you're cold and I burn (on hold)

seems to be deeper than the Atlantic ocean. It’s an easy admission that whoever the boy is, he’s
attractive. It’s undeniable, really, but trouble is pouring off of him in waves <strong>and</strong> Louis doesn’t like
the way it feels. His every movement is fluid <strong>and</strong> unthought <strong>and</strong> he’s wearing a now-visible gold
watch on his left wrist.
A watch that costs more than Louis' entire life, probably, <strong>and</strong> yet his shirt’s got holes in it. He’s an
equation that doesn’t add up <strong>and</strong> everything about him is setting off alarms in Louis' head.
“So, you like c<strong>and</strong>les <strong>and</strong> pretty colors, aren’t you the cutest?” He inquires, dropping the bag to
his feet to survey the room, picking up the nearest c<strong>and</strong>le <strong>and</strong> reading the label, he doesn’t look
over when he asks, “What’s your name? Or shall I refer to you as boy-in-the-lavender-bathrobe?”
Both questions seem to take Louis off guard, <strong>and</strong> he’s half embarrassed <strong>and</strong> half pleased, but then
he remembers that he is, indeed, only wearing a bathrobe. One that’s a bit too short for anyone to
be seen in <strong>and</strong> is quite fluffy, but his entire body is on fire at the realization that it’s the only thing
he’s wearing. And it’s pretty obvious considering the strewn out path of clothes that are leading to
his room. St<strong>and</strong>ing right in front of a r<strong>and</strong>om person, insecurity weasels it’s way up. And without
thinking Louis' crossing his legs, swaying back <strong>and</strong> forth under his stare. This whole situation is
just d<strong>and</strong>y <strong>and</strong> is just the perfect way to end an already fucked up night. Great. Bless. Now he’s
feeling shy.
“It’s Louis.” He states, simply, pulling the robe closed even tighter, “Your turn.”
“Louis, I like that name. It suits you.”
“I’m waiting.” Louis reminds him, blinking twice, trying to keep a neural <strong>and</strong> carefree expression.
The boys lips pull into another smirk <strong>and</strong> Louis wonders if he always smiles like that. The dimple
in his right cheek is on full display, looking more prominent in the c<strong>and</strong>lelit room, falling over his
skin <strong>and</strong> deepening the shadow, “It’s Harry.”
It’s Harry.
“That’s royal.”
“So I hear.” Harry states, taking a step closer to Louis, not showing a bit of hesitation, so sure of
himself. But Louis takes a wide step back, blinking <strong>and</strong> letting a faux friendly smile spread over
his face, “Nice to meet you, I appreciate personal space, you should too.”
The comment only makes Harry smile wider, “Right. Well,” The way Harry’s eyes seem so
focused, observant, Louis’ sure he can make just about anyone melt. The charm is there, but,
unfortunately, it's not working right now, “May I ask where my room is?”
Louis points to the door next to his. He watches as Harry picks up his bag, shaking the curls from
his eyes as he leans down. He really is too tall for his own good <strong>and</strong> his legs resemble Bambi
slightly, <strong>and</strong> Louis has to hold back a laugh at the thought. He hasn’t had anytime to prepare for a
new flat mate, <strong>and</strong> it’s quite clear in the way clothes are littering the floor <strong>and</strong> food wrappers are
still sat atop the tables in the living room <strong>and</strong> kitchen. Harry doesn’t seem to mind as he readjusts
the strap on his shoulder, giving Louis a slight wave as he walks towards the room that's now his
new bedroom. Because he’s going to live here. Lovely.
“Wait, I have more questions, how do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?” Louis asks, a bit
too panicked, which earns a deep laugh, the sound reverberates through the entire flat, richer than
all the c<strong>and</strong>les combined.
“You can interrogate me in the morning, <strong>and</strong> as for the second question then,” Harry shrugs, “I