong>fruit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> makes his insides giddy<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> another that’s labelled “daydreams” but actually just smells like roses <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a mere hint of<br />

cherry blossom. He may or may not have a c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le obsessi<strong>on</strong>, but it’s not like it’s hurting any<strong>on</strong>e<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if he wants his flat to smell like a fruit garden then he will, anyhoo.<br />

As lavender accessories are removed, getting a well deserved appreciati<strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the new color is<br />

taking it’s place, Louis can’t help but w<strong>on</strong>der what the hell Harry will think. He’s well aware that<br />

this isn’t c<strong>on</strong>sidered normal -he hates that word- behavior, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not every<strong>on</strong>e is so perceptive in


underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing his motives behind the c<strong>on</strong>stant change of scenery. But Harry will just have to deal<br />

with it, because Louis was here first. And truthfully, this is what keeps Louis sane <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if he isn’t<br />

able to redecorate when he so desires he might just explode <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry will likely be right in the<br />

range of shrapnel, so he’s just thinking ahead <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> being resp<strong>on</strong>sible. Right.<br />

Which for some reas<strong>on</strong> causes his brain to shift just a bit to another topic at h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, which includes a<br />

nosey step brother who he still is very much upset with, actually. Not <strong>on</strong>ly that Liam decided he<br />

was going to take matters into his own precious, manicured h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, but the fact that he hasn’t even<br />

called to discuss the whole matter with Louis. Who, surprise, is right in the middle of this <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if<br />

Liam want’s to play wrecking ball with his life then he should probably check <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> see what type<br />

of destructi<strong>on</strong> he’s left behind. Liam almost always comes directly to Louis’ house after he says<br />

something to their dad that he knows he shouldn’t have, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the course is like clockwork; Liam<br />

will apologize, Louis will be mad, Liam w<strong>on</strong>’t cease <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then Louis will give in. It happens just<br />

like that, every single time. Except for now, when Liam has offically overstepped his boundaries<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe he’s scared of Louis’ wrath, which is probably smart. Louis’ still pissed.<br />

And the funny thing is, Liam has always had it pretty easy. Well, of course dealing with the<br />

divorce of his parents was difficult but he said he was <strong>on</strong>ly around four years old at the time <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

remembers jack shit about the whole process. Then, his mum married Louis’ father <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> everything<br />

fell into place, they were the happiest of families. Well, apart from a specific fringe-haired, paint<br />

covered, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wide eyed kid.<br />

Louis was just different. His father hated it. Hated that Louis’ teachers would send home notes<br />

about how poorly he was doing in class, ignoring the praise from his art teacher because it wasn’t<br />

an ‘academic’ class, so it didn’t matter. He would scream at Louis until he was red in the face,<br />

resembling a beat, asking why Louis didn’t bother to put forth any effort into his oh-so-important<br />

educati<strong>on</strong>. And Louis didn’t fail for lack of trying, he failed for lack of underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing. The words<br />

just didn’t c<strong>on</strong>nect in his head, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the semantics just weren’t there. He really couldn’t care less<br />

about photosynthesis, or trig<strong>on</strong>ometry, or the way the plates in the earth collie <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> form volcanoes.<br />

But, Liam was the apple of (step) daddy’s eye. He was the golden child <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> got to <strong>hold</strong> all the<br />

bragging rights. He was smart, he had his head in the right place, he wanted to be just like their<br />

dad. And Liam is actually two years younger than Louis, which made the whole situati<strong>on</strong> more<br />

embarrassing. Because not <strong>on</strong>ly was he incomparable to his baby brother, he wasn’t as smart as<br />

him, either. Louis grew up feeling like he was in the c<strong>on</strong>stant shadow of some<strong>on</strong>e who was even<br />

shorter than he was, yet towered him in every aspect of the word. It was splendid.<br />

It makes no difference anymore, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis just needs to come to terms with the present day, not<br />

lingering <strong>on</strong> the past l<strong>on</strong>g enough to drive him mad.<br />

On a different, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> happier, note, the flat is starting to come together. He's just got the bathroom<br />

left <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it will be good to go. He’s pulling the rings from the lavender shower curtain, folding it<br />

into the closet. His mind is brining back unwelcome memories, he’s now thinking about this<br />

morning (always thinking), about the embarrassment that seemed to drench his body, leaving him<br />

st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in a puddle of chagrin, reminiscing in the destituti<strong>on</strong> of his own self c<strong>on</strong>fidence. That was<br />

such a fun time, really, he just wants to relive it again <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again. And maybe he’s so bitter about<br />

his lack of c<strong>on</strong>trol that it makes his body so tense that he’s going to keep thinking about it until it<br />

finally becomes too much <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he has no choice but c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>tati<strong>on</strong>. He’s desperately hoping it<br />

w<strong>on</strong>’t come to that.<br />

His mind is flip flopping around, lingering <strong>on</strong> Liam, then lingering <strong>on</strong> the events of the early<br />

morning, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wasn’t this supposed to be a calming experience?<br />

He’s redirecting his mind, away from Liam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> away from Harry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> those penetrating eyes.<br />

Now, it’s time to do a walk through of the flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hope that his annoyed thoughts aren’t enough


to taint the way he feels or this whole thing will be a disaster. The color isn’t as relaxing as he had<br />

originally thought when he saw it mixed into the sunrise, but makes up for it by exuding this kind<br />

of c<strong>on</strong>trolled energy into the air. It’s not str<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s not overly weak, either, just perfectly right<br />

in the middle of it all. He actually loves it a lot, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the smile <strong>on</strong> his face his starting to make his<br />

cheeks hurt. The decorative pillows look in-place, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s times like this he’s glad he purchased<br />

an all white couch, with the way it’s been versatile with all his ever-changing themes, despite his<br />

inner m<strong>on</strong>ologue telling him that was the furthest thing from a good idea. He really needs to stop<br />

doubting himself, instinct doesn’t get the credit it deserves.<br />

For some reas<strong>on</strong>, Louis knows that this flat will always be perceived as feminine by other people,<br />

but to him, colors aren’t gender specific. You can be a brawny man who lifts logs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> downs a<br />

draft beer in a millisec<strong>on</strong>d, but if you want to wear pink then you should wear pink without<br />

hesitati<strong>on</strong>. And it’s just that simple.<br />

A color is what you see when an object reflects or emits light, it doesn’t say ‘this is for girls, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

this is for boys.’ No, it’s just not the way it should work. And really, any way that you see color is<br />

because of the way the world around you sees that color. So d<strong>on</strong>’t see it, but rather feel it. And<br />

Louis is the king of cheesy thoughts. Oh well, it makes sense in his head.<br />

But, if he must so say himself, this entire flat is looking pretty damn amazing, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> everything<br />

matches <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it feel’s right in his b<strong>on</strong>es, st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in the middle of his living room with folded arms,<br />

smiling. It feels like vigor, life. It feels like effervescence <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> serenity all at the same time. And if<br />

harm<strong>on</strong>ious vitalities were all rolled up in a single bundle it would be this particular flat. Satisfied<br />

is an understatement, he is dignified.<br />

Then he hears the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le jiggling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> suddenly all good things must come to an end.<br />

Harry always enters when he’s least expecting him to, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> right now he just needed to me<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>er in<br />

the soft energy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> perhaps bathe in his own self glory. Fucking Harry.<br />

His boots hit with loud thunks, heavy soles <strong>on</strong> unscathed hardwood floors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ cringing.<br />

He’s still wearing that tattered leather jacket, still with those black pants that are surely cutting off<br />

his circulati<strong>on</strong>. And maybe that’s why he stumbles around, because he can’t feel his legs,<br />

(interesting.) His shirt is frayed with a lightened, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost unreadable, ACDC logo <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’<br />

blessed that Harry at least has good taste in music. Of course, his definable curls are sloppily<br />

laying in a nest <strong>on</strong> his head <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this boy is getting a brush for Christmas in his stocking. Louis’<br />

never seen some<strong>on</strong>e with such a blatant disregard for their own physical appearance yet have so<br />

much c<strong>on</strong>fidence that he’s basically soaked in c<strong>on</strong>ceit so heavily it’s dripping off of his skin. He’s<br />

doing a great job at stumping Louis’ automatic judgement.<br />

“Well, look who decided to come home,” Harry smiles, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sight is undoubtably pretty but it’s<br />

the teasing undert<strong>on</strong>es that are digging at Louis’ inner peace. “Couldn’t avoid me forever, then?”<br />

“I wan’t trying to avoid you.” Louis lies, he’s never been a good liar <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way Harry’s smile<br />

widens he’s very aware of that precise fact. He’s so aggravating.<br />

“You ran out of the flat so fast, that you were a little blur of hair <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> terror, what was that all<br />

about? Not even a goodbye? Rude.” Harry fake-pouts, poking his lower lip out with what’s<br />

presumably an attempt at puppy dog eyes.<br />

“I had somewhere to be.”<br />

“Right, okay. I see you’ve been quite busy today, got tired of purple, going for pink instead, I get<br />

it.” Harry glances around the flat, oblivious to the hard <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unfaltering glare Louis has currently<br />

resting <strong>on</strong> his face.


“It was lavender, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this is called fuchsia.” Louis bites back, it comes off harsher than he<br />

expected it to, but Harry just blinks at him, brows nit in a ‘is that supposed to be comm<strong>on</strong><br />

knowledge?’ type of way.<br />

The c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> is momentarily muted, Harry shrugging off his jacket as he walks into the<br />

kitchen, his boots still thumping loudly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s starting to echo in the c<strong>on</strong>fines of Louis’ mind. It’s<br />

<strong>on</strong>ly when Harry starts opening the cabinets, that Louis remembers he still hasn’t g<strong>on</strong>e to the<br />

grocery, it’s just a little embarrassing. Harry looks fully offended at the fact that there is no food<br />

present, a real frown set <strong>on</strong> his face when he looks back up at Louis, who has successfully averted<br />

his eyes to his lap, where he’s playing idly with his fingers.<br />

“What have you been eating? This place is cleaned out.”<br />

“I eat out.” Louis shrugs, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it seems that earns a repressed laugh from Harry, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t<br />

help the deadpan expressi<strong>on</strong> that’s fallen <strong>on</strong>to his face. “D<strong>on</strong>’t tell me, you’re <strong>on</strong>e of those twentysomething<br />

year olds with the sense of humor akin to a middle schooler, is that right?”<br />

“Actually, I d<strong>on</strong>’t turn twenty until February, so.” Harry replies easily, moving to the fridge.<br />

Louis’ in a slight shock, Harry looks much older than nineteen years old, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s putting a five<br />

year age difference between them, it almost feels like Louis is babysitting him, almost.<br />

“Sorry, I d<strong>on</strong>’t really know much about you.” Louis shrugs, trying to hide the surprise in his<br />

voice. It’s just that Harry does not look like he’s that young, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at the same time, now that he’s<br />

said it, he kind of.. does? It’s odd. “I have half a mind to interrogate you a bit, take you up <strong>on</strong> that<br />

offer from last night.”<br />

“Ask me anything you want, just d<strong>on</strong>’t be too invasive.” Harry says, his voice completely serious<br />

but his eyes are <strong>hold</strong>ing humor like a vice. He’s got half a pickle hanging from his mouth that’s<br />

muffling his words a bit.<br />

“Okay,” Louis thinks, sauntering over to the rest his elbows <strong>on</strong> the kitchen counter, opposite side<br />

of Harry. “What’s your last name? Are you going to university? Do you have any siblings?” -<br />

Louis’ sure he does by means of Harry’s argumentative tendencies- “Why did you decide to move<br />

out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> into a flat with some<strong>on</strong>e you barely know?”<br />

Harry’s eyes widen just for a sec<strong>on</strong>d, then wiping his face into complete neutrality, “Styles, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

no, I’m not. I have a <strong>on</strong>e sister, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> because I was tired of living at home, my parents are bores.”<br />

He answers without missing a beat, fighting off a slight smile, “Do I get to ask you things, too?”<br />

Louis sturdies his posture, sitting straight up, a small squint in his eyes as he prepares, “Go for it.”<br />

“Why do you like to decorate your flat with r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om colors?” Harry asks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> no, Louis was not<br />

expecting that. He was expecting similar questi<strong>on</strong>s to his own, the starter <strong>on</strong>es that give off the<br />

necessary facts, but Harry just goes straight to the pers<strong>on</strong>ality aspect, because of course he does.<br />

“Uh,” Louis blinks, running his t<strong>on</strong>gue over the surface of his teeth, “I like the way they make me<br />

feel.”<br />

“How does p-“ Harry coughs, “I mean fuchsia, how does fuchsia make you feel?” He looks equal<br />

parts humored <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> curious, leaning over the counter with pickle-laced breath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now Louis’<br />

craving a pickle.<br />

“It’s hard to explain, I mean- like, a calm energy? It was in the sunrise this morning, I just liked it.”<br />

Louis half explains, opting not to go too deep into it, because Harry would most likely get bored,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s never a good way to start an interrogati<strong>on</strong>.


“So, you just put all this stuff up because you liked it when you saw it in a sunrise?”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t need your judgement, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I do it quite often, so you should probably get used to it.” Louis<br />

replies, cocking his head to the side, “Any other questi<strong>on</strong>s?” He’s tired of people thinking this<br />

whole c<strong>on</strong>cept is <strong>on</strong>ly surface deep, when it’s so much more to him, but Harry doesn’t underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

that yet.<br />

“Yeah,” Harry pauses, chewing <strong>on</strong> the inside of his cheek, “Answer your own questi<strong>on</strong>s; last<br />

name, university or no, siblings, why you wanted a flatmate when it’s obvious you couldn't care<br />

less about the company of people.” Louis can hear the toe of Harry’s boot tapping <strong>on</strong> the tile in<br />

the kitchen, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s trying to <strong>hold</strong> eye c<strong>on</strong>tact, resisting the urge to look down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> study the ink<br />

that’s swirled <strong>on</strong>to Harry’s skin, he’s still <strong>on</strong>e hundred percent intrigued by those tattoos.<br />

“Tomlins<strong>on</strong>, no, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I have <strong>on</strong>e step brother. I d<strong>on</strong>’t want a flatmate but my father got me <strong>on</strong>e to<br />

help with the bills <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rent.” Louis answers, trying to make the end story sound less pathetic that it<br />

really is. He h<strong>on</strong>estly doesn’t want to say ‘I’m broke <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this was my <strong>on</strong>ly opti<strong>on</strong> after I was <strong>on</strong><br />

the verge of evicti<strong>on</strong>.’<br />

“Your dad?” Harry says, his voice coated in c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong>, “When I was told about the flat, my dad<br />

said his co-worker didn’t menti<strong>on</strong> a name or relati<strong>on</strong>. Just figured he had heard about it through<br />

the vine.” Harry trails off, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it hurts to hear, really. He’s used to it, but it still hurts just as much.<br />

His father was embarrassed by the fact that Louis is his s<strong>on</strong>, so embarrassed that he didn’t even<br />

menti<strong>on</strong> it, avoided it, more like.<br />

It comes as no surprise, his dad has never really been <strong>on</strong>e to brag about Louis in the slightest <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

has tried to forget he’s even around <strong>on</strong> several occasi<strong>on</strong>s. Harry must’ve picked up <strong>on</strong> the mood<br />

shift, changing the subject before Louis has a chance to reply. His t<strong>on</strong>e is light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> airy, joking, as<br />

usual, “How old are you?”<br />

“Twenty four, kid.” Louis smiles, choosing not to dwell <strong>on</strong> the thought of his father, he hates him<br />

just as much. “So, I’m your senior-“<br />

“That doesn’t make you the boss,” Harry <strong>hold</strong>s up his index, that ever present smirk still lingering<br />

<strong>on</strong> the corners of his lips, “So d<strong>on</strong>’t even think about it. And, I’m not a kid, I was a legal adult<br />

almost two years ago.”<br />

“You almost made an ass eating joke earlier today, that seems pretty childish to me.” Louis shrugs,<br />

watching Harry’s smile deepen even more. Why the fuck?<br />

“I didn’t say ‘ass’ eating specifically, but.” Harry presses his lips together, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shit, Louis forgot<br />

Harry has no idea who he is, or his sexuality, which he’s just bluntly admitted to. It was an<br />

accident, really, but all Louis’ friends know so it’s not like he tries to hide it, usually. Eh, he was<br />

going to find out so<strong>on</strong>er or later, right? Might as well get it <strong>on</strong> the table <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get it out of the way.<br />

“Your preferences match mine, that’s nice to know.” Harry slides in, n<strong>on</strong>chalantly.<br />

And the sentence makes Louis burst into a fit of laughter, which Harry was not expecting, because<br />

this is all so perfect. His father has never known his sexuality, oblivious to the fact that, yes, Louis<br />

likes dick, (oops). He was probably inept <strong>on</strong> making sure that Louis’ new flatmate wasn’t a<br />

female, as to prevent any more distracti<strong>on</strong>s. Which made it so much funnier, because he’s gay, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his flatmate likes men, too. Hah. Not at all implying there’s any sexual attracti<strong>on</strong>, he’s not<br />

admitting to anything thanks, but it’s just the sheer thought that his father was trying to be sneaky<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> failed miserably. So, fuck your logic, dad.<br />

“I need to go grocery shopping,” Louis comments, moving from his place by the counter, “you’re<br />

welcome to join, if you please.” He offers, halting in place, waiting for Harry’s answer.


“As much as I’d love to go to the grocery store, I’ll have to decline, I do have other plans I am<br />

sadly obliged to attend.” He says, light as air, running a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> though that disarray of chestnut<br />

brown, “But here,” He’s pulling a brown leather wallet, sliding the plastic card across the counter,<br />

“You can put it <strong>on</strong> me, since you’ve already spent so much <strong>on</strong> making our home so pretty.”<br />

And just like that, the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> is over, Harry slipping <strong>on</strong> his jacket. Louis doesn’t know how<br />

to say thank you, but he doesn’t get the chance before the door is closed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s g<strong>on</strong>e, quick<br />

as that. Well. He really just gave Louis his credit card <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then left. Who the actual fuck is Harry<br />

Styles?<br />

This gives him a quick moment in time to just try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> comprehend the situati<strong>on</strong> before him.<br />

Firstly, to make it absolutely clear, Louis does not -repeat- not want flatmate. He appreciates<br />

privacy in the highest <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> most precise form of the word <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry, though not intrusive, is just<br />

always there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ simply not used to that. He’s not used to that at all. He’s not used to the<br />

witty comebacks, or the ‘I’m flirting, kind of, sort of, but in this innocent way that yields the belief<br />

I do this all the time.’ And Harry is just so fucking c<strong>on</strong>fident. The way he <strong>hold</strong>s himself, is like<br />

he’s not really going for that pers<strong>on</strong>a but it sheaths him anyway. It’s almost like Harry gets his<br />

distinct charisma from something other than his physical appearance, though his presentati<strong>on</strong> is,<br />

well, nicely assembled. Louis just shrugs, he’s known the kid for a day, he’s not going to try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

dissect his pers<strong>on</strong>ality, well, not yet, for that matter.<br />

And there’s really no reas<strong>on</strong> to hate this whole flatmate thing, other than he’s a pris<strong>on</strong>er to his<br />

clothing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> misses his nude galavants, but he really misses having this place all to himself, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

maybe he just doesn’t know Harry enough yet. He’s still not a hundred percent sure about that.<br />

Either way, Louis is procrastinating this trip to the grocery like it’s his oblivi<strong>on</strong> (he hates shopping<br />

when it doesn’t involve fine home furnishings, he’s not sorry) it’s always so <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> in there, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

not feeling that right this sec<strong>on</strong>d. But, alas, it shall be the inevitable trip <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s doing nothing but<br />

wasting time. Plus, he’s got Harry’s card, so he can see the bright future of eating cereal that<br />

doesn’t taste like cardboard, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fruit that’s actually crisp <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> doesn’t squash under your touch<br />

after being seized from the discount secti<strong>on</strong>, yes they have those, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis frequents them. It’s<br />

bound to feel nice coming home with more than <strong>on</strong>e bag of sustainable goods that he w<strong>on</strong>’t have<br />

to prol<strong>on</strong>g for weeks at a time, he’s going to eat like an average pers<strong>on</strong> instead of a mouse, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s<br />

a lovely thought. Thank you, Harry, you’re just a peach.<br />

And going to the grocery makes him feel very adult which is nice for a few hours, so he does a<br />

quick stretch, quite dramatically, before tucking away the card <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heading towards the door,<br />

ready to procure an abundant amount of precious cuisines. Exciting.<br />

*****<br />

“Uh, yeah, I’m not so sure about that, maybe just the basics?” Niall vocally shrugs, being<br />

absolutely no help at all, thanks. Louis’ already got the most basics of food, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not at all knowing<br />

what else to get. He doesn’t know what Harry likes to eat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> since he is paying, it’s <strong>on</strong>ly nice to<br />

make sure the load is in his favor. Louis’ just thoughtful like that.<br />

“I mean, what would you like to eat? I need ideas.”<br />

“I eat everything, I can’t even believe you asked me that, Louis, d’you know me at all?”


“Fuck,” Louis’ st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing right there in the middle of the junk food isle, <strong>hold</strong>ing a box of cupcakes<br />

in <strong>on</strong>e h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Oreo’s in the other, his ph<strong>on</strong>e pressed tightly between his cheek <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shoulder.<br />

“He’s pretty fit, d<strong>on</strong>’t know if he eats any junk food, maybe he’s <strong>on</strong>e of those health people, you<br />

know, like counts their calories <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shit?”<br />

He’s not sure what got him in this positi<strong>on</strong>, so c<strong>on</strong>fused <strong>on</strong> what to buy that he’s actually called<br />

Niall in a desperate plea of help. And maybe it looks less embarrassing to be c<strong>on</strong>templating<br />

everything you put in your cart when you’re <strong>on</strong> the ph<strong>on</strong>e, it’s quite possibly a mixture of both.<br />

“Get a little of both, mate. Get some of those indulgent, guilt foods <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then some apples or<br />

something, he like bananas?”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t fucking know, Niall, how am I supposed to know if he likes bananas? He’s <strong>on</strong>ly eaten a<br />

pickle since I’ve known him.” Louis resp<strong>on</strong>ds, exasperated, he’s been here for an hour already<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not making much leeway at all. He needs to get Harry’s ph<strong>on</strong>e number, that way all this<br />

could be avoided <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry could’ve just texted him a list or something. Louis gives up, throwing<br />

both things in the cart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> strolling <strong>on</strong> to the fruits, hoping a wide variety will be the answer to all<br />

his problems.<br />

“Hey! Lose the sass, Tomlins<strong>on</strong>, I’m doing a service, you know I was right in the middle of a<br />

movie when you called me?” Niall asks, his voice hurt but as l<strong>on</strong>g as Louis’ known him, its not<br />

even a little bit sincere.<br />

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my good friend, it’s time to sacrifice a good cinema<br />

for the people who need you, Niall.” Louis replies, sounding wholly dramatic, a bit over the top,<br />

but Niall laughs <strong>on</strong> the other line. He can’t just simply giggle, he always laughs like a thundering<br />

chortle, sometimes over the stupidest things.<br />

Louis listens to the sound of laughter with a quirked eyebrow, picking up a few apples, pears,<br />

avocados (people eat those a lot, right?) peaches, strawberries <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a few oranges. This way, if<br />

Harry doesn’t eat them he can always use most of them for smoothies. He doesn’t even drink<br />

smoothies, what a mess. “So, what masterpiece were you watching that I interrupted?”<br />

“The Titanic.”<br />

“You were watching The Titanic al<strong>on</strong>e?” Louis <strong>hold</strong>s back a laugh, taking the cart over to the<br />

canned goods secti<strong>on</strong>, “Just needed a good cry?”<br />

“Le<strong>on</strong>ardo DiCaprio gives me life.”<br />

“Ah.” There’s so many canned goods, he's awkwardly overwhelmed, “You should check out<br />

Shutter Isl<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, it’s pretty good, he’s in that, too.”<br />

“Seen it, it gave me the creeps <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I doubted my entire existence for like, a whole week, maybe<br />

more. D<strong>on</strong>’t want to relive the trauma.” Louis nods al<strong>on</strong>g, forgetting that Niall can’t actually see<br />

him while he eyes the foods. Maybe he should get stuff for pasta? Ramen noodles are a good goto,<br />

maybe some ground beef for burgers, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it also works for tacos, he’s being diverse, how<br />

smart.<br />

Before l<strong>on</strong>g, he’s got the entire cart full of a t<strong>on</strong> of different foods, so much that Harry is bound to<br />

like at least half of what’s in this cart. He’s thankful for the c<strong>on</strong>stant chatter in his ear from Niall’s<br />

chipper self, it actually made the whole experience go by quicker than he had originally thought.<br />

Got Niall <strong>on</strong> a rant about how movies never compare to the book <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> why The Great Gatsby<br />

wasn’t an excepti<strong>on</strong> to that, delving deeper into the DiCaprio obsessi<strong>on</strong> that Louis didn’t even<br />

know he had. As each item is scanned, Louis can’t help but feel guilty at the rising cost, because


it’s definitely getting up there, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s a lot of fucking m<strong>on</strong>ey to spend <strong>on</strong> food <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s used to<br />

paying a fourth of this.<br />

When the total tops off at almost a hundred <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> seventy pounds, the guilt eats him alive, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he<br />

can’t do it. So, he pulls out his own card, asking the cashier if she can split it between two forms<br />

of payment. Because he’s not going to do that, he can’t do that, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it almost feels good that Louis<br />

could c<strong>on</strong>tribute, even if it means that he could possibly be in the negatives from this trip al<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

“Why’d you split the payment?” Niall asks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> obviously pulling the speaker away was not<br />

enough to keep Niall from hearing him. Boy hears like a fucking dolphin.<br />

“Because it was a shit t<strong>on</strong> of m<strong>on</strong>ey.” Louis resp<strong>on</strong>ds, like it was the most obvious thing in the<br />

world.<br />

“Louis, if he gave you his card with no questi<strong>on</strong>s, it means he’s got more than enough <strong>on</strong> there for<br />

groceries, y’know? You’re paranoid.”<br />

“It’s not that I d<strong>on</strong>’t think he has enough <strong>on</strong> here, his watch looks like it costs more than a beach<br />

house, it’s just that it doesn’t feel fair. We’re supposed to be splitting things, not paying for them<br />

al<strong>on</strong>e, it’s all in the unwritten flatmate rulebook.” Louis bites his lip, watching the cashier slide his<br />

card <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> praying to the divine that it doesn’t decline. When she wordlessly h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s it back, a flood<br />

of relief washes over him, at least he’s not completely broke.<br />

“You gotta invite me over <strong>on</strong>e night this week, he better not try to weasel his way into the best<br />

friend slot, because it’s well taken.” Niall warns, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis doesn’t stop the roll of his eyes, what<br />

an odd thing to say. “Wanna make sure he’s a good suitor, y’know, make sure he’s not going to<br />

be detrimental.”<br />

“He’s a kid, Niall, couldn’t be detrimental to me even if he tried. Plus, it doesn’t proper matter, my<br />

father is expecting me to make this work, I’m sure he’ll be less than pleased if I kicked out the<br />

pers<strong>on</strong> he sent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> brought in some<strong>on</strong>e else.”<br />

He can hear Niall’s scoff through the line, “Since when d’ya care what pleases your dad?”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t,” Louis argues, thinking about the struggle of getting everything into the flat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hoping<br />

that Harry is there to lend a helping h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, “I just d<strong>on</strong>’t care to listen to him bitch about it, is all.”<br />

“Okay, I underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that.”<br />

“Good, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I should’ve probably thought this through.” Louis sighs, feeling like the stupidest,<br />

most foolish pers<strong>on</strong> alive. “I have the largest load of groceries <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> guess what I d<strong>on</strong>’t have?”<br />

Louis pauses for good measure, “A fucking car, Niall, d<strong>on</strong>’t have a fucking car to get it back to<br />

the flat.”<br />

“Fuck, mate.” Niall’s voice deflates, “Truck is in the shop, getting new tires, they w<strong>on</strong>’t be <strong>on</strong> for<br />

about an hour or so.”<br />

“Niall,” Louis whines, “They’ll perish by then.”<br />

And an idea pokes it’s way in, but it’s absurd <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a stretch, the thought makes his stomach<br />

instantly sour. “Call a cab or something, I’m sure they’ll get you there in time.” Niall offers, but<br />

the wait times are never c<strong>on</strong>sistent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis is not going to let all the food go to waste, so he<br />

mutters the next sentence as urgent but as polite as he can, “I’m g<strong>on</strong>na let you go, mate, I’ll call<br />

you when I get back to the flat, yeah?”<br />

“Yeah, okay, call me if you have any trouble.” Niall says, before the call is ended <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he


automatically begins dialing his father’s number. He really doesn’t want to call him, in fact, it’s the<br />

last thing in the world he wants to do right now (or ever.) But apart from waiting some unknown<br />

amount of time, this is the next best opti<strong>on</strong>. The ph<strong>on</strong>e rings a few times, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> right before Louis<br />

disc<strong>on</strong>nects, his father’s voice answers, surprised <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bored at the same time, is that even<br />

possible?<br />

“Louis, what do you need?” He’s always so polite, very endearing.<br />

“Do you have Harry’s number?”<br />

“Who?”<br />

Frustrati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> disbelief makes Louis’ face hot, “He’s the flatmate you arranged, how do you not<br />

know his name?” Louis’ voice is full <strong>on</strong> irritated <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> annoyed, but h<strong>on</strong>estly, how could he not<br />

know?<br />

“Oh, right, sorry,” The ph<strong>on</strong>e shuffles, “I’m at work now, so I’ll just ask his father. And speaking<br />

of jobs,” Louis takes a shallow breath, resting a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> his hip, because here it comes, “Have<br />

you gotten <strong>on</strong>e yet?”<br />

“I’ve been applying all day, actually, it doesn’t happen that quickly.” He answers, t<strong>on</strong>e bitter. His<br />

father doesn’t reply, but he can hear a faint talking in the background, he hopes that it’s Harry’s<br />

dad he’s talking to, Louis’ in a bit of a rush.<br />

“Okay, I’ll text you his c<strong>on</strong>tact info.” Is all he says, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then the line goes silent. Because he hung<br />

up <strong>on</strong> him, just like that. Rude. Louis <strong>hold</strong>s his ph<strong>on</strong>e out, expectantly, waiting for the text to<br />

come through. It’s a little unsettling that his father knew next to nothing about Harry before he<br />

arranged him to come live with his own s<strong>on</strong>, he didn’t even know his name, for fucks sake. Who<br />

picks a r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om pers<strong>on</strong> without as much as prior knowledge to live with some<strong>on</strong>e in their family?<br />

Well, his dad, apparently. Which just says enough about his character, how caring of him, right?<br />

Right.<br />

As so<strong>on</strong> as the text comes, Louis clicks the number, <strong>hold</strong>ing the ph<strong>on</strong>e up to his ear. It rings, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

rings, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then rings some more before going to automatic voicemail. Fucking great. He calls <strong>on</strong>ce<br />

more, with a faint cross of his fingers, pleading that Harry answers his damn ph<strong>on</strong>e call. Luckily,<br />

there’s a voice <strong>on</strong> the other line that doesn’t match the robot voicemail, but it doesn’t match<br />

Harry’s either, “Hello?”<br />

“Uh, is Harry there?” Louis asks, a bit c<strong>on</strong>fused, because did his father send the wr<strong>on</strong>g number by<br />

accident? He doesn’t hear the voice again, but there's muffled talking in the background. A couple<br />

minutes pass, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis is tapping his foot impatiently, blinking too fast out of irritati<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“Hello?” And this time it’s a familiar voice, bless.<br />

“Harry, it’s Louis.”<br />

“Oh,” He answers, sounding taken back. His voice sounds rough <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tired, breathy, it’s a little<br />

uncomfortable. “Why’d you call?”<br />

“Because I need a favor, I just got d<strong>on</strong>e buying the groceries, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, well, I d<strong>on</strong>’t have a way to get<br />

them home.” It’s embarrassing to say, because what twenty four year old doesn’t own a fucking<br />

car?”<br />

“Your car maybe? How did you get there?”<br />

“I walked.”


“Why?”<br />

“Because I wanted to get some fresh air, why do you think? I d<strong>on</strong>’t have a car, dipshit.” He snaps,<br />

instantly regretting the venom in his words, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, not even for a<br />

moment.<br />

“Uh, okay, you d<strong>on</strong>’t have another way home?”<br />

“If I did, I wouldn’t be calling you right now.”<br />

“Alright,” Harry sighs -more shuffling- “you’re at the grocery store that’s like, ten minutes from<br />

the flat, right?”<br />

“That’s the <strong>on</strong>e.” Louis says <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s calmer this time, his t<strong>on</strong>e c<strong>on</strong>trolled, he always seems to be<br />

<strong>on</strong> edge right after talking to his father, as brief as the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> may be. He just has this way of<br />

making Louis’ entire mood shift, it’s a gift, really.<br />

“Okay, I’ll be there in twenty five minutes.” He doesn’t sound happy at all that he has to stop<br />

doing whatever he was doing, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> judging by the way his voice is worn out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he seems out of<br />

breath, Louis really doesn’t want to know what he was doing. He’s just going to pretend that<br />

Harry was hiking, it makes the situati<strong>on</strong> seem less.. awkward. But anyway.<br />

“Thanks.”<br />

Harry murmurs a quick “You’re welcome,” before his focus is switched to the pers<strong>on</strong> who<br />

answered the ph<strong>on</strong>e first. He can hear a brief dialogue, the exchange sounding nothing but irked,<br />

before Harry finally hangs up.<br />

He saunters over to the bench, taking his cart with him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> opting to not think about what just<br />

happened <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how he’s not even going to entertain the thought of ever bringing it up to Harry<br />

after this is all over. He just wants to get home, unpack the groceries <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> take a relaxing bath. It<br />

brings a small smile to his face when he remembers how pretty the flat looks, he forgot that he’d<br />

just recently redecorated the entire thing. And today was very eventful, job applicati<strong>on</strong>s, shopping<br />

for decorati<strong>on</strong>s, then the actual decorating itself, a l<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> exasperating trip to the grocery store<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a graceless interrupti<strong>on</strong> of Harry hiking with his dude friend.<br />

Okay, he really needs that hot bath.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

So, ah, I'm so sorry this story is off to a bit of a slow start. I thoroughly promise it will<br />

get more interesting with all those fun twists <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> turns. Feel free to leave a comment<br />

<strong>on</strong> what you think so far, it would be majorly appreciated <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I am so very grateful of<br />

every<strong>on</strong>e reading, <str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> amazing.<br />

Also; if you have any questi<strong>on</strong>s/comments please feel free to come visit me <strong>on</strong> tumblr<br />

as subharrybless (I'm friendly, I can assure you.)<br />

I plan to update this at LEAST <strong>on</strong>ce a week, hopefully more often than that.


Five<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

It’s fucking <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>. No, not <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>, it’s positively frigid <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis wants to take Harry’s face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

scrape it against the c<strong>on</strong>crete. Because not <strong>on</strong>ly was he supposed to be here an hour ago, he is<br />

purposefully avoiding all of Louis' calls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> texts <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it's so fucking annoying that Louis is<br />

steaming. Funny, that, because he can see his breath as it leaves in angry pants from his lungs, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he’s trying with everything he has to keep his heat pent up so he doesn’t catch pneum<strong>on</strong>ia. The<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> is devouring his skin, leaving the tips of his fingers numb. People, always so pretentious <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

judgmental, are walking by, giving him that look. The look that says, ‘why is this guy just sitting<br />

here with a fuck t<strong>on</strong> of groceries, al<strong>on</strong>e?’ So, naturally, he’s returning it with a friendly glare that<br />

says nothing less than ‘mind your own fucking business, thanks.’<br />

Cars are passing by, seamlessly taunting him when n<strong>on</strong>e of them c<strong>on</strong>tain a curly haired lad that<br />

may or may not be the victim of a serious ass-chewing as so<strong>on</strong> as the opportunity arises.<br />

Another twenty minutes pass <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ jaw is beginning to ache from how tightly he’s clenching<br />

his teeth. His ph<strong>on</strong>e battery is bordering its last <strong>on</strong>e percent, hanging <strong>on</strong> for dear life. And being<br />

the idiot that Louis undoubtably is, he uses it to call Harry <strong>on</strong>e last time. Of course, of fucking<br />

course the line goes straight to voicemail <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then cuts off completely, Louis coming face to face<br />

with a black screen. And fuck, Louis is livid. So livid, in fact, that he gives not <strong>on</strong>e single fuck as<br />

he starts hauling the cart down the sidewalk. He’ll bring it back tomorrow, but in no way is he<br />

about to sit here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> let him (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the food) freeze over. He looks about as shady as they come,<br />

looking all around to make sure a worker isn’t present to call him out <strong>on</strong> his theft as he strolls<br />

away.<br />

When he makes it about two hundred feet away from the store he deems himself safe, letting<br />

down his guard <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hoping there’s not a hefty pris<strong>on</strong> sentence that comes al<strong>on</strong>g with thieving a<br />

shopping cart. It makes him feel better to say that he’s not stealing it, per-se, but rather he’s taking<br />

it for a joyride.<br />

He’s muttering some very, very unpleasant things about Harry not-so-quietly as he walks as fast as<br />

he can while simultaneously freezing his nards off in the process. The whole walk is very l<strong>on</strong>ely<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ nose <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cheeks are a permanent red, probably, from the relentless whip of air. His<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s are gripping the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le like a vice, careful to avoid any cracks in the c<strong>on</strong>crete that could tip<br />

the entire cart over, because Louis is entirely sure that he wouldn’t have the energy to pick it back<br />

up. And if this night got any worst, he would most likely just plop right down where he’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> start crying, shamelessly, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d looked absolutely<br />

ridiculous today, c<strong>on</strong>sidering he just spent over an hour waiting <strong>on</strong> a bench in the freezing <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

with a full cart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a disgruntled expressi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

How fucking dare him. H<strong>on</strong>estly, who the hell does that? Who moves in with some<strong>on</strong>e they d<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

know, stays up all hours of the night, melds them into place with a viciously tense (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

unnecessary) stare, then lies about picking them up when they knew they had no other means of<br />

getting home? Especially when food is involved, which reminds him. He halts, walking over to<br />

the bags <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rifling through until he spots a box of chocolate cupcakes which he tears into like he<br />

hasn’t eaten in m<strong>on</strong>ths. He can’t taste it really, because his mouth is frozen <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his taste buds<br />

aren’t functi<strong>on</strong>ing properly under the circumstances. He just wants to scrape Harry’s face over the<br />

c<strong>on</strong>crete, has he already said that? Anyway, he’s hungry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all the food he just purchased is right<br />

in fr<strong>on</strong>t of him, so he takes advantage of that.


The tasteless cupcake is shoveled down within sec<strong>on</strong>ds before he c<strong>on</strong>tinues his journey back to<br />

his flat.<br />

He has half a mind to take all of Harry’s shit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make lawn ornaments out of it. Skew them<br />

across the grass <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> never look back. But, then he would lose his flat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’d most likely be<br />

living in a shopping cart rather than pushing <strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s weighing his opti<strong>on</strong>s very heavily. He’s<br />

not that stupid, but anger is blinding sometimes. He should’ve used that last percentage to call<br />

Niall, surely his truck was ready by now, but he had this hope that Harry would morph into a<br />

decent human being l<strong>on</strong>g enough to answer his ph<strong>on</strong>e call after the twelfth time. But, no, he was<br />

wr<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry is still an asshole <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ freezing his fucking face off out here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he hates<br />

everything.<br />

He hates everything.<br />

His expressi<strong>on</strong> is sour <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s a little worried that it’ll be stuck like that forever when his flat<br />

finally comes into view. It’s still about another five minute walk, but there’s a finish line in sight<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes him insides warmer just thinking about it. The fact that Harry would do this to him<br />

isn’t hurtful, really it isn’t. It’s infuriating <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes Louis bite his lip so hard the familiar taste<br />

of copper <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the bright color of crims<strong>on</strong> is leaking from the pressure. Yeah, he sensed from the<br />

beginning that Harry was trouble, it evaporated from his fucking pores, but he never thought it<br />

would reach this level. To tell some<strong>on</strong>e you’re going to be there in what, twenty-five minutes, is<br />

what he said, then to just not show up at the same time he’s hitting the hater butt<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> every single<br />

<strong>on</strong>e of Louis attempts at getting a<strong>hold</strong> of him?<br />

Bastard.<br />

But Louis' not going to dwell, because he’s reached his flat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the next missi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> his mind is<br />

getting everything in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unpacked. Sure enough, it’s then that headlights are pulling into the<br />

driveway, half-blinding him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making him even more irritated than before, if that was close to<br />

being a possibility. Of course Harry would be arriving right at the same time as him, he’d actually<br />

rather do this all by himself, but the skin <strong>on</strong> his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s is drying out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making it hurt to use, so.<br />

A curly brown head bobbles out from the drivers side, sauntering (he’s not in any rush) over to<br />

where Louis is st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing. The t<strong>on</strong>e of Louis' words is about as venomous as he can possibly muster<br />

when the syllables finally leave his frozen lips, “D<strong>on</strong>’t even think about breathing in my general<br />

directi<strong>on</strong>.” He hisses without as much as a glance Harry’s way.<br />

He can hear a sharp exhale, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s a good minute before Harry even manages to move. When he<br />

does, it towards the cart, already starting to pack <strong>on</strong> as many bags as he possibly can, before<br />

wordlessly c<strong>on</strong>tinuing to the fr<strong>on</strong>t door. Louis couldn’t give <strong>on</strong>e single fuck if he’s hurt Harry’s<br />

feelings, in fact, he hopes that he did. The way Harry walks indicates he's riddled with guilt,<br />

hanging his head <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> averting his eyes. It’s a silence that’s full of tensi<strong>on</strong> when they’ve gotten all<br />

the food in, <strong>on</strong>ly the shuffling of bags <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the clanks as c<strong>on</strong>tainers hit the table <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the counter.<br />

They’re putting everything away, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has to physically bite back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> swallow his words,<br />

because if he says them, there’s no doubt they’d be sharp enough to crumple Harry, he has a gift<br />

for that.<br />

He plans to get this d<strong>on</strong>e, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then go straight to his room, run the hottest bath he can h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le<br />

before boiling himself <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> taking his tired, angry ass straight to bed.<br />

Harry is the first to say anything, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his voice is light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> timid, it’s almost childlike, “I’m sorry,<br />

Louis, I-“<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t want your excuses, that was fucking rude, Harry. Blatantly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wholly fucking rude. I<br />

waited for you, for over an hour <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you never came,” The more he talks to angrier he gets. But


when he looks at Harry, really looks at him for the first time since they’ve gotten into the flat, the<br />

ferocity is almost unbearable.<br />

His hair is even messier than usual, his pupils blown with wild eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his lips are shaded darker<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> obviously swollen against clammy skin. He looks absolutely fucked, he looks recently fucked.<br />

“And just why didn’t you come, huh? Care to explain to me why you blew me off when you<br />

knew I had no other way home, then ignored my ph<strong>on</strong>e calls?” Louis gives him a split sec<strong>on</strong>d to<br />

answer, his eyes focused <strong>on</strong> the deep purple mark just under his jawline, “Let me answer for you.<br />

Because you were too busy fucking some<strong>on</strong>e to bother to care, am I right? I’m spot <strong>on</strong>, I can tell<br />

by your fucking face.” He almost spits the last word, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry visibly shrinks away.<br />

Harry’s mouth is open, but the words are halted <strong>on</strong> the tip of his t<strong>on</strong>gue, caught in his throat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis just doesn’t have the patience to wait for his answer.<br />

Instead, he pulls out Harry’s card, sliding it across the table towards where the boy is st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing<br />

awkwardly, something written in his eyes, but it’s a different language <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis doesn’t care<br />

enough to decipher it. “Here, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I split the bill, because that’s what flatmates do, it’s all equal.”<br />

Nothing in his voice is sincere, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he hopes it <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>s Harry the way he thinks it does.<br />

Harry’s eyes are wide, unblinking, never moving from Louis’ face. He knows that his expressi<strong>on</strong><br />

is lacking any sort of sympathy, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can feel the way it’s twisted into an unfaltering glare,<br />

staring right back at Harry with such c<strong>on</strong>victi<strong>on</strong> that it's practically screaming. Louis bites the<br />

inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to dissect the guilt <strong>on</strong> Harry’s face before he walks off,<br />

slamming the door behind him without another look back. He immediately goes into his bathroom,<br />

his clothes are c<strong>on</strong>stricting too tight <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s peeling them off, throwing them hastily <strong>on</strong>to the floor<br />

before starting the water, turning it to it’s hottest setting.<br />

He lights all the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les he has readily available, turning off all the lights <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> letting the flames<br />

envelope the room in a sort of ambiance that he hopes will calm him. He empties a bit of<br />

drag<strong>on</strong>fruit bubble bath into the stream, feeling the stress evaporate from his shoulders as the<br />

bubbles fill the tub. He dips <strong>on</strong>e foot in, then the other, shuddering under the blistering<br />

temperature. His boiling blood calms to a simmer, he breathes deep, filling his lungs to their full<br />

capacity, until it hurts then he breathes in even more. He’s never let himself blow up <strong>on</strong> any<strong>on</strong>e<br />

like that apart from his father, but it was the combinati<strong>on</strong> of a shitty situati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost two hours<br />

of overthinking. And maybe Louis was a bit harsh <strong>on</strong> the kid, but it doesn’t change the fact that he<br />

was too busy fucking some<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis had to walk home with too many groceries <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> too<br />

many pent up thoughts.<br />

And the flat is completely silent, which means any little sound could be heard. But he hasn’t heard<br />

Harry’s boots <strong>on</strong> the hardwood, which means he hasn’t moved from his spot. It doesn’t sit right in<br />

Louis’ stomach.<br />

He tries to ignore the way that informati<strong>on</strong> refuses leave his mind, dipping his head into the water<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> immersing his face under the searing heat, hopefully it’ll clear his thoughts. The floating sweet<br />

of the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les' scent, paired with the flickering flame against the amber walls does a good job in<br />

making Louis’ eyelids droop. It might also have to do with the fact that he’s too exhausted to feel<br />

anything else right this minute. His acti<strong>on</strong>s were justified, right? He had a right to be so mad he<br />

was seeing red, didn’t he? Then why does he feel like it was a major overreacti<strong>on</strong>, he didn’t ask to<br />

be left in the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>, he trusted Harry to come, it’s not his fault that Harry felt getting his dick rubbed<br />

was more important. Now Louis at least knows where his priories were, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that was the last time<br />

he’d ever ask Harry for any favors. Fool me <strong>on</strong>ce, shame <strong>on</strong> you, fool me twice… well.<br />

Getting out of the hot tub leaves his skin feeling too <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> exposed, immediately wrapping his<br />

smaller frame tightly into a towel. After he’s sure that he’s fully dry, apart from his hair, he jumps<br />

into bed. He almost falls asleep as so<strong>on</strong> as his face hits the soft cott<strong>on</strong> of his pillow, but not before


he sees the light pouring in from the kitchen, which <strong>on</strong>ly c<strong>on</strong>firms his earlier thoughts that Harry<br />

hasn’t moved. Louis w<strong>on</strong>ders how l<strong>on</strong>g he’ll st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there.<br />

*****<br />

He must’ve been knocked the fuck out, because when he wakes up his face is submerged in a<br />

pool of drool <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s crusted <strong>on</strong>to the side of his face, which is <strong>on</strong>ly extremely disgusting. He<br />

does a quick stretch, listening to the pops of the b<strong>on</strong>es in his back, his legs, arms <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> somewhere<br />

he’s not quite sure of. He can hear the patter of rain against the glass of his window, the sun muted<br />

behind grey storm clouds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he sort of just wants to lay here all day l<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not move a single<br />

muscle. But it’s <strong>on</strong>ly a matter of time before the caffeine headache rears it’s ugly self <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis<br />

needs a cup of coffee to prevent it. So, <strong>on</strong> that note, he throws his legs over the side of the bed,<br />

rubbing the deep sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he needs to wash the dry spit from his face (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

eyelashes?) before he even steps foot from his bedroom, because no, he’s not walking around with<br />

drool covered skin.<br />

After his face is wiped of any excessive saliva, he drapes <strong>on</strong> his bathrobe, tying it tightly around<br />

his waist. When he opens the door, it’s slow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> quiet, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s peeking out from the small crack<br />

to see if any<strong>on</strong>e is st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in the kitchen. It seems safe, so Louis steps out, making a beeline to<br />

the coffee pot.<br />

“Good morning.” A voice rasps, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis jumps at the sound, whirling around to see Harry<br />

sitting <strong>on</strong> the couch. Anger isn’t his first emoti<strong>on</strong>, or his sec<strong>on</strong>d or his third. Actually, he’s sure he<br />

got it all out last night, so his t<strong>on</strong>e his lacking any spite when he finally speaks, “You really need<br />

to quit scaring me, you know?”<br />

“I’m sorry.”<br />

“For scaring the wits out of me or for leaving me to die in the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>?” His words are more joking,<br />

but there’s still a bit of a grudge in-between the letters.<br />

“Both.” Is all he says.<br />

“Look, I d<strong>on</strong>’t feel like talking about it, okay? Let’s just.. move <strong>on</strong>.” Louis shakes his head,<br />

turning <strong>on</strong> the coffee pot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> automatically smelling the air for that familiar scent of hazelnut.<br />

Harry seems more than okay with that answer, of course, running his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s over his knees. He<br />

must’ve slept in his boxers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tee, because that’s all he’s wearing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his legs look even<br />

more Bambi-like when they’re not covered in tight denim. He looks younger than usual, his face<br />

swollen with sleep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> half his hair matted to his head. “Do you always drink hazelnut coffee?”<br />

“Yeah,” Louis nods, pulling out a mug <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a spo<strong>on</strong>, sliding over the sugar dish, “It’s my favorite<br />

kind, so.”<br />

“I’ve never had it.”<br />

“Well, the pot makes enough for about eight cups, so help yourself.” Louis offers, his voice a bit<br />

bl<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> but he blames that <strong>on</strong> the fact that he’s not fully awake just yet. The steam from the coffee is<br />

fogging his face, pouring fluidly into the mug.<br />

“Okay.” Harry seems more than hesitant as he walks over, his eyes locked <strong>on</strong> Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his steps<br />

slow, like Louis’ a ticking bomb <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> will go off if Harry moves to quickly. It makes Louis laugh,


which, in turn, makes Harry’s face screw up in c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“Kid, I’m not going to skin you alive, yeah? You d<strong>on</strong>’t have to be so terrified of me, I’m like half<br />

your size anyway.”<br />

“There’s so much anger potential packed into such a little body,” Harry's eyes are still wide,<br />

studying Louis, “What’s there not to be terrified of?”<br />

“You left me to walk home you didn’t kill my entire family, Harry, its over, I’m fine.” Harry<br />

visibly relaxes under that, coming to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> right next to Louis. Despite his better judgement, Louis<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s him a mug, offering up the tiniest of smiles, Harry glows at that. It comes off as a hint at<br />

forgiveness, which Louis isn’t denying, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the atmosphere seems to calm dramatically.<br />

It’s a silent interacti<strong>on</strong>, <strong>on</strong>ly the sounds of stirring spo<strong>on</strong>s as they st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there, but the tensi<strong>on</strong> has<br />

evaporated away <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s no l<strong>on</strong>ger awkward. Louis should still be mad, but nothing in his body<br />

tells him that he is <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he doesn’t push it, just lets himself stay calm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> neutral <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he lets Harry<br />

breathe next to him without an ounce of hesitati<strong>on</strong>. He can feel Harry’s eyes <strong>on</strong> his profile, which<br />

kind of makes him feel like he’s <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing. But the gaze isn’t intense as much as it is deciphering.<br />

Like he’s trying to gauge the way Louis is feeling. Finally, he breaks the stare, stepping away to<br />

take seat <strong>on</strong>to the barstool, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s cupped around the heated mug. Louis lets out a breath he had no<br />

idea he was even <strong>hold</strong>ing.<br />

“I see that you bought quite the variety of foods, can’t tell if you’re a health nut or inept <strong>on</strong> gaining<br />

forty pounds over the course of next week.” Harry says, blowing a gentle breath over the surface,<br />

his face seems to go hazy at the lovely smell.<br />

“I didn’t know what kind of food you liked, so I, like, bought of little of everything? I guess, I just<br />

wasn’t sure <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I didn’t want to buy a t<strong>on</strong> of shit that you wouldn’t eat.”<br />

“That was thoughtful.”<br />

“Wasn’t it?” Louis asks, “What do you like, anyway?”<br />

“Pretty much anything that’s put in fr<strong>on</strong>t of me, I’m not a picky eater.” Harry shrugs, sipping the<br />

hot coffee, a soft hum falling from his lips, “Wow, this is really good.”<br />

“I know, that’s why it’s my favorite.” Louis resp<strong>on</strong>ds, not feeling the way his lips are pulled into a<br />

smile, Harry looks like he’s falling in love with the coffee right in fr<strong>on</strong>t of his eyes.<br />

They both keep the small talk to a minimum, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s always Harry that’s first to initiate the<br />

c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>. He’s feeling guilty, Louis can tell, but Louis doesn’t miss the opportunity to get to<br />

know Harry a little more, some people are just more interesting than others. “Do you have any<br />

plans today? Its kind of shitty out there.”<br />

“Not really,” Louis quirks his head to the side, n<strong>on</strong>chalantly, “Not big <strong>on</strong> going out in the rain,<br />

what about you?”<br />

“No,” He shakes his head, a little too quickly, “I might not even put pants <strong>on</strong>.”<br />

Louis puts his empty mug into the sink, heading over to couch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> flopping down, grabbing <strong>hold</strong><br />

of the remote. Harry can lounge around in his boxers all day l<strong>on</strong>g if that’s what he wants, he does<br />

live here, but Louis opts for comfortable sweats <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> an oversized t-shirt, which he changed into<br />

when he started to feel less than c<strong>on</strong>fident in his bathrobe. The shirt’s hem falls mid-thigh, which<br />

makes him look even smaller, but its comfortable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> soft <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s Louis’ favorite <strong>on</strong>e, so. Harry’s<br />

still banging around in the kitchen, making something to eat after being deflated when Louis<br />

turned down his breakfast offer, he usually doesn’t eat early in the morning, it makes him


nauseous.<br />

Louis’ watching him from the living room, Harry completely out of his league being way more<br />

entertaining than anything <strong>on</strong> the tellie. Harry’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing at the stove, frying whats presumed to be<br />

eggs, running a h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> through the mess of curls in an attempt to tame the way they’re falling over<br />

his eyes. Louis’ not quite sure how he gets his quiff to stay up like that without any product, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

how Louis’ pre-fringe quiff days c<strong>on</strong>sisted of enough hair gel to drown a small child. His<br />

thoughts, though, are cut immediately short when Harry runs his finger up his back, raising his<br />

shirt. It not <strong>on</strong>ly exposes the large <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> expanse ribcage tattoo, but also the angry red scratch marks<br />

that are surrounding his spine, all the way down to the line of his hips.<br />

Louis looks away immediately, blinking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretending like he didn’t just see that. Suddenly the<br />

Home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Gardening channel just became the most interesting thing in the world.<br />

“I’m slaughtering these eggs in here,” Harry calls from the kitchen. And his face in covered in a<br />

childish innocence, which is a stark c<strong>on</strong>trast against those red marks etched into his skin. “This<br />

may have been <strong>on</strong>e of my worst ideas yet.”<br />

“How do you possibly fuck up eggs, Harry? They’re quite literally the easiest thing to make.”<br />

Louis' voice comes out more c<strong>on</strong>fident than he feels, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his insides are feeling jumbled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

awkward, with no clear reas<strong>on</strong> why.<br />

“I <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> toast, to be h<strong>on</strong>est with you.”<br />

Louis sighs, st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing from his comfortable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> warm spot <strong>on</strong> the couch to join a flustered Harry in<br />

the kitchen. The eggs in the skillet are bordering black, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has to <strong>hold</strong> back a laugh,<br />

because Harry really did butcher these, it’s hilarious. “I’ll remake them for you, but you need to<br />

st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watch so you can fend for yourself next time. I may be your senior but I’m not<br />

going to cook for you all the time.”<br />

Harry nods, eager, as he pulls an imaginary notepad <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pencil from the air. He pretends to<br />

scribble notes as Louis washes out the skillet, grabbing two eggs from the c<strong>on</strong>tainer <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cracking<br />

the yolks into a cup.<br />

“So, step <strong>on</strong>e, you need to put your eggs in a cup, or a bowl, whatever floats your boat, right?<br />

Okay,” Louis grabs the milk from the fridge, “step two, pour a little milk into the cup or bowl, use<br />

your own judgement <strong>on</strong> the amount.” Harry still scribbles notes, Louis’ smile widens at that.<br />

“Step three,” Louis raises a fork into the air, Harry looks at it like it’s the holy grail, “Mix the milk<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the eggs, like so.” Louis stirs the mixture, until it’s a yellow paste, beating out the chunks of<br />

yolk with the pr<strong>on</strong>gs of the fork. “Make sure your skillet is hot, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you can use either butter or<br />

n<strong>on</strong>stick spray to keep the eggs from <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing to the bottom. You keeping up with me here?”<br />

Another nod. So, Louis grabs the butter, flicking a bit into the skillet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sliding it around to coat<br />

the bottom, “Wait till its hot enough, yeah? It should start to cook the egg immediately.” After a<br />

couple sec<strong>on</strong>ds, Louis pours the mixture in, the loud sizzle filling the kitchen, “So you st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> here<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, using your spatula, just keep scooping <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> flipping, d<strong>on</strong>’t let the eggs <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>, can you h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le<br />

that?”<br />

“You should probably finish, you know, for teaching purposes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all.” And Louis is about to roll<br />

his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> leave, but the smile, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry cocking his head to the side while batting his lashes<br />

makes him stay, but he rolls his eyes either way.<br />

Once they’re finally d<strong>on</strong>e, Louis puts them <strong>on</strong>to a plate, lightly salting <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> peppering before<br />

setting it <strong>on</strong> the counter, “Here you are, compliments of the chef, we appreciate tips.”


Harry plants himself firmly at the counter, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis doesn’t miss the wince as he leans into the<br />

back of the chair. He scoops up a forkful, shoveling it into his mouth <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> inhaling a sharp breath<br />

at how hot they still are, Louis bites his lips to stifle the laugh. “They’re -fuck- they’re good, but<br />

damn, that’s so hot.”<br />

“That’s the point of the stove, Harold.” Louis raises his brows, enjoying the way Harry seems to<br />

shovel the food in despite knowing it will most likely <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> his mouth. And he’s probably doing it<br />

to make Louis happy after his blunder last night, but, well, it’s working.<br />

Louis doesn’t hang around until he’s d<strong>on</strong>e, sashaying back into the living room to take his place<br />

<strong>on</strong> the couch. He’s flipping through the channels, looking for something fun or interesting to<br />

watch, ignoring the way his mind is dancing around in his skull, he’s in a proper good mood. The<br />

rain hasn’t made a move to let up, so it looks like a day spent watching shows <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> muting his<br />

mind. He almost doesn’t feel the couch dip as Harry sits, curling his feet underneath him. He<br />

doesn’t say anything, but keeps his eyes <strong>on</strong> the screen, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis is growing c<strong>on</strong>scious of what<br />

he’ll l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong>, he w<strong>on</strong>ders if 'America’s Funniest Home Videos’ is neutral enough. Harry must’ve<br />

downed that plate, it’s <strong>on</strong>ly been around three minutes since he’d left him in the kitchen.<br />

Nothing is really said, but it doesn’t feel unnatural, its like an easy reticence.<br />

Every <strong>on</strong>ce <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a while Louis can hear Harry laughing under his breath, it vibrates the entire<br />

couch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> res<strong>on</strong>ates into Louis’ body. It’s a youthful sound, light, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it comes out over the<br />

stupidest of videos. He’ll laugh whenever some<strong>on</strong>e gets hit in the face unexpectedly, or anything<br />

involving animals, really. It get’s louder when it’s wedding videos <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry almost loses his<br />

entire shit when a guy sits <strong>on</strong> a branch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it breaks from under him, sending them both crashing<br />

to the ground. He throws his head forward, laughing so hard he can barely breathe, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tagious, making Louis spit out some giggles at just how funny Harry finds it. When he finally<br />

stops, tears are streaming from the corner of his eyes.<br />

“He just, he just was not expecting that, was he?” He laughs again, bringing his fist to his mouth<br />

to try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> prevent another outburst, “Did you see the look <strong>on</strong> his face?”<br />

“Guess that tree was ready for them to.. leaf.” Louis jokes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry breaks out into<br />

unc<strong>on</strong>trollable laughter yet again. The pun wasn’t even close to being funny, but Harry’s acting<br />

like it was the best thing he’s ever heard in his life.<br />

The rest of the morning c<strong>on</strong>tinues just like that.<br />

It’s around five in the afterno<strong>on</strong> when the first thunder crackles from the sky, it’s angry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

booming, the after vibrati<strong>on</strong>s making the plates <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cups in the kitchen rattle together. Louis really<br />

isn’t a huge fan of storms, but he tolerates them. Weather alerts are popping up at the bottom of the<br />

screen, just letting every<strong>on</strong>e know the areas where the storm is expected to hit the hardest.<br />

Luckily, it isn’t here, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hopefully everything will blow over so<strong>on</strong>er versus later. Harry seems<br />

completely unaffected, huddled up <strong>on</strong> the other end of the sofa <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watching the show, the<br />

changing lights dancing across his face, in all different colors. He looks like a completely different<br />

pers<strong>on</strong> than last night, Louis doesn’t want to think about the Harry that’s freshly fucked, opting for<br />

the <strong>on</strong>e that looks blissed out over slapstick comedy.<br />

He’s getting less <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> less annoyed about what happened last night. After a pretty nice day, Harry<br />

doesn’t seem so bad. He might actually be a nice friend to have around, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis generally hates<br />

people, so that’s paying him a huge compliment. Louis doesn’t have a shit t<strong>on</strong> of close friends<br />

(surprising, right?) but any<strong>on</strong>e who can just relax without being serious or getting <strong>on</strong> his last nerve<br />

is good company in his book.


***<br />

The storm wages <strong>on</strong>, turning out to be not much more than intimidating thunder <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> some rain.<br />

It’s not too bad, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry has officially fallen asleep, light snores filling the air <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> whirring<br />

around. He half wants to draw <strong>on</strong> Harry’s face as some sort of elementary school payback, but<br />

he’s not five (that would pretty hilarious, though) he’s not that immature. He takes the al<strong>on</strong>e time<br />

to straighten up the kitchen. Sliding the dishes into the dishwasher, wiping off the counter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

stove <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sweeping up any mess that made its way <strong>on</strong>to the tiled floor, before l<strong>on</strong>g it’s spotless,<br />

just how he likes it to be. He pads through the whole flat, quietly, to clean up any straggled<br />

messes, being more careful the closer he gets to the sleeping boy <strong>on</strong> the couch. Harry’s mouth is<br />

fallen open, lips <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cheeks mushed against the arm of the couch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it surely doesn’t look<br />

comfortable. But Harry’s knocked so it must’ve not been that bad. In his sleep, he looks even<br />

younger, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s almost sad that the innocence that he shows doesn’t reach his reality.<br />

Harry doesn’t look like the type to diss some<strong>on</strong>e just because of a lay, n<strong>on</strong>etheless lie about it. But<br />

looks can be deceiving, as every<strong>on</strong>e knows, so he just shakes his head, finishing up the rest of the<br />

rooms.<br />

His ph<strong>on</strong>e has been <strong>on</strong> the charger for a number of hours, so Louis checks that next. He’s got<br />

some messages from Niall, asking if he made it home safely last night, coupled with some missed<br />

calls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a more urgent, ‘Louis, it’s not like you to not resp<strong>on</strong>d, everything okay?’ He feels a<br />

surge of guilt at how he hadn’t even bothered to check his messages after the events of last night,<br />

but he was in a fucked up mood <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he was probably going to be overly sassy to any<strong>on</strong>e who<br />

came into c<strong>on</strong>tact with him. He still needs to return the cart but he’s mildly positive the storm has<br />

taken it away <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis isn’t nearly interested in finding its whereabouts.<br />

He types out a message to Niall, apologizing for the delay <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> telling him that all is well. What<br />

happened last night will be a c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> for a different day, he just wants to relax. He doesn’t<br />

want to talk about it right now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> have a repeat of the anger he felt last night, he’s finally letting it<br />

roll off his shoulders.<br />

He’s still got that poking feeling that he maybe overreacted just a little bit, but he doesn’t regret it,<br />

c<strong>on</strong>sidering Harry was doing everything he could earlier to kiss Louis’ ass, trying to mend the<br />

possibility of a friendship. Louis doesn’t mind it, not at all, being that seeing this side of Harry was<br />

a bit refreshing, especially after seeing that side of Harry mere hours before. Though, he’s never<br />

seen some<strong>on</strong>e so upset over a couple of harsh words, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes Louis think that maybe it was a<br />

bit deeper than just Louis being pissy, he looked oddly upset. Not in the ‘please d<strong>on</strong>’t be mad at<br />

me’ way, but in a different way, he can’t really explain it, it was bey<strong>on</strong>d Louis, but the extent is a<br />

mystery.<br />

Louis doesn’t think too hard into it, mostly because he values his sanity.<br />

Harry’s ph<strong>on</strong>e is going absolutely crazy in his room, Louis can hear the vibrati<strong>on</strong>s from his<br />

nightst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. And as tempting as it may be, Louis shakes the thought. He’s not going to be intrusive<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get into Harry’s business, so he shuts the door to his bedroom all the way, muting the sounds<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> keeping him from further investigati<strong>on</strong>. The rain has picked up substantially, pouring in<br />

buckets <strong>on</strong>to the roof, making it almost impossible to hear anything else. The drops sound heavy<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> relentless, cloaking the flat in a loud whir. Louis looks over to Harry, whose still sound asleep<br />

<strong>on</strong> the couch, not moving slightly despite the sudden raise in volume. The tellie is still playing<br />

home-filmed videos, but Louis can’t make out what the announcer is saying, it’s just so damn<br />

loud.


Naturally, Louis walks over to the window, opening the blinds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> checking what the outside<br />

world looks like today. It’s already dark, but the heavy clouds are covering the stars, making it<br />

seem even darker than usual. The roads <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> yards are soaked with proof of an unstopped rainfall,<br />

making everything look dingy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dull. It’s not pretty, thats certain, the trees are basically leaning<br />

<strong>on</strong>to their sides from the power of the wind, which looks kind of cool, h<strong>on</strong>estly, but not pretty.<br />

The city seems dead, void of its normal bustle <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even the neighboring houses are dark, no lights<br />

lit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s a bit eerie, but.<br />

He doesn’t hang out by the window for very l<strong>on</strong>g, choosing a comfortable positi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> his bed,<br />

tangled up into the blankets, ph<strong>on</strong>e pulled up with enough funny pictures for a lifetime of<br />

scrolling. He turns his TV <strong>on</strong> in the background, not caring to see what’s playing before laying <strong>on</strong><br />

his side, facing the wall, flicking his thumb across the screen. It’s boring, yes, but it’s calming <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

after a chill day Louis is more than willing to just lay here mindlessly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> enjoy a night of lowquantified<br />

worries. Not a single c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le is lit but the atmosphere doesn’t need the help when it’s<br />

already so ambient, which is incredibly nice, after an especially stressful past couple of days.<br />

It still brings up the thought of Liam not attempting to talk to him, which is so out of character for<br />

him, he never drags anything out this l<strong>on</strong>g. He kind of wants to call him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ask him what the<br />

fuck his problem is, why he is avoiding this c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>tati<strong>on</strong> so full-heartedly, but he doesn’t.<br />

Because it wasn’t Louis who over stepped any boundaries <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> got into something that was<br />

entirely not his business. He wasn’t the <strong>on</strong>e who, without Louis’ permissi<strong>on</strong>, blabbed to his father<br />

(of all people) about his financial stability, or lack there of, for that matter. And it wasn’t his<br />

jurisdicti<strong>on</strong>, he had no right to impose like that <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he still hasn’t apologized. Which, despite what<br />

Louis will admit, is still eating him alive. He deserves an apology of sorts.<br />

It’s not like he’s playing the victim game or anything right now, but Liam is being a jerk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

never a jerk for more than a day or two at a time. So, he’s going to give Liam another day (not <strong>on</strong>e<br />

day more) before he gives up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ normally forgiving stance towards Liam will be pushed<br />

thin, he knows not to drag their father into this shit, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> behind Louis’ back, at that. It wouldn’t be<br />

the first time Liam has d<strong>on</strong>e something like this, but Louis hopes it’ll be the last. After all, Louis<br />

manages to stay out of Liam’s pers<strong>on</strong>al business, when he gets into petty fights with his boyfriend<br />

over next to nothing. And Louis has to listen to Liam bitch about how “Zayn didn’t remember our<br />

four m<strong>on</strong>th anniversary, can you believe?” He does what any brother would do, listen <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tell<br />

Liam what he thinks. What he doesn’t do, is go crawling to Zayn <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> spilling out everything Liam<br />

had told him. Because that would be a shitty thing to do. He guesses that respect is <strong>on</strong>ly a <strong>on</strong>e way<br />

street when it comes Liam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> him. Oh, well.<br />

But, he chooses to move <strong>on</strong>. It’s not at all worth it to sit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get worked up over something like<br />

this after he’s spent the entire day avoiding any stressful thoughts, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> succeeding, for that matter.<br />

His fan rotates at an even speed as he lays in his bed, relaxing his mind <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> body while looking<br />

over the picture of a pug with it’s wrinkles smoothed out. And all is well, that is, before thunder<br />

roars <strong>on</strong>ce more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the power goes out, leaving Louis in the pitch black with just the small screen<br />

<strong>on</strong> his ph<strong>on</strong>e to provide any light source.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

Finally, excitement.<br />

As per usual, any feedback is majorly appreciated, it means a t<strong>on</strong> to me. And again,<br />

you can always leave your thoughts below or you can visit my tumblr at<br />

subharrybless, just to talk/discuss/banter, whatever floats your boat, it'd make my day.


(I highly suggest)<br />

Thanks for reading!


Chapter 6<br />

Chapter Summary<br />

This is a bit shorter than the other chapters, but it's more exciting (in my opini<strong>on</strong>) I'm<br />

sorry about the wait, writers block is a huge bitch. hope you enjoy the chapter!<br />

Anyway- Louis gets scared <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> things get awkward.<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

Louis loves the dark, he really does. But, he loves it a little more when he has the opti<strong>on</strong> of turning<br />

<strong>on</strong> the lights whenever he pleases. So, its safe to say the sudden power outage startled him just a<br />

tad. Either way, there’s not much he can do until the storm blows over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> everything can calm,<br />

so he does what any normal pers<strong>on</strong> would do- he simply lays there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>tinues with his<br />

previous activity of scrolling through funny pictures. The wind outside is rushing around, brutally,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it almost sounds likes distant <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pitchy screams. It’s rivaled <strong>on</strong>ly by the booming thunder <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om flashes of bright lightening. Every time a new bolt crackles through the sky, the room<br />

goes completely white, like a str<strong>on</strong>g camera flash, making the proceeding darkness even more<br />

ambiguous. He’s never really bothered with storms, he’s never really bothered with darkness, but<br />

for some reas<strong>on</strong> this specific combinati<strong>on</strong> is putting him <strong>on</strong> edge.<br />

He doesn’t like it.<br />

A few deep breaths later, he decides to let his eyes adjust, turning off the ph<strong>on</strong>e screen <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> laying<br />

<strong>on</strong> his back. The mo<strong>on</strong>light should be enough to adequately light the flat by itself, meaning he<br />

w<strong>on</strong>’t have to go light all the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les around. He’s not feeling that for two reas<strong>on</strong>s, <strong>on</strong>e- that takes<br />

effort <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this bed is really warm right now. Two- it makes his insides feel uncomfortable thinking<br />

about searching the blackened rooms for his lighter, which seems to grow legs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> run away to<br />

hide itself whenever Louis looks the other directi<strong>on</strong>. So, he’ll just lay here (thanks) <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> be patient<br />

until this whole thing can be taken care of. Apparently, the storm wasn’t predicted to hit this hard<br />

here, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t help but roll his eyes at the meteorologist who promised it would pass over<br />

without much disturbance. As l<strong>on</strong>g as he’s lived in this flat, the power hasn’t g<strong>on</strong>e out, so he<br />

really has no idea of a timeline <strong>on</strong> when everything will flick back <strong>on</strong>. It could be hours, it could<br />

be tomorrow morning. He hopes it’s not the latter.<br />

The swirls <strong>on</strong> the ceiling are starting to be more distinguishable, the of ridges of paint from the<br />

brushes resemble water, puddling waves of different varieties.<br />

After a few (l<strong>on</strong>g) minutes, he’s able to make out the corners of furniture, blinking every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

again to try <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> speed the process. Everything is still mostly a shadow <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’re somewhat<br />

resembling some very off-putting m<strong>on</strong>ster type shapes that is making Louis' jaw lock for a brief<br />

sec<strong>on</strong>d. That is, before the terrifying figure turns out to be a mere desk lamp <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now Louis feels<br />

sort of like a twat, but anyway.<br />

He takes a deep breath, then another, his eyes w<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ering to the window in what would seem like<br />

the perfect time. There’s a black form scurrying off away from view, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ feet are <strong>on</strong> the<br />

floor within sec<strong>on</strong>ds. His heart jumped, pounding disgustingly in his throat because what the<br />

actual fuck was that thing? With shaky h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hesitant steps he teeters towards the window,


knowing that if the smallest sounds were to arise he would most definitely be shitting himself right<br />

here in his bedroom. At first, there doesn’t seem to be anything, just the howling wind ripping<br />

through the leaves, grass blades leaning <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> whipping around accustomed to the rough breeze.<br />

The stars are covered by the thick bog of storm clouds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the mo<strong>on</strong> is muted, making it even<br />

darker than every other night. Right as Louis leans his forehead against the frigid glass, there is an<br />

eerie scraping against the rubbage can outside <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it scares the life out of him. His body jolts away<br />

so fast it knocks the air from his lungs, he’s positive he almost had a heart attack just now. He’s<br />

not sure where he needs to be, but he wants to get the fuck out of this room.<br />

His feet are leading him because his mind is frazzled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coherent thought isn’t possible when<br />

you’re this fucking frightened. For some reas<strong>on</strong>, they take him to the couch where Harry is still<br />

sound asleep. Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s are <strong>on</strong> his shoulders immediately, shaking furiously without even<br />

w<strong>on</strong>dering if Harry is going to send a fist in his general directi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“Harry, Harry- wake up!”<br />

His eyes are fluttering open, but his lips are pulled into a frown, <strong>on</strong>ly more than obvious he’s not<br />

entirely pleased with the sudden wake up call, “What the fuck?”<br />

His rough voice catches Louis by surprise, but he brushes it off, “There’s some<strong>on</strong>e outside.” Louis<br />

answers, visi<strong>on</strong> darting around the dark living room. The thunder is shaking every dish he has <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis has no idea how Harry could sleep through something this loud.<br />

“There is?” He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that the power is out.<br />

Louis nods, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s still firmly gripped <strong>on</strong> Harry’s shoulders, “Yeah, I saw them run by the<br />

window, then I heard something scraping around outside.”<br />

“They’re by your window?” Harry asks, not allowing Louis any time to answer before<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tinuing. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” The statement does nothing to detour Louis, who follows<br />

him with a vice grip, he’s not leaving Harry’s side, some<strong>on</strong>e will have to pry him off, probably.<br />

Harry doesn’t seem to mind, heading to his bedroom. His skin his <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing hot beneath Louis’<br />

<strong>hold</strong>, his nails digging in accidentally but he doesn’t quite care at the moment. He’s half glad that<br />

it's so fucking dark that Harry’s not fully visible or Louis would be definitely giving his body a<br />

<strong>on</strong>ce over, because he’s curious, right. Who wouldn’t be? The fact that Harry’s maneuvering<br />

perfectly despite the low-light circumstances <strong>on</strong>ly c<strong>on</strong>firms Louis’ earlier thoughts, he’s for sure<br />

nocturnal or something. He seems to toss around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> discard some shit, ruffling through the items<br />

of his suitcase, <strong>on</strong> the floor, <strong>on</strong> his bed, then finally the deserted corner where he finally finds what<br />

he’s looking for.<br />

“What is that?” Louis squints through the dark, making out a general shape, but it’s n<strong>on</strong><br />

mistakable, “A baseball bat?”<br />

“Yeah, stole it from my dad.”<br />

“So..” Louis quirks his brow, “you’re going to.. beat them to death? Or are we going to invite<br />

them to a fun game of baseball?” The sarcasm is str<strong>on</strong>g but it sounds pretty comical so Louis lets it<br />

flow anyway.<br />

“Y’got something better?”<br />

After some quick thought, Louis’ smile drops, “No.” He answers softly, “Whatever, Babe Ruth."<br />

“Anyway,” Harry breathes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis rolls his eyes, “<str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> going to have to let go of me if you<br />

want me to check this out.” His voice kind of floats through the air, it also kind of dances. It could


e because the dark is making him loopy or because it’s nice to have some<strong>on</strong>e willing to have<br />

your back in an almost- protective?- manner. But Louis’ not letting go <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not going to make<br />

Harry go out al<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

“I’m going too, you fuck wad. You wanna add a shirt, though? It’s piss pouring out there right<br />

now.”<br />

There’s a brief silence, but right as Harry starts to speak they’re interrupted by another scraping<br />

sound <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis feels Harry tense up under his nails <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he digs them in a little more, his breaths<br />

speeding up substantially. “You sure you wanna come, you d<strong>on</strong>’t have-“<br />

“Yes, Harry, now c’m<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

With no further argument, Harry shakes his head <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> begins for the door. Louis stays glued to his<br />

shoulders, sort of petrified. The sounds of their feet <strong>on</strong> the hardwood is matched, walking in sync<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as much as Louis wants to slow down or stop completely, Harry just moves right al<strong>on</strong>g. He<br />

may seem brave enough, but it’s clear in the knotting of his muscles that he’s insanely tense <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his breathing is just as uneven as Louis', he’s scared too. But, he stays in fr<strong>on</strong>t, bat wielding as<br />

they approach the fr<strong>on</strong>t door. Louis eyes are as wide as they can possibly go, his body trembling.<br />

It’s a combinati<strong>on</strong> between the lights suddenly going out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the possibility than an intruder could<br />

be lurking around their flat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’re going at them (<strong>on</strong>e in just boxers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong>e in sweats <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a<br />

too-big t-shirt) with a fucking baseball ball. If he has a gun, its pretty much game over. Louis<br />

prays whoever it is, they’re at least unarmed.<br />

The door swings open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it feels like they’re about to venture into a m<strong>on</strong>so<strong>on</strong>. Rain is pouring<br />

down hard, heavy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s almost impossible to see through.<br />

“Harr-“<br />

“Shh,” Harry cuts him off, “Its fine.”<br />

Louis’ stomach is twisting around sickeningly as they push forward, getting soaked from head to<br />

toe not sec<strong>on</strong>ds after leaving the comfort of the flat. The thunder ripples behind them <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis<br />

can feel the vibrati<strong>on</strong>s in his chest. He’s debating taking off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> running back inside, crawling up<br />

into his bed. But his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s make no move to release from Harry. They have to round the corner of<br />

the building before they make it by Louis’ bedroom window, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it might as well be another state<br />

away, but then again it’s too close. The lightening lights up the sky, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis didn’t realize his<br />

eyes have been locked <strong>on</strong> where Harry’s face would be if he could see, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he involuntarily<br />

moves in closer. Harry must notice, because he stops there, putting his free h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> Louis’ <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

looking back.<br />

“Hey,” His voice is calm, but it’s not hiding how uneasy he feels, “Chill, Louis, it’ll be fine.”<br />

“There could be any<strong>on</strong>e back there, how do you know we’ll-“<br />

“Because I’m right here, okay? Nothings going to happen to you.” It sounds more sure than<br />

anything Harry has said since they met, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis had no idea the protective instinct was so str<strong>on</strong>g<br />

in Harry, because they barely know each other, but Harry is willing to come out here armed with a<br />

stick of wood just because Louis was scared. Suddenly the rain doesn’t feel so <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>.<br />

He just nods, unable to find his voice, seemingly trapped somewhere deep down in his throat.<br />

Harry takes another moment before c<strong>on</strong>tinuing <strong>on</strong>, Louis trailing directly behind him. There is<br />

clanking around the corner, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if it wasn’t obvious before, something is definitely back there.<br />

Louis’ hoping they aren’t trying to break into his window. They’re walking against the brick of<br />

the building, Harry’s right h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> gripping the bat, his left running al<strong>on</strong>g the wall as they approach


the corner. His hair is drenched to his head, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> for some reas<strong>on</strong> being out here makes him look<br />

smaller, even though he’s much taller than Louis. His baggy clothes are clinging to him now<br />

uncomfortably, making his body squirm, he just wants to be inside, watching tv in the warmth of<br />

his flat. But instead he’s out here in a thunder storm, looking for a possible burglar. How nice did<br />

today turn out? For fucks sake.<br />

The wind is screaming in his ears, his bangs refusing to stay out of his eyes as the rain slows just a<br />

bit. He’s staring down at his bare feet <strong>on</strong> the grass, trying to calm the panic that’s building in his<br />

chest <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> threatening to spill over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make him scream. It’s the fact that he doesn’t know what’s<br />

going to happen that’s making this so scary.<br />

He feels Harry breathe in deep as they turn the corner.<br />

There’s a loud bang as the rubbage can beside Louis’ window falls to the ground. Louis<br />

automatically shrinks behind Harry as his arm tenses to raise the bat in the air, both h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s gripping<br />

the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le. His muscles feel like a coil about to spring loose, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis' face is planted hard<br />

against Harry’s back, his eyes squeezed shut waiting for the sound of wood hitting some<strong>on</strong>e’s<br />

skull, but it never comes. “Oh my god.”<br />

“What?” Louis squeaks, refusing to open his eyes or move from his crouched positi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“It’s a fucking racco<strong>on</strong>, Louis. It’s just a racco<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

Louis looks up just in time to see the furry rodent scurry away, leaving a mess of their trash all<br />

over the place. It feels like a thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pounds of pressure was just removed from Louis’ chest,<br />

“Holy shit.”<br />

A smile falls over both of their faces as an easy laugh replaces the tensi<strong>on</strong>. “Wow, all of that for a<br />

racco<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Why are we still out here?” Louis says, taking a dash towards the fr<strong>on</strong>t door. Harry’s l<strong>on</strong>ger legs<br />

take him further, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Louis in no time. “It’s not a race you shit.”<br />

“You’re losing either way.” Harry shouts over the wind, already in the flat, Louis just rolls his<br />

eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today.<br />

Once they’re finally inside, it feels absolutely lovely. The warm air feels amazing against his<br />

soaking wet skin. The adrenaline is still str<strong>on</strong>g in his veins, pumping wildly through his body. It<br />

feels like a fire, it also feels safe. Louis automatically goes to light all the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les while Harry is<br />

(presumably) putting away his murder weap<strong>on</strong>. Luckily, the lighter is in the first drawer he checks<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> its probably because life has tortured him enough for the last day or two <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he really couldn’t<br />

deal with going <strong>on</strong> a wild goose chase to find this stupid little lighter. He’s got about ten c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les in<br />

the living room al<strong>on</strong>e, but it allows a nice golden glow to surround the room, all while adding an<br />

assortment of fragrances that mix <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> mingle in the air. He can almost see the different scents<br />

floating around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> swirling into each other, bouncing off the walls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> meeting happily in the<br />

middle.<br />

The shadows are soft, the room feels soft.<br />

The delicate air is breathed in, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> its like an injecti<strong>on</strong> of relaxati<strong>on</strong> in a heavy dose was just shot<br />

into his body. All of the stress <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fear of earlier scurried away with that animal, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now he feels<br />

kind of silly at how much he overreacted, but its better safe than sorry.<br />

Louis thinks back <strong>on</strong> the overpowering terror that caused him to leach <strong>on</strong>to Harry’s shoulders, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>


a small, light laugh breezes from his lips. It’s funny how just last night he was screaming at Harry,<br />

fuming with anger, his words were toxic <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> harsh. But then he was hiding behind Harry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

allowing him the trust, the trust he shouldn’t have that Harry would keep him safe. And judging<br />

by the ready <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tight grip <strong>on</strong> that bat he was more than willing to swing it <strong>on</strong> some<strong>on</strong>e if they<br />

posed a threat, either to his life, or to Louis' life. And that thought was so sweet, it was comforting.<br />

It made Louis melt into a puddle <strong>on</strong> the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it made him want to stay like that. He highly<br />

doubts that Liam, or even his own father would be willing to do the same. In fact, he knows they<br />

wouldn’t. And that’s his own family, which makes the situati<strong>on</strong> even more of a joke, he barely<br />

knows Harry.<br />

Louis can still remember when he was little, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he was al<strong>on</strong>e in his room before he had his trusty<br />

nightlight. He was fast asleep, but the images that played in his head felt more than real. He<br />

dreamt about the forrest, the <strong>on</strong>e right behind his childhood home. He was al<strong>on</strong>e, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the wispy<br />

branches were like h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s reaching out to him, trying to grab him. And he was running, he can<br />

remember the way the breath would <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> as it entered his lungs. The dirt pounded beneath small,<br />

dirty c<strong>on</strong>verse <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there was screaming all around him. He couldn’t see further than a few feet in<br />

fr<strong>on</strong>t of him before everything faded into a deep black. He kept running <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> running but so<strong>on</strong> he<br />

wasn’t moving, he was stuck in the same place. Louis didn’t realize that when he was screaming<br />

in his dream, he was screaming in reality. His dad had come running into the room, <strong>on</strong>ly to find it<br />

was just a nightmare. Louis screamed himself awake, eyes immediately l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing <strong>on</strong> his dad,<br />

annoyed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> leaning against his door frame.<br />

“It was a dream, you’re always so dramatic.” He had said before leaving him to go back to bed,<br />

just like that. It was hard, because Louis was never allowed to feel scared without feeling the<br />

parallel of “pathetic.” Guess it felt nice to have some<strong>on</strong>e that was willing to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in fr<strong>on</strong>t of him<br />

as this burglar/racco<strong>on</strong> was infiltrating the trash beside his bedroom window.<br />

He shook the memory, bringing himself back to the reality of t<strong>on</strong>ight.<br />

“Y’okay?” Harry’s voice startled him, his head snapping to look at him. He must have been<br />

shooting involuntary daggers because Harry raised his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s in defense, “Just a questi<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“S-sorry, yeah, you just startled me.”<br />

“I seem to do that often.”<br />

“I’m used to living al<strong>on</strong>e, so.”<br />

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice carried through the air, it melded with the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le light. His hair is an erratic<br />

mess, still wet but possibly towel dried just a bit, with dry boxers. Apparently, he was smart<br />

enough to change while Louis still stood soaking ass wet in the middle of the living room,<br />

thinking about nightmares from when he was a kid <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> just being all around weird. Of course.<br />

He walks over to his room, wet feet leaving prints <strong>on</strong> the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost making him slip <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

break his neck. He stops right in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Harry, the proximity close enough to feel the heat from<br />

his body, his words come out more of a whisper “Thank you.”<br />

Harry’s lips pull into a small smile at the corner, “For what?”<br />

“Y’know, going out there, with your bat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all.” Louis’ voice gets weaker with every word, like<br />

he’s embarrassed to be thanking Harry, but it’s very necessary.<br />

Harry takes a step forward, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis' face is inches away from his chest, still streaked with rain<br />

water. His eyes travel down, then back up before meeting with jade green eyes, a spike of<br />

electricity shoots up his spine <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> into his brain, his thoughts morphing. “D<strong>on</strong>’t menti<strong>on</strong> it, Louis.


Who else was going to protect you from small woodl<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> creatures?”<br />

Obviously, Louis has seen Harry shirtless, but not in the light of so many flickering c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les. Not<br />

while his mind is buzzing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his blood is rushing. The desire to reach out to Harry is so<br />

powerful, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing so close.<br />

Louis lets out a breathy chortle at his joke, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> doesn’t stop his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> as it reaches up, flattening <strong>on</strong><br />

Harry’s stomach, his fingers running gently over the lines. It’s more observant, but with the way<br />

everything in Louis’ body feels like jelly, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way Harry st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s so tall over him, like a shelter,<br />

he wants to feel him. Just the touch of his skin, just something simple <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> harmless. His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s are<br />

hesitant, so are his eyes, but Harry just st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s there, calm as can be, watching Louis closely. His<br />

eyes are giving him silent permissi<strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the smile <strong>on</strong> his face is more of a t<strong>on</strong>ed-down smirk.<br />

He’s just watching Louis as Louis watches his own h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way Harry’s skin raises in<br />

bumps behind his touch. The sound in the room is n<strong>on</strong>existent, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can feel the banging of<br />

Harry’s heartbeat beneath his palm. It’s hot, they seem to be st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in a <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing room, but<br />

neither of them move, just st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> allowing soft touches <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> careful stares to immerse<br />

them.<br />

And the tensi<strong>on</strong> in the air is so str<strong>on</strong>g it's drowning him.<br />

The way the light from the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les are soaking into his skin, the soft <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> diluted shadows<br />

peppering over every curve <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> crevice, it’s so.. pretty. Its art, something from Greece in the most<br />

stunning statue or painting. A mix of gold <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> black, with sharp corners <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> softer edges. Harry is<br />

crafted beautifully, his body is entrancing. He doesn’t mind at all as Louis’ fingers trace up to his<br />

collar b<strong>on</strong>es, hearing the slight intake of breath as he ghosts over the b<strong>on</strong>e, running his touch over<br />

his shoulders. It’s r<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>om, it’s odd, but its quiet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has to fight the urge to move his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s<br />

even lower. Harry takes another step closer. Louis' stomach drops to his soaked feet, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the air<br />

from his lungs is hitched in his throat, he can’t bring his eyes to look at Harry’s. He can feel the<br />

pressure of his stare, willing him <strong>on</strong>, he can feel the way Harry’s tensing, he can feel the way his<br />

fingers are trembling. Why are they trembling?<br />

“Are you studying me?” Harry asks, his t<strong>on</strong>e deep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> smooth, its like he can flip a switch. And if<br />

Harry ever tried to fully seduce Louis, there’s no doubt fighting it would even be a possibility.<br />

It’s hard to speak, mostly because Louis doesn’t want to ripple the air with his own voice. But the<br />

words come out, slip through his lips without even thinking about what he’s about to say, “You’re<br />

beautiful.”<br />

Something in Harry’s eyes flash.. <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> suddenly he takes a step back, just out of reach. The air gets<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> with his body heat being pulled from between them as Louis' h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> falls limply to his side,<br />

ignoring the c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> his own face as he looks at Harry. He looks like he’s been slapped,<br />

blinking rapidly as he shakes his head. Every feeling in the room drops to the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> scatters<br />

away under the furniture, it’s replaced with an awkward cloak, as Louis opens his mouth to speak.<br />

For some reas<strong>on</strong>, all he can do is stare as Harry stalks away, wordlessly into his room. Before the<br />

thought can even be c<strong>on</strong>nected to make sense of the situati<strong>on</strong>, the door is closed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the<br />

c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> is effectively ended.<br />

Louis can <strong>on</strong>ly st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the dumb founded with the tingle of Harry’s warmth <strong>on</strong> his finger tips <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the dagger of denial buried deep in his chest.<br />

****


“You seem off, is everything okay?” Niall asks, his straw clenched between his teeth. Louis had<br />

barely been talkative since whatever the fuck that was that happened last night. Harry never came<br />

out of his room, not even when Louis made coffee hoping the hazelnut smell would draw him out.<br />

Maybe he hurt his feelings? Did he say something wr<strong>on</strong>g?<br />

“I’m fine, like I told you, just shaken up from the racco<strong>on</strong> last night.”<br />

Niall had lost his shit during Louis’ story, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> about fell off of his chair in a fit of laughter.<br />

Thinking back now, it is pretty funny how serious everything was <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how Harry was about to<br />

beat some<strong>on</strong>e with a bat, <strong>on</strong>ly for it to be a harmless racco<strong>on</strong> just trying to find a meal in the trash.<br />

“It’s because your flat has a roof that covers your rubbage can, so he was probably seeking some<br />

dry shelter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thought he’d get dinner in, too.”<br />

“I know, but I really thought it was some<strong>on</strong>e trying to break in, leave me al<strong>on</strong>e.” Louis laughs,<br />

mock hurt written all over his face. He texted Harry earlier today, but there was still no resp<strong>on</strong>se.<br />

“Harry’s ignoring me.”<br />

“Why?”<br />

World war three wages in Louis’ head as he debates telling Niall what happened between them.<br />

Niall will most likely never let this die <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> may actually start a fan club dedicated to Louis finally<br />

being interested in some<strong>on</strong>e. Not that he’s interested. But, whatever.<br />

“I- uh, I guess I said something that hurt his feelings? Or made him mad? I dunno.”<br />

“Spill."<br />

“Okay, so- I think I was overwhelmed with how he was so ready to blunder some<strong>on</strong>e to protect<br />

us, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>lelit room didn’t help, but things got, uh-“ Louis bites his bottom lip,<br />

playing idly with his food as Niall leans in, “Heated, I guess. I was just, kind of, feeling the<br />

muscles of his stomach, shoulders..”<br />

“Oh, this is getting good.” Niall shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing fast, his eyes<br />

wide.<br />

“Anyway-“ Louis sasses, “He looked like pure art without a shirt <strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I lost c<strong>on</strong>trol of my<br />

words. I called him beautiful.” The last word is muffled when Louis shoves his face into his<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s. “Then he took off like a bat out of hell, Niall. He hasn’t talked to me since.”<br />

“He’s ignoring you because you complimented him?” Niall asks, equally as c<strong>on</strong>fused <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis<br />

doesn’t feel so crazy. “I guess, I d<strong>on</strong>’t know if maybe me touching him made him uncomfortable<br />

but he seemed fine up until then, he was into it too.”<br />

“Are you into him?”<br />

“Not like, I d<strong>on</strong>’t want a relati<strong>on</strong>ship or anything. I mean he’s definitely very attractive, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> my<br />

subc<strong>on</strong>scious is all about it, but I just, I dunno. I d<strong>on</strong>’t know how to describe it. He can be such an<br />

asshole, but then he was willing to go out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> find an intruder for me. I think I’m just interested in<br />

him as a pers<strong>on</strong>, not like a boyfriend.” Louis takes a breath, “Does that make any sense at all?”


“My advice is to just keep talking to him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> getting to know him until you’re c<strong>on</strong>fident you<br />

know him well. But, if it’s <strong>on</strong>ly been like forty eight hours <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’re already getting h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>sy<br />

then-“<br />

“Shut up, I was just overwhelmed, it w<strong>on</strong>’t happen again.” Louis cuts him off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall isn’t<br />

believing that, not <strong>on</strong>e single bit. He just raises his brows <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sips through his straw, “Okay Louis.<br />

He’s fucking hot. I’d be worried if you weren’t feeling that sexual tensi<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“I never said anything about sexual tensi<strong>on</strong>. And you’ve <strong>on</strong>ly seen <strong>on</strong>e of his pictures <strong>on</strong> Twitter<br />

that I showed you.” Louis resp<strong>on</strong>ds, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork, he’s not even really<br />

hungry. He’s just eating his c<strong>on</strong>fusi<strong>on</strong> away.<br />

“Is he better looking in pers<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

Louis’ lips are pulled between his teeth, his eyes refusing to meet Niall’s <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s admissi<strong>on</strong><br />

enough, “Holy shit, you’re totally screwed.”<br />

“I am not.”<br />

“You’re g<strong>on</strong>na be.” Niall murmurs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s a solid punch to his shoulder, making Niall<br />

rock back in his chair. “What? D<strong>on</strong>’t act like it’s not true.”<br />

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”<br />

“I’m glad you did. I’m super interested, its like a good book. Best friend has an unknown,<br />

mysterious roommate move in with him. He turns out to be smoking hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is definitely<br />

interested, best friend is refusing to acknowledge that he may, too, be interested <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is now going<br />

to go home to him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretend he wasn’t just feeling up <strong>on</strong> his chest the night before.” Niall<br />

narrates in a deep, dramatic voice. And Louis can’t possibly <strong>hold</strong> back his laugh, his head falling<br />

back, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s flat over his stomach.<br />

“I hate you sometimes.”<br />

“You love me, all the time. D<strong>on</strong>’t blame me for wanting you to hook up with your attractive<br />

roommate.” Niall shrugs.<br />

“How many times are you going to bring up his looks during this c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>?” Louis asks,<br />

ignoring that he’s just a little grossed out by the tomatoes in his salad, he’s not big <strong>on</strong> tomatoes.<br />

“This is a beautiful day, the storm has passed, the sun is out, let’s talk about that instead.”<br />

“I’m not trying to hit <strong>on</strong> your man, d<strong>on</strong>’t worry,” Niall blurts, quickly changing the subject before<br />

Louis has time to argue. “But yeah, the weather then?”<br />

And yeah, Niall is annoying <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he makes Louis want to stab him with a fork but he also knows<br />

how to make him feel much better. If any<strong>on</strong>e can make a situati<strong>on</strong> less embarrassing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cringeworthy,<br />

it’s Niall. Of course, Niall w<strong>on</strong>’t be there when Louis has to go back to his flat with him,<br />

when he has to c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>t Harry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> try to avoid the awkward, “I’m sorry I called you beautiful,”<br />

talk.<br />

Or, maybe he can.<br />

“Would you, by any chance, be up for staying over at mine t<strong>on</strong>ight?” Louis batts his lashes, tilting<br />

his head to the side in a desperate plea.<br />

“You want me to be pulled into that awful situati<strong>on</strong>, I d<strong>on</strong>’t think I wanna be there for that, no<br />

thanks.” Niall shakes his head, shoulders deflating when he sees Louis’ pleading face.


“We w<strong>on</strong>’t talk about it while you’re there, plus, you get to meet him, I know you want to.” Louis<br />

sing-s<strong>on</strong>gs the last part, shimmying closer to Niall.<br />

“If it gets awkward I’m going to be outta there so fucking fast, you got it?” Niall huffs, crossing<br />

his arms over his chest. He’s acting like it’s the worst thing in the world, but Louis knows him<br />

well enough to see the glimmer of excitement he’s trying to hide beneath his annoyance.<br />

“So, it’s settled then, you’re g<strong>on</strong>na meet Harry t<strong>on</strong>ight.” Louis smiles, leaning back in his chair,<br />

loving the way Niall is now showing a small smile <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this might not be so awful after all.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

I looked it up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> apparently racco<strong>on</strong>s aren't indigenous to L<strong>on</strong>d<strong>on</strong>, but they're there,<br />

so d<strong>on</strong>'t kill me, I'm <strong>on</strong>ly American! Blame google.<br />

so, I'm not sure if this is a good story so far or not because I haven't had a t<strong>on</strong> of<br />

feedback <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the reads are pretty stati<strong>on</strong>ary. I need to decide if you guys want me to<br />

finish it. I'm sorry, I just feel a little discouraged.. please let me know in the comments<br />

or <strong>on</strong> Twitter @curlsbabie // tumblr @subharrybless<br />

thank you for reading!


Chapter 7<br />

Chapter Summary<br />

Louis finds out some interesting things about Harry.<br />

(this is all my ficti<strong>on</strong>, the body language interpretati<strong>on</strong> is all for ficti<strong>on</strong>al fun, it has no<br />

scientific backup.)<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

Louis' not hungry but he’s still playing with the food <strong>on</strong> his plate, biting off small chunks of<br />

lettuce every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretending to be otherwise occupied. So, yeah, he’s definitely<br />

procrastinating, but could any<strong>on</strong>e really blame him? He told his roommate he thought he was<br />

beautiful (where the fuck did that even come from, h<strong>on</strong>estly?) <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shit got awkward so fast its<br />

pretty much a blur. Harry’s never came off as anything other than cocky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>fident, it sort of<br />

just reeks from his pores. So, compliments shouldn’t offend him so much. Maybe Louis came off<br />

as c<strong>on</strong>descending, maybe Harry has this unhealthy hate for the word “beautiful.” Either way, there<br />

are ripples all over the surface of their newfound friendship, if he could even call it that. It made<br />

Louis’ stomach unsettle.<br />

On a happier note, the sun is shining at full force all over the usually bleak city <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making<br />

everything look more alive. The grass is dancing happily in the rays, smiles unmistakably peaking<br />

out <strong>on</strong> the corner of every<strong>on</strong>e’s lips. The world seems to just sway gently following close to the<br />

soft breeze <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis wants to close his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get lost in the sun-saturated serenity, but an<br />

obnoxious Irish accent seems to stab his ears. Lovely.<br />

“So, any plans to get moving anytime so<strong>on</strong>? I’ve finished my food like, an hour ago.” Niall sits<br />

back, arms crossed over his chest in a huff. Impatient Niall is a replica of a grumpy child.<br />

“To say the day is pretty would be an understatement, darling, why not enjoy it a little l<strong>on</strong>ger?”<br />

Louis presses, letting the flutter of his lashes remain stagnant <strong>on</strong> his cheeks, trying to feel<br />

c<strong>on</strong>nected to the breathing of nature’s calmest state. He feels whole. It’s nicer than pretending to<br />

be interested in the soggy food that’s been ab<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><strong>on</strong>ed <strong>on</strong> his plate.<br />

Louis can hear Niall breathe again, an annoyed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bored kind of puff that makes Louis’ nose<br />

wrinkle up. He’ll never really underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> why Niall can’t just let himself get lost in precious<br />

moments like these. Those moments where all the stress that averages a place <strong>on</strong> tired shoulders<br />

finally seems to evaporate for just a few entrancing sec<strong>on</strong>ds. Where the <strong>on</strong>ly sound is laughter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the brisk scrape of the tree branches. Shoes seem to pad lighter <strong>on</strong> the c<strong>on</strong>crete, arms seem to feel<br />

less weighted, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you remember that in the gr<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> scheme of life, your problems are so much<br />

smaller than they seem to be when they’re all cornering you at <strong>on</strong>ce. And Louis forgets that his<br />

roommate might be uncomfortable with him from now <strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he forgets that his father is forever<br />

disappointed at the man he has become. His mind is momentarily blank <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sky.<br />

It’s rare, to say the least, that Louis can unchain himself from all the problems he drowns himself<br />

in during his day to day life. Its even more rare that he can do it while not in the comfort of his<br />

exquisitely decorated flat. He wants to capture all the traits of nature’s most tranquil qualities. The<br />

heated sun, the slow clouds that drift through the never-ending blue, no rush, no chaos.


And he doesn’t want stress to always have him locked away from things like this, from peace.<br />

Every single day; it’s bills, how to pay them <strong>on</strong> time when m<strong>on</strong>ey is even more scarce than<br />

happiness. It’s the empty canvas that taunts him, because his mind is drawing blanks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his jaw is<br />

locking up, why can’t he think? It’s the worry about getting a new job, how to speak to people<br />

without stuttering <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> losing his train of thought. It’s not having a car, not feeling like an adult <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

it’s being the disgrace of your family. They wanted him to be so much more, but he’s as much as<br />

he can be.<br />

But right now the bills are a breeze, the canvas is the crinkled dirt, the social phobia is the<br />

sunlight.<br />

Louis’ bathing in the quiescent essence, he’s letting it soak into his skin <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coat his tired face.<br />

He’s lost in the unutterable c<strong>on</strong>tent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he never wants to open his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deal with any<br />

urgency, he doesn’t want to get up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> walk to face some<strong>on</strong>e he doesn’t underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. His b<strong>on</strong>es<br />

ache with the memory of never being good enough to earn praise from the people who meant<br />

most to him in the world, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how the <strong>on</strong>ly thing that seemed to help was walking in the backyard<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> staring at the flowers. Memorizing the symmetry, the colors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> patterns. How they grew<br />

without scrutiny, how they danced so carefree, how they were beautiful without interrupti<strong>on</strong>. The<br />

inspirati<strong>on</strong> behind what made Louis who he was, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> who he wanted to be.<br />

“Louis?” A smooth, familiar voice shatters the walled serenity, “I’ll be damned.”<br />

Zayn fucking Malik. Gorgeous, maybe the most gorgeous features Louis has laid eyes <strong>on</strong> to this<br />

day, psychology major. The indefinite boyfriend of Louis’ overly sophisticated step brother, Liam.<br />

It’s devastatingly rare that Louis gets to ever see him out, he’s always in class, or with Liam (who<br />

Louis’ playing the silent game with.)<br />

Louis smiles down at his ab<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><strong>on</strong>ed plate, before meeting Zayn’s deep brown eyes. They always<br />

seem to bore into you until you’re so uncomfortable you’re spilling your entire life story to him,<br />

making you feel bare. “Well well well, look who crawled out of Liam’s ass.”<br />

“Oh, ok, now I remember why I d<strong>on</strong>’t actually like you, thanks for the reminder.” Zayn laughs,<br />

moti<strong>on</strong>ing towards the empty chair at Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall’s table. Louis gives him a quick nod,<br />

accepting his request.<br />

“Liam’s been pretty M.I.A lately, haven’t heard from him, what’s been going <strong>on</strong>?” Niall enquires,<br />

sipping away at him empty drink, making an extremely annoying slurping noise.<br />

“He <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis are being children.” Zayn shrugs, flipping n<strong>on</strong>chalantly through the menu, “Are<br />

the burgers here any good? You know I’m kind of a burger snob.”<br />

“He’s the <strong>on</strong>e being a child,” Louis <strong>hold</strong>s up his index finger, brows raised, “<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you h<strong>on</strong>estly<br />

can’t go wr<strong>on</strong>g with a burger, it’s meat between a bun, simple as it gets.”<br />

Zayn’s mouth pops open, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis doesn’t admit that he’s having trouble deciphering if he’s<br />

actually offended or he’s pretending.<br />

“It can be overcooked <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> taste like a piece of <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>t rubber, the meat can be low-grade, the burger<br />

can be too greasy, it could be under or under seas<strong>on</strong>ed, I could go <strong>on</strong> for days.”<br />

“I usually get the grilled chicken salad,” Louis offers, choosing not to resp<strong>on</strong>d to the list of burgerd<strong>on</strong>’ts<br />

Zayn has laid out. If its food, its edible, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ not keen <strong>on</strong> turning into a master critic<br />

when looking through a menu.<br />

“Hm,” Zayn scrunches up his nose, “you eat like a rabbit, gross.”


“You’re wr<strong>on</strong>g, I actually d<strong>on</strong>’t,” Louis corrects, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall nods in agreement, “I just enjoy the<br />

parmesan cheese they put <strong>on</strong> it. You’ll usually catch me eating steaks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> baked potatoes.”<br />

“Man, you should’ve come earlier.” Niall pouts, “I finished eating a good hour ago <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis<br />

wasn’t even eating, he was like sunbathing or some shit like that.”<br />

“I was enjoying nature.”<br />

“Yes, that fits my characterizati<strong>on</strong> of you, Louis.” Zayn squints slightly, allowing his menu to<br />

droop in his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, Niall throws his face directly into his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s with an exasperated sigh.<br />

“And just what is that characterizati<strong>on</strong>, then?” Louis folds his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <strong>on</strong>to the table, pushing his<br />

plate over to the side. Zayn is pretty much an expert at reading body language, he can tell you<br />

things about yourself not even you knew, but you were giving off subc<strong>on</strong>sciously.<br />

“You’re a very artistic soul, so full of beauty <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> very inspired by the world. You’re comfortable<br />

with the pers<strong>on</strong> you are but there is this hesitati<strong>on</strong> that seems to fight against your words,” He<br />

pauses, noting the impressed expressi<strong>on</strong> drawn <strong>on</strong> Louis’ face, “seems to me that some<strong>on</strong>e has<br />

told you that you weren’t good enough at some point in your life. There are parts of you that are<br />

reserved, but when it comes to the naturalistic art, you blossom.”<br />

“Liam told you,” Louis argues, “you didn’t get all of that just by my fucking body language.”<br />

“On the c<strong>on</strong>trary, you’re a very animated <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> expressive pers<strong>on</strong>, plus I always listen very closely<br />

to the way your voice changes when talking about specific subjects <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> people, I can read you<br />

like a book.”<br />

“Wow,” Niall mouths, “can you read every<strong>on</strong>e like that?”<br />

“Possibly, body language is something people do when they’re unaware of it, so theoretically as<br />

l<strong>on</strong>g as I can study them for just a bit, then any<strong>on</strong>e can be read. Can’t promise you it’ll be<br />

accurate, though.”<br />

“There’s not much to Niall,” Louis rolls his eyes, cocking his head playfully to the side. “He just<br />

eats, jokes around, eats more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then sleeps. He’s also just generally Irish, so I bet he polka<br />

dances in his room.”<br />

“Okay, the <strong>on</strong>ly thing untrue is the dancing part, I d<strong>on</strong>’t dance. But I wasn’t actually talking about<br />

me.” Niall slides the last words together, voice going lighter, like he’s really excited about his idea.<br />

“So then who?” Zayn asks, folding up his menu <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> throwing it to the side, having officially lost<br />

interest.<br />

“Louis,” Niall takes a short breath <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis blinks, waiting, “You have this roommate, right?<br />

You d<strong>on</strong>’t really underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> him, like mixed signals <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all that junk. Why not have Zayn come<br />

over with us <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> give you some feedback <strong>on</strong> the kind of pers<strong>on</strong> he thinks Harry is?” Niall<br />

finishes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it seems like a light bulb has bloomed over Louis’ head.<br />

“Oh fucking shit, I never thought of that.” Louis whispers, mostly to himself.<br />

“Why not repeat that sentence <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> see how many more curse words you can fit in there, Louis?”<br />

Zayn’s face looks like an accusing mother. Louis flips him the middle finger.<br />

“Would you be up to that? I mean, if not, that’s fine, but like-“


“Chill Lou, I’d definitely be up for it. Though you know I d<strong>on</strong>’t promise you it’ll be 100%<br />

accurate. Some people are able to hide their body language, hide behind a pers<strong>on</strong>a, so I can <strong>on</strong>ly<br />

read what they allow me to read.”<br />

“Good enough for me,” Louis sighs, “kid's weird, right? Looked like I had just told him I hated<br />

his guts when I called him beautiful last night.”<br />

“Are you romantically involved with this roommate?”<br />

“No, no. I mean, he’s pretty attractive, so, like, I’m <strong>on</strong>ly human. But, I’m not particularly inept <strong>on</strong><br />

taking him out to dinner any time so<strong>on</strong>. He flirts, but after last night I d<strong>on</strong>’t know if maybe he’s<br />

uncomfortable with me?”<br />

“Sounds interesting, can’t wait.” Zayn smiles, st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing from the table, his chair scraping loudly<br />

against the c<strong>on</strong>crete. Louis shudders at the sound, digging his ear into his shoulder to muffle the<br />

noise, “You wanna go now?”<br />

“Fucking please.” Niall shoves his own chair back.<br />

“Ok, ok.” Louis raises his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s in defense. “But d<strong>on</strong>’t go in there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> turn this into an<br />

interrogati<strong>on</strong>, I d<strong>on</strong>’t want to overwhelm him. He’s obviously sensitive about things <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I have no<br />

idea what those things are.”<br />

“I’ll stay silent, pretend I’m <strong>on</strong> my ph<strong>on</strong>e, you guys just interact like everything is normal. Then,<br />

I’ll ask you to walk me home, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I’ll let you know everything then.” Zayn lays out, calm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

steady, which makes this whole process feel easier. It sort of hits Louis that he’s invading Harry’s<br />

privacy, but, in all h<strong>on</strong>esty, Zayn is <strong>on</strong>ly reading Harry from the outside, what he openly shows<br />

people without knowing, so it’s all good, right?<br />

Right. “Let’s go then.”<br />

Zayn looks absolutely dumbfounded by the sheer decorati<strong>on</strong> of Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s flat. His eyes<br />

are darting around, trying to take in all of the scenery around him. His mouth seems to be a<br />

permanent ‘O’ shape. He’s walking around slowly, fingers just barely frisking the oddly shaped<br />

vases <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> frames that cover the tables <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> counters. The soft <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> translucent curtains flow al<strong>on</strong>g<br />

with the breeze coming in through the open window.<br />

Harry’s nowhere to be found at first, which is somewhat disappointing to say the least. Louis goes<br />

to his bedroom door, knuckles hitting the thick wood softly, but there’s no shuffling or movement<br />

whatsoever. His curiosity gets the best of him when he creaks it open, just checking to make sure<br />

all of his stuff is still there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he didn’t pull a quick <strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> leave while Louis was g<strong>on</strong>e. But,<br />

everything is still there, including his baseball bat, leaning up into the corner.<br />

When he comes back into the living room, Niall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Zayn have found themselves a seat <strong>on</strong> the<br />

couch, Niall <strong>hold</strong>ing <strong>on</strong>e of the fuchsia pillows in his lap. Zayn is still surveying his space, a small<br />

smile playing at the corners of his lips, “It looks like a fairy tale in here.”<br />

“Really?” Louis turns his face to hide the heated blush that’s creeping <strong>on</strong>to his cheeks, “Thank<br />

you.”<br />

“You’re welcome.” Zayn answers, quietly, the whole room is extremely quiet. Louis presses his<br />

lips into a thin line, because he h<strong>on</strong>estly didn’t even think of the possibility that Harry might not


even be home.<br />

They all spend some more time talking over the aspects of Zayn’s psychology course studies,<br />

Niall tells a story about how he got stung by a bee <strong>on</strong> his birthday, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis explains what he has<br />

in store for his next color arrangement. Apparently, he’s been really feeling this light saffr<strong>on</strong> blue,<br />

it matches the color of the sky but it’s little more washed out, not as vibrant, dulled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> easier <strong>on</strong><br />

the eyes. It c<strong>on</strong>nects him to nature <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> makes him feel like he may be floating around instead of<br />

trudging in his worn down shoes. He’s choosing between that <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a gorgeous mixed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> spiritual<br />

coral.<br />

Louis can feel his stomach leap when a very loud <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> intimidating roar sounds from just outside<br />

their window. It starts off distant <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> progressively gets more intense the closer it becomes. The<br />

sound is so vehement he can clearly hear the smooth downshift. It’s a deep growling, though it<br />

comes across more full than a car without a muffler.<br />

“Does some<strong>on</strong>e who lives here drive a motorcycle?” Niall asks.<br />

“Not that I know of.” Louis answers as the sound shuts off just outside the living room window.<br />

They’re all kind of waiting, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> with the window open they can hear the pers<strong>on</strong> whistling, boots<br />

brushing over the cracked c<strong>on</strong>crete of the walkway. For some reas<strong>on</strong>, Louis just knows that it’s<br />

Harry, by the way the steps have a wide stride, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how there’s not a t<strong>on</strong> of people in this flat<br />

building <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> most of them are old. So unless Mr. Walter hit his mid-age crisis at sixty-four, there’s<br />

no <strong>on</strong>e else who fits the bill. When the key starts rattling against the lock, it solidifies Louis’<br />

suspici<strong>on</strong>.<br />

He takes <strong>on</strong>e good, deep breath, “Harry’s home.”<br />

Just as the words hit the air the door swings open. Harry, of course, is radiant. All the depth of<br />

annoyance <strong>on</strong> his face from last night is g<strong>on</strong>e. He’s dressed in his casual black jeans, a b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shirt<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that trusty leather jacket. But his hair is even more unruly, the curls in absolute disarray <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the sight doesn’t settle well in Louis’ stomach. His eyes automatically dart to see the bike from<br />

where the fr<strong>on</strong>t door is still open, looking around Harry’s figure to find that something is missing.<br />

“Where the fuck is your helmet?” Louis’ voice is aimed sharp, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s eyes go wide in<br />

resp<strong>on</strong>se. He blinks, opens his mouth to speak then shuts it again, averting his eye c<strong>on</strong>tact from<br />

Louis’ stare. “Hello?”<br />

“I- uh, I left it back at my dad’s.” He shrugs, but the uncertainty in face is more than obvious,<br />

“You’re lying.” Louis states, simple.<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t have <strong>on</strong>e, okay?” Harry’s brows knit down, shutting the door <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heading straight for the<br />

kitchen. Louis st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s to meet him in there, momentarily forgetting the company that’s joining them<br />

<strong>on</strong> the couch, watching the interacti<strong>on</strong> play out.<br />

“You’ll die if you wreck, Harry.”<br />

“Okay? Then I just w<strong>on</strong>’t wreck.” Harry switches the subject before Louis can even process his<br />

next thought, “You have guests over?” He eyes the men sitting <strong>on</strong> the couch. His eyes are way<br />

but friendly.<br />

“Yeah, this is Niall, my best friend.” Niall beams at that, “And this is Zayn, he’s dating my stepbrother.”<br />

Zayn nods, but adds <strong>on</strong>, “Your friend as well, I’d still hang around you even if me <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Liam weren’t together.”<br />

“Nice to meet you.” Harry says, green eyes flickering over to Louis, then back to whatever he’s


looking for in the kitchen cupboards. “Sorry, I was out running err<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s.”<br />

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.” Louis leans <strong>on</strong> the counter, head tilted somewhat to the<br />

side, “How come you never menti<strong>on</strong>ed that?”<br />

“Dunno,” Harry shrugs, “want me to take you out <strong>on</strong> it sometime?” He smiles, more like smirks,<br />

which earns a scoff from Louis, “Not until you get us both a helmet. I d<strong>on</strong>’t live dangerously, like<br />

you.”<br />

“Alright, deal.”<br />

Zayn leans over to Niall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> whispers something in his ear which Niall immediately nods to.<br />

Louis looks over to Harry, seeing if he caught the exchange, but he’s too interested in trying to<br />

open up the pack of cookies to care. Niall walks over to Harry, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> outstretched, “Louis’ told me<br />

so much about you,” His t<strong>on</strong>e is friendly, kind, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”<br />

Harry takes Niall’s h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> into his own for a firm shake, “I hope he’s told you good things, I’d hate<br />

to have to expose some of his embarrassing moments as payback.” Harry’s t<strong>on</strong>e is equally as kind.<br />

Niall takes a step forward l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing the opposite h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> Harry’s shoulder for a quick pat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at<br />

the same time Harry shifts <strong>on</strong>to his left foot, leaning away slightly. When Louis looks over to<br />

Zayn, his lips are pursed. He’s not sure what the exchange means, but it’s apparently crucial to<br />

reading Harry’s body language.<br />

Niall doesn’t seem to underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> either, just smiling <strong>on</strong>e quick glance before turning his attenti<strong>on</strong><br />

to Louis, “Embarrassing stories, huh? Can’t say I’m not intrigued, I need some dirt <strong>on</strong> you,<br />

Tomlins<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“He doesn’t have anything <strong>on</strong> me, d<strong>on</strong>’t listen to him.”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t?” Harry teases, walking to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> closer to Louis, “You d<strong>on</strong>’t.” He c<strong>on</strong>firms, c<strong>on</strong>fident in<br />

his answer.<br />

“You know what else I ‘d<strong>on</strong>’t’” Harry asks, voice going just a tad lower, “Fear the reaper.” And<br />

the short sentence makes Louis’ eyes go wide, because he’s completely forgotten about the time<br />

he was caught red h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ed bursting out Blue Oyster Cult in his awkwardly short bathrobe. “You<br />

wouldn’t dare.”<br />

“Try me.” Harry resp<strong>on</strong>ds automatically. Louis takes a breath, licking over his bottom lip before<br />

cocking his head to the side in <strong>on</strong>e jerked moti<strong>on</strong>, “Not sure you’d want that.”<br />

Louis can see Harry’s cheek indent, signaling him biting the inside before he looks away swiftly,<br />

just nodding his head ever-so slightly. Zayn is the first to speak up breaking the new silence,<br />

“Why d<strong>on</strong>’t you guys join us in here. Niall isn’t talking, it’s getting l<strong>on</strong>ely.”<br />

Louis laughs at Zayn’s faux-pathetic t<strong>on</strong>e, walking to plop down <strong>on</strong> the chair adjacent to the<br />

couch Niall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Zayn are residing <strong>on</strong>, “Happy?”<br />

“Harry?” Zayn calls, Harry’s head snapping up, half a cookie crumbling from his mouth, “Wanna<br />

join?”<br />

“Hm,” Harry hums, unable to open his mouth at risk of losing his food. He just saunters over,<br />

taking the seat <strong>on</strong> the chair across from Louis, sliding his boots off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hooking his feet under his<br />

bum.<br />

“Now that we’re all here,” Niall announces, “time for the questi<strong>on</strong>s to start.”<br />

“I said not to make this an interrogati<strong>on</strong>.” Louis warns, Harry sinks his way into his chair, getting


comfortable.<br />

“It’s not,” Niall looks hurt, “I just want to know more about him, since he is your roommate <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

all.” Niall’s face is completely innocent, so Louis crosses his ankles, gesturing for Niall to<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tinue.<br />

“So, Harry, you like living here?”<br />

“I guess,” He shrugs, playing with the knuckles <strong>on</strong> his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>.<br />

“Is Louis annoying?”<br />

Louis immediately tosses a pillow directly at Niall’s face, causing the back of his head to bounce<br />

off the couch, “Hey!” He protests, “It was a serious questi<strong>on</strong>!”<br />

“Answer wisely, Styles, I know where you sleep.” Louis warns, staring daggers into Harry’s eyes.<br />

He doesn’t seem to mind, pursing his lips, “He’s not annoying, just a little intimidating.”<br />

Niall bursts out in laughter, leaning over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Zayn is quick to join him. Louis is surprised to say<br />

the least at Harry’s answer. He’s been called a lot of things, intimidating is not <strong>on</strong>e of them.<br />

“Me?”<br />

“Yes, you.” Harry’s states like it's the most obvious thing, “You can pack away a lot of anger, I<br />

d<strong>on</strong>’t ever want to get <strong>on</strong> your bad side, ever again.”<br />

“Louis’ about as intimidating as a bread roll, Harry.” Zayn chuckles, “He’d have to climb a step<br />

ladder just to be able to yell in your face.” He’s laughing so hard, he’s crying. Louis looks at him<br />

with a completely deadpan expressi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“You’re hilarious, ha-ha.” He says in a low, bored voice. Harry laughs al<strong>on</strong>g, but makes no move<br />

to agree or change his answer. It’s a little odd that Harry finds Louis to be intimidating, especially<br />

when he towers over him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> could break him in half without trying. Plus, he’s seen Louis<br />

directly in the face of fear, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in case he forgot, Louis cowered behind him the whole time. It<br />

wasn’t <strong>on</strong>e of Louis’ proudest moments, that’s for sure.<br />

It takes a good few more minutes before Niall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Zayn stop their obnoxious laughing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> short<br />

jokes, but when they do, Louis blinks <strong>on</strong>ce <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they start up again. He just sighs, leaning back<br />

into his chair <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his expressi<strong>on</strong> mimics the classic teacher, ‘I’m waiting’ while he looks directly at<br />

them. Harry can’t seem to wipe the smile off of his face, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his dimples are popping out, so<br />

incredibly deep. He really is, in the <strong>on</strong>ly word Louis can think to describe him, beautiful. His face<br />

his structured almost…delicately. With wide eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the perfect curvature of obscenely pink lips.<br />

He doesn’t seem to fit into the dark clothes he wears, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis for some reas<strong>on</strong> really wants to<br />

see him dressed in <strong>on</strong>e of his lavender sweaters, it would bring out his complexi<strong>on</strong>. Although it<br />

would be kind of small <strong>on</strong> him, it would still be excepti<strong>on</strong>ally adorable.<br />

Louis catches a small cough, eyes darting over to meet Zayn’s just in time for him to mouth,<br />

“You’re staring.” <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has to avert his face away so that his blush isn’t obvious. Harry’s idly<br />

playing with a loose piece of fabric <strong>on</strong> his sock, oblivious to Louis being caught lost in the<br />

fascinati<strong>on</strong> of his features. He’s gotta be more careful.<br />

They all c<strong>on</strong>tinue to talk for a little l<strong>on</strong>ger, Zayn keeping quiet as he watches Harry, who doesn’t<br />

seem to mind <strong>on</strong>e bit. He’s following al<strong>on</strong>g easily with Niall’s stories <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coming up with the<br />

perfect resp<strong>on</strong>ses. The way to Niall’s heart is to listen when he rambles <strong>on</strong>, which Harry does<br />

without argument. He’s seemingly a people pers<strong>on</strong>, for sure, gets al<strong>on</strong>g so comfortably with new<br />

people, acts like he’s known them for a while. The fact makes Louis' chest tight, because it’s the<br />

kind of pers<strong>on</strong> he wants to be, but is too shy to actually even attempt it. Speaking comes so easily


to Harry, Louis bets people are attracted to him like a magnet.<br />

“Louis,” comes Zayn’s voice, breaking him from his thoughts, “Would you mind walking me<br />

home? It’s getting late <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam will probably be making dinner shortly.”<br />

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Lemme just grab some shoes.” Louis answers, leaving them al<strong>on</strong>e to walk into<br />

his room. He finds more comfortable shoes, being as Liam lives a pretty l<strong>on</strong>g walk from here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his feet will ache early in. He’s not as fit as he wants to be. He makes a mental note to start going<br />

to the gym more often (he probably w<strong>on</strong>’t).<br />

When Louis returns, Harry is saying goodbye to Zayn, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall is walking over to grab Louis'<br />

attenti<strong>on</strong>, “I’m g<strong>on</strong>na run home real quick, grab my ph<strong>on</strong>e charger <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> some more clothes, then<br />

I’ll be back. You still want me to stay over t’night?”<br />

“Course,” Louis nods, “yeah, I have to walk Zayn home, so we should be back around the same<br />

time then.”<br />

“Sounds good,” Niall raises his voice as he looks over to Harry, “I’ll be back in a few, just going<br />

by my place real quick.” Harry gives him a smile of acknowledgment, going back to typing<br />

something <strong>on</strong> his ph<strong>on</strong>e. Zayn gives <strong>on</strong>e last wave as they're walking out the door.<br />

The air outside is cooler than earlier, a bit too brisk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis debates going back in to grab a<br />

jacket, but, eh, he decides against it. The sky has g<strong>on</strong>e dark, the sun retreating from the city<br />

already. Louis hadn’t realized they’d been here so l<strong>on</strong>g. But, the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> just kept flowing<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> no <strong>on</strong>e really wanted to break from it. Louis’ guessing Zayn’s gotten everything he’s needed,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they wait until they’re a relatively good distance from the flat before saying a word.<br />

“Think ya got a pretty good reading?” Louis asks, scraping the fr<strong>on</strong>t of his shoe over the crack<br />

separating the c<strong>on</strong>crete.<br />

“Yeah, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam’s going to pick me up, I just said we’re walking to buy some time,” Zayn<br />

replies.<br />

“That’s great, because it’s fucking <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> out here.”<br />

“So,” Zayn stops, st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Louis, “You wanna know what I’ve c<strong>on</strong>cluded?”<br />

“Go for it, pal.” Louis ushers him <strong>on</strong>, sliding his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s into his fr<strong>on</strong>t pockets.<br />

“Okay. So, first thing I noticed; when he first walked in, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you dem<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ed to know where his<br />

helmet was, his first instinct wasn’t to get defensive. Instead, he told you something he thought<br />

you wanted to hear.” Louis nods al<strong>on</strong>g, Zayn c<strong>on</strong>tinues, “He kind of shrunk back a little, eyes<br />

going wide, right? So, sec<strong>on</strong>d thing, I asked Niall to shake his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then step in <strong>on</strong> him.<br />

When he did, Harry averted his weight to his other leg, shifting away from Niall’s forward step,<br />

he kind of backed away. Thirdly, he kind of looks over at you when c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>ted by something that<br />

throws off the situati<strong>on</strong>, which he appears to have complete c<strong>on</strong>trol over, like he's looking for<br />

some sort of self assurance in the way you are resp<strong>on</strong>ding to things. He picks at things, he chews<br />

<strong>on</strong> the inside of his cheek, he does this thing where he rolls his right shoulder <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> leans into it. It’s<br />

an exerti<strong>on</strong> of what he’s feeling, mostly overwhelmed, he did it when you said ‘not sure you’d<br />

want that.’ Simply put, he wanted that.”<br />

“So..” Louis drawls, “What’s your c<strong>on</strong>clusi<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

“He exhibits multiple submissive behavioral traits, but it’s masterfully masked, which means he’s<br />

either embarrassed by it or it’s something he’s not outward about just yet. Either way, he has a<br />

submissive quality that he doesn’t want any<strong>on</strong>e to see.”


“You got that from nervous jitters?” Louis questi<strong>on</strong>s, the doubt str<strong>on</strong>g in his t<strong>on</strong>e, “Harry doesn’t<br />

come off as submissive to me, especially not when looking at just the nervous ticks.”<br />

“I’m not taking into account the nervous ticks. I’m taking into account the obvious sexual tensi<strong>on</strong><br />

between you two, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how he resp<strong>on</strong>ds to it,” Zayn shrugs.<br />

“Sexual tensi<strong>on</strong>? What sexual tensi<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

“If you d<strong>on</strong>’t feel that, then you might be completely numb, but I’m not. I think it’s clear as day<br />

that Harry has a sexual attracti<strong>on</strong> to you, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he puts off a submissive approach to it.”<br />

Louis runs his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> over his face, trying to ignore the way his face feels hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his body is<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing but it’s <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> outside, “You think that’s why he got upset when I said he was beautiful,<br />

because that submissive -whatever you said- trait is something he wants hidden? I d<strong>on</strong>’t think<br />

being beautiful equates to being a sub.”<br />

“No, I think there’s something going <strong>on</strong> there. Maybe the reas<strong>on</strong> why he doesn’t want to portray<br />

that part of him, makes me lean into the whole ‘he’s embarrassed’ by it thing, you know?” Zayn<br />

takes his bottom lip between his teeth, “He’s hard to read when it comes to that aspect, I’m not<br />

sure what his complex is with that kind of compliment.”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t know, I- I just d<strong>on</strong>’t know.”<br />

“Listen, if you want to see for yourself, my advice is to step closer to him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I bet his body will<br />

soften, it’s a way of silently allowing you to overpower him despite the size difference, when you<br />

kiss him, you’re going to be the <strong>on</strong>e in c<strong>on</strong>trol, I’ll bet my life <strong>on</strong> it.”<br />

“Why do you say ‘when’ like its inevitable?” Louis crosses his arms over his chest, squinting his<br />

eyes as Liam’s headlights pull in fr<strong>on</strong>t of them so that Zayn can hop in.<br />

Zayn walks over to the passenger door, pausing briefly to look back at Louis, “You’re forgetting<br />

that I can read you, too.” He winks, before disappearing into the car. Louis reverts back to being<br />

ten years old <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rolls his eyes at Liam, turning to walk away without a word to him, he’s still<br />

annoyed.<br />

Even after the car is g<strong>on</strong>e, Louis st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s there still trying to take in all the informati<strong>on</strong> Zayn has<br />

given him. He just wanted to know what the hell goes <strong>on</strong> inside of Harry’s complicated head, but<br />

instead he got intel <strong>on</strong> Harry’s sexual preference al<strong>on</strong>g with the fact that there is a tensi<strong>on</strong> between<br />

them, <strong>on</strong>e that’s apparently pretty obvious. He’s not going to pretend like it’s not extremely<br />

fucking hot to know this about his new roommate, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if Harry’s feeling an attracti<strong>on</strong> to Louis, he<br />

wants to experiment with that. So, he’s going to.<br />

Suddenly, having a roommate sounds a lot more appealing.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

please, please let me know your thoughts so far, i know this chapter switched up the<br />

story some, but the tags did warn this was bottom Harry. twitter is @curlsbabie <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

tumblr is @subharrybless you can go <strong>on</strong> there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> let me know feedback<br />

an<strong>on</strong>ymously; theories, comments, questi<strong>on</strong>s or just wanna talk. you can also ask<br />

about chapter update progress or, well, anything really.


Thank you for reading, as always.


Chapter 8<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

The near frigid draft is whispering around, gentle but persistent <strong>on</strong> Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> neck.<br />

Any previous trace of the toasty sun is now completely vanished, leaving behind an unforgiving<br />

dark. Louis, right now, at this very moment, is pacing back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth <strong>on</strong> the sidewalk just outside<br />

the flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hating himself for it. The time has c<strong>on</strong>tinued to tick by since Zayn had left with Liam,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ brain has d<strong>on</strong>e nothing but echo his words, over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> over, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now Louis can almost<br />

hear Zayn’s voice, crystal clear.<br />

He wants to, in all h<strong>on</strong>estly, take this entire thing lightly. He wants this fun, hot little secret to be<br />

something he can walk right in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> experiment with. He wants to walk over to Harry with a hard<br />

chest, watch as all of Harry’s muscles relax <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> go weak, shrinking back because he’s allowing<br />

the overpowering presence, a silent plea of permissi<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> almost desire because in Zayn’s words,<br />

‘he wants it.’ And Louis would just adore watching his body squirm beneath him.<br />

But, there’s always a but.<br />

He’s always been the type to think more into things <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make them about two-thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> feet<br />

deeper than they need to be. There has to be a reas<strong>on</strong> that this whole submissive thing is<br />

something Harry has hidden, either because he’s ashamed or embarrassed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that fact is causing<br />

Louis’ stomach to flip around in disgusting ways. Because he knows just as well as any<strong>on</strong>e that<br />

you begin to doubt yourself <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> want to change when you’re under the impressi<strong>on</strong> that you<br />

should. Which, ultimately, leads Louis to believe some<strong>on</strong>e has told Harry that, in the past, being<br />

that way was.. wr<strong>on</strong>g.<br />

He really just wants more answers now. He wants to pry because it’s always been <strong>on</strong>e of those<br />

habits he hasn’t yet lost, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’ll admit that. He’s nosey, but really <strong>on</strong>ly when it’s something he’s<br />

really interested in. He’s not going to sit here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lie to himself, say that his (very) attractive<br />

roommate, who comes off as cocky, who actually has this submissive side he doesn’t want any<strong>on</strong>e<br />

to see, isn’t the most interesting thing going <strong>on</strong> in his life right now.<br />

Louis’ not sure how to approach the situati<strong>on</strong>, especially when dealing with some<strong>on</strong>e’s insecurity<br />

or secret. Would it be intrusive to just straight up ask him? Would it make Harry feel cornered? He<br />

truthfully doesn’t have to tell Louis anything, so it might not be very productive. According to the<br />

previous encounters with Harry, if he hears something he doesn’t like or something that kind of<br />

hits him the wr<strong>on</strong>g way, he tends to shut down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t have that, not when he’s living<br />

with him, that’s just awkward. So, the next best thing would be to pretend he has no idea, use that<br />

to his own advantage <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> try to weasel it out of Harry. Make him see that there isn’t anything<br />

wr<strong>on</strong>g, encourage the submissive behavior. But, how’s that possible when Louis’ b<strong>on</strong>es have this<br />

habit of turning to jello when Harry <strong>hold</strong>s the eye c<strong>on</strong>tact l<strong>on</strong>ger than a few sec<strong>on</strong>ds?<br />

He hasn’t quite decided how to h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le this new informati<strong>on</strong>, but he’s glad that Zayn told him. It<br />

brings more insight into Harry’s pers<strong>on</strong>ality. It explains why, when Harry left him at the grocery<br />

instead of picking him up like he had said, he recoiled <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lost any fight that he had in him as so<strong>on</strong><br />

as Louis exploded. It explains Harry’s resistance to c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>tati<strong>on</strong>. What it doesn’t explain, is why<br />

Harry was so ready to blunder some<strong>on</strong>e with a baseball bat for loitering outside of Louis’<br />

window, everything about that night screamed “dominant,” but of course you can’t always judge<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e based <strong>on</strong> their protective instinct. It’s all very c<strong>on</strong>fusing.<br />

The whole situati<strong>on</strong> has Louis' mind spinning <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his thoughts a speeded blur that doesn't seem to


c<strong>on</strong>nect at any point. He doesn’t h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le stress well, so it makes him want to throw himself into the<br />

dewy grass lawn <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> just lay there, get lost in the stars <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretend he’s not letting himself get tied<br />

up in this whole thing. He wants to stare ahead, breathe in the cool air even though it’s bitterly<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> in his lungs, clear the palette, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at the same time he wants to pry further into Harry’s past.<br />

He wants everything <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> nothing all at the same time.<br />

He opts to take a seat <strong>on</strong> the frozen c<strong>on</strong>crete instead.<br />

It’s so <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> that it’s making his bum go numb but he can’t bring himself to care. He might catch<br />

pneum<strong>on</strong>ia out here without a jacket, but he’s giving himself a few more minutes to recompose<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> put <strong>on</strong> a face that says, ‘no, I didn’t just find out something about you that you like to keep<br />

hidden. And no, I’m not going to use it to my advantage to get to know you more.’ He’s always<br />

been awful at lying. But, if reading the full exposé <strong>on</strong> Harry’s backstory is even close to a<br />

possibility, Harry can’t know his intenti<strong>on</strong>s. And Louis feels awful, but he’s too curious <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’ll<br />

drive him crazy not to know, why is Harry ashamed of this?<br />

An obnoxious vibrati<strong>on</strong> breaks his thought <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis sighs, reaching into his back pocket to grab<br />

his cell. It’s <strong>on</strong>ly when he sees his father’s number does he feel the way he’s instantly nauseous,<br />

this timing couldn’t have been any worst. N<strong>on</strong>etheless, he slides to answer, pulling the speaker to<br />

his ear <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hoping his voice is str<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> uncaring, “Hello, dad.”<br />

“Louis, how are you, s<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

“Addressing me as your s<strong>on</strong>, eh? Guess you forgot you were embarrassed by me.” Louis<br />

resp<strong>on</strong>ds, bitter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> distant, sarcasm so str<strong>on</strong>g he can taste it in the thin air.<br />

“Please, d<strong>on</strong>’t start.” His father sighs, tired. Louis doesn’t care. “I was going to ask you<br />

something, but I need you to listen instead of trying to make digs at me, okay?”<br />

“Shoot.”<br />

“My company is hosting a dinner, all the workers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> their families will be there. I want you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Liam to attend with me.”<br />

“I’d rather die, h<strong>on</strong>estly.” Louis st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, walking back to the flat because the air is suddenly too<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s raising goosebumps all over his arms.<br />

“It’s not really a choice, Louis. You need to be there, it’s already known that you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam are<br />

my s<strong>on</strong>s, if I had the opti<strong>on</strong> to <strong>on</strong>ly bring Liam al<strong>on</strong>g, I would.”<br />

“Of course you would. Only bring your golden boy so your work doesn’t know what a failure<br />

you’ve raised, am I right?” Louis’ voice is accusing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rough, no hint of sincerity, never an<br />

occurrence when he’s talking to his father.<br />

“It’s not that. Liam is just more formal <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> composed.”<br />

“You mean- Liam will kiss the ass of all your executives <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> play ‘pretty <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> perfect’ for your<br />

squeaky clean image? He doesn’t run his mouth with loads of quick back h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ed comments, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he w<strong>on</strong>’t care when old, crusty men look down <strong>on</strong> him?”<br />

“Exactly.”<br />

“You can fuck off, I decline your shitty invitati<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Watch your mouth, have you no respect?” Offense is dripping in every word; it makes Louis<br />

smile.


“I’ll respect you when you act like a real father to me.”<br />

There’s a pause of the other side of the ph<strong>on</strong>e, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can hear a sharp breath exhaled over the<br />

speaker, “Listen, I already told you, this isn’t opti<strong>on</strong>al, I need you there. I know you need things<br />

from me too, d<strong>on</strong>’t forget I can always revoke or withdrawal the help you’ve received from me.”<br />

“You’re blackmailing me with my own roommate? Wow, you really are pathetic,<br />

c<strong>on</strong>gratulati<strong>on</strong>s.” Louis replies, the heat in his stomach building <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> threatening to overflow, he’s<br />

desperately trying to keep his frustrati<strong>on</strong> under c<strong>on</strong>trol but he’s not doing a very good job at it.<br />

“I’ll send Liam to pick you up at five tomorrow, the dinner starts around five thirty. Could you be<br />

ready by then? Liam will lend you a suit, I know that you probably can’t afford <strong>on</strong>e.”<br />

“I have <strong>on</strong>e,” Louis spits, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s a complete lie. “And you’re lucky you have leverage to make<br />

me go, or you can bet your ass I wouldn’t show up within a hundred feet of you.”<br />

“Lovely, well tomorrow night it is then?”<br />

The leaves crunching from his left catches his full attenti<strong>on</strong>, eyes darting to the tall, curly haired<br />

figure hesitantly stepping closer. His face is already blooming a faint pink all over his cheeks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the tip of his nose, probably from the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>. He’s all bundled in a coat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a thick scarf. Louis<br />

blinks, cocking his head to the side as if to silently questi<strong>on</strong> why the hell Harry is out here. Harry<br />

just gives a small smile, stopping a few inches from Louis, waiting.<br />

“Whatever, fine.”<br />

Louis clicks the butt<strong>on</strong> to end the call, taking a breath to recompose before turning towards Harry,<br />

“What t’hell are you doing out here, it’s fucking freezing.”<br />

Harry shrugs, “You were taking a bit l<strong>on</strong>g to come home, thought I’d see if you were getting<br />

close. I heard your voice, kinda faint, coming from this directi<strong>on</strong>, so.”<br />

Louis nods, biting his lower lip <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> trying to hide the obvious smile that’s breaking over his lips,<br />

“In other words, you were worried about me. Were you, Harry Styles?”<br />

Harry just rolls his eyes, snorting out a small laugh before raising his right arm, showing Louis a<br />

bundled jacket clutched in his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t help but feel the way his heart swells just the<br />

tiniest amount, “I saw you left without <strong>on</strong>e, I know its pretty frigid out here, wouldn’t want you to<br />

get sick, eh?”<br />

“Is that your leather jacket?”<br />

“Yeah, it’s actually pretty warm, it might be a little big <strong>on</strong> you but I figured that would <strong>on</strong>ly make<br />

it warmer. You d<strong>on</strong>’t have to-“ Harry begins, but Louis jerks the jacket from his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, quickly<br />

slipping over his exposed arms. The warmth makes him shudder, it smells like Harry.<br />

“Thank you.” Louis nudges Harry’s shoulder with his own, undefeated smile <strong>on</strong> full display<br />

which Harry mirrors, those dimples popping out <strong>on</strong> both pink-tinged cheeks. He looks the<br />

opposite of ‘trouble’ or ‘dangerous,’ he looks adorable.<br />

“I, uh,” Harry coughs, looking to the c<strong>on</strong>crete <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tapping the toe of his shoe. “I wasn’t<br />

eavesdropping, but, I heard that you sounded pretty upset. Are you- are you, like, okay?”<br />

“I’ll tell you about it <strong>on</strong>ce we get inside, because it’s probably not wise to hang around in the<br />

freezing <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>, having a c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> when we have a perfectly good flat to go home to, right?”


“After you,” Harry moti<strong>on</strong>s, watching as Louis walks by <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shoves his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> into the pockets of<br />

this huge leather jacket. The sleeves are absurdly l<strong>on</strong>g, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the hem falls mid thigh <strong>on</strong> Louis but<br />

he can’t help but love it. Love the thought behind it, love the smell, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> love the fact that it’s<br />

Harry’s favorite <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he let Louis wear it.<br />

The walk back is pretty short but mostly quiet. He can see each puff of air that escapes Harry’s<br />

lips because of the low temperature. He remembers back when he was younger <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his mum had<br />

told him that those small foggy breaths are what rises up into the sky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> creates the thick white<br />

clouds. She’d say that all those clouds were made up of laughs, stories, everything. And when<br />

Louis would ask, “what about if it’s not <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> out?” She’d say, “it’s always <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> somewhere <strong>on</strong> the<br />

earth, isn’t it, love?”<br />

So, whenever it was <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> out, he’d go outside <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> say the names of every<strong>on</strong>e he loved, hoping it<br />

was enough for him to make his own cloud, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’d see it pass over <strong>on</strong>e day, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’d recognize<br />

it. Of course, he knows now that clouds are just c<strong>on</strong>densed water thanks to the water cycle<br />

(middle school ruined his dreams) but the thought is still beautiful.<br />

When the door of the flat finally opens, Louis is the first to rush inside, going to his lighter before<br />

realizing, “You lit the c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les?”<br />

“Yeah,” Harry shrugs off his coat, “I liked the smell, is that okay?”<br />

“It’s fine, I just, I d<strong>on</strong>’t know.”<br />

“Tell me.”<br />

“It’s nothing, I just figured I was the <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong>e who lit so many c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les, you have them all lit right<br />

now.” Louis breathes in, letting the mixture of the scents fill his nose. It’s a sweet combinati<strong>on</strong><br />

twisted with the smell of Harry that lingers str<strong>on</strong>g <strong>on</strong> his jacket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis loves it even more.<br />

“Mhm,” Harry hums, sauntering into the kitchen, the dishes clank loudly as he pulls out the kettle,<br />

“You wanna tell me what that ph<strong>on</strong>e call was all about, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I’ll make us some tea?”<br />

Louis huffs out a thick sigh, taking a seat <strong>on</strong> the bar stool across from where Harry is st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing at<br />

the stove. “I mean, it’s just family stuff, y’know? Just m’dad, he’s kind of an asshole.”<br />

“What’d he say?”<br />

“He wants me to go to this stupid dinner, just me <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam, because its like a family dinner or<br />

some shit like that. He already told me it was pretty much m<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>atory, that’s the <strong>on</strong>ly reas<strong>on</strong> he<br />

even wants me there.”<br />

“You think that, or he said that?”<br />

“He said that, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I would’ve known anyway, he’s always embarrassed of me.” Louis shrugs,<br />

pretends like it doesn’t hurt every time he says the words aloud. He hopes that he can keep his<br />

voice even, his face neutral.<br />

“Why the hell would any<strong>on</strong>e be embarrassed of you, Louis?” Harry asks, not meeting Louis’ eyes<br />

as he adjusts the temperature <strong>on</strong> the stove. He’s purposefully avoiding making eye c<strong>on</strong>tact, Louis<br />

can tell. And it makes him bite his inner cheek because that just means the emoti<strong>on</strong> is obvious <strong>on</strong><br />

his face.<br />

“Because I’m not Liam.” Louis laughs without humor, “I wasn’t good in school, didn’t make the<br />

best grades. I was too focused <strong>on</strong> art <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> painting <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he thinks that’s childish of me. He hates it,<br />

he’s embarrassed I d<strong>on</strong>’t fit in academically. It’s never been something I can change, though, I’ve


always been this way.”<br />

Harry’s head tilts to the left, his eyes widening as he finally looks over at Louis. “Being an artist<br />

isn’t childish, not by any means. You like pretty colors, you like flowers, you like scents <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

there’s nothing wr<strong>on</strong>g with that, Louis. It makes you who you are. I think it’s amazing.”<br />

“How did you know, about the flowers?”<br />

“Niall told me it was your favorite thing to paint, why?”<br />

“Oh,” Louis blinks, “I must’ve missed that part of the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Well, d<strong>on</strong>’t ever be ashamed of who you are, you’ll <strong>on</strong>ly wish you hadn’t.” Harry says <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his<br />

voice is soft <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> light, but at the same time its weighted down under a thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pounds <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it hits<br />

Louis. It hits him that, yes, Harry is ashamed of who he was before he put <strong>on</strong> this fr<strong>on</strong>t <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tried<br />

hiding behind it. Just as Louis is about to open his mouth to resp<strong>on</strong>d, there’s a loud knock at the<br />

door that makes both Harry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis jump.<br />

“That’s probably Niall.” Louis murmurs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry nods, pulling down a third cup. Louis’ half<br />

annoyed that Niall interrupted the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>, but he’s also the tiniest bit appreciative, because<br />

Louis’ not sure exactly what was about to come out of his mouth after what Harry had said. All he<br />

knows is that the small sentence made his heart drop to his shoes, leaking from the soles.<br />

Louis swings open the door, welcoming Niall with a bright smile. He’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing there with a bag,<br />

ph<strong>on</strong>e charger in his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, “Miss me, did’ya?”<br />

“You wish.”<br />

“Zayn called, wanted to make sure I got home okay, weird lad, he is.” Niall slips his shoes off,<br />

flopping down <strong>on</strong> the couch, “Said something about you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam going to some dinner<br />

tomorrow?”<br />

“How did a call to make sure you got home okay turn into a c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> about my plans<br />

tomorrow?” Louis rolls his eyes, avoids the questi<strong>on</strong> as he goes into the kitchen, grabbing the<br />

heated mug of tea Harry had prepared.<br />

“Well, he actually wanted to ask me if I had a suit. Liam had spoke to your dad, said dinner was a<br />

go, but Liam knew you didn’t have <strong>on</strong>e for the occasi<strong>on</strong>, even though you told your dad that you<br />

did.”<br />

“I’ll get <strong>on</strong>e, it’s not his business.”<br />

Harry stops mid-sip from his mug, brows knit as he turns his attenti<strong>on</strong> to Louis. “Why’d you say<br />

you did?” Harry asks, but its low enough to keep it just between he <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis. “It’s nothing.”<br />

Louis whispers back, accompanied by a nod from Harry.<br />

“I’m g<strong>on</strong>na finish this in my room,” Harry says louder, “it was nice to see you again, Niall.” Harry<br />

looks over to Louis, lowering his voice <strong>on</strong>ce more, “Goodnight, love.”<br />

Louis wants to tell him to wait, to join them a little l<strong>on</strong>ger but his voice doesn’t seem to be<br />

working for some reas<strong>on</strong>. His eyes follow Harry to his room, letting out a small “G’night” that he<br />

probably didn’t even hear.<br />

And then it was just Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall. They both kind of linger in a silence while Niall checks his<br />

ph<strong>on</strong>e, finger’s padding away at the screen as he types.


“Seems nice.” Niall speaks up, not looking away from his cell. Louis nods, agreeing as he slides<br />

his empty mug into the sink. He’s not sure why Harry stalked off so quickly. Usually he w<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

unless he’s uncomfortable with something (like when Louis called him beautiful, he shudders at<br />

the memory) The c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> had taken a deep turn, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> maybe Harry had said all he wanted to<br />

say for t<strong>on</strong>ight.<br />

Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall decide to relocate to Louis’ room, but not before Louis chucks Niall’s shoe at his<br />

head for tracking in mud. Niall makes fun of Louis for his over-abundance of c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les, which<br />

Louis effectively ignores. The rest of the night is light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> humorous thanks to Niall. It’s<br />

impossible to be down when you’re with the guy, which is <strong>on</strong>e of Louis' favorite things about<br />

him. They avoid any more c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> about Harry, mostly watching movies <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> judging the<br />

awful acting, all while trying to be as quiet as possible so they aren’t obnoxious.<br />

Niall ends up falling asleep draped over the top of Louis, snoring loudly, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t bring<br />

himself to throw him off. Instead, he’s just laughing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> trying to get comfortable. It takes a l<strong>on</strong>g<br />

time before Louis can finally start to get sleepy, but his mind hasn’t derailed from what Harry had<br />

said earlier <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> every time he repeats it in his head, his jaw locks.<br />

D<strong>on</strong>’t ever be ashamed of who you are, you’ll <strong>on</strong>ly wish you hadn’t.<br />

The blades of the fan are causing a whooshing noise, so he chooses to focus <strong>on</strong> that instead. He<br />

closes his eyes, lets his mind drift off <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> disc<strong>on</strong>nect. Niall will likely be g<strong>on</strong>e by the time he<br />

wakes up, he has to get to class pretty early, but Louis doesn’t mind, he’s more than used to<br />

waking up al<strong>on</strong>e. At least then he w<strong>on</strong>’t have a snoring Irish blanket stacked <strong>on</strong> top of him.<br />

After what feels like hours, Louis can feel himself slipping into sleep.<br />

****<br />

The morning sun l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s directly over Louis’ eyes, making it impossible to actually fall back asleep.<br />

Even though he’s awake, he lays there a bit l<strong>on</strong>ger. He finds serenity in the way his blanket feels<br />

light <strong>on</strong> his skin, the way his head is perfectly positi<strong>on</strong>ed <strong>on</strong> the cool pillow. The bed is empty<br />

apart from his own body, Niall probably sneaking out around eight this morning. The whole room<br />

looks gentle, all soft edges as the morning lulls everything from the sharp of the afterno<strong>on</strong> sun.<br />

His b<strong>on</strong>es pop as he sits up, against his own will but he’s craving coffee <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s enough to draw<br />

him out of his comfortable bed. The hardwood is always so <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> in the mornings but it jolts Louis’<br />

awake a bit more when his bare feet flatten out <strong>on</strong> top of it. He drags, doesn’t walk, all the way to<br />

his bathroom, pulling the fuzzy robe from the <strong>hold</strong>er <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> draping it <strong>on</strong>. Harry’s leather jacket is<br />

laid <strong>on</strong> the other end of the bed, Louis forgetting he even had it <strong>on</strong> until he was ready to crawl<br />

under the covers. Luckily, Niall never brought it up, but that didn’t stop his eyes from scanning<br />

over it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a small smile playing <strong>on</strong> his lips.<br />

The flat is dead silent apart from the blades of the fan cutting into the stagnant air. Louis glances at<br />

his clock, noting that it’s already eleven, so Harry’s likely not still sleeping, which means he<br />

probably isn’t here. Louis does admit that it’s a little disappointing.<br />

The coffee pot beck<strong>on</strong>s him, so he listens as he tightens the rope around his waist, opening the<br />

door to his bedroom. His earlier thoughts are c<strong>on</strong>firmed when Harry’s door is open, room dark,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the living room is void of his presence. It’s nice to wake up to a calm quiet, but sometimes it’s<br />

also nice just to have some<strong>on</strong>e to say ‘good morning’ to, so Louis deflates a bit. Hopefully, the


sweet smell of hazelnut will brighten his mood.<br />

As the water is running through the coffee grounds, Louis pulls down a mug <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sugar dish,<br />

taking notice of the small, folded piece of paper that’s laid neatly atop of the counter. Louis’ name<br />

is scribbled across the fr<strong>on</strong>t, in this neat-slash-sloppy h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>writing. He slides it over, brows knit as<br />

he unfolds it. A small, thin card falls out. Louis picks it up, eyeing it before realizing it’s Harry’s<br />

credit card. He lays it back down <strong>on</strong> the counter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>tinues to read the short note that’s written<br />

inside.<br />

Louis,<br />

If you’re w<strong>on</strong>dering where I am, I’m at my sister’s visiting for while, probably w<strong>on</strong>’t be home till<br />

after you’re g<strong>on</strong>e for dinner. Though, I did leave my card for you. I want to buy you that suit, the<br />

<strong>on</strong>e you need for t<strong>on</strong>ight. If you d<strong>on</strong>’t, I’ll be offended, so. Take it as my formal apology for the<br />

grocery store mishap, yeah? Good luck with everything t<strong>on</strong>ight, hope it goes well. And by the<br />

way, I get statements <strong>on</strong> my ph<strong>on</strong>e, so d<strong>on</strong>’t go buying a new house or anything. H<br />

Louis doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he’s finished reading the letter, picking up the card <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

<strong>hold</strong>ing it between his fingers. It’s probably, not probably, definitely the sweetest things any<strong>on</strong>e<br />

has ever d<strong>on</strong>e for him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can feel his whole body tingling. Now he’s overly excited to get<br />

ready for t<strong>on</strong>ight, his heart swollen <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> beating too fast in his chest. He’s going to have a few cups<br />

of coffee, a l<strong>on</strong>g <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> extremely hot shower, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then he’s going to buy himself a suit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then<br />

leave Harry a note.<br />

Once he’s finished everything <strong>on</strong> his list, he grabs a piece of notebook paper. Steadying the pen in<br />

his fingers as he writes out the letter, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>writing is more of a formal cursive, but it's a little<br />

wobbly because of how fast he’s writing.<br />

Thank you for the new suit, I hope Armani is good? Kidding, kidding, but maybe not. I’ll see you<br />

t<strong>on</strong>ight, if I d<strong>on</strong>’t take a flying leap over a cliff first, obviously. Usually, you can’t buy my<br />

forgiveness, but this was a sweet thought, so it worked this time, c<strong>on</strong>gratulati<strong>on</strong>s. By the way,<br />

your h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>writing is atrocious. L<br />

His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>writing actually isn’t bad, but Louis’ g<strong>on</strong>na put that anyway just to get under Harry’s<br />

skin. He tucks away the card in his pocket, pulling up suit shops all over L<strong>on</strong>d<strong>on</strong> that are within<br />

walking distance, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> struts out the door, hoping he keeps this light mood all day.<br />

*****<br />

Okay, so this place is absolutely stunning, it looks like it was pulled directly from sophisticatedan<strong>on</strong>ymous<br />

or some shit like that. Louis finally decided <strong>on</strong> a light gray suit, fitting him perfectly<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he admits he looks like a well-polished gentleman (at least he will until he opens his mouth).<br />

Liam arrived to the flat at five <strong>on</strong> the dot, eyes wide <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> face in full shock when Louis had<br />

stepped out, looking a milli<strong>on</strong> times better than Liam <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> loving every sec<strong>on</strong>d of it.<br />

There are ch<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>eliers everywhere, gold accessories <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> marble flooring. It looks like a museum,<br />

as if Louis touches something his fingerprints will disintegrate it into nothing, like everything is<br />

too precious for human c<strong>on</strong>tact. There are tables full of a vast variety of alcohol, wine glasses<br />

displayed in an intricate pattern, a full fountain sprinkling water from a Greek stature in the middle<br />

of the floor. To say that he feels out of place would be an understatement, but he keeps his head<br />

held high, nose up, body rigid.


Every <strong>on</strong>e is dressed in suits <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fancy cocktail dresses <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the place smells like expensive<br />

perfume <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> m<strong>on</strong>ey.<br />

The sound of heels c<strong>on</strong>necting with the expensive marble tiles is loud <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> annoying, Louis much<br />

preferring a pair of sneakers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> some crumbled c<strong>on</strong>crete. His dad is popping out from an<br />

especially uptight group of people, Louis can tell by the way their noses sneer up at Liam’s lastyear<br />

shoes. Louis debates saying something to them, but chooses not to, <strong>on</strong>ly because it isn’t<br />

worth his time.<br />

“Louis, Liam, you both look very nice.” His dad puts <strong>on</strong> a smile, the wrinkles beside his eyes<br />

coming into view, Louis’ face remains neutral.<br />

“Thank you.” Liam smiles <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis rolls his eyes, “When’s dinner starting?” He blurts out,<br />

taking a glass of champagne from the waiter walking by with a tray.<br />

“Always a delight, Louis.” The sarcasm drips from every syllable, his father’s eyes giving him a<br />

silent warning, which Louis ignores whole-heartedly. When his father is sure Louis isn’t going to<br />

reply, he c<strong>on</strong>tinues, more annoyed, “You can have a seat with the other lads, over there,” He<br />

points to a table, mostly every<strong>on</strong>e around Louis <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam’s age.<br />

Louis nods, taking down the rest of his champagne <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing his father the empty glass, “Cool,<br />

see you around.”<br />

“Hey,” His dad hisses between clenched teeth, “be professi<strong>on</strong>al, these people aren’t like your<br />

trashy friends, you got it?”<br />

“The <strong>on</strong>ly difference between my friends <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> these people are that my friends are actually<br />

enjoyable to be around.” Louis replies, voice just as venomous, “And I’ll act the way I fucking<br />

want to, I d<strong>on</strong>’t even want to be here.” He finishes, walking away to leave his father with his<br />

mouth hanging wide open.<br />

These fancy shoes are too tight <strong>on</strong> his feet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now he’s irritated, tempted to walk right out the<br />

door <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not look back. The <strong>on</strong>ly reas<strong>on</strong> he isn’t is because Harry just bought him this suit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he’s going to wear it, even if it kills him. The other lads d<strong>on</strong>’t even blink when Louis takes a seat,<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tinuing <strong>on</strong> their c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> like he was invisible. Liam is still st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing next to his dad, likely<br />

trying to calm him down from the pissed state Louis had left him in. Good.<br />

Plates are laid out with fancy as fuck silverware. To be h<strong>on</strong>est, he has no idea which is the soup<br />

spo<strong>on</strong> or whatever they call it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he wishes he cared even slightly, but he doesn’t. He pulls out<br />

his ph<strong>on</strong>e, sending a message to Niall about how much he already hates this whole dinner, before<br />

sliding it back in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> joining into the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> going <strong>on</strong> around the table.<br />

There’s a boy with slick back, silver bl<strong>on</strong>de hair, his eyes brows are perfectly plucked <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his suit<br />

tightly tailored, he looks <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> talks like an asshole. But, every<strong>on</strong>e around the table seems to love<br />

him, listening intently <strong>on</strong> his stories, “So, I tell the guy, having the cheapest model Rolex is just as<br />

bad as having a dollar store <strong>on</strong>e, so d<strong>on</strong>’t act like you’re <strong>on</strong>e of us.” Every<strong>on</strong>e around laughs, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis scrunches his face, what the fuck?<br />

“Hilarious, why even try?” A kid with red-hair chimes in. “Royce, you have no filter.”<br />

So, Royce is the bl<strong>on</strong>de kid’s name, interesting enough. They still haven’t acknowledged Louis’<br />

presence, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the waiters are coming around with the first course of the meal. Louis’ not phased,<br />

picking up whichever fork his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s finds first to dig in. It’s a teriyaki salm<strong>on</strong> filet, a bit over<br />

cooked <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> mediocre, but Louis downs it anyway, he’s practically starving. Rich restaurant with<br />

basic cooking, Louis’ surprised it’s not marinated in gold, it probably costs as much.


“Can’t help but notice we’re missing a certain pers<strong>on</strong>, bet that’s good, eh Royce?” A boy utters<br />

from across the table, Louis can smell his overpowering cologne from here.<br />

“Yeah, I was hoping t<strong>on</strong>ight wouldn’t turn into an awkward encounter, guess my prayers were<br />

answered.” Royce shrugs, “Though I was sure it was m<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>atory for all immediate kin to be here<br />

for the company dinner.”<br />

“Yeah,” Another brunette speaks up, who looks like he’s permanently chewing <strong>on</strong> something<br />

sour, “When has Harry ever came to <strong>on</strong>e of these? Can’t say I wasn’t expecting his absence.”<br />

Louis feels his throat dry out, speaking up for the first time, “Harry who?”<br />

All four boys seated with them look at Louis, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he sets his fork down, raising his brows, “Well,<br />

did’ya forget how to talk all of a sudden?”<br />

It’s now that all attenti<strong>on</strong> is <strong>on</strong> him does Louis realize Liam isn’t sitting with them, instead taking a<br />

chair right next to their dad, shaking the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s of all the executives sitting at the main table. Louis<br />

laughs to himself, of course.<br />

“Styles, he’s my ex-boyfriend, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you care why?” Royce speaks up, squinting his eyes at Louis.<br />

“Oh, well he’s my roommate,” Louis states simply, “never said anything about coming t<strong>on</strong>ight.”<br />

“Probably because he new Royce would be here.” Sour-face snorts, even his laugh is annoying.<br />

“Why would that matter?”<br />

Royce sets his fork down, “D<strong>on</strong>’t know why I’m telling you this, but since you asked, I’m pretty<br />

sure I broke his fragile little heart a few years ago.” He says, like it’s nothing.<br />

“Why?” Louis disguises his voice, pretending to be neutral <strong>on</strong> the subject. Inside, his stomach is<br />

squeezing, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s really fucking hot in here now.<br />

“He was weak, was a good lay, but that’s pretty much it. He got annoying with all of his stupid<br />

attachment issues, wore sweaters that were too big <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> like, girly, or something. Told me he loved<br />

me <strong>on</strong>e day,” The whole table tries to hide their giggles, “which, h<strong>on</strong>estly, I told him that he was<br />

stupid for not seeing what this was. I said, ‘you’re a good fuck, kid, but you need to grow up, stop<br />

being such a little girl.’ Haven’t seen him around since.”<br />

Something inside Louis snaps, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can feel his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s start to shake from under the table. The<br />

other boys chime <strong>on</strong> at Harry’s expense, making jokes about how easy he was to manipulate, <strong>on</strong>e<br />

voice st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing out when they said, “I heard he just sleeps around with like, four other guys now,<br />

it’s pathetic.”<br />

“Of course it’s pathetic,” Royce sneers, “it's Harry, he actually like to be called ‘princess,’ for<br />

fucks sake. Everything about the kid is weird.”<br />

“You know,” Louis says, breaking the mockery from around the table. He st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, slamming down<br />

his glass <strong>on</strong> the table with a loud clank. “The <strong>on</strong>ly ‘pathetic’ thing about Harry, is that he actually<br />

dated some<strong>on</strong>e as slimy as you. And, might I add, you should fire your stylist, because that shade<br />

of blue looks cheap.”<br />

“This suit costs over three thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dollars, you twat.”<br />

“Well, that’s three thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dollars you shouldn’t have spent.” Louis smiles sweetly, “And Harry<br />

probably didn’t come because it would be a step down to actually come here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pretend you


guys are anything more than spoiled fuckwads who’re <strong>on</strong>ly relevant because their mommies <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

daddies make good m<strong>on</strong>ey. You can take your br<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> new Rolex watch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shove it right up your<br />

ass, with the rest of your ego.”<br />

The entire room has fallen silent, mouths agape as Louis fixes the jacket of his suit, straightening<br />

out his burgundy tie, “You guys enjoy the rest of your dinner.”<br />

And even as Louis’ walking out, his anger is still bubbling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making it hard to see because now<br />

he knows why Harry has changed himself, started pretending to be something he wasn’t. And it<br />

was all because some<strong>on</strong>e had ripped his heart out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shat <strong>on</strong> his existence, made him feel<br />

unimportant <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> like he wasn’t good enough. He has no way to get home, but he doesn’t give a<br />

single fuck, he just doesn’t want to be here for <strong>on</strong>e sec<strong>on</strong>d l<strong>on</strong>ger.<br />

Once he’s outside, he unclenches his jaw, pulling his ph<strong>on</strong>e from his pocket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dials Harry’s<br />

number. He answers <strong>on</strong> the first ring.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

So, opini<strong>on</strong>s? comments? questi<strong>on</strong>s? did you guys enjoy the chapter? I'd love to hear<br />

from you, as usual. All the feedback so far has been phenomenal. if you wanna come<br />

talk, i encourage you, always! twitter is @curlsbabie <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tumblr is @subharrybless (i<br />

sound like a broken record, but oh well.) you can always submit an<strong>on</strong>ymous<br />

feedback there as well!<br />

Thanks for reading!


Chapter 9<br />

Chapter Summary<br />

Louis loses his patience, Harry loses his balance.<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

He’s never felt more empowered as he did walking out of that damn building without looking<br />

back. He can’t seem to shake the disgusting words from his head, hearing them over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> over<br />

again, taunting him. He can truthfully say he’s never felt so much hatred towards some<strong>on</strong>e he<br />

doesn’t even know, but in his head he’s justified it. He was expecting this night to end in flames,<br />

he really was, but he wasn’t expecting this. He was waiting for snide remarks from his father,<br />

possibly from Liam, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> every other tight-ass that attended. He was just going to down some<br />

alcohol, though he’s not even a drinker, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hope it was enough to make their voices a blur so that<br />

he could ignore them altogether.<br />

Instead, he got a blast from Harry’s past in the form of a flashy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> arrogant snake.<br />

He could’ve easily walked out without a word, they d<strong>on</strong>’t deserve an explanati<strong>on</strong>, but he wouldn’t<br />

have forgiven himself if he hadn’t at least been an asshole with demeaning remarks to throw<br />

Royce right off his fucking high horse. And he feels pretty great about it, actually.<br />

Waiting for Harry to show up is the l<strong>on</strong>gest ten minutes of Louis’ life. And he’s not going to<br />

pretend that he’s not half expecting Harry to not show up, having a déjà vu of the grocery<br />

shopping trip from hell. Outside, it’s freezing fucking <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis tucks his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s away into<br />

the pockets of his pants, chewing <strong>on</strong> the insides of his cheeks to distract himself from the way the<br />

air seems to be crawling all over his face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> peeling away any warmth he has lingering around.<br />

He can see his breath, he can see the little clouds forming from the professed anger that stays<br />

attached to the insides of his lungs.<br />

Cars roll by every <strong>on</strong>ce in a while, rubber tires crackling <strong>on</strong> the perfectly pressed pavement <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis makes a realizati<strong>on</strong>. He’s never been the type to fancy luxuries such as this place,<br />

everything being gold <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shiny <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> marble floors, makes everything seem so uninviting <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>..<br />

stale? Is that the word? His father’s house is just like this, pristine <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unwelcoming, breakable<br />

things all over the tables, counters <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> walls. Hell, the teal blue vase in the living room probably<br />

costs more than a house, what’s the point of that? It’s a fucking vase.<br />

He wants to be successful, he wants to be able to afford stuff that he likes but he has no immediate<br />

desire to live in a museum, where you’re scared to touch anything fearing your fingerprints will<br />

ruin the pure beauty. All he wants is to be able to survive without worrying about m<strong>on</strong>ey, not this,<br />

not the way his dad lives <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not the way Liam wants to, it makes him sneer, the acti<strong>on</strong> hurting his<br />

dry face.<br />

He can almost hear the chaos from inside over his abrupt dismissal. He hopes that his words are<br />

going to echo inside of Royce’s head, he hopes that it takes his ego <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> smothers it completely,<br />

withers him. But, unfortunately, words never seem to penetrate anything when it comes to<br />

stubborn <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> entitled pricks, he knows first h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> after endless arguments with his own father.


They’re too caught up thinking they’re <strong>on</strong> top of the world <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> nothing can touch them, bring<br />

them down. They d<strong>on</strong>’t realize that no <strong>on</strong>e is below them, they’re not better than every<strong>on</strong>e else.<br />

“Louis,” Liam’s voice flows through the thin air with all the grace of a broken-legged gazelle,<br />

“what the fuck was all that about, huh? Are you trying to embarrass us?”<br />

“I have no desire to embarrass you, Liam, because I simply d<strong>on</strong>’t care.”<br />

“This is why dad never invites you anywhere, you know that? Because you can’t c<strong>on</strong>trol yourself,<br />

you d<strong>on</strong>’t know how to be reserved <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> respectful.”<br />

The sentence is enough to stir Louis’ stomach into a churning mess of annoyance, he clenches his<br />

fist as much as he can in the pockets of his pants, “Is that what you call respectful? Them? That’s<br />

how you want me to portray myself? They’re all stuck up assholes. They sit there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> talk about<br />

fucking some<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then degrading them, making fun of them. You expect me to sit there <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

listen to that?”<br />

“I expect you to keep your comments to yourself.”<br />

“Yeah,” Louis scoffs, humorlessly, “your expectati<strong>on</strong>s are too high then.”<br />

The silence that falls between them is deafening, it’s uncomfortable <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> thick <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> neither of them<br />

make a move to break it. Louis can see Liam pacing from the corner of his eye <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can’t bring<br />

himself to care that he’s upset. He keeps his main focus <strong>on</strong> the road, waiting for Harry to show up,<br />

which should be any minute now. Louis’ at least thankful that it was Liam that came out here to<br />

s<str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> not his father, or fists would’ve been thrown, probably, Louis’ patience is l<strong>on</strong>g<br />

g<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

When Harry’s car comes into view, Louis can feel relief wash over his frozen body, immediately<br />

shifting from his right foot to his left in anticipati<strong>on</strong>, he wants out of this fucking situati<strong>on</strong>. He<br />

wants to be far away from Liam, his dad, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the pretentious fucks sitting at that table.<br />

As so<strong>on</strong> as Harry’s car pulls to the curb, Louis throws Liam a smug smile, “Well, as much as I’d<br />

love to stay <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bask in each other’s anger, my ride is here.”<br />

“You’ve disappointed us, Louis.”<br />

“Yeah? Send me a postcard from where you’re residing up dad’s asshole, alright? I’m sure the<br />

view is splendid.” Is the last thing Louis says before jerking the door of the car open, the rush of<br />

warm air raising goosebumps all over his body.<br />

Liam is still staring daggers at him through the window when Harry finally takes off. The car is<br />

quiet, no radio, just the sound of the heat blowing from the vents. It’s a different atmosphere, a<br />

thicker, heavier <strong>on</strong>e than it was with Liam, which surprises Louis, to say the least. His mouth is<br />

aching to open, to say something but his jaw is locked shut by the c<strong>on</strong>centrated stare of Harry’s<br />

eyes <strong>on</strong> the road. His face is set like st<strong>on</strong>e, emoti<strong>on</strong>less <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can feel himself staring,<br />

deciphering.<br />

It smells like mint, mixed with aged leather <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deep thought.<br />

Louis tries to look out of the window, refocusing <strong>on</strong> the blurred trees passing for a total of threesec<strong>on</strong>ds<br />

before he accepts that he can’t. He can’t stay silent, he can’t let this go. “ What’s<br />

wr<strong>on</strong>g?”<br />

“Nothing.” Its short, its dripping with an emoti<strong>on</strong> that’s stinging Louis in a harsh, bitter way.


That answer isn’t good enough, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ never been any good at knowing when to stop, “I<br />

know why you didn’t come here t<strong>on</strong>ight, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I think that you knew I’d figure it out.”<br />

Harry stays quiet, his breathing is deep, chest heaving with the attempt of calming him down,<br />

Louis can tell it isn’t working but he pushes <strong>on</strong>, “He’s an ass, Harry, you shouldn’t have changed<br />

for him, you shouldn’t change for any<strong>on</strong>e.”<br />

Silence.<br />

“There’s nothing wr<strong>on</strong>g with who you are, what you like, what you wear, do you underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> me?<br />

I’m trying to help you, I wish you would fucking talk to me.”<br />

When Harry doesn’t reply again, Louis feels the last ounce of patience he had snap in two. His<br />

whole body is flooded with anger <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heat, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s tingling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his muscles clenching. “You’re<br />

giving me the silent treatment now, kid?”<br />

“Stop calling me ‘kid,’"<br />

“Stop acting like <strong>on</strong>e.”<br />

“What do you want me to say, Louis? That I’m sorry? Sorry for what? That you’re right? I think<br />

that goes without saying. I didn’t change for him, I changed for me. Because I didn’t like who I<br />

was, I knew it wasn’t really me, it had nothing to do with Royce.”<br />

“You’re telling me that you want to pretend you’re some<strong>on</strong>e else because that’s what you want?<br />

And that it had nothing to do with the fact that some<strong>on</strong>e broke your heart, used you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> degraded<br />

you?”<br />

“It was my choice, it was what I wanted.”<br />

The car is too hot now, it’s sweltering <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the space is too small. Louis is so agitated, because he<br />

doesn’t underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. He can’t grasp why Harry would want to change the way he was, all <strong>on</strong> his<br />

own accord <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how that just doesn’t fit with the analysis Zayn had come up with. Those small<br />

traits of Harry, they were hidden with an undert<strong>on</strong>e of embarrassment, of being ashamed, not<br />

something Harry would be proud of.<br />

If Harry’s truthful, he actually did want to be a different pers<strong>on</strong>, change his attitude <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way<br />

he dressed, the way he acted <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the way he portrayed himself, Louis could accept that. He could<br />

go with it, learn to underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> where Harry is coming from. But it’s the hesitati<strong>on</strong> in Harry’s<br />

words, the way his phrases are tight <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forced, it seems rehearsed, like he had been waiting for<br />

the moment his lips could mold around the letters <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> let them out. It all seems fake <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it doesn’t<br />

sit well with Louis.<br />

“Ok,” Is what Louis decides to say, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it doesn’t relieve the pressure between him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry,<br />

because neither of them are being sincere, not even a little bit.<br />

It doesn’t take l<strong>on</strong>g before they’ve arrived back at the flat, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry throws the car into park with<br />

enough force to move the entire vehicle. And Louis opens his door with the same amount of<br />

anger, both of their feet pounding heavily <strong>on</strong>to the c<strong>on</strong>crete sidewalk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ eyes are pinned<br />

to the back of Harry’s leather jacket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now he hates what it represents, he wants it to <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>, he<br />

wants to see Harry wearing those sweaters he used to love.<br />

And Harry’s shoulders are squared <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tight because he knows that Louis isn’t letting this go.<br />

Which is exactly right. So, Louis’ letting the anger build up, he’s letting his heart rate speed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s shake <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his teeth clench. He’s working himself up because if he doesn’t, he w<strong>on</strong>’t


have the drive to do what he’s about to do. Harry’s key is pushed into the lock, turning it with a<br />

harsh jerk <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the door is flung open.<br />

Louis knows precisely what Harry’s going to do, run away to his bedroom <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lock himself in it,<br />

refusing to c<strong>on</strong>tinue any c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then he’ll come out tomorrow pretending like nothing<br />

happened <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all is well. It’s happened <strong>on</strong>e too many times, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it always leaves Louis c<strong>on</strong>fused<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unsatisfied. But, no. No, Louis’ not going to let that happen, not t<strong>on</strong>ight.<br />

Right as Harry goes to step towards his room, Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shoots out, fingers clenching tightly<br />

around the leather fabric at the back of his jacket, pulling him back. The acti<strong>on</strong> stuns Harry out of<br />

step, taking away his balance, which Louis uses to thrust him directly up against the wall.<br />

Harry’s eyes are wild, in shock <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pupils blown, he’s pinned up, Louis’ body <strong>hold</strong>ing him in<br />

place with complete force as Louis leans his lips down, hovering inches from Harry’s, his voice a<br />

heated whisper, “I’ll stop, just tell me when, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I will.”<br />

Harry’s breath blows over Louis’ features, but his words are n<strong>on</strong>existent, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis takes Harry’s<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, locking them in place against the wall. It’s as rough as it is gentle, calculated. Louis’<br />

intenti<strong>on</strong>s are clear, not to pressure Harry into anything, not to force anything, but to see his<br />

reacti<strong>on</strong>s. And he notes the way Harry’s body is rolling to be closer to his, the way he’s shrinking<br />

down to make himself look shorter, the way his eyes are wide <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his face his getting laced with a<br />

blood rush.<br />

“You want to tell me again, about how you d<strong>on</strong>’t like this?” Louis’ voice is still low, redirecting<br />

Harry to be pressed against the counter. Their eyes remain locked, bodies close. “To be over<br />

powered, to lose c<strong>on</strong>trol, you d<strong>on</strong>’t like this?” Harry blinks, a small break of his voice coming out<br />

in a light whimper, lips parting.<br />

Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> goes to Harry’s hip, fingers pressing into the skin, drawing him in closer. Harry’s<br />

breathing is ricocheting off Louis’ face, fast <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his eyes flicker till they're closed, his<br />

head falling back slightly. “Is that why you’re panting? Why your whole body is limp? Why<br />

you’re getting harder <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> harder with every press,” Louis’ fingers dig deeper into Harry’s waist,<br />

earning a deeper moan from deep in Harry’s chest, “of my fingers?”<br />

“You can’t lie to me, Harry.” Louis ticks his t<strong>on</strong>gue.<br />

“I wasn’t.” Harry’s voice is weak, torturously hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> raspy. So, with that Louis pulls away his<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, backing up before Harry reaches out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> grabs his arm, dragging him in closer, “D<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

stop.”<br />

“Then admit it,” Louis taunts, fingers looping into the b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> of his jeans <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry shrinks lower,<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s placed gently <strong>on</strong> Louis' chest, fingers vice-gripped to the fabric of his suit to <strong>hold</strong> him in<br />

place, “Tell me the truth, princess.”<br />

The last word seems to break Harry, turning him into a mess <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the space between their lips is<br />

suddenly depleted, locking them together. The kiss is heated <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deep, Harry’s unspoken<br />

admissi<strong>on</strong> crawling down Louis’ throat, wrapping around his heart <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pulling the strings taut.<br />

Their bodies are close, every inch of their skin against <strong>on</strong>e another <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> finger’s trailing up Harry’s<br />

spine, finally residing in Harry’s hair <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pulling at the roots. Every time Louis leans in more to<br />

deepen the kiss, Harry falls back, letting him in, giving him complete authority. Every inch of<br />

Louis’ body is alight with electricity, it’s pumping wildly in his veins with every time Harry’s lips<br />

close around his own.<br />

“You’re right,” Harry murmurs against Louis' lips, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can feel himself smiling, “He hurt<br />

me, broke my,” Louis pulls Harry in, spinning him back to being pinned <strong>on</strong> the wall in <strong>on</strong>e rushed


move, “..Mmm, heart, made me want to be some<strong>on</strong>e he’d actually want.”<br />

Louis keeps the kiss going a little l<strong>on</strong>ger, his t<strong>on</strong>gue sliding between Harry’s teeth, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s using<br />

every ounce of his force to keep Harry in place against the wall, as if he’d move anyway. Louis’<br />

fingers slide underneath his shirt, ghosting over the <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing skin of his stomach, his back. When<br />

he removes his lips, his words are melting together, “Keep going.”<br />

Harry takes a deep breath before c<strong>on</strong>tinuing as Louis’ lips move to his neck, behind his ear, down<br />

to kiss his collar b<strong>on</strong>e. His skin is hot, so resp<strong>on</strong>sive as the blood is pulled to the surface. “I loved<br />

him. I really did. I thought he didn’t want me because I was too.. feminine? I cut my hair, dressed<br />

differently, acted tougher. Got rid of all my favorite sweaters, favorite jeans, everything,<br />

completely started over. I thought if he didn’t want me, no <strong>on</strong>e would unless I was, I d<strong>on</strong>’t know..<br />

different.”<br />

At that, Louis’ movements get more gentle, sweeter. Their ragged breathing is causing both chests<br />

to heave dramatically, the room seeming to blur around them, it’s just Harry pinned in fr<strong>on</strong>t of<br />

him, it’s all that’s happening in the world right now. He knew that turning Harry <strong>on</strong> this way<br />

would expose the pers<strong>on</strong> hiding under that leather jacket, because Harry would open up, you can’t<br />

fight what sexually arouses you, penetrates your mental stability until <str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> weakened, ready.<br />

Louis feels a wave of pride washed in with sadness over a broken heart making Harry think it was<br />

his fault.<br />

“Listen,” Louis’ lips are back to a basic hover, “it’s his loss, okay? There was nothing wr<strong>on</strong>g with<br />

you, there never was, there never will be. You should always be yourself. Be comfortable with<br />

who you are, Harry, because you’re perfect that way.”<br />

“Then why-“<br />

“Because he’s a fucking prick, that’s why he treated you that way. Hearing him talk about you<br />

pissed me off to my very core, so I can’t imagine what you felt. But it’s over, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’ll find<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e to love you for you not whoever this is,” Louis pulls the jacket, sliding it down Harry's<br />

arms until it falls to the floor, “It would be impossible not to.”<br />

“Why should I believe you?” Harry’s eyes fall, his voice light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> childlike, nervous.<br />

“Because, I’m an artist <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> we know what beauty looks like, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’re beautiful, Harry. You<br />

were beautiful in leather <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’d be beautiful in a pretty-colored sweater that’s a little too big <strong>on</strong><br />

you. You’d be beautiful with l<strong>on</strong>g hair, short hair, anything.”<br />

“You think so?”<br />

“I know so.”<br />

“Why are you telling me this, now?”<br />

“Because I cannot st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the idea of you hiding behind some pers<strong>on</strong>a, all over some asshole who<br />

didn’t realize what he had before he made you questi<strong>on</strong> yourself. There’s a difference between<br />

you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I, I’ve always been told I wasn’t good enough, but I know that I am, that’s what matters. I<br />

need you to underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that, you are good enough.”<br />

“And this,” Harry’s lips turn up into a crooked smirk, “slamming me against the wall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pinning<br />

me there was going to make me realize this, how?”<br />

“Because I knew you’d like it, it would turn you <strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’d be a mess at my fingertips. I know<br />

you’re a submissive pers<strong>on</strong>, I knew this would be a good way to get you to admit to that, because<br />

you’re too fucking stubborn any other way.”


“And what if it didn’t work?”<br />

“I told you I would stop, all you had to do was say you wanted me to. But, you never did. And if I<br />

recall properly, didn’t you actually tell me ‘d<strong>on</strong>’t stop’? Hm?”<br />

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, back still pressed to the wall, his face is alight <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> glowing, his smile<br />

radiating brighter than the fucking sun <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis' heart does a flip in his chest. “Thank you.”<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t thank me, babe.” Louis removes his body from the fr<strong>on</strong>t of Harry’s, feeling the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

replace the static heat. “I’ll admit it was pretty fun. And you’re a pretty good kisser, too.”<br />

“Am I now?” Harry questi<strong>on</strong>s, still leaned against the wall, hair a mess, lips swollen. He looks<br />

stunning, even more so than usual. And it’s similar to when he had come home after Louis’ angry<br />

journey home with the groceries, but it was different this time. He looks happy, relieved, free.<br />

“Possibly.”<br />

“Now that’s not a very straightforward answer.” Harry’s brows raise, finally pushing himself from<br />

the wall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sauntering over to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Louis, “D<strong>on</strong>’t play around with me like that. Did<br />

you like it?”<br />

Louis shrugs, leaning up to press his lips to Harry’s <strong>on</strong>ce more, very light <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> quick, “Does that<br />

answer your questi<strong>on</strong>?” He says, pulling away. Harry leans forward, not wanting the kiss to<br />

break. His mouth falls to a frown when it does, “How is that supposed to answer my questi<strong>on</strong>?”<br />

“If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have kissed you again.” Louis smiles, n<strong>on</strong>chalant as he basically<br />

floats to his room. He’s always wanted to make this kind of exit, leave some<strong>on</strong>e with their mouth<br />

open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wanting more, so its precisely what he does. “G’night, princess.”<br />

Harry’s body coils, lashes fluttering as a huge smile spreads over his cherry lips, “Goodnight,<br />

Louis.”<br />

*****<br />

It’s safe to say Louis’ doesn’t get much sleep that night.<br />

Not <strong>on</strong>ly is his body still rigid <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> needy, but his mind is going a thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> kilometers a sec<strong>on</strong>d.<br />

He’s laying bed flat <strong>on</strong> his back, head not even <strong>on</strong> a pillow because he’s just flopped down. The<br />

night has g<strong>on</strong>e instantly wild, with the taste of Harry’s lips still lingering <strong>on</strong> his <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his skin still<br />

tingling where Harry was pressed against him.<br />

It all happened so quickly, Louis doesn’t even know where the fuck it came from. There was just<br />

something about Harry’s stubborn ass attitude <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how unwilling he was to speak that made Louis<br />

snap <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was the first thing that came to his mind. Get him to a state where his mind is mush,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then he’ll admit what he’s really feeling.


Louis’ going to pretend it had nothing to do with the fact that his body was being pulled towards<br />

Harry like a damn magnet, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s still shocked his c<strong>on</strong>fidence stayed intact even though every<br />

inch of him was teamed with doubt <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a shy cloak. He’s never been so straight forward before,<br />

but it felt right <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> seeing Harry so willingly in fr<strong>on</strong>t of him, all but begging for more, <strong>on</strong>ly kind of<br />

c<strong>on</strong>firmed it.<br />

But, now what the hell does that mean for them?<br />

Was it just a kiss? It was almost more if Louis hadn’t broken out of the sex induced-haze he<br />

seemed to be momentarily lost in. Was it Louis openly admitting that he cared about Harry? Cared<br />

about his well-being despite his attempts to remain neutral? It was ever since Zayn’s reading that<br />

Louis knew he was in too deep, that this would be more than two roommates living together. He<br />

knew then that Harry was so much more than that, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s why he took such a sudden interest to<br />

him.<br />

And this gut reacti<strong>on</strong> was going to change their dynamic immensely <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> permanently.<br />

And then again Louis was okay with that. He would be okay with kissing Harry again, feel his<br />

skin, hear his breathing so close. He would be okay with always making sure Harry felt that he<br />

could be himself around Louis, always, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he was willing to accept that he’s thrown himself into<br />

Harry’s life <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> has possibly secured a place in the transformati<strong>on</strong> he hoped would take place.<br />

And now he’s going to do what he absolutely needs to right this sec<strong>on</strong>d, so he pulls his ph<strong>on</strong>e out<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> clicks <strong>on</strong> Niall’s c<strong>on</strong>tact. After a few rings, an Irish accent is filling his ears, “Hello?”<br />

“I kissed Harry.” Louis greets, cutting straight to the point without hesitati<strong>on</strong>.<br />

There’s a lot of shuffling <strong>on</strong> the other end of the ph<strong>on</strong>e, Louis snorts out a laugh, “What t’hell do<br />

you mean? You kissed him? What the fuck happened t<strong>on</strong>ight?” Niall’s words are tripping over<br />

each other in a rush to get out of his throat.<br />

“The dinner, I met <strong>on</strong>e of Harry’s exes, apparently he treated him like shit <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that made him<br />

basically want to become a different pers<strong>on</strong>. Y’know, Zayn had told me he was more of a<br />

submissive pers<strong>on</strong>, but it was kind of of a hidden embarrassment, that was interesting but this<br />

made me underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was so much more than that, Niall.”<br />

“Uhm, okay, I’ll pretend like I know what you’re talking about, what was Harry like before the..<br />

change, or whatever?”<br />

“Liked wearing cute sweaters, being called princess, it’s-“<br />

Niall’s voice cuts him off immediately, “Woah, woah, woah, are we talking about the same Harry<br />

here? Your roommate who rides a motorcycle but can’t bother with a helmet, basically lives in a<br />

leather jacket, cocky as all hell, likes being called princess?”<br />

“Yes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I know, I know. I would’ve never guessed. But anyway, I c<strong>on</strong>fr<strong>on</strong>ted Harry about it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

he completely shut me out, didn’t want to talk about it at all, tried to tell me this big change had<br />

nothing to do with the fact that Royce had broken his heart. I was pissed, right?”<br />

“Whose Royce?”<br />

“That’s the ex.”<br />

“Ok, got it, c<strong>on</strong>tinue.”<br />

“I knew that was bullshit, so I did something about it. I, uh, you know, like pinned him? Tried to..


turn him <strong>on</strong>, whatever.” Louis’ sentence is rushed because he knows Niall’s freaking out <strong>on</strong> the<br />

other side of the line, “He admitted to everything.”<br />

“You pinned him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he admitted to it just like that? That easily?”<br />

“I mean you didn’t see him, he was a mess, I’ve never seen any<strong>on</strong>e so ready to be fucked.” Louis<br />

regrets the last word as so<strong>on</strong> as it leaves his lips, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he hears Niall cursing far from the speaker<br />

as he slams his palm against his forehead.<br />

“What the fuck, Louis! It went that far?” His t<strong>on</strong>e is so full of shock that Louis’ surprised he can<br />

even speak, “Just the other day you were getting shunned for calling him ‘beautiful’ <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now<br />

you’re basically about to fuck him? Am I missing something here?”<br />

“It was <strong>on</strong>ly a kiss.”<br />

“What kind of kiss?”<br />

The silence is all Niall needs to freak out again, “Louis, fuck!”<br />

“I had to get it out of him somehow! He’s so stubborn he wouldn’t have admitted to it any other<br />

way.” Louis defends, h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s raised even though Niall can’t see him.<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t pretend like you did this <strong>on</strong>ly for the sake of the truth, you liked it. And it was bound to<br />

happen, eventually, if I’m being h<strong>on</strong>est.” Niall’s shrug is obvious even from over the ph<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

“What’s that supposed to mean?”<br />

“You’ve been into him, Louis, I can read you like a book. You’re too interested, too invested, it<br />

was <strong>on</strong>ly a matter of time before things got physical between you two. The tensi<strong>on</strong> was almost<br />

unbearable.” Louis’ lips purse at the words, because was it really that obvious? H<strong>on</strong>estly?<br />

“We’re not like, a couple or anything, it was just a kiss.”<br />

“That’s very c<strong>on</strong>fusing.”<br />

“I know, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> like, I did it so Harry would know he could be himself around me, like to know that<br />

was okay. I had to get to him somehow. But I wouldn’t be against having that with him, all the<br />

time, like I enjoyed it.” Louis sighs, gripping the bridge of his nose <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> squeezing, “I d<strong>on</strong>’t know<br />

what I’m saying.”<br />

“You like him, you liked being with him that way, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you’d like to c<strong>on</strong>tinue it. What’s so difficult<br />

about that?” Niall questi<strong>on</strong>s, like it’s as simple as day.<br />

“I guess I just d<strong>on</strong>’t know where Harry st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s with all this. I d<strong>on</strong>’t want to tell myself things are<br />

different between us, then him not feel the same way, y’know? It was so sudden <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unplanned,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it took him by surprise. He was obviously into it, but is he into the thought of sex or into me?”<br />

Louis can feel himself rambling, but Niall is silent, listening to every words <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> taking it all in.<br />

“I think you’ll just have to see where this goes, you can’t sit here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> worry yourself, you can<br />

<strong>on</strong>ly be sure of what this whole thing does for you. Maybe this kind of brings you closer to him,<br />

but you need to get t’know the real him, maybe that’s what had to happen in order for that to be a<br />

possibility.”<br />

“So this wasn’t a mistake, kissing him like that?”<br />

“I d<strong>on</strong>’t think so. I think it opened a door for you to walk through to get to know him better. If he


was against it, he wouldn’t have admitted to everything. It’s not like you chained him to a chair<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> refused to feed him until he talked, Louis.” Niall sounds so sure of what he’s saying <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis can feel himself relax, “Just go <strong>on</strong>, d<strong>on</strong>’t act weird <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> brace for the way he’ll act<br />

tomorrow, you’ll know everything by then.”<br />

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?”<br />

“No, you just took it to the next level with Harry, I’m happy for you.” There’s nothing but<br />

sincerity in Niall’s t<strong>on</strong>e <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis feels a blush creep <strong>on</strong>to his cheeks. “And now that all the deep<br />

stuff is out of the way, how was the kiss?”<br />

“Fucking hot,” Louis breathes out, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> suddenly it’s like he’s fallen into the stigma of a teen<br />

romance movie, which is perfectly fine, “Harry’s just hot in general, felt like I was <strong>on</strong> fire the<br />

entire time.”<br />

“I’m jealous.”<br />

“Stop that.”<br />

“Okay, okay, but you gotta admit it, you’re fucking lucky, any<strong>on</strong>e would kill to be intimate like<br />

that with Harry, his face looks like it was chiseled with crystal.” Niall laughs, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t<br />

help but smile.<br />

He talks to Niall for a little l<strong>on</strong>ger, letting the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> take a turn <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> allowing Niall some<br />

time to talk about his day, complain about how bitter his coffee was this morning <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> about how<br />

he’d bought a new pair of shoes. Talking to him makes Louis feel a thous<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> times better, calms<br />

him down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lets his mind rest from the racing thoughts earlier, Niall has always been the best<br />

pers<strong>on</strong> to help him relax.<br />

He’s not going to think about how he <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry will interact tomorrow, he’s not going to rethink<br />

his decisi<strong>on</strong>s. Instead, he’s going to laugh at Niall’s jokes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> comment <strong>on</strong> his stupid stories <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

pace around the room picking at whatever he can get his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <strong>on</strong>.<br />

Hours pass before Louis’ ph<strong>on</strong>e vibrates against his cheek, signaling the low battery. On that<br />

note, he lets Niall off the line, knowing it’s nearing two in the morning by now anyway <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he has<br />

class tomorrow morning. Of course, he’s too nice to end the c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> first, especially when he<br />

knows that he’s Louis’ lifeline for sanity.<br />

But, he says goodnight with a yawn, tells Louis to text him or call him if he starts to worry again<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis thanks him for always being there, promises to buy him lunch tomorrow as a treat. He<br />

feels a lot better <strong>on</strong>ce he finally lays back down, after switching <strong>on</strong> the fan <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the televisi<strong>on</strong> to<br />

drown out the impeding thoughts.<br />

It’s cool <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> relaxed, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all of the lights are out in the living room which means Harry’s asleep<br />

in bed, Louis doesn’t know why that thought comforts him so much.<br />

It <strong>on</strong>ly takes a few more minutes before Louis’ eyelids are too heavy to keep open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s<br />

drifting off into sleep with the feeling of Harry’s words ghosting over his lips, “D<strong>on</strong>’t stop.”<br />

And it’s the plea to c<strong>on</strong>tinue that makes Louis believe that this was right, that he was right.<br />

Chapter End Notes


well, well, well. shorter chapter but a lot of importance. what did you think?<br />

FEEDBACK FEEDBACK FEEDBACK. I've been so excited for this chapter to<br />

come out, for obvious reas<strong>on</strong>s.<br />

as always, come DM me <strong>on</strong> Twitter @curlsbabie, send me some an<strong>on</strong>ymous<br />

questi<strong>on</strong>s/comments or message me <strong>on</strong> tumblr @subharrybless.<br />

seriously, come talk to me <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tell me what you think so far. (now all the exciting<br />

stuff can happen!)


Chapter 10<br />

Chapter Summary<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now you know me, for your eyes <strong>on</strong>ly..<br />

so crazy how a certain set of lyrics can fit so perfectly sometimes.<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

The sheets are tangled, wrapped strategically around every limb as if trying to purposefully lock<br />

Louis in place. He’s disoriented, to say the very least, the sun pouring in through the dirty window<br />

pane. The bed is scorching, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis couldn’t hope to go back to sleep, instead flinging around<br />

his arms until he’s finally freed.<br />

His eyes are crusted over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heavy, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s barely opening them while scooting into the<br />

bathroom. Everything still feels vaguely like a dream, like Harry’s lips were a blissful c<strong>on</strong>cocti<strong>on</strong><br />

of Louis’ most desired thoughts, like Harry’s skin was imagined in the dirtiest parts, hidden in the<br />

far back of his mind. He’s trying to come to terms with his reality, with the reality that included a<br />

deep, passi<strong>on</strong>ate kiss between him <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his roommate just a few hours prior.<br />

With that, he turns the faucet, hoping the water doesn’t take too l<strong>on</strong>g to heat. The mirror be<strong>hold</strong>s<br />

an unsightly scene, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it almost makes Louis jump to see the mess of matted hair laid <strong>on</strong> his head,<br />

dried spit clinging to the corner of his lips. And this is the precise reas<strong>on</strong> Louis never, ever lets<br />

any<strong>on</strong>e he’s sexually attracted to see him in the first minutes of the morning. He’d likely scare<br />

them off.<br />

When the water is warm enough to not send chills through his whole body, he cups his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>,<br />

allowing it to overflow before splashing his face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rinsing the sleep clean away. Below his<br />

h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s, his own skin feels foreign to him, his fingers craving the soft, silky skin of Harry’s back<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> stomach, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fuck, it’s way too early for this shit.<br />

He’s c<strong>on</strong>vincing himself, pretending that he’s c<strong>on</strong>fident <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unwavering <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not going to<br />

walk out of this room with an expressi<strong>on</strong> that gives away the unnatural unease he’s feeling at the<br />

pit of his stomach. And yeah, he’s been nervous before, obviously. But it’s never been this type of<br />

nervous, where he’s c<strong>on</strong>tinuously splashing water over his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> somewhat wishing it could<br />

clear his thoughts just as easy.<br />

Louis hears the sure voice of Niall echoing around the cluttered jam in his skull, trying to even<br />

things out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> reassure him that kissing Harry was the right choice. Maybe, maybe. But was being<br />

so forward? Pining him against the wall, mouth inches away with hot breath to cloud his<br />

judgment. Because he knew, had a slither of an idea that Harry was interested in him. And not in<br />

the “we both live together <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I should know your middle name,” kind of interested.<br />

And he took that <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> used it as a pawn against Harry, got him to admit to things he’s normally too<br />

stubborn to even think about. Somewhere in the spiderweb of thoughts, Louis knows that wasn’t<br />

okay, he should’ve given Harry the time to come out with the truth all <strong>on</strong> his own. But he’s<br />

countering his own arguments- he did tell Harry he would stop if given the comm<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, so there<br />

was a way out, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if Harry opted not to take it, then it wouldn’t fall <strong>on</strong> Louis’ shoulders.


He can’t help but worry, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he hates to worry.<br />

He’s always told himself that there was no point in worrying, it was too short of a life to spend the<br />

effort <strong>on</strong>. And now, he’s here, staring at himself in the mirror <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> loathing the way his eyes seem<br />

to glisten every time Harry’s name flashes in his memory. Or the stark perfect image of his face,<br />

especially the way his deep pink lips parted <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his voice seemed to seep out dangerously slow<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> drawn out, he can feel his own breathing speed up.<br />

Now is a good time to brush his teeth, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forget.<br />

There’s clamoring from the kitchen, which means Harry isn’t <strong>on</strong>ly awake, but he’s home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis picks at the counter, cleaning off dirt that isn’t there because he’s fucking buying time. He’s<br />

procrastinating this whole face-to-face ordeal, the reas<strong>on</strong> being that he’s not sure how his body,<br />

his voice will react to the pressure of seeing how Harry’s interacti<strong>on</strong> around him will change. The<br />

most likely scenario includes Louis fumbling around with a coffee mug as he haphazardly pours<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> attempts to keep things casual, all while basking the room in an unnecessary awkwardness.<br />

And then, he’ll leave wordlessly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> quickly <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hate himself for it.<br />

”You’re being a baby, you’re being a baby, Louis.” He says, in a hushed whisper, psyching<br />

himself up. “It’s just Harry, it’s fine.” He adds, before taking <strong>on</strong>e l<strong>on</strong>g, prol<strong>on</strong>ged breath, leaving<br />

the bathroom.<br />

His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> freezes <strong>on</strong> the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le of his bedroom door, hearing a shuffling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a small musical t<strong>on</strong>e.<br />

It sounds like Harry’s whistling. The noise flows through all of Louis’ tense limbs <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unwinds<br />

him; there’s no sense in being so scared, everything will be just fine between them. Yeah, he acted<br />

out <strong>on</strong> a supposedly plat<strong>on</strong>ic friendship, quite aggressively at that, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> kissed his troubled<br />

roommate, what’s the big deal?<br />

When Louis opens the door, he looks tired, nothing out of the ordinary, but his eyes are<br />

subc<strong>on</strong>sciously searching for Harry. He’s chewing <strong>on</strong> his bottom lip, a nervous tick, as he walks<br />

quietly to the kitchen. Harry is, well, shirtless. He’s wearing loose basketball shorts <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a bunch of<br />

silky curls quaffed away from his face. All the ink from his tattoos is <strong>on</strong> display <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t<br />

seem to focus <strong>on</strong> anything else.<br />

It’s art, really, in every sense of the word. Not <strong>on</strong>ly the designs, but the way they c<strong>on</strong>trast so<br />

beautifully against Harry’s skin.<br />

“Good morning, Louis.” Harry sing-s<strong>on</strong>gs, snapping Louis from his obvious stare. His cheeks<br />

redden just slightly.<br />

“Harry,” He nods, “Sleep well?”<br />

“I did, you?”<br />

“Yeah.” Louis winces at the tense air, he wants out of here, but before he can grab a mug to-go,<br />

he feels fingers ghosting over the small of his back, just over his t-shirt.<br />

“You seem pent up, everything okay?”<br />

Louis tries to even out his voice, pretend like his heart isn’t racing at the simplest touch, “Yeah,<br />

I’m fine.”<br />

“D’you wanna talk about last night?” Harry presses, leaning up against the counter. The muscles<br />

from his forehead are straining <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis is having a hard time keeping his body at bay.


“Uhm,” He coughs, looking to the floor, “What about last night?”<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t play coy, you had me pressed against the wall, you kissed me, pretty damn good, too.<br />

Were you just trying to weasel informati<strong>on</strong> from me, or was that something you really wanted to<br />

do?” Harry cocks his head. So he’s getting straight to the point this morning.<br />

Louis feels absolutely put <strong>on</strong> the spot, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> stress is not his friend, in fact it’s the exact opposite.<br />

His mind is frazzled, trying to put together enough words to make a coherent sentence. “You’re<br />

stubborn, I wanted to know more about your past, you wouldn’t tell me.”<br />

“Oh,” Harry nods, his lips twitching into a small frown, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes Louis’ stomach drop, but he<br />

doesn’t know what else to say, he doesn’t really know how to h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le this situati<strong>on</strong>. He’s so out of<br />

his element, would saying he wanted to do it make Harry feel better? Would it make him<br />

uncomfortable?<br />

“Yeah,” He resp<strong>on</strong>ds, weakly.<br />

“Well,” Harry breathes in, his whole body deflating <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now Louis feels even more awful,<br />

“M’g<strong>on</strong>na go out to see a friend for a little bit, was just going to tell you that I might not be home<br />

t<strong>on</strong>ight, so.”<br />

“Okay,” Louis feels his voice shaking, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s brows shoot up, “When are you leaving?”<br />

“In a few, why?”<br />

“No reas<strong>on</strong>, just..” Louis trails off. And there is a silence that falls between them. Louis doesn’t<br />

want Harry to leave, he was hoping he would be here all day even though the thought made his<br />

whole body shake.<br />

Harry st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s there, eyes trained <strong>on</strong> Louis, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s like he’s willing Louis to speak, to say<br />

anything, but Louis can’t form the words. He feels like he’s walking <strong>on</strong> egg shells when things are<br />

nowhere near as complicated as he’s making them out to be. He should just outwardly tell Harry,<br />

that yes, he wanted to kiss him. Because he did, he really did, but at the same time he’s trying to<br />

keep a steady dynamic between them, he doesn’t want to push anything.<br />

And when Harry eyes drop, he loses the restraint to <strong>hold</strong> back his unformed thoughts <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he says<br />

the first thing that l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s <strong>on</strong> his t<strong>on</strong>gue, “I wanted to, Harry, I wanted to do it.”<br />

“Wanted to, what? Kiss me?”<br />

“Yeah, everything, I, uh, I just. I can’t really explain. I was trying to get you to feel like you could<br />

open up to me, but at the same time I was just doing everything my body was asking to do. I<br />

wanted to touch you, I wanted that so badly, more than I realized.”<br />

And to say that Harry was trying his very best to hide the obvious smile <strong>on</strong> his face would be a<br />

complete understatement, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can help but mirror the exact expressi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong>to his own face.<br />

The first thing that he acknowledges is that Louis admitting to wanting to kiss him rather than just<br />

getting informati<strong>on</strong> was something Harry had wanted to hear, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it was something that was<br />

important enough to make him smile, which warms Louis’ stomach <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> makes his legs feel sort of<br />

numb.<br />

Because Harry is just so beautiful when he smiles.<br />

“I’ve been wanting you to kiss me since I met you, if you couldn’t tell.” Harry shrugs, trying to<br />

come off n<strong>on</strong>chalant but doing a completely terrible job at it.


“I d<strong>on</strong>’t pick up <strong>on</strong> flirting as easily as some people, Harry.” Louis teases, cocking his head to the<br />

side, playfully, as he walks over to the coffee pot. Harry was up earlier <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> prepared it, with<br />

hazelnut, Louis’ favorite, “but I just wanted to say that before you left, I d<strong>on</strong>’t want you thinking I<br />

was just doing that to trick you. I meant every word I said, but I’m never any good at getting my<br />

words out when I’m nervous.”<br />

“You’re nervous now, but you weren’t nervous last night. You are surely an anomaly, Louis<br />

Tomlins<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“I wasn’t nervous because I was so pissed, driven by anger. It was a mixture of my dad <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Liam,<br />

Royce, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> you closing me off. It was, I d<strong>on</strong>’t know, acting <strong>on</strong> emoti<strong>on</strong> kind of thing? If that<br />

makes sense.” Louis focuses <strong>on</strong> the pour of aromatic coffee, earning a reas<strong>on</strong> to keep his eyes<br />

from Harry, he knows it’ll make him trip over his own words to maintain that c<strong>on</strong>tact.<br />

“Did you regret it? At all?”<br />

“I think I was worried that I might regret it if things got uncomfortable between us,” Louis<br />

answers h<strong>on</strong>estly, “but if you’re fine, then I’m fine. I just didn’t want to over step any<br />

boundaries.”<br />

Harry nods, smile still hinting in the corners of his lips while he walks to his room, “I get it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

I’m fine. For the record, if you were overstepping any boundaries, I would’ve asked you to stop.”<br />

Before Louis can resp<strong>on</strong>d, Harry adds <strong>on</strong>, “I’m getting dressed, plans are beck<strong>on</strong>ing.”<br />

And just like that, Harry disappears into his room, leaving Louis with a full cup of coffee <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a<br />

c<strong>on</strong>fused but c<strong>on</strong>tent smile <strong>on</strong> his face.<br />

****<br />

Pallas <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the Centaur, by Italian painter S<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ro Botticelli, as compared to some<strong>on</strong>e of French<br />

influence such as Jean-Francois Millet’s Paysage de printemps avec arc-en-ciel would be an<br />

inc<strong>on</strong>ceivable c<strong>on</strong>trast, pure talent with every stroke <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a mind so intricately precise as to their<br />

visi<strong>on</strong>, it’s all so in-depth. It’s the detail in both of the pieces, the story that your thoughts seem<br />

to whirl to create when you’re staring at it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis <strong>on</strong>ly hopes that to some extent he’ll be able<br />

to do as much with his own h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s. He wants his art hung here, <strong>on</strong> the massive walls all covered in<br />

the most beautiful mastery. All for people to see, to observe, make them think <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>nect with<br />

what he was trying to express what his words just couldn’t <strong>on</strong> their own.<br />

He wants some<strong>on</strong>e to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> where he’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing right now, with their index finger resting <strong>on</strong> their<br />

bottom lip as they follow the lines, the colors, the textures.<br />

Would they underst<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> what it represents? Will they see happiness where he saw childhood<br />

misfortune? Will they see blossoming petals where he saw the transformati<strong>on</strong> of c<strong>on</strong>fidence into a<br />

broken man? Will they feel the pain of not being good enough when the dark colors rest so close<br />

to each other, the light pastels so far they seem to be out of reach?<br />

And they may, or they may not, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that is what makes art so free <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> interesting. It’s the way<br />

every<strong>on</strong>e has an individual interpretati<strong>on</strong> of even the most obscure pictures. Because even if<br />

some<strong>on</strong>e did have their own story they attached to his words, he’d have d<strong>on</strong>e something right, he<br />

would have created something that was going to live <strong>on</strong>.<br />

His flowers could live in the form of a smile that it put <strong>on</strong> some<strong>on</strong>e’s face, or the memory that it


ought up. It could live <strong>on</strong> in the words some<strong>on</strong>e used to explain it, the words they used to tell<br />

people about it. It could live <strong>on</strong> in the way some<strong>on</strong>e’s heart swells when they think, “My mother<br />

always loved petunias..”<br />

Louis could crawl into a ball <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sleep right here <strong>on</strong> the floor <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> never leave for a sec<strong>on</strong>d. He<br />

feels whole here, in this museum, filled with the pieces he probably knows by heart. This is his<br />

home <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his inspirati<strong>on</strong>, what pushed him through when he felt like he was <strong>on</strong> the wr<strong>on</strong>g side of<br />

the fence, prevented him from hopping it <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> becoming some<strong>on</strong>e that wasn’t himself. And he’s so<br />

appreciative of everything this has taught him; these four walls, he owes his life to.<br />

“Louis, y’okay man?”<br />

Louis’ eyes jump of the image he was staring at, the friendly worker next to him with a very<br />

c<strong>on</strong>fused <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> worried expressi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> his face. “Yeah, I’m good, why?”<br />

“It looked like you were crying.” He answers, his face smoothing out, “I see you here all the time,<br />

sometimes I w<strong>on</strong>der if you forget where you are, the way you stare at some of these paintings.”<br />

“I probably do,” Louis laughs, “<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I’m not crying, my eyes water from not blinking.”<br />

“Why? Why’re you so into these? I mean, it’s fine that you are, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all.” The worker looks like<br />

he’s in his mid-twenties, stark red hair <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a welcoming smile.<br />

“I paint, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> these pieces are what inspired me to start, so I like to come by <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> revel in the<br />

memory.”<br />

“You know a lot about these paintings?” He asks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis glances at his name tag, reading<br />

’Trevor.’<br />

“I do.”<br />

“Well, my dad works here, I know he’s seen you around a lot. If you want, I can give him your<br />

name, see if maybe we need some help with the museum tours <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all that?”<br />

“Are you kidding me?” Louis shouts, unaware of his projecting volume until it’s echoing from the<br />

walls. He clears his throat, recomposing, “I’d love that, wow, you have no idea how amazing that<br />

would be, thank you so much.” Louis glances down at his own attire, <strong>on</strong>ly wishing he’d been<br />

dressed more professi<strong>on</strong>ally, more formal. Instead, clad in a pair of dark jeans <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his favorite toolarge-for-his-frame<br />

lavender sweater. Though, this morning when he had pulled it <strong>on</strong>, it smelled<br />

faintly of Harry, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis is surely going crazy.<br />

“Mate, it’s all good, we need some knowledgeable people around here, I’m sure he’ll appreciate<br />

you.”<br />

“You’re my saviour, pal.” Louis grabs Trevor’s h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in his own for a firm h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>shake, “I hope it<br />

works out.”<br />

“He’ll hopefully be giving you a call to set up for a formal interview, so if you want to write down<br />

your name <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> some c<strong>on</strong>tact info I’ll gladly slip it to him.” He says, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis immediately pulls<br />

out his wallet, grabbing a pen from the nearby desk to write his informati<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong> the back of his last<br />

doctors appointment reminder card.<br />

“It’s all there.”<br />

“Great, look forward to working with you, maybe now I can split some hours, I’m tired of forty<br />

plus a week.”


“I need’em, so.”<br />

Trevor gives Louis <strong>on</strong>e last nod before heading off to help a customer, flagging him down for<br />

some informati<strong>on</strong>. So, today couldn’t have possibly been better, not even in Louis’ dream. He’s<br />

sure he’s applied here dozens of times, but they probably throw away all the applicati<strong>on</strong>s after a<br />

brief glance. With the testim<strong>on</strong>y of family, hopefully he has a sure fire chance of l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing a spot.<br />

Of course, he’s well aware its best to not get his hopes up, but his heart is going off anyway,<br />

beating like crazy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his cheeks hurt from smiling so fucking big. Having a job here would be<br />

more than a dream come true. Hell, he comes here in his free time but to actually get paid? That’s<br />

a completely different story <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ already practically skipping.<br />

He wants to call Niall, but he’s in class (the reas<strong>on</strong> Louis didn’t drag his ass up here in the first<br />

place). He’s not super artistic, but he comes with Louis all the time because he knows it makes<br />

Louis happy. H<strong>on</strong>estly, every<strong>on</strong>e needs a friend like Niall, Louis’d probably be a hateful ball of<br />

dark matter if not for the sunshine that beams off Niall twenty-four hours of the day.<br />

It’s been a little l<strong>on</strong>ely without the comments, questi<strong>on</strong>s <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> remarks Niall will throw in <strong>on</strong><br />

occasi<strong>on</strong> while Louis scans the walls.<br />

He pulls out his cell anyway, deciding a text would be sufficient <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Niall will surely call him as<br />

so<strong>on</strong> as the professor lets the class out. He settles <strong>on</strong> good news, was offered a job at my favourite<br />

museum, can you fucking believe it !?<br />

The building is within close walking distance, which was a definite must-have when it comes to<br />

work, being as Louis doesn’t have a functi<strong>on</strong>ing car. His unfaithful ride had broken down l<strong>on</strong>g<br />

ago, presumably from the lack of petrol, but Louis’ willing to bet there’s a shit load more wr<strong>on</strong>g<br />

with it. And he’s just going to start saving for a different used car, maybe have a mechanic check<br />

it over <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> make sure its reliable. And give his feet a fucking break.<br />

He’s been at the museum for well over two hours, so he’s sure Harry’s g<strong>on</strong>e by now. He didn’t<br />

leave immediately like he was planning to, still in his room even after Louis had taken a shower,<br />

gotten ready, scarfed down a quick (<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unhealthy, oops) lunch. Louis’d knocked <strong>on</strong> his door,<br />

yelled a “see you later,” <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> left, w<strong>on</strong>dering why Harry had been in such a rush <strong>on</strong>ly to hang out<br />

behind closed doors for quite some time.<br />

But, he’s definitely g<strong>on</strong>e by now, which means Louis will have to keep his excitement at bay<br />

about his exhilarating day until Niall gets out of class at four this afterno<strong>on</strong>.<br />

Boo.<br />

The sidewalks crumbles under Louis’ worn down shoes, the soles doing their very best to hang <strong>on</strong><br />

even after repeated abuse, n<strong>on</strong>-stop wear. It was probably too far <strong>on</strong> the chilly side to just be<br />

wearing a sweater, the wind whipping around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> raising bumps all over his skin, even the parts<br />

covered in the soft fabric. Every now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again there’ll be a distinct waft of a familiar scent, not<br />

akin to his laundry detergent or his previously worn colognes, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can <strong>on</strong>ly really pinpoint<br />

it as Harry.<br />

Which is fine, but is also c<strong>on</strong>fusing c<strong>on</strong>sidering Louis hadn’t worn this around him since his last<br />

laundry load. But, n<strong>on</strong>etheless it was still not the smartest idea to come unprepared, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> if any<strong>on</strong>e<br />

would be out in <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> weather with <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong>e layer, it’d be Louis. He’s always been bad about that,<br />

underestimating the impact a thin layer of comfortable fabric could have against the frigid air.<br />

Always arguing, “what’s the point of wearing this magnificent color if its going to be half covered<br />

by another jacket, anyway?” Fashi<strong>on</strong> over comfort? Not the best ideology. Oh, well.


His <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry’s flat comes into view a short distance away, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ really looking forward to<br />

cranking the heat, curling into the couch with a thick comforter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watching stupid movies he’s<br />

probably seen about a hundred times already.<br />

But there’s still a car in the driveway, Harry’s car, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his bike parked directly next to it.<br />

And that’s… odd? He’s still here, which Louis was wholly not expecting. And he’s not upset<br />

about it, but it’s catching him off guard. He was planning to be out a little later, but he didn’t have<br />

the heart to hang around the museum l<strong>on</strong>ger just in case they had decided against the job <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> said<br />

something to him about it right then <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> there. Which is likely ridiculous <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wouldn’t happen,<br />

but paranoia is sometimes persistent <strong>on</strong> Louis’ mind <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not feeling the need to test his<br />

anxiety out today.<br />

The sun dips behind a light grey cloud, making the <strong>on</strong>ly heat source dissipate <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ walking<br />

speeds because shit, it’s fucking <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> now.<br />

His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> is aching from being tucked into his tight pockets, shielding from the breeze. His fingers<br />

stretch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pop <strong>on</strong>ce before he can get the key into the lock, opening the door quietly. Half of him<br />

expects to see people over, the other half looking for Harry to be in the kitchen. The kid eats like<br />

fucking crazy, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even after buying out eighty percent of the small grocery store, it’s about time<br />

to go back again. But, Harry’s going this time, Louis’ not taking the chances of ab<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><strong>on</strong>ment.<br />

The flat is dead silent, no noise in the kitchen, no voices, no sleeping body <strong>on</strong> the couch. Harry’s<br />

door is open, but the light’s off. Maybe a friend came <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> picked Harry up? That’d explain his car<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bike still being in the driveway despite him not being here.<br />

Louis kicks off his shoes, pulling his sleeves over his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s to hopefully warm them just a bit as<br />

he strolls into the kitchen to grab a lighter. It’s not as easy to flick the Bic when your fingers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

covered in a flammable fabric, but Louis’ become at expert at maneuvering with a case of ‘sweater<br />

paws’ or whatever the fuck they’re supposed to be called.<br />

He lights about four c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les, before reaching for the remote with all the intent to flop down <strong>on</strong> the<br />

couch. The flat is always pretty warm, but he’s freezing so he’s grabbing a comforter anyway,<br />

because he can.<br />

Rubbing his covered h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s together, he goes towards his bedroom, stopping just in fr<strong>on</strong>t of the<br />

closed door. There’s a sound coming from inside, his televisi<strong>on</strong> <strong>on</strong>, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis knows for a fact he<br />

didn’t forget to switch it off. It’s not a scary feeling, c<strong>on</strong>sidering any robber-slash-murderer would<br />

likely not be hanging out in the homeowner’s bedroom, watching TV like it was the most leisurely<br />

thing.<br />

He turns the h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>le, being as quiet as possible.<br />

Once he peeks his head in, he can see his previous assumpti<strong>on</strong> was right, the televisi<strong>on</strong> is <strong>on</strong>,<br />

volume turned down low. The light’s <strong>on</strong>, bed is still made, but there’s no <strong>on</strong>e in immediate sight.<br />

So he c<strong>on</strong>tinues <strong>on</strong>, hearing a faint humming sound, it’s coming from his open closet. The light is<br />

<strong>on</strong> in there too (how awesome are walk in closets? Lights <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all) <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis decides the culprit is<br />

most definitely hanging out in his closet, he doesn’t really blame them, his taste in attire is pretty<br />

fucking great.<br />

He pokes his head around the corner <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> what catches his eye is enough to make his heart flip<br />

over in his chest, his face immediately beaming with the widest smile.


Harry. He’s home, in Louis’ closet, his upper body covered in <strong>on</strong>e of Louis’ sweaters. He wears<br />

them big so that they kind of engulf him, but they’re still a bit smaller <strong>on</strong> Harry than what looks<br />

comfortable. It’s the light yellow <strong>on</strong>e, he wears it mostly when he knows a day will be gloom,<br />

rainy or just hard to get through. The yellow adds in a sense of happiness <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> glow, it makes him<br />

feel better.<br />

Harry’s fingers are casually scanning over the wide array of clothing, feeling the soft fabric.<br />

Louis’ raises his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s to face, covering his mouth to c<strong>on</strong>ceal the sound of his breathing, just in<br />

case he gets caught. It still smells like Harry, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it finally makes sense that, maybe this isn’t the<br />

first time Harry’s been in here, trying <strong>on</strong> his sweaters.<br />

The fabric falls looser <strong>on</strong> his shoulders, the vibrant color so perfect against Harry’s skin. He’s<br />

trying his best to look littler in the sweater, swaying his body back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth with the sweetest<br />

smile hinting at his lips. He looks like he should always wear it, like it’s his favorite thing in the<br />

world. Louis shifts to his left foot, to lean against the wall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watch just bit l<strong>on</strong>ger. But, the<br />

floorboard creaks at the movement, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry jumps to automatically face Louis.<br />

Fuck, he hates his floor sometimes.<br />

“Louis,” He blinks, erratic <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> nervous, “Uh, all my shirts are dirty, I was just- I just,”<br />

“Harry, it’s fine.” Louis keeps his t<strong>on</strong>e as casual as he can, he wants Harry to know this is no big<br />

deal, “You can borrow some if you like.”<br />

“No, no.” Harry shakes his head, in a quickened attempt to remove the sweater.<br />

Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s fly to Harry’s where they’re grabbing the hem, “D<strong>on</strong>’t,” His word is more like a<br />

breath, but it makes Harry halt, “Keep it <strong>on</strong>, Harry, you look good in it.”<br />

Harry doesn’t say anything right away, but his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s fall to his side. He sort of shifts himself away<br />

from how close Louis’ st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing, shrinking into the sweater <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s so obvious he’s embarrassed, a<br />

bright red stinging his cheeks.<br />

“Harry,” Louis scoots closer, “you can wear them, anything you want to wear. It doesn’t bother<br />

me, I promise you. D<strong>on</strong>’t be embarrassed, you’re so beautiful in them, how could I possibly be<br />

mad?”<br />

“You weren’t supposed to know.” Harry says, its weak <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> light.<br />

“Why d<strong>on</strong>’t you want me to know?”<br />

“Because,” He shrugs, allowing Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s to wrap around his waist, both of them facing each<br />

other, “I wasn’t ready for any<strong>on</strong>e to see me in them just yet. I took what you said to heart, I really<br />

did. But I’m just coming to terms with being like-“ He glances down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> back into Louis’ eyes, “-<br />

this, wearing stuff like this.”<br />

“And take all the time you need, okay, I’m not rushing you. But, since I have already seen you in<br />

them, maybe you can keep it <strong>on</strong>, just for me to see. You know that you can be yourself around<br />

me, sweaters <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> all.” Louis pulls at the fabric stretching it out a bit more to look even bigger <strong>on</strong><br />

Harry. He doesn’t mind that it’ll be more like a dress <strong>on</strong> him now, because Harry’s face is so full<br />

of happiness.<br />

“Maybe I’ll leave this <strong>on</strong>e <strong>on</strong>, just for today.”<br />

“What happened to the plans later?”


“Forecast said heavy rain for t<strong>on</strong>ight, I know that it kinda scares you to be here incase the lights<br />

were to go out, so I just asked to hangout a different time.”<br />

Louis pulls Harry in closer, his arms wrapped protectively around him, “It doesn’t scare me, no,<br />

but I w<strong>on</strong>’t complain about having you here with me. Especially not when you look so fucking<br />

cute in this sweater, in my sweater.” Louis choses to not bring up the fact that he knows Harry’s<br />

d<strong>on</strong>e this before <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s surely aware of it. And he decides to leave the museum job out of the<br />

c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong>. It’s not about him right now.<br />

“I thought you’d be mad. I know you, like, d<strong>on</strong>’t like any<strong>on</strong>e in your room without you here, I’m<br />

like that, too. It’s just- I didn’t think you’d be back for another hour or so..”<br />

“Harry, if any<strong>on</strong>e else was in here while I was g<strong>on</strong>e, trying <strong>on</strong> my clothes without asking I’d be<br />

furious. But, it’s you, you’re different.” And before Harry can ask Louis to elaborate, he presses<br />

his lips to Harry’s for the third time in his life, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it doesn’t take more than a sec<strong>on</strong>d for his body<br />

to be engulfed in white-hot flames.<br />

Harry automatically kisses back. And for a sec<strong>on</strong>d, Louis forgets this is the same boy who came<br />

into his flat, reeking of cockiness <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> danger. The <strong>on</strong>e who had burrowed Louis with his intense<br />

eyes, the <strong>on</strong>e who made Louis’ b<strong>on</strong>es turn into jello with the simplest of words. It’s the same boy<br />

who’d left him at the market, ditched him for sex. But now, he’s all tangled into Louis’ arms,<br />

wearing his clothes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> trying to be himself again.<br />

And Louis admits it, he likes Harry, he did from the moment he met him despite desperately<br />

believing he didn’t. But, he likes him even more when his walls are down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he’s not putting <strong>on</strong><br />

a brave face.<br />

Harry had been hurt, broken by some<strong>on</strong>e who had his heart. The damage was enough to make<br />

Harry believe he was wr<strong>on</strong>g to be the way he was. And now, he’s attempting to be that pers<strong>on</strong><br />

again, be the Harry that he was before it was crumbled to pieces <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rebuilt, completely different.<br />

The emoti<strong>on</strong> is more clear in his voice, he’s more susceptible to pain, embarrassment, he’s also<br />

more open <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> when Louis talks to him, it feels like Harry listens to every single word.<br />

It means everything.<br />

“This is unc<strong>on</strong>venti<strong>on</strong>al, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I know that you’re probably as c<strong>on</strong>fused as I am over what we are,”<br />

Louis murmurs against Harry’s lips, “but I want you to know that if you want to romp around in<br />

just your boxers <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> my sweaters, you should. You always should. And if you ever want to tell<br />

me anything, want to try anything, tell me, okay?”<br />

Harry nods, keeps quiet as Louis c<strong>on</strong>tinues, “And if having some<strong>on</strong>e <strong>hold</strong> you like this, kiss you<br />

like this, is what makes you more c<strong>on</strong>fident in being yourself again, I want to be the <strong>on</strong>e to do it. I<br />

want to be the <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong>e to do it, if you’re okay with that.”<br />

“You’re the <strong>on</strong>ly <strong>on</strong>e who knows, but even if I had a hundred people willing to help me, I’d want<br />

it to be you. I think you’re truthful in your words, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even though I seem to be a completely<br />

different pers<strong>on</strong> than I was a few days ago, before you called me out, you still want to be around<br />

me. That says more about you than anything.”<br />

It’s gooey <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cheesy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> completely overd<strong>on</strong>e, but Louis couldn’t give less of a shit. He’d gladly<br />

st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> here <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>hold</strong> Harry as he rebuilds himself yet again, but he’s going to always be here to<br />

make sure Harry does it the right way.<br />

“Do you feel like yourself in that leather jacket?”


“No.”<br />

“Then let’s get rid of it, when you’re ready. And every time I see you not wearing pretty colors<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> big sweaters, I’m going to die a little inside. Because you should see how happy you look in<br />

them, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how happy I look with you in them. It’s a win-win situati<strong>on</strong>.” Louis lets his t<strong>on</strong>e turn<br />

more playful, his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s sliding up just underneath Harry’s sweater before he realizes what he’s<br />

doing. Harry’s breath comes out shaky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> soft at the touch.<br />

“And maybe I’ll always wear them when it’s just us.”<br />

“I’d love that,” Louis whispers, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> again he c<strong>on</strong>nects Harry’s lips with his own.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

chapter ten already, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> this is so wild. I still remember when this fic was still a seed<br />

in my head <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> now I'm so in love with it. I hope that <str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> all enjoying this story as<br />

much as I am, I've been having so much fun with it.<br />

d<strong>on</strong>'t know how many times I can say 'thank you' for all the comments, messages,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> encouragement from you all. it means the entire world to me, so never, ever<br />

hesitate to come talk to me with any questi<strong>on</strong>s, comments, anything (really.)<br />

writing is a passi<strong>on</strong> of mine that I have never quite been able to share until I began<br />

writing here, so it still stuns me when people tell me how much they're into this fic.<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> all amazing, thank you for reading <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> for your support.<br />

as always, twitter is @curlsbabie, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tumblr is @subharrybless (you can message me<br />

or send some asks.)<br />

:)


Chapter 11<br />

Chapter Summary<br />

a few m<strong>on</strong>ths have passed <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis has watched Harry blossom more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> more,<br />

loving the outcome. added b<strong>on</strong>us: Harry has an incredible libido.<br />

Chapter Notes<br />

See the end of the chapter for notes<br />

Time was always supposed to help the most, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in Harry’s case, it was doing exactly that.<br />

It took a while for things to come around, but gradually everything felt like it fell more into place.<br />

Every aspect in life is almost <strong>on</strong>e big puzzle, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sometimes the pieces are missing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sometimes<br />

you d<strong>on</strong>’t see the full picture. That’s what Louis thinks Harry is, he’s this intricate <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> difficult<br />

puzzle. With every passing hour it becomes easier to see who is he, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the image gets more <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

more beautiful.<br />

Lately he’s been romping around the flat in sweats <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong>e of Louis’ sweaters. They’re all<br />

stretched out now <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis gets swallowed whole when he puts them back <strong>on</strong> but Harry<br />

c<strong>on</strong>tinues to glow. The fabric is soft <strong>on</strong> his skin <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the delicate smile is permanent. Harry adores<br />

the sweaters. Louis adores Harry.<br />

Today, Louis couldn’t feel more comfortable. The flat is warmed in a new color, a stunning but<br />

c<strong>on</strong>trolled tangerine <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> white combinati<strong>on</strong>. The c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les (of course) are lit all around the living<br />

room <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the sweetened aroma seems to dance around Louis’ face <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> reside <strong>on</strong>to each sense.<br />

Harry’s perched <strong>on</strong> the other end of the couch, he seems to always favor the left side, curled<br />

underneath a blanket <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tucked safely into a peppermint green fleece sweater. It makes his eyes<br />

shine, Louis thinks.<br />

Harry's watching televisi<strong>on</strong>, <strong>on</strong>e of those home renovati<strong>on</strong> shows, but Louis’ all too happy<br />

watching Harry instead. The sharp edge of his jaw is softened by the silky smooth of his skin,<br />

creasing slightly into a dimple with the tiniest hint of a smile. Ringlets in a rich brown are trailing<br />

lower than his usual quiff, hanging wherever they may fall at the time, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s so easy.<br />

It’s so easy to be this beautiful without trying when you’re Harry.<br />

Louis’ noticed this mostly when Harry’s not paying a bit of attenti<strong>on</strong>. When he’s laughing so loud<br />

it comes out more of a snort. And when he’s so into his c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> the little crease forms<br />

between his brows. He sees it most when he stares at the little movements Harry does. The way he<br />

chews his knuckles when he’s feeling anxious. Or the small roll of his shoulder <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> blush when<br />

he’s overwhelmed.<br />

Right now, he’s talking. Probably about some pretty design pattern for the accent wall, but Louis<br />

can’t hear a word he’s saying. His focus is set primarily <strong>on</strong> the way Harry’s lips mold around each<br />

word, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can feel himself start to grin, but he suppresses it, humming out a “Mhm,” <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

willing Harry to c<strong>on</strong>tinue.<br />

The days have fallen into step of this particular pattern. If Louis wakes up first, he cooks a<br />

breakfast of either scrambled eggs, pancakes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bac<strong>on</strong>, french toast or waffles. If Harry wakes up


first, he runs the coffee pot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> makes them a bowl of cereal (he hasn’t quite perfected the art of<br />

cooking, but eh.) After eating, they’ll separate to their rooms <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> get ready for the day, Harry’s<br />

usually c<strong>on</strong>sisting of going out for whatever reas<strong>on</strong>, while Louis tries to work up inspirati<strong>on</strong> for an<br />

art piece, or a walk in the park.<br />

In the evening, Louis will cook dinner while Harry sits at the counter <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watches. He usually<br />

cocks his head to the right <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> mentally takes notes of Louis’ ingredients <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> preparati<strong>on</strong>. Then,<br />

he’ll get lost in a c<strong>on</strong>versati<strong>on</strong> <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> completely forget, then complain about it later when he realizes<br />

he’s lost track.<br />

And Louis will say “I can just write down the recipes,” <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry will reply, “It’s more fun to<br />

watch you.”<br />

Then Louis will pick out a movie or televisi<strong>on</strong> show from Netflix while Harry goes to Louis’<br />

closet to find a sweater of his choosing, flopping down <strong>on</strong> the left side of the couch <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tucking<br />

his toes into the cracks of the cushi<strong>on</strong>s.<br />

Right now, it’s seven in the evening <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they have their bellies full of lasagna <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> they’re<br />

watching HGTV, as per Harry’s request.<br />

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis blinks, snapping his focus back into<br />

place <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> locking his jaw at the pink blush spreading over Harry cheeks. He catches Louis staring<br />

at him all the time, he should be quite used to it by now.<br />

“Thought about what?”<br />

“Reupholstering the chairs, like with a kinda funky pattern to spice the place up.”<br />

“Harry,” Louis rolls his eyes, “the flat is decorated in bright tangerine, I’d say it’s pretty spiced<br />

up.”<br />

Harry pokes his lower lip out, tugging down the sleeves <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> covering his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s. It’s ‘sweaterpaw’<br />

eternally for Louis now, with Harry’s l<strong>on</strong>g ass arms, but he doesn’t mind <strong>on</strong>e bit. His h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s<br />

get <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> often, anyway. “We should do an ocean blue next.”<br />

“Because blue is calming, does it relax you?”<br />

“No,” Harry shrugs, looking down at the comforter covering his body, “It’s your eye color <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I<br />

think it’s pretty, is all.”<br />

“You’re <strong>on</strong>ly saying that because I made you lasagna t<strong>on</strong>ight, you suck-up.” Louis jokes,<br />

laughing to lighten the mood. His insides are melting <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> gooey but that’s beside the point.<br />

“Not true,” Harry argues, “I always tell you how pretty your eyes are.”<br />

“You’re just precious,” Louis leans over, pressing his index against the top of Harry’s nose,<br />

“cutie.”<br />

Harry smacks his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> away too late, Louis’ already shuffling into the kitchen. He’s getting a<br />

glass of water, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> deciding whether or not to get out the vanilla ice-cream or wait another hour.<br />

While c<strong>on</strong>templating, he hears the floor boards creak, signaling Harry's approach into the small<br />

kitchen.<br />

“You’re going to miss the home reveal.” He says, stepping up to st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> directly in fr<strong>on</strong>t of Louis,<br />

Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s immediately raising to rest <strong>on</strong> Harry’s hips. Everything seems to be real <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> in<br />

c<strong>on</strong>trol, it’s like sec<strong>on</strong>d nature. They’ve not g<strong>on</strong>e past kissing, but the lingering touches <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>hold</strong>s


are never a rarity.<br />

“I was just thirsty.”<br />

“Annoying,” Harry makes a disgusted face, “you <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> your basic human needs.”<br />

“Get over it,” Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s tighten to press into the layer of soft skin hanging delicately over the<br />

b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> of Harry’s sweats. Usually, nights go pretty much the same with couch-<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>-televisi<strong>on</strong>-time.<br />

But Harry’s been more touchy, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> so has Louis.<br />

Harry keeps swaying back <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> forth, his eyes jumping from Louis’ own eyes to his lips, making it<br />

clear <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> obvious he’s wanting Louis to kiss him. So, he does. He leans up <strong>on</strong>to his tip-toes,<br />

pressing them together, the heat of Harry’s breath fanning over his face. It sweet, always so sweet.<br />

H<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s are gentle as they glide up the fabric, Harry shuddering with the warmth.<br />

Louis’ fingertips go to trace patterns, while his lips press in a little deeper, tasting Harry in full <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

loving every moment of it. There has never been a feeling quite like kissing Harry. Like all of<br />

Louis’ nerves are <strong>on</strong> fire <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his limbs are tingling <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wild. His every movement is unthought<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> steady, perfect, memorizing every little curve, dip, of Harry’s body.<br />

Harry’s hum vibrates all the way down Louis’ throat <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> settles deep into his core, igniting it.<br />

Louis’ nails instinctively dig in, causing Harry to bite down <strong>on</strong> Louis’ lips, electricity shooting up<br />

his spine, breathing halted. It’s nearly impossible for Louis not to slam him back against the<br />

counter, take things to the next level. But, he’s taking it slow, bracing himself <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry. When it<br />

comes to the repair of something broken, it’s important to take time.<br />

Harry, unfortunately, doesn’t agree.<br />

He’s made it more than obvious, his desires, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ throat dries out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s sweat<br />

because as much as he hates to say the word ‘no’ to Harry, he’s willing to let him down in order to<br />

<strong>hold</strong> off, make sure it’s the right move. Louis’ always had a habit of overthinking.<br />

“How much l<strong>on</strong>ger are you going to tease me, Louis?” Harry asks into the kiss.<br />

“I’m not teasing you.” Louis fires back, playfully, stepping into Harry <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pressing his back<br />

against the refrigerator, “just a little bit of fun.”<br />

“It’d be more fun if we were naked.”<br />

At that, Louis' mouth drops into a wide open smile, “Harry! Calm yourself, what did I tell you<br />

about taking things slow?”<br />

“Listen,” Harry breathes, “you want it, I definitely want it, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I know you can deliver it just the<br />

way I like it. So, why wait?”<br />

“Because I said so,” Louis tilts his head, blinking innocently, “There will come a day where you’ll<br />

be anticipating the sore you’ll feel the next day. But not yet.”<br />

Harry huffs, shoulders slumping, “You’re a tease.”<br />

“And you’re so damn adorable.” Louis smiles, bringing his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> to cup Harry’s cheek. He leans<br />

his face into the touch. “I just want to be sure, I want you to be sure. We’ve <strong>on</strong>ly just established<br />

this as something, we have a l<strong>on</strong>g time, no need to rush, Harry.”<br />

“Your sweet words do nothing for me when this is a thing,” Harry glances down at the bulge


pressing against the fabric of his sweats.<br />

Louis’ finger hooks into the waist b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, pulling it away from Harry’s hips before releasing <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

snapping it back with a loud pop, “Dirty boy. You’re g<strong>on</strong>na miss the big house reveal,” He winks,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry scowls.<br />

His face is all too precious when it’s scrunched up in annoyance <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t help but smile at<br />

the sour expressi<strong>on</strong>. Harry, recently, has never had an ounce of shame when he’s showing just<br />

how much he wants to get with Louis.<br />

Sometimes, it’s so hard to say no that Louis has to get up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> physically walk out of the room.<br />

Because when there is some<strong>on</strong>e who looks like an angel running their fingers up <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> down your<br />

stomach, inching closer to the b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> of your pants, all while whispering, “please?” selfdeterminati<strong>on</strong>,<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>trol kind of flies out of the fucking window.<br />

And occasi<strong>on</strong>ally Louis will taunt Harry right back. It tends to lead into a whole other world of<br />

‘who can make who more horny without actually doing anything.’<br />

“You can’t possibly <strong>hold</strong> off forever, I can see how much you’re wanting it.” Harry smirks,<br />

readjusting uncomfortably as he walks over to the cabinet to pull down a bag of popcorn.<br />

“You d<strong>on</strong>’t know what I want, Styles.”<br />

“If you’re not careful I’ll trick you into drawing me with nothing but your sweater <strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Titanic style?”<br />

“Titanic style.” Harry nods, “And how could you possibly resist?”<br />

Louis gives it a little bit of thought, realizing that if Harry really were laying <strong>on</strong> a couch dressed in<br />

nothing but an article of his clothing he would lose all his mental capability to <strong>hold</strong> off any l<strong>on</strong>ger,<br />

but he’s not going to let Harry know that.<br />

“Just because you lack any self c<strong>on</strong>trol when it comes to getting fucked, doesn’t mean that I d<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

when it comes to fucking you. I want to do it at just the right time.”<br />

Harry’s body tenses, his smirk falling into a simply tortured smile, “You sound so hot when you<br />

curse.”<br />

“And I think I’m going to start growing grey hair waiting for you to start popping this popcorn.”<br />

Louis picks up the unopened bag <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> throws it right at Harry, hitting him directly in the stomach.<br />

“You can play temptress later, baby, we got a show to watch.”<br />

“You d<strong>on</strong>’t even like my renovati<strong>on</strong> shows.”<br />

“No, but I like you a little bit, so I d<strong>on</strong>’t mind watching them with you. As l<strong>on</strong>g as I get to actually<br />

pick out the movie tomorrow without you complaining about the lack of interior design<br />

involved.”<br />

“Isn’t it funny how you’re the <strong>on</strong>e who loves to decorate the flat in all these pretty colors <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> have<br />

the matching c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> curtains but you can’t st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> watching some<strong>on</strong>e else do it? And then you<br />

have me, whose c<strong>on</strong>tent with a st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ard house, but I adore watching those shows.”<br />

“You’re a watcher, I’m a do-er.” Louis shrugs, staring at the popcorn bag still laying <strong>on</strong> the<br />

kitchen floor, Harry making no move to pick it up, so Louis does instead, tossing it in the<br />

microwave.


“I’ll wait for this to finish if you wanna go get comfortable <strong>on</strong> the couch.” Harry saunters to<br />

Louis’ side, pressing his lips delicately to Louis’ in a tiny kiss. Louis nods, hooking his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

around the back of Harry’s neck <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> kissing him a little deeper, letting it linger for a little l<strong>on</strong>ger.<br />

“Just d<strong>on</strong>’t <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> it.”<br />

“I’ll try not to.”<br />

And life is perfect, at least for now.<br />

*****<br />

Louis’d talked to the museum manager a few days ago, earning a huge apology for the amount of<br />

time it took to hear back. Apparently, they weren’t planning to hire for a few more m<strong>on</strong>ths, but<br />

with the details he’d heard from his s<strong>on</strong>, he had to get a job offer out there. Louis was ecstatic,<br />

agreeing <strong>on</strong> next week for an interview <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> screaming for Harry <strong>on</strong>ce the ph<strong>on</strong>e call finally<br />

ended.<br />

Everything was falling into place.<br />

Except for <strong>on</strong>e main thing, Louis had no, absolutely no inspirati<strong>on</strong> behind a new art piece. He was<br />

overly focused <strong>on</strong> everything else going <strong>on</strong> in his life. Possible new job, new boyfriend (Niall was<br />

especially excited to hear all about it), leaving no space for the artistic freedom he always had <strong>on</strong><br />

the fr<strong>on</strong>t <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>er.<br />

So, today, he’s going to sit in fr<strong>on</strong>t of the empty canvas with a full palette of paint <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> clean brush<br />

in his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>. He’s going to stare at the c<strong>on</strong>demning white purity <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hope for a miracle to come<br />

popping into his full head. All of the lights in the flat are out, all c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les lit to provide a serene<br />

lighting, dead silence falling all around.<br />

It always sounds so easy to every<strong>on</strong>e else. ‘Oh, you just paint flowers? What’s so hard about that<br />

other than the technique?’ But, it’s not the flowers, it’s what they represent. There’s no emoti<strong>on</strong>al<br />

integrity if you’re painting objects without having a certain feeling behind it. But all Louis can feel<br />

right now is happy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> c<strong>on</strong>tent, leaving the piece to flow as something he’s painted many times<br />

before.<br />

Fuck, fuck, fuck.<br />

It feels almost like he’s hit a brick wall <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> can’t seem to find an obstacle around it. He hears the<br />

door open, very quietly, soles of heavy shoes <strong>on</strong> the floor. Harry still wears his normal attire when<br />

he goes out; black jeans, b<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> shirts, worn boots <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that leather jacket. Louis should paint a piece<br />

about how much he hates that fucking thing. But, Harry’s not quite ready to <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g> it just yet, so<br />

Louis will bite his t<strong>on</strong>gue.<br />

No words are present in the space, because Harry knows not to interject when Louis has a train of<br />

thought. Funny thing is, Louis’ brain dead as of right now.<br />

“M’stuck.” He says, voice so low he doesn’t expect Harry to hear it.


He’s surprised when Harry’s reply comes immediately, “Can’t get the wheels turning?”<br />

“No, I just- I d<strong>on</strong>’t know what I can represent in the piece, it’s like, a ghost town in there.” Louis<br />

murmurs, tapping the end of the paint brush against his temple.<br />

It feels heavier, but Harry’s attitude is feather light as he goes into Louis’ room, always going for<br />

the sweaters before anything else. When he returns, he has <strong>on</strong>e of a soft scarlet color, it looks<br />

sultry <strong>on</strong> him. “Poor baby, want me to inspire you?”<br />

“You should get something prescribed for that extreme libido you’ve got there.” Louis shakes his<br />

head, redirecting his stare to the canvas <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> wanting to kick to over, he’s annoyed.<br />

“I can think of about a hundred other ways that can be taken care of,” Harry smirks, st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing just<br />

behind Louis, clad in his sweater <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> a pair of boxers, “they all involve you.”<br />

A shudder of heat flows down Louis’ spine, making his arms tense, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry catches <strong>on</strong><br />

immediately, staying quiet but close. “You’re swaying my focus.” Louis tries to sound harsh, he<br />

sounds more chocked.<br />

“Look, you want inspirati<strong>on</strong>, I just want to touch you, this can be a win-win situati<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Are you peer pressuring me?”<br />

“I’m not your peer, so, no. And I wouldn’t call it pressuring you, just opening your mind to some<br />

ideas.”<br />

“What kind of ideas?”<br />

Harry’s h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s l<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <strong>on</strong> Louis’ shoulders, rubbing deep into the muscles. Louis’ eyes immediately<br />

flutter shut, head falling to the side, his breath coming out in light puffs. Harry’s h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s c<strong>on</strong>tinue to<br />

drop lower, his lips next to Louis’ ear with no warning, “You should paint in reds, oranges,<br />

y’know hot colors.”<br />

“Why?” It’s a stupid questi<strong>on</strong>.<br />

“I wanna make you feel hot.”<br />

Before Louis can come back with a witty resp<strong>on</strong>se, Harry’s fingers press in deeper, his other h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

trailing down Louis’ arm. And his brain sparks, the little fire-hot tingles raising the temperature of<br />

his whole body. He can feel the breath <strong>on</strong> his neck, smooth <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> heavy, draping over his every<br />

pore.<br />

It’s all Harry, behind him, around him, touching him, exploring him. It’s all he feels. It’s all<br />

Harry.<br />

And his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> rises, hooded eyes watching the bristles as it dips into the bright red paint, following<br />

a trail <strong>on</strong>to the canvas. The petals are swiped in a short, rapid strokes, softer around the edges. It’s<br />

all the heat in his body <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> how it flows erratically, heart pumping in uneven beats.<br />

“Good, very good,” Harry whispers, pressing his lips just under Louis’ jaw, “keep going.”<br />

Louis doesn’t resp<strong>on</strong>d, <strong>on</strong>ly swallows, not bothering to clean the brush before submerging it into a<br />

ne<strong>on</strong> saffr<strong>on</strong>, a clutter of circles doted where the petals meet. There’s nothing neat or thought out<br />

about it, he’s just doing whatever his body is telling him. And his very core is alight <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> that’s what the center of the flower will show, a loud heat, <strong>on</strong>e that can’t be ignored.


Harry’s lips c<strong>on</strong>tinue, all the way down Louis’ neck, his t<strong>on</strong>gue sliding out every so often <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

Louis almost drops the brush, limbs going weak but Harry <strong>hold</strong>s his arm, breathes out a soft,<br />

“D<strong>on</strong>’t stop.”<br />

His teeth are scraping the sensitive skin, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the painting is being thrown deeper into the back of<br />

Louis’ mind as he becomes a pris<strong>on</strong>er of his own body, trapped <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> completely allowing every<br />

graze of Harry’s fingertips to have his full c<strong>on</strong>centrati<strong>on</strong>. It’s <strong>on</strong>ly more obvious when Louis<br />

shakes his head, letting the brush fall to the floor with a quiet pang.<br />

“I know you’re trying to help, but I can’t focus, I need you to-“ The sentence is abruptly stopped<br />

when Louis decides to just do instead of say. So, he drags Harry from behind him, pulling him to<br />

straddle his own hips in <strong>on</strong>e swift movement, locking their lips together in the next.<br />

Harry’s hips immediately begin to grind down <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ throat releases a deep growl in<br />

resp<strong>on</strong>se. And fuck, the painting, he doesn’t care about it right this sec<strong>on</strong>d. He cares about the way<br />

his h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>s fall perfectly <strong>on</strong> Harry’s hips, feeling the muscles move as he pushes down <strong>on</strong>to Louis’<br />

cock. He cares about the sloppy kissing, the smack of their moistened lips, the <str<strong>on</strong>g>burn</str<strong>on</strong>g>ing skin. Harry<br />

rocks so expertly, Louis can <strong>on</strong>ly imagine the feeling of him actually riding while Louis is<br />

submerged deep inside of him.<br />

“I feel you pressing into my jeans, Louis, you can have it if you want it.” Harry says, reminding<br />

Louis that he’s all so willing, the plea in his eyes making the ‘no’ <strong>on</strong> Louis’ t<strong>on</strong>gue cement in<br />

place.<br />

“Harry-“<br />

“At least let me suck you off, please.” Harry rushes out before Louis can c<strong>on</strong>tinue.<br />

When Louis doesn’t reply, Harry sinks down to his knees, pressing kisses to the outer part of<br />

Louis’ thigh over his jeans, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis can’t fight it anymore. He gives Harry a curt nod, sliding<br />

his body closer to the edge of the chair.<br />

Harry’s fingers go to work, quickly undoing the zip <strong>on</strong> Louis’ jeans <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> dragging them roughly<br />

down his legs. His eyes widen, mouth seeming to water when Louis’ fully hard cock is exposed,<br />

the sight making Louis almost come <strong>on</strong> the spot. Harry is just so excited.<br />

He licks a bold stripe up Louis’ length, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the feeling is so overwhelming that Louis’ fingers dig<br />

into the side of the chair, white-knuckling to <strong>hold</strong> himself back. Once Harry looks up at him,<br />

peering through a forest of thick black lashes, Louis loses the <strong>hold</strong> <strong>on</strong> his words, “Oh fuck, Harry,<br />

you’re so fucking beautiful.”<br />

He smiles at that, wrapping his rose-pink lips around Louis’ head without breaking eye c<strong>on</strong>tact,<br />

lashes fluttering as his t<strong>on</strong>gue swirls around the tip.<br />

Louis’ moan is the opposite of deep <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> raspy, its high <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> comes out more of a whimper. He has<br />

to look away in order to last l<strong>on</strong>ger than a few fucking sec<strong>on</strong>ds because Harry watching him while<br />

sucking his cock is too much at <strong>on</strong>ce <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis could possibly explode. Harry’s t<strong>on</strong>gue is<br />

working w<strong>on</strong>ders at the base, lips sucti<strong>on</strong>ed around <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis’ muscles are coiled tight, breathing<br />

in pants <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> clenching his teeth.<br />

“You’re so amazing, princess.”<br />

Harry’s own groan vibrates all the way through Louis’ cock <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> up his hips, making his knees<br />

shake despite the lack of pressure. The nickname always drives Harry wild, so it’s not surprising<br />

when he hallows out his cheeks to suck even harder, pulling every sense <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> ounce of heat from


Louis' body all to <strong>on</strong>e spot.<br />

With Harry’s nails digging into the skin to repress a gag, the darkened color of Harry’s lips <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

the feeling of his flattened t<strong>on</strong>gue <strong>on</strong> Louis’ shaft, he comes without warning, spurts flying down<br />

Harry’s throat as he takes Louis deep <strong>on</strong>ce more, not even flinching at the salty taste. The mess of<br />

curse words that string from Louis’ clenched mouth is incoherent <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> impossible to make out.<br />

“M’sorry, I should’ve warned you” Louis says when his voice is even enough.<br />

“It’s fine,” Harry smiles, his lips glossed, “I like it.”<br />

“Damn,” is all Louis can manage to get out in a short, heavy breath. Harry just laughs, licking the<br />

remainder of come from his lips <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tucking Louis’ back into his jeans.<br />

When Louis looks back up, the “art” piece in fr<strong>on</strong>t of him makes him snort out a half-hearted<br />

laugh. It looks like a hot fucking mess. The petals are uneven <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> sloppy, the yellow center is<br />

swirled into a glob <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> overall it’s a work any mom would love to hang <strong>on</strong> their refrigerator to<br />

h<strong>on</strong>or their five year old child.<br />

But all it represents is Harry’s lips <strong>on</strong> his tingling skin, so he’s going to let it dry then keep it. All<br />

memories.<br />

“You were supposed to inspire me,” Louis says, keeping a sarcastic smirk <strong>on</strong> his face as he<br />

watches Harry come to a st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>, knees a little wobbly. Like Bambi. “look at this mess.”<br />

“Mess?” Harry’s h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> flattens over his heart, “this is art, Louis Tomlins<strong>on</strong>.”<br />

“Art my ass.”<br />

“Your ass is-“<br />

“Harry,” Louis interjects, stopping Harry directly in his tracks, “if you try to hit me with that corny<br />

line, you’re sleeping <strong>on</strong> the street.”<br />

Full, swollen lips pout out from Harry’s face as he mouths a ‘not nice,’ before shimmying deeper<br />

into his scarlet sweater. He’s so purely beautiful that Louis could easily stare at him for the rest of<br />

eternity, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> then more. His curls are even messier, his face bloomed in a red blush, pupils blown<br />

into a wild forest green. Every inch of him just glows, radiates, Louis can feel it all the way to his<br />

b<strong>on</strong>es.<br />

Harry’s true self shines brighter than any star in the sky <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> puts any<strong>on</strong>e else to shame. It’s tragic,<br />

really, how he had tried to dull <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> hide himself when beneath the surface was some<strong>on</strong>e so perfect<br />

it didn’t seem real. In fact, if Louis hadn’t watched Harry shed away his shell, he’d think this was<br />

some sick joke some<strong>on</strong>e was playing <strong>on</strong> him. Because no way, no way, some<strong>on</strong>e could be so<br />

attractive, funny, charismatic, sweet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> at the same time actually have a thing for Louis.<br />

Louis.<br />

Who spends too much time shopping for decorati<strong>on</strong>s when he doesn’t have the m<strong>on</strong>ey to spend.<br />

Who doesn’t feel at ease unless he’s surrounded by c<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>les <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> coco<strong>on</strong>s himself in blankets when<br />

the world has become too much. Who has great fashi<strong>on</strong> sense but doesn’t care to be around<br />

people who would admire it. Who tries so hard to be something so impossible, so rare. He’s kind<br />

of an embarrassment, but with the way Harry’s looking at him he feels like the most amazing thing<br />

<strong>on</strong> planet earth.<br />

You could say that, yeah, Louis’ starting to go a little crazy for Harry Styles.


*****<br />

“Y’know, sometimes it seems like the weather here is always grey.” Harry’s nose wrinkles, his<br />

leather jacket pulled tight over his torso, “always so cloudy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> gloom.”<br />

“Or maybe you’re just a grump.” Louis shrugs, swaying heavily to the left to avoid Harry’s<br />

inevitable shoulder nudge of disapproval.<br />

“Me? Grumpy?” He squares his shoulder, “Never.”<br />

“Sure babe.”<br />

“Sure babe,” Harry repeats in a high voice, which earns him a hard smack to the chest, losing step<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> cl<strong>on</strong>king his torn boot against the sidewalk. Bambi.<br />

“Hush <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> enjoy the breeze.”<br />

“How? It’s fucking <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g>, Louis.”<br />

“I told you that you could bring my thick lavender sweater, it’s the best <strong>on</strong>e to keep you warm.”<br />

Louis reminds him, knowing for a fact that Harry w<strong>on</strong>’t resp<strong>on</strong>d because he’s still inept <strong>on</strong><br />

keeping his hard-boy exterior for the general public. Only soft <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> delicate in oversized clothing<br />

for Louis’ eyes. The silence falls briefly as Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling<br />

him in <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> bringing his lips to his ear, “you look pretty in it, princess.”<br />

The giggle that slips from Harry is sweet <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> light, “That’s what I go for.”<br />

The park is empty today, spare a few dedicated cyclists <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the occasi<strong>on</strong>al dog-walker. Louis’<br />

g<strong>on</strong>na pin it <strong>on</strong> the fact that it’s not a pretty day by any<strong>on</strong>e’s st<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g>ards. The sky is grey <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

covered in a thick cloak of clouds, wind whipping around n<strong>on</strong>-stop <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> making the leaves <strong>on</strong> the<br />

trees rustle louder than necessary.<br />

It rained earlier, so it smells nice <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Louis wants to enjoy it. Harry just insisted <strong>on</strong> coming al<strong>on</strong>g<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> even though Louis knew he wouldn’t have a good time he couldn’t refuse Harry. Can’t say<br />

no, ever.<br />

They’re walking side by side, the soles of their shoes rubbing against the c<strong>on</strong>crete <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it’s a<br />

comfortable quiet. It’s easy <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> feeling Harry beside him makes it feel just like when Louis is in<br />

his flat, warm <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> serene <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> simple. Only the comfort isn’t coming from the decorati<strong>on</strong>s, or<br />

smells, or colors. It’s coming from <strong>on</strong>e pers<strong>on</strong> with floppy curls <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> l<strong>on</strong>g, unsteady legs.<br />

“I might start wearing the sweaters out so<strong>on</strong>, I need you to help me pick some of my own out.”<br />

Harry says softly, not looking up from his own feet.<br />

“‘Course, love. Just tell me when.” He replies, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> the words are unthought <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> unchallenged,<br />

“you gotta promise me you’ll still wear mine around the house, though, I love seeing you romping<br />

around n’em.”<br />

“Promise.”


The dingy leather jacket doesn’t look the same when it’s draped over Harry’s shoulders now. It<br />

feels out of place <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> he can tell Harry’s opini<strong>on</strong> isn’t much different. His body is more rigid than<br />

when he’s lounging back at the flat, when it’s <strong>on</strong>ly the two of them. There’s an obvious element<br />

of discomfort <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it makes Louis want to punch something so he changes the subject instead.<br />

“You’re growing your hair out.” It’s not a questi<strong>on</strong>, it’s a statement. Because Harry’s hair was<br />

perfectly layered <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> pushed back from his face when they’d first met. Now, the curls are wispy<br />

<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> fall almost to his jaw, framing his face. It’s nothing short of enchanting.<br />

“I- uh, I just haven’t had it cut in a while, must’ve forgot.”<br />

“Bullshit,” Louis rolls his eyes <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry presses his lips together into a tight line, “you’re<br />

growing it out <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> I think you look amazing with it like that.”<br />

“Is it too-“<br />

“Nope.”<br />

“You d<strong>on</strong>’t even know what I was going to ask.”<br />

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis shrugs, “it’s fine, l<strong>on</strong>g hair or short hair, you’re beautiful either way. If it<br />

makes you feel more comfortable, I’ll let mine grow out a bit too, shorter hair draws out my<br />

cheekb<strong>on</strong>es though, so pick wisely.”<br />

The smile that spreads over Harry’s face is so tremendous it punches Louis right in the gut <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

takes the breath right from his lungs, “You’re serious? You d<strong>on</strong>’t have to- you, you really d<strong>on</strong>’t<br />

have to offer that, Louis.”<br />

“Would you like it if I waited to cut mine until you wanted me to?” Louis asks, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry looks<br />

away, shy. “Blink if you want me to grow it out.” He adds, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> Harry breaks out in a laugh but<br />

blinks n<strong>on</strong>etheless. “So, it’s settled. We’ll grow it out together then.”<br />

It takes Louis completely by surprise when he is pulled into Harry, their lips locking <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g><br />

everything else floats away. The kiss is so full of emoti<strong>on</strong>, it makes Louis’ whole body explode in<br />

an array of awakened electricity. Harry’s lips are hot <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> silken, moving fluidly as the <str<strong>on</strong>g>cold</str<strong>on</strong>g> air<br />

evaporates.<br />

Harry’s voice causes Louis’ eyes to flutter open, meeting with a loud green, burrowing deep,<br />

“Thank you.”<br />

Louis’ h<str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> raises to cup Harry’s cheek, thumb ghosting over the pr<strong>on</strong>ounced cheek b<strong>on</strong>e. God,<br />

he’s so beautiful. “Anytime.” Is all he says in resp<strong>on</strong>se, <strong>hold</strong>ing Harry in place as he rec<strong>on</strong>nects<br />

their lips <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> lets himself forget everything but Harry for just a little l<strong>on</strong>ger.<br />

And he’s definitely going a little crazy over Harry Styles.<br />

Chapter End Notes<br />

I owe you all a major apology for the time it took to update this. I'm SO sorry. we are<br />

nearing closer to the end of the fic, I had it planned for around 16 chapters, <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> it's<br />

kind of bittersweet because i adore this piece. hopefully <str<strong>on</strong>g>you're</str<strong>on</strong>g> all still enjoying the<br />

story. D<strong>on</strong>'t forget to comment <str<strong>on</strong>g>and</str<strong>on</strong>g> tell me what you thought of the chapter, you can


also message me <strong>on</strong> twitter @curlsbabie (my dm's are always open) or submit an<br />

ask/message me <strong>on</strong> tumblr @subharrybless. i LOVE LOVE LOVE hearing from you<br />

guys so please d<strong>on</strong>'t be shy.<br />

Thank you for reading :)<br />

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