you're cold and I burn (on hold)

even be home.
They all spend some more time talking over the aspects of Zayn’s psychology course studies,
Niall tells a story about how he got stung by a bee on his birthday, <strong>and</strong> Louis explains what he has
in store for his next color arrangement. Apparently, he’s been really feeling this light saffron blue,
it matches the color of the sky but it’s little more washed out, not as vibrant, dulled <strong>and</strong> easier on
the eyes. It connects him to nature <strong>and</strong> makes him feel like he may be floating around instead of
trudging in his worn down shoes. He’s choosing between that <strong>and</strong> a gorgeous mixed <strong>and</strong> spiritual
coral.
Louis can feel his stomach leap when a very loud <strong>and</strong> intimidating roar sounds from just outside
their window. It starts off distant <strong>and</strong> progressively gets more intense the closer it becomes. The
sound is so vehement he can clearly hear the smooth downshift. It’s a deep growling, though it
comes across more full than a car without a muffler.
“Does someone who lives here drive a motorcycle?” Niall asks.
“Not that I know of.” Louis answers as the sound shuts off just outside the living room window.
They’re all kind of waiting, <strong>and</strong> with the window open they can hear the person whistling, boots
brushing over the cracked concrete of the walkway. For some reason, Louis just knows that it’s
Harry, by the way the steps have a wide stride, <strong>and</strong> how there’s not a ton of people in this flat
building <strong>and</strong> most of them are old. So unless Mr. Walter hit his mid-age crisis at sixty-four, there’s
no one else who fits the bill. When the key starts rattling against the lock, it solidifies Louis’
suspicion.
He takes one good, deep breath, “Harry’s home.”
Just as the words hit the air the door swings open. Harry, of course, is radiant. All the depth of
annoyance on his face from last night is gone. He’s dressed in his casual black jeans, a b<strong>and</strong> shirt
<strong>and</strong> that trusty leather jacket. But his hair is even more unruly, the curls in absolute disarray <strong>and</strong>
the sight doesn’t settle well in Louis’ stomach. His eyes automatically dart to see the bike from
where the front door is still open, looking around Harry’s figure to find that something is missing.
“Where the fuck is your helmet?” Louis’ voice is aimed sharp, <strong>and</strong> Harry’s eyes go wide in
response. He blinks, opens his mouth to speak then shuts it again, averting his eye contact from
Louis’ stare. “Hello?”
“I- uh, I left it back at my dad’s.” He shrugs, but the uncertainty in face is more than obvious,
“You’re lying.” Louis states, simple.
“I don’t have one, okay?” Harry’s brows knit down, shutting the door <strong>and</strong> heading straight for the
kitchen. Louis st<strong>and</strong>s to meet him in there, momentarily forgetting the company that’s joining them
on the couch, watching the interaction play out.
“You’ll die if you wreck, Harry.”
“Okay? Then I just won’t wreck.” Harry switches the subject before Louis can even process his
next thought, “You have guests over?” He eyes the men sitting on the couch. His eyes are way
but friendly.
“Yeah, this is Niall, my best friend.” Niall beams at that, “And this is Zayn, he’s dating my stepbrother.”
Zayn nods, but adds on, “Your friend as well, I’d still hang around you even if me <strong>and</strong>
Liam weren’t together.”
“Nice to meet you.” Harry says, green eyes flickering over to Louis, then back to whatever he’s