you're cold and I burn (on hold)

“It was lavender, <strong>and</strong> this is called fuchsia.” Louis bites back, it comes off harsher than he
expected it to, but Harry just blinks at him, brows nit in a ‘is that supposed to be common
knowledge?’ type of way.
The conversation is momentarily muted, Harry shrugging off his jacket as he walks into the
kitchen, his boots still thumping loudly <strong>and</strong> it’s starting to echo in the confines of Louis’ mind. It’s
only when Harry starts opening the cabinets, that Louis remembers he still hasn’t gone to the
grocery, it’s just a little embarrassing. Harry looks fully offended at the fact that there is no food
present, a real frown set on his face when he looks back up at Louis, who has successfully averted
his eyes to his lap, where he’s playing idly with his fingers.
“What have you been eating? This place is cleaned out.”
“I eat out.” Louis shrugs, <strong>and</strong> it seems that earns a repressed laugh from Harry, <strong>and</strong> Louis can’t
help the deadpan expression that’s fallen onto his face. “Don’t tell me, you’re one of those twentysomething
year olds with the sense of humor akin to a middle schooler, is that right?”
“Actually, I don’t turn twenty until February, so.” Harry replies easily, moving to the fridge.
Louis’ in a slight shock, Harry looks much older than nineteen years old, <strong>and</strong> that’s putting a five
year age difference between them, it almost feels like Louis is babysitting him, almost.
“Sorry, I don’t really know much about you.” Louis shrugs, trying to hide the surprise in his
voice. It’s just that Harry does not look like he’s that young, <strong>and</strong> at the same time, now that he’s
said it, he kind of.. does? It’s odd. “I have half a mind to interrogate you a bit, take you up on that
offer from last night.”
“Ask me anything you want, just don’t be too invasive.” Harry says, his voice completely serious
but his eyes are holding humor like a vice. He’s got half a pickle hanging from his mouth that’s
muffling his words a bit.
“Okay,” Louis thinks, sauntering over to the rest his elbows on the kitchen counter, opposite side
of Harry. “What’s your last name? Are you going to university? Do you have any siblings?” -
Louis’ sure he does by means of Harry’s argumentative tendencies- “Why did you decide to move
out <strong>and</strong> into a flat with someone you barely know?”
Harry’s eyes widen just for a second, then wiping his face into complete neutrality, “Styles, <strong>and</strong>
no, I’m not. I have a one sister, <strong>and</strong> because I was tired of living at home, my parents are bores.”
He answers without missing a beat, fighting off a slight smile, “Do I get to ask you things, too?”
Louis sturdies his posture, sitting straight up, a small squint in his eyes as he prepares, “Go for it.”
“Why do you like to decorate your flat with r<strong>and</strong>om colors?” Harry asks, <strong>and</strong> no, Louis was not
expecting that. He was expecting similar questions to his own, the starter ones that give off the
necessary facts, but Harry just goes straight to the personality aspect, because of course he does.
“Uh,” Louis blinks, running his tongue over the surface of his teeth, “I like the way they make me
feel.”
“How does p-“ Harry coughs, “I mean fuchsia, how does fuchsia make you feel?” He looks equal
parts humored <strong>and</strong> curious, leaning over the counter with pickle-laced breath <strong>and</strong> now Louis’
craving a pickle.
“It’s hard to explain, I mean- like, a calm energy? It was in the sunrise this morning, I just liked it.”
Louis half explains, opting not to go too deep into it, because Harry would most likely get bored,
<strong>and</strong> that’s never a good way to start an interrogation.