you're cold and I burn (on hold)

The tasteless cupcake is shoveled down within seconds before he continues his journey back to
his flat.
He has half a mind to take all of Harry’s shit <strong>and</strong> make lawn ornaments out of it. Skew them
across the grass <strong>and</strong> never look back. But, then he would lose his flat <strong>and</strong> he’d most likely be
living in a shopping cart rather than pushing one <strong>and</strong> he’s weighing his options very heavily. He’s
not that stupid, but anger is blinding sometimes. He should’ve used that last percentage to call
Niall, surely his truck was ready by now, but he had this hope that Harry would morph into a
decent human being long enough to answer his phone call after the twelfth time. But, no, he was
wrong <strong>and</strong> Harry is still an asshole <strong>and</strong> Louis’ freezing his fucking face off out here <strong>and</strong> he hates
everything.
He hates everything.
His expression is sour <strong>and</strong> he’s a little worried that it’ll be stuck like that forever when his flat
finally comes into view. It’s still about another five minute walk, but there’s a finish line in sight
<strong>and</strong> it makes him insides warmer just thinking about it. The fact that Harry would do this to him
isn’t hurtful, really it isn’t. It’s infuriating <strong>and</strong> it makes Louis bite his lip so hard the familiar taste
of copper <strong>and</strong> the bright color of crimson is leaking from the pressure. Yeah, he sensed from the
beginning that Harry was trouble, it evaporated from his fucking pores, but he never thought it
would reach this level. To tell someone you’re going to be there in what, twenty-five minutes, is
what he said, then to just not show up at the same time he’s hitting the hater button on every single
one of Louis attempts at getting ahold of him?
Bastard.
But Louis' not going to dwell, because he’s reached his flat <strong>and</strong> the next mission on his mind is
getting everything in <strong>and</strong> unpacked. Sure enough, it’s then that headlights are pulling into the
driveway, half-blinding him <strong>and</strong> making him even more irritated than before, if that was close to
being a possibility. Of course Harry would be arriving right at the same time as him, he’d actually
rather do this all by himself, but the skin on his h<strong>and</strong>s is drying out <strong>and</strong> making it hurt to use, so.
A curly brown head bobbles out from the drivers side, sauntering (he’s not in any rush) over to
where Louis is st<strong>and</strong>ing. The tone of Louis' words is about as venomous as he can possibly muster
when the syllables finally leave his frozen lips, “Don’t even think about breathing in my general
direction.” He hisses without as much as a glance Harry’s way.
He can hear a sharp exhale, <strong>and</strong> it’s a good minute before Harry even manages to move. When he
does, it towards the cart, already starting to pack on as many bags as he possibly can, before
wordlessly continuing to the front door. Louis couldn’t give one single fuck if he’s hurt Harry’s
feelings, in fact, he hopes that he did. The way Harry walks indicates he's riddled with guilt,
hanging his head <strong>and</strong> averting his eyes. It’s a silence that’s full of tension when they’ve gotten all
the food in, only the shuffling of bags <strong>and</strong> the clanks as containers hit the table <strong>and</strong> the counter.
They’re putting everything away, <strong>and</strong> Louis has to physically bite back <strong>and</strong> swallow his words,
because if he says them, there’s no doubt they’d be sharp enough to crumple Harry, he has a gift
for that.
He plans to get this done, <strong>and</strong> then go straight to his room, run the hottest bath he can h<strong>and</strong>le
before boiling himself <strong>and</strong> taking his tired, angry ass straight to bed.
Harry is the first to say anything, <strong>and</strong> his voice is light <strong>and</strong> timid, it’s almost childlike, “I’m sorry,
Louis, I-“
“I don’t want your excuses, that was fucking rude, Harry. Blatantly <strong>and</strong> wholly fucking rude. I
waited for you, for over an hour <strong>and</strong> you never came,” The more he talks to angrier he gets. But