Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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“That’ll be 30 quid,” Harry says to the woman, smiling softly up at her as he sets the bouquet on the counter beside the register. The woman fishes in her bag for her wallet and produces a debit card, handing it over the counter to him. He swipes it and returns it, holding his hand over the machine as it prints out her receipt.

“Alright, I’ll just need you to sign this and you can be on your way!” The woman smiles as she does so, picking up the bouquet and thanking him, the tinkle of the bell on the door marking her exit from the store. Harry rounds the counter, walking to the door and flipping the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ Well, it actually says “Be back tomorrow,” which Harry thought was quite cute when he chose it.

Harry looked round the store, surveying the mess leftover from the short burst of customers he’d gotten right at the end of the day. While most sections were neat enough, the gardenias were looking absolutely frightful. He made his way to the furthest section of the store, right up against the window looking out into the streets of London. The traffic was picking up, 6:00 being high time for commuting home after a day of work. He knew Carnaby street was prime real estate for just that reason. The hustle and bustle of the shopping districts in London kept business steady and new customers popping in all the time, mixed in with his regulars that had standing arrangements with him for their posh flats and indie coffee shops.

As he straightened his gardenias he hummed along to the music playing from his little radio, placing the cream flowers back into their correct container. How hard is it to see that they’re cream, not white?, he wondered. Once things were looking a bit more tidy, he filled up his little watering tin and refilled the low looking containers. The evening light filtered beautifully through the big window, casting shadows from the flowers onto the white and black tiled floor. Sunlight had a way of making the rosy pink walls seem even more peaceful than Harry had pictured when he chose that color five years ago. Smiling slightly at the memory, he topped off the last container with water before completing the rest of the closing list.

The roses were put in the floral cooler, the peace lilies were re-tied to little wooden stands to prevent drooping, the ribbons were re-hung on their wall display, and before he knew it, the shop was in order once again. Flitting back over to the register, he pops the drawer open, the happy ding bringing a small smile to his face. He counts the cash, slipping it into an envelope labelled ‘Tuesday,’ along with the receipts from card purchases. Once the register is closed, Harry locks it with the little key in the slot and slides that into the envelope, too.

Harry pulled his apron over his head, hanging it on the hook by his workbench. Switching off the radio, he slid on his cardigan, a soft pink fabric that felt lovely against his skin. After retrieving his tote from the back and throwing it onto his shoulder, he opens the little safe in the cupboard and slides the envelope in next to the one from yesterday. Switching off the lights and making his way back into the store he turns to survey once more before heading out for the night. With everything to his liking, he pushes the door open, turning back again after its shut and pulling out his keys, locking it and jiggling it for good measure.

Turning to face the road, Harry takes a deep breath of the warm September air, throwing his keys into his bag. He pulls out his phone, dialing it and holding it up to his ear. While it rings he shuffles through his tote for his headphones, finding them just as the voice on the other end picks up with a greeting.

“Hey Tom, it’s Harry! I’m dying for a takeaway. Can I have the usual? Awesome, I’ll be home in about twenty. Thanks again. Okay, yeah, cheers!” Putting his phone back in his pocket, he makes off in the direction of his flat, connecting his headphones to his phone and sliding them into his ears. He quite enjoys the walk to and from work, using the time to listen to his podcasts. Just about twenty minutes later, Harry rounds the corner, pulling open the door to Tom’s restaurant.

“Harry!,” Tom exclaims from behind the counter, his aged face lighting up in a smile.

“Hey mate, how was today?” he asks, the door closing softly behind him. The place smells amazing as always, the aroma of peanut sauce and spicy chili overwhelming his senses. He removes his headphones, sliding them back into their case.

“It was good, busy at lunch! Special today was the spring rolls. They sold more like hotcakes!” Harry laughs, pulling out a chair from one of the round wooden tables littered around the restaurant and taking a seat.

“Business at the shop was good, too,”he says, “big rush at the end of the day. Lots of ladies popping by on their way home, I suppose.”

“I like to hear good business, Harry. Food is almost ready,” Tom says, smiling broadly and making his way back into the kitchen. Tom, an immigrant from Thailand, owned the restaurant below Harry’s flat. He was just about the nicest person Harry had stumbled upon since making his move here five years ago. He was always ready with a hot pad thai and a listening ear. Tom comes back out of the kitchen with a brown paper bag. Harry stands from his table, pushing his chair in and walking up to the shiny counter, reaching into his bag for his wallet.

“Come on Harry, you know I won’t take your money,” Tom says, rolling his eyes and sliding the bag across the counter to him.

“Please, Tom,” he counters, “I hate that you never let me pay. I know the stuff you buy is good quality. Please let me give you some money.”

“Absolutely not. After what you did for Alexis I could never,” Harry’s cheeks warm at the mention, casting his eyes down to the bag. “Think of it as me cooking for a friend. You don’t ask your friends for money when you invite them to dinner, do you?”

“No, you don’t. Thank you, Tom. I just know it’s going to be delicious. As always.” He smiles warmly at him, and Tom smiles back, wishing him a goodnight with a wave. He goes around the right side of the store, walking down the narrow hallway to the door at the end of the hall, keys jingling as he unlocks it. Up a flight of stairs is the landing, where Harry kicks off his Birkenstocks and hangs his keys on the little hook. Mac, his orange tabby, meows softly and stretches from his perch on the couch, hopping onto the floor and over to Harry. He bends down, scratching behind his ears.

Setting the bag and his water bottle on his little dining table, he pads into the kitchen, reaching up into the cabinet for a can of cat food. He pops the top, turning and shaking it into the dish, and refilling the water while he rinses and recycles the tin from Mac’s food. He meows again, rubbing up against Harry’s legs as he takes a plate from the drying rack next to the sink. He slides the drawer beneath it open, grabbing his favorite set of chopsticks and heading back to his table.

He pushes the chair back, eagerly opening the bag and pulling out its contents. A takeaway container of vegetable pad thai, his summer rolls in sticky rice paper, and a little container of hot chili oil cover his table. Pulling open the top on the pad thai, he grabs the sweet smelling noodles with his chopsticks and plops them on his plate. He pops open the little styrofoam container, pulling out his summer rolls and the side of ginger sauce Tom always remembers to include. Removing the lid from the chili oil, he drizzles the peppery liquid onto his noodles, smushing them around with his chopsticks.

He eats quietly, the only sound being Mac eating softly out of his dish in the kitchen. The noodles are delicious, as he knew they would be, and he munches happily on the summer rolls with the perfect amount of basil. After finishing his plate (plus a little more), he huffs happily, leaning back in his chair stuffed full of noodles, taking a long swig from his water bottle.

Harry picks up his plate, moving to the sink to rinse it and then bending down to load it in his dishwasher, leaving the chopsticks in the sink. He recloses the containers of food, putting them in his old, rounded yellow fridge. For being from the 50’s, it kept things perfectly cold and looked adorable in his kitchen. He grabs the kettle, filling it and flicking on the hob. While the water boils he pulls out his favorite mug, a sweet little thing he nabbed at a charity shop for three quid. It has the sweetest little illustrations of bunnies on it, wearing darling little ribbons around their necks. He hums happily while grabbing a teabag from the ledge on the hob, tossing it in his mug while he retrieves almond milk from the fridge and rock sugar from a jar on a shelf above the cooktop. The kettle whistles and he fills his cup, watching the steam curl from the edges.

His couch is soft and inviting and he curls up on it, sipping carefully from his mug. He clicks on the television, flipping through the channels until he lands on a cooking show. He’s half watching as he scrolls through his phone, admiring the last of the light filtering in through the eyelet lace curtains over the windows, the sky a brilliant orange. After finishing his cuppa, he leaves his mug on the counter and makes his way down the hallway, yawning quietly. He hears Mac’s bell jingle softly as he walks down the hallway behind him.

Flipping on the light in the loo, he looks into the mirror, poking discontentedly at the spot on his chin that he knew he was going to get after skipping his skincare routine after a night out with Niall. His green eyes stared back at him, looking tired. Face mask it is, he thought, sorting through his various products littering the counter. He settles on a brightening mask from Gemma’s company, spreading it generously on his face with his fingertips. The soft citrus smell made him smile, thinking of the test samples his sister sent him for weeks until she got the scent balance just right.

Capping the tube, he turns and switches on the hot water in the bath, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off onto the tile floor. He slides off his cardigan, hanging it on the back of the door, pulling the white t-shirt under it over his head. He pulls off his pants and they pool at his feet. He steps out of them, noticing that the lavender polish on his big toe has chipped. Sliding open the drawer, he begins rooting through his polishes until he finds it, setting in on the counter. He props his foot up on the toilet seat, tongue poking out slightly as he carefully reapplies polish to his toe. He blows on it as he re-caps the polish, putting it back into the drawer.

Turning to the toilet he hunts through the bin sitting on top of it full of bath bombs and bubble baths, picking out a paper wrapped bath bomb smelling heavily of roses. Once the bath is full, he shuts off the water and unwraps the bath bomb, plopping it in the water and watching it fizz, the sweet smell filling the steamy bathroom. It continues to fizzle as he reaches into the linen closet, pulling out a fluffy pink bath towel, setting it on the closed lid of the toilet.

He steps carefully into the bathtub, sitting down opposite of the tap and sighing heavily, the warm water feeling heavenly on his tired body. He slides down further into the floral water until it sits just below his chin. Reaching up, he frees his long hair from its bun and tosses the scrunchie onto the pile of his clothes on the floor. It falls in ringlets to his shoulders, slowly becoming weighed down. He tilts his head back into the water, shaking it slightly, and sits back up.

Harry sits in the bath until the water is starting to get cool and his fingers are pruny. He sits up, taking the cup on the edge of the tub and filling it with water. He dumps it over his head, grabbing his strawberry scented shampoo from its ledge and uncapping it, squeezing a glob of it into his hand. He massages it into his head slowly and methodically, letting his eyes slip shut. Reluctantly finishing his shampoo he rinses his head again, spreading slick conditioner through his curls, combing his fingers through it to untangle it gently.

Once he is finished, he rinses again and stands, wrapping himself in the towel he laid out and stepping onto the bathmat. He picks up his t-shirt, wrapping it around his wet hair. Harry was quite meticulous about his hair, following the ‘curly girl method’ he stumbled upon on Pinterest when he was browsing for recipes. He had a routine after a wash that included a hair oil, curl defining gel, diffusing, and absolutely no brushing.

He picks up his clothes from the floor, opening the bathroom door and seeing Mac sitting patiently outside the door, meowing softly when it opens.

“Silly cat, have you been waiting for me this whole time?” Harry asks playfully, leaning down to scratch affectionately behind his ears. He meows again, leaning his soft head into Harry’s hand. He chuckles softly, padding into his bedroom. It’s dark now, and the only light on in the room is the string of cafe lights he has pinned around his window. He flicks on the light on his bedside table, plugging in his phone. He lets out another yawn and turns to his dresser, pulling out a soft pair of pajama bottoms that he slides on over his long legs. Mac hops onto the white duvet, stretching languidly. Harry smiles and makes his way back to the kitchen, filling his water bottle. He goes back into the bathroom, gently cleaning off the face mask he has had on for far too long, pouring toner onto a cotton pad and swiping it over his face and neck. He dips his long, ringed fingers into the tub of moisturizer next, applying it in dabs to his skin and massaging it in with his ring finger (the softest finger, which he also learned on Pinterest.)

Re-capping the moisturizer, he goes back into his bedroom, pulling back the covers and sliding into the rosy pink sheets. Mac meows dejectedly as he is jostled by Harry’s entrance, standing up and curling next to his legs. Harry takes a long swig of his water, picking up his phone and seeing a text from Niall that read, “bet ur in bed already, u old fart. jst wanted to c if u were free fri night ?? liam and i wanna have a lads night ;-)”

Harry smiles at the text as his fingers slide across the screen, messaging back “sounds good, jst let me kno when and where. love you <333333” He locks his phone, setting it back on his nightstand before switching off the light and rolling over. A sigh escaped his lips as he surveys the empty bed beside him before he closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

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The next few days aren’t anything extraordinary, which Harry is honestly grateful for. Having to help Niall and Liam move into their new flat last weekend (on the fourth floor with no elevator, mind you) and the heavy shipments of decorative orchid pots he had to unload did a number on his body. Wednesday’s deliveries were thankfully light, just some extra cellophane he had ordered for arranging bouquets. Thursday flew by due to the flock of primary school children herded into the shop by their teacher, all of them buying flowers for their mums and dads on the school’s ‘Celebrating Family’ day. He spent individual time with all of them, asking what their favorite colors were and what flowers most reminded them of their parents. By the time all 26 children had gotten their flowers, the store was a mess and the teacher was apologizing profusely as she ushered her group out. He laughed and shooed them off, puttering around the shop to sweep up loose leaves and petals and to straighten the tornado the children had left behind.

By the time Friday came around, Harry had nearly forgotten that he was going over to Niall and Liam’s new place that night. It wasn’t until Harry was out the door that morning with his green juice in hand that he got the text from Niall saying “be round at 7. and bring beer ;-P” He walked to work with a bit more spring in his step, the promise of a good night and greasy pizza bringing a smile to his face.

As he opened for the day, flipping on lights and watering and pruning, he switches on the radio. He decides to connect his auxiliary cord to his phone, shuffling his current favorite playlist. He danced around the store to “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac and “Blondie” by Current Joys, misting the small selection of succulents he had on the center display. Once it hit nine o’clock he flipped the sign from ‘Be Back Tomorrow’ to ‘Come On In’ and slipped his apron over his head, sliding his trusty gardening shears into the wide front pocket. He opened his email on the computer, seeing two emails about orders from regulars.

For about an hour the shop is silent but for the radio softly playing and the slide of his shears on paper and cellophane, arranging pink roses and baby’s breath for a woman’s home and sprigs of eucalyptus and hydrangeas for the ice cream shop two blocks down. He kneels down to grab tissue from the bottom drawer.

The bell chimes softly and Harry looks up, a curl coming loose from his bun and falling down onto his face. What he sees is the prettiest man he’d seen in a long time, maybe ever. He was dressed in black skinnies, a sleeveless Nirvana t-shirt, and a red beanie on his soft looking brown hair. His feet were clad in black Vans, drawn on with what looked like bleach marker to create little drawings of smiley faces with x’s for eyes. His cheekbones were sharp, his eyes were disgustingly blue, and his eyelashes were so long that when he blinked they touched his cheeks. His tan, toned arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in a million tattoos, which Harry also saw peeking out from the neck of his shirt. He begins looking over the flowers with intense focus.

“Can I- hi- what can I help you with?” Harry stuttered, dropping his shears a little too loudly on the work table and standing up. The man starts a bit, looking at where the voice came from and making eye contact with Harry. His cheeks warm a bit when the man smiles, crinkles forming beside his eyes.

“Hi mate, yeah, I need some herbs. Like, uh, lavender? And rosemary and stuff? I’ve got this tattoo client that wants ‘em and reference pictures aren’t shit for somethin’ like this,” The way he says tattoo (like tadoo) is fond to Harry, and he nods slowly, coming out from around the work table.

“Do you need them fresh or dried? And are they doing an assortment or just a specific few?” he asks, twisting his hands nervously behind his back. The man reaches into his ridiculously tight pants and fishes for something, eventually pulling out a yellow piece of torn paper, unfolding it.

“Rosemary, lavender, eucalyptus, and thyme,” he says, refolding the note, “and I guess fresh?” He draws his eyebrows together as he says it and Harry nods.

“Sure, sure. Yeah I have that,” he says.

“Awesome, I was hoping you would. My shop is right down the road and I pass this place sometimes when I go to the cafe down here to get a cuppa,” he explains, smiling. He looks so… intimidating, Harry muses, looking over his dark tattoos and choice of clothing again. He was, however, adorably short, coming up to about Harry’s nose. His voice was inviting and his smile was genuine, and Harry realized he was quite the opposite of intimidating. Other than the being ridiculously hot part.

“That’s cool, um, where is your shop? Is it a tattoo shop?” he asks, turning to fetch a small tin to collect the herbs he needs in.

“Yeah, yeah it’s a parlor about two blocks down that way,” he points in the direction of Harry’s flat, “Me and my mate Zayn opened the place two years ago, actually. It’s called 28 Ink.”

“That’s very cool, I’ve definitely walked by it a million times” Harry comments shyly, plucking the herbs from their containers and laying them in the bin. “I’ve had this place for going on five years,” Harry adds, grabbing one sprig of rosemary before turning again to his work table and setting the herbs on them.

“What made you choose flowers?” the man asks, looking around the shop. Harry knows he doesn’t intend it to sound a bit judgy, but his cheeks flush anyway.

“Um, just like them is all. I get to help people make their wedding bouquets and kids pick their mums out gifts and things…” He trails off, eyes cast downwards as he ties the bundle together with a bit of twine.

“Oh yeah, of course, it’s cool. I didn’t mean like why would you pick flowers of all things like a proper dick,” he says, smiling genuinely. It eases Harry a bit, and he says, “I meant like, is there a specific story or something that made you choose flowers? I chose tattoos because my friend Olli and I stick and poked stars on each other’s arses when we were fourteen and turns out I was quite good at it,” he says, laughing. Harry laughs too, enjoying the sound of the stranger’s laugh. His accent was thick, like Yorkshire or something.

“That’s incredible,” Harry chuckles, “mine’s not nearly as funny as that. I have an older sister, Gemma, and when her and I were growing up she and I would spend hours hunting through the park around our house for the perfect arrangement of flowers for our mum. We would search through every flower for the one that was just right and we would bunch them all together and our next door neighbor, a sweet older woman, always gave us a bit of ribbon to tie around them. She owned a Chinese restaurant, and she would give us each a dumpling when we found the perfect bouquet,” he smiles fondly at the memory, finishing the bow on the bunch with a pull.

The man lets out a little awe-ing sound as he takes the bunch from Harry’s outstretched hand, their fingers brushing slightly. His cheeks redden again and he pulls his hand back quickly, walking to the register.

“That’s a lovely story,” the man says, “I have about a million sisters, and they were far more thoughtful on the floral side than I was,” Chuckling, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

Harry clicks the prices into the register, sparing tiny glances up at him as he does so, wishing that he needed more help so he would stay longer.

“Eighteen quid,” he says, smiling up at the man shyly. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out a twenty, quipping, “Keep the change.”

“I, thank you, um, I hope it goes well-”

“Louis. My name’s Louis,” he says, picking up the bunch from the counter. Louis, what a lovely name.

“Bye Louis, thank you,” he stutters, giving him a small wave as he turns to leave.

With his hand on the door he turns and says, “Bye, flower boy,” with a cheeky smile. It’s not until the door is almost closed that he musters up the voice to say “Uh ‘m Harry,”

Louis catches the door just as it’s about to slip shut and pops his head back in, chirping “Bye, Harry!” When the door is shut and he watches Louis pass the set of front windows he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and blinks slowly, picturing those blue, blue eyes and hearing in his head, “Bye, flower boy.”

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Harry spends the rest of his day at the shop thinking about Louis. His soft looking hair, his sweet laugh, his genuine interest in Harry and his life, and his incredibly blue eyes. He goes over their short exchange in his head a million times, hanging on every word. Remembering Louis’ mention of his frequenting the coffee shop, he hopes for a fleeting second that they bump into each other there some morning when Harry decides to stop for a cup of tea. Heart fluttering at the thought, he busies himself. Flitting around the shop, he makes himself focus on wrapping numerous bouquets and arranging five boutonnieres for an early wedding pickup the following morning.

As the day wound down and closing time approached, he started his closing duties early, not wanting to risk being late to Niall and Liam’s tonight. He looks down at his outfit, a pair of worn in bell-bottoms and a loose Woodstock t-shirt, and wishes he would’ve put on something a little nicer in case they decided to go out to the pubs.

At six he flips the sign, finishing up the register and locking up the safe, flipping off the lights and locking the door behind him on the way out. Slipping his headphones into his ear, he heads off in the opposite direction of his flat, making his way to the corner store to pick up a case of beer and a bag of crisps he knew Niall would munch on once he was a bit drunk.

He pulls open the door to the corner store, making his way immediately to the cooler section. His phone buzzes as he walks and he pulls it out of his pocket, looking down at the notification and slamming straight into another person as he rounds the shelves to the coolers. He sputters, dropping his phone and groaning, grabbing his head where it slammed into the other person’s.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t-” he pauses as he stands from bending to pick up his phone, making eye contact with none other than blue eyes himself. Louis smiles back cheekily, rubbing his forehead with his tattooed hands.

“Well look who decided to assault me. It’s none other than flower boy himself, simply the last person I ever expected to be assaulted by,” he quips teasingly, reaching over to Harry to push the strap of his bag back onto his shoulder from where it had fallen down his arm. Harry’s skin burned at the touch.

“Louis, I’m seriously so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and just…. You know” he stammers, waving his hand wildly, sure he looks proper crazy. Louis laughs and shakes his head, crinkling his nose up in a disgustingly endearing way.

“If I’m to be concussed by anyone, I’m glad it’s you, flower boy. Where are you headed in such a rush?” he asks.

“I’m having a lads night with my mates,” Harry explains, “and I have to be there at seven and I have terrible anxiety about being late and needed to grab beer so… collision.” Louis smiles at him even wider, snorting and adding, “Good thing I have vehicle insurance,” Cheeky, Harry thinks, his face warming slightly.

“Any beer you’ve tried recently you really recommend?,” Harry asks, not wanting the conversation to end. He always bought Guinness. Anything less and Niall would riot, but worst case he would bring two cases, which would never hurt.

“The Lost and Grounded Keller Pils is delicious if you like hoppy stuff,” Louis says, pointing in the direction of the blue labelled bottle with a little red canoe on it. Harry pulls open the cooler, grabbing a six pack of that and of the precious Guinness, shivering at the rush of cold. He swears he sees Louis smile slightly at that, but it must have been his imagination.

“Thanks, Lou,” he says, cheeks immediately flaming as he realizes the slip of a nickname. Had anyone even called him Lou before? Did he have some weird rooted trauma stemming from a bully in primary that called him Lou? Oh god, he really fucked this up.

“Lou, huh? That’s what m’ mate Zayn calls me. S’cute, flower boy,” Louis smarts, smiling widely at Harry’s blush. “Anything else you need for the lad’s night, then?” Harry nods silently, making his way to the crisps and grabbing the first bag he sees.

“That’s all, I think,” Harry mumbles, awkwardly holding the two cases of beer and crisps a little too stiffly. Louis raises an eyebrow, chuckling slightly. They walk up to the register together, Harry tossing a bill over the counter. After he pays, Louis steps forward and buys a pack of cigarettes. Harry must have unconsciously wrinkled his nose because Louis raises his eyebrows at him with a smile, pocketing his change in his wildly tight jeans.

“Not a smoker then, are we?,” he inquires as they push the door open into the cool air. Harry shakes his head, pulling his bag off of his shoulder in an attempt to put the crisps in it for a free hand, making quite a fool of himself, he’s sure. He finally decides to set the beer down when Louis reaches over, taking the cases in his hand and nodding encouragingly. Harry smiles sheepishly as he stuffs the bag into his tote, putting it back on his shoulder. He takes the cases back from him with a mumbled “thanks” and Louis smiles, opening his pack to grab a cigarette, producing a lighter and lighting it. He takes a long drag from it, exhaling slowly away from Harry.

“I, uh, should head to my friend’s place,” Harry says with a move to go.

“Of course, yeah, which way are you headed?”

“They live down by the Nando's and the Embankment.”

“I live right by there, mind if I walk with you?,” Louis asks with a smile.

“Of course, yeah,” he responds, his heart jolting unevenly. What the hell am I supposed to talk about on the walk there?, Harry panics. Okay, yeah it’s ten minutes but still.

They begin their walk, Louis silently puffing on his cigarette and Harry anxiously chewing on his lip. They continue in silence for a while, making offhand comments about the amount of traffic and the weather. It isn’t until they come up on a bottle next to the bin, of all things, that has Harry talking.

“God, I hate it when people can’t just toss their rubbish in their bin when it’s right there. It’s bad enough they’re not taking it home to recycle, but seriously?” he gripes, bending down to pick up the bottle and shoving it in his bag. He looks over and Louis is trying his very best not to laugh, lips pressed tightly together and eyes crinkled. With the look Harry gives him he bursts out laughing, bending over at the waist and placing his hand on his knee. Harry chuckles softly, too endeared to be annoyed with his laughter. Louis finally stops laughing and straightens up, wiping away an imaginary tear.

“What are you, the recycling police? I should’ve known you were a hippie by the birks and Woodstock tee, but now it's picking up other people’s trash that has me a thousand percent sure,” he teases, poking Harry in the arm. Harry smiles and rolls his eyes, shooting back, “The birks are very comfortable, thank you, and yes. I am a bit of a hippie and I’m okay with that.”

“Well, you’re a very cute hippie,” Louis muses, taking another long drag of his cigarette as they walk. Harry flushes, eyes down on the sidewalk as they get closer to Niall and Liam’s flat. He rounds up on the Embankment next to their complex, hating to know that their walk was at an end.

“Well, this is me,” Harry says softly, eyes coming up to meet the cool blue of Louis’.

“That’s too bad, flower boy. I liked walking with you,” he responds, no hint of teasing in his voice. “How’s this, then. Can I have your number? Maybe we can, I don’t know, meet up and take another walk together or something. I just, I’d like to talk to you, okay?” Harry’s eyes widen and he bites his lip, nodding as his face spreads into a grin.

“I’d like that very much,” he replies cheekily, “Can I have your phone?” Louis reaches into his pocket, unlocking his phone and pulling up a contact. Harry takes it from him, entering his number and setting the name as “Flower Boy” with several quite sweet floral emojis after it. He hands it back to him, and when Louis looks down to save it he smiles, looking like he just received very good news. Harry feels his cheeks turn pink and smiles back. He immediately gets a message reading, “it’s me :-)” Harry smiles, saving his contact and shoving his phone in his pocket.

“See you soon then,” Louis says, “and have fun tonight. Don’t get too crazy with the lads. Oh, and let me know how you like the beer.”

“Of course, Lou. Get home safe,” Harry responds, wanting badly to reach out and hug him. He instead ops for a smile and a wave, which Louis reciprocates. He then turns and begins to walk again, lighting up another cigarette. Harry sighs heavily, his head feeling light. His phone reads the time as 6:47, and he pulls open the door to the apartment complex, feeling the blast of the aircon and thanking it silently for banishing the blush sitting high on his cheeks before he goes up to meet the boys.

❀❀❀

Chapter Text

“And he called you what?” Niall asked incredulously, crisp crumbs flying out of his mouth.

“Flower boy,” Harry replied softly, eyes cast up at the ceiling.

“What is that, some kind of derogatory thing? For you being gay or whatever? Because I swear Harry, I will beat the ever living fuck out of this guy if he-”

“No, Niall!” Harry interrupts, Niall’s face having gone beet red. “He meant it like, ya know, because I’m a florist. He likes the flowers. We talked about it,” he adds. “We talked about lots of stuff on the way here, actually.”

“So, wait, he walked you here then?” Liam asks, eyebrows furrowed. He picks up another piece of pizza, nibbling on the end.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, chewing his lip. “He said he lived around here and we bumped into each other in the minimart and so he walked with me and went back to his place after we got here,” Liam’s eyes go wide at this and Niall barks out a laugh.

“I bet he doesn’t even live around here,” he quips, “I bet he just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer.” Harry flushes at that, rolling his eyes and uncapping another beer. Louis had good taste in beer, it seemed.

“Why would that be the case? Because I nearly broke his nose in the cooler section of a minimart and then awkwardly stuffed crisps into my very manly tote bag?”

“No, Harry. Because you’re fit,” Liam shoots back, shaking his head, “I don’t mean that in an ‘I want to date you’ way I just mean, like, objectively you’re a good looking guy. He’d be absolutely stupid to see you and not want to kiss you even a little.” Harry laughs, rolling his eyes again and taking another swig of beer. His phone vibrates on the table next to him and he picks it up, heart nearly stopping.

Louis: hey flower boy :-)

Niall raises an eyebrow at him, leaning across the table and attempting to snatch the phone out of Harry’s hands. He shrieks, clutching it to his chest.

“Gimme the phone, is that him? If it’s not him why are you making that stupid face, huh?” Harry stands and takes several steps back, phone still held close to his chest. Niall smiles cheekily and rolls his eyes. “I knew it was him.”

“Fuck off, Niall,” Harry playfully responds, rolling his eyes too and retaking his place on his side of the coffee table. “All he said was hello anyway. I don’t even know if I’m going to respond, honestly,” Harry says, chewing his lip.

“No!” Niall and Liam yell together, making Harry nearly jump out of his skin.

“You have to respond, Harry,” Liam insists, “He texted you first which means that he wants to talk to you, idiot. You can’t not respond.”

“What do I even say?”

“Oh, I don’t know genius, maybe hello?” Liam shouts dramatically, sighing loudly and grimacing at Niall’s attempt to shove an entire slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Okay, okay, geez. I'm just nervous is all,” Harry mumbles, unlocking his phone. The text from Louis stared up at him.

“Come on Haz, tell him you wanna kiss him on the lips or summat,” Niall gurgles, his mouth full. Harry snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Babe, I don’t think that’s wise,” Liam chastises Niall gently, “Harry baby you just be yourself and he’ll have absolutely no choice but to fall head over heels in love with you.”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods once, smiling up nervously at the two of them as they stare at him expectantly. His fingers move over the screen as he types back.

Harry: hiiiiii *snail emoji* *flower emoji*

Harry squeals as he presses send, throwing his phone onto the couch and nervously taking a swig from his beer. Niall cheers in victory and takes a long sip from his as well. Liam, smiling fondly at him, offers a napkin for the pizza grease on his chin.

“That’s the hardest part, H,” Liam encourages, “Now it’s just the talking and getting to know each other and flirting and making plans and-” Liam is cut off by a pillow to the head from Harry.

❀❀❀

Throughout the next few days Harry and Louis are texting sporadically, sending back and forth random things. Louis loves to send him pictures of trash near trash cans, to which Harry responds with righteous indignation and more often than not a recycling fact. Harry has taken to sending him pictures of his floral arrangements, getting back lots of praise and a ridiculous amount of black heart emojis. If Harry was being honest, he didn’t even know there was a black heart emoji, but it made sense that Louis did.

That following Tuesday Harry is puttering around the shop straightening bins when the door tinkles. He turns around and flushes, his eyes meeting clear blue.

“Hey flower boy,” Louis says cheekily, “I need another batch of flowers from you today. Another client, wants birth flowers for her kids. Think you can help me out?” He smiles expectantly, his eyes practically sparkling. Harry could faint.

“Yeah, uh, of course I- hello, by the way, I- which ones?” Harry stumbles, mentally kicking himself for sounding completely illiterate. Louis chuckles softly, pulling out yet another piece of crinkled yellow paper.

“I need an iris, a larkspur, and narcissus,” Louis reads off, crumpling the paper up again and shoving it in his back pocket.

“I can do that,” Harry mumbles, grabbing a bin from the counter and getting to work.

“Thanks, I knew you’d have ‘em. Obviously I could look at pictures online, but it’s not the same as seeing them in person. The color, the shape, the texture. It’s just different.” Harry nods and hums, plucking the narcissus from the white bin and laying it in the container. He feels Louis’ eyes on him, his hands shaking a little.

“So, how has business been today?,” Louis asks, taking a few steps towards him.

“Good, um, a bit slow but that’s Tuesdays,” he responds. That’s Tuesdays?, he thinks. Seriously? That’s the best we could come up with? “What’s your birth flower?” he asks, the question falling from his lips before he could re-think it.

“If I’m being honest I have no clue. I’m a Christmas eve baby, so whatever December is, I suppose,” Louis responds easily, smiling.

“It’s okay, birth flowers aren’t really common to know anyway,” Harry mumbles, “This one is yours,” he says, pulling the white narcissus out of the container he held. Louis steps forward, looking down at the flower in Harry’s palm. He strokes the soft, pointed petals with his tattooed fingers.

“S’pretty,” he says softly, looking up at Harry, “like you.” Harry blushes a deep pink, his eyes flitting away from the pointed gaze Louis holds.

“Thank you,” Harry manages to get out, “You don’t remind me of narcissus though, you remind me of the myosotis,” he says, shuffling awkwardly to the section of blue flowers, plucking the five-petaled blossom from its holder. He presents it lamely to Louis, still averting his gaze.

“What made this remind you of me?,” he asks softly, taking the fuzzy-stemmed flower from Harry’s soft hands and holding it gently, like it was fragile. Harry swallows loudly.

“The color, um-” Harry stops himself, taking a breath. “The color reminds me of your eyes. They’re called forget-me-nots because the color is such a beautiful blue you can’t forget them.” He looks up, finally, to meet Louis’ gaze. The brilliant blue meets his and he almost looks away again, but Louis smiles softly at him and Harry swears he sees a pink tint on the tops of his cheeks.

“Well, flower boy, that might be one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me,” he breathes, running his hand through his caramel colored hair and sharing his gaze between Harry’s face and the flower in his grasp.

“It’s just true,” Harry mumbles back, chewing his lip. Louis smiles at him again, little crinkles forming by his eyes. Harry smiles back at him, his dimples popping out. Louis’ smile becomes fonder. Harry can’t breathe.

“Well, I should probably be getting back to the shop,” Louis says, his voice sounding strained. Harry’s heart falls a bit and he nods, the trance broken. He picks an iris and a larkspur, mind fuzzy. Bringing them up to his table, he wraps them in brown paper and ties them off with a piece of white twine. Louis watches his hands as he does it, making them shake just a little.

“Eighteen quid, same as last time,” Harry murmurs, crossing to the register. Louis pulls a twenty out of his wallet, folding it into Harry’s palm. He shivers, eyes flitting up to Louis’. He looks back coolly, a small smile on his lips.

“Keep the change,” Louis says quietly, “oh, and here’s this back,” he says, laying the forget-me-not on the counter.

“No-” Harry says, a little too loud. Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “No, I mean, keep it. It’s a gift, from me,” he manages to force out, his voice soft. Louis smiles brightly, picking it back up off of the counter and tucking it gently into his arm with the bouquet.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says warmly. “Listen, what are you doing this weekend?” Harry’s mouth falls open a bit, floundering.

“I, um-”

“No, I get it, it’s fine,” he says sheepishly, starting to leave.

“No, Jesus, I- I’m free Saturday night. We could meet somewhere, around seven?” Louis turns his head and stops, a grin spreading across his face. “Really?” Harry nods, smiling shyly at him. He twists his hands behind him, his nails digging into his palm.

“Okay, yeah, let’s meet at Pastaio in Kingly Court at 7 on Saturday, is that okay? Do you like Italian food?”

“Yes, I love it,” Harry assures him, smiling wider. Louis nods and gives him a little thumbs up, walking to the door.

“Well then, flower boy, I’ll see you Saturday. I’m counting the minutes.” He swings open the door and the bell tinkles as it shuts.

Harry exhales a long breath and slumps back against the counter, eyes closed. He can feel his heart beating a million miles a minute an hour in his chest, dizzy with it. Saturday night then.

Chapter Text

The three days between seeing Louis and their dinner together felt like the longest three days of Harry’s life, if he was being honest. Even things at the shop were uncharacteristically slow, making every day stretch impossibly longer than the next. He tried to fill the time by playing fun music and doing odd jobs around the shop, like repainting the corner of the door that got chipped by the delivery cart and even rearranging the cooler to put the flowers inside in height order. He was going crazy.

Friday was the worst. He knew exactly what he was going to do once he got home and was buzzing with energy, already having made a to-do list of sorts in the notes on his phone. It was a pampering night, he had decided, and he knew it would take him anywhere from an hour to three weeks to pick out his outfit for the following night. He planned on doing absolutely everything necessary to make himself look, smell, and feel the best for his date with Louis. Date. Even thinking about the idea of it made a zap of electricity travel up his spine, a cold feeling of nerves and excitement settling in his stomach.

As soon as six o’clock hit he flipped the sign, the already stuffed register envelope sliding into the safe. He flipped the lights, doing a once-over before locking the door behind him and throwing the keys into his tote. There was a spring in his step on his way home, making the twenty minute walk home seem shorter as he listened cheerily to his “jam it out” playlist through his headphones.

After a quick exchange with Tom and grabbing his keys, he unlocked his door and toed off his birks, setting them neatly in his shoe organizer. Mac peeps loudly from across the room, slightly irritated to have been awoken from his slumber on the window seat. Harry smiles and rolls his eyes, moving to scratch him behind the ears and kiss between his little eyes. Mac peeps again, stretching his orange body and hopping off of the window, padding over to his bowl and looking back at him, meowing loudly.

After feeding Mac and doing the few dishes in the sink, he cooks up an egg on toast and munches in front of the telly, tuning in to the last fifteen minutes of a good rerun of Hell’s Kitchen, shaking his head in disappointment when the pork is still pink inside. Finishing up his easy dinner he loads the dishwasher and makes a cup of tea, walking into the bathroom to start the tap.

That night Harry takes his time painting his fingernails and toenails a soft green, blowing gently on them as he feels his face mask dry. He takes a long bath, shaving his legs gently with a strawberry scented shaving cream and washing his hair with care. After putting in his products and blow drying it he completes his skincare routine, proud at the subtle glow his skin has had from drinking plenty of water. He even puts oils in his diffuser, making the room smell like a spa as he flicks through the hangers in his closet. It isn’t until Harry has seemingly exhausted all of his options that he finally settles on the perfect outfit, tucking it carefully in another one of his many tote bags to change into at work. He also includes some jewelry he never wears at the shop and a change of shoes. For good measure he tosses a good gloss into the bag, smiling at the thought of what the next day would bring.

He crawls into bed a little earlier than usual, hoping that the nerves in his stomach wouldn’t keep him awake. He unlocks his phone, reading the notifications from the night when he had his phone on do not disturb. His heart leaps when he reads one in particular.

Louis: so excited to see you tomorrow night, flower boy. still counting the minutes.

And then another shortly following.

Louis: (it’s 1,320 by the way)

❀❀❀

Harry’s eyes fly open at his alarm the next morning. He sits straight up, looking at the alarm on his phone. The date stood out on the lock screen reading ‘Saturday, 23 September.’ Saturday. Saturday. As in the day he had a date. With Louis. Holy fuck.

As he pulls on his jeans and a soft long sleeve t-shirt his heart races, his mind running a mile a minute. What would Louis be wearing? What if he’s late? What if I’m late? A zap of anxiety runs through Harry’s body as he blends his morning juice, making his chest hurt. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and standing in the light filtering in through the kitchen window. It’s warm and feels good on his skin, slowing his erratic heartbeat. After pouring his juice in his travel cup he slides his feet into his birks and takes another deep breath, sliding his bags onto his shoulder and scratching Mac behind the ears one more time before heading down the stairs.

The brisk morning air feels welcome as he sips at his green juice, the bustle of the streets in the morning making him comfortably unseen. The city had a way of making him feel so small in the best way. As he walks his podcast focuses his mind, quieting the loud thoughts he was having earlier.

After readying the shop for another day he sets his music a bit louder than normal, working diligently to finish the four arrangements due for pickup this afternoon. His hands move easily, tucking the greenery and stems into order, tying little knots of fishing wire and twine to hold the structure. After finishing the third arrangement he takes a little break, stretching his long fingers and rolling his neck. Allowing a glance at the clock his heart skips a beat when he sees it’s already one o’clock. Six more hours.

After snacking on the trail mix he packed, he gets back to work finishing the arrangements for the 3:00 pickup times. Once he’s quite happy with the result he tucks them away in the cooler, cleaning up the stem clippings and various bits of ribbon and leaves left on his work table. The pickups come and go, the clock ticking closer and closer to six o’clock.

It’s 5:45 and Harry is practically vibrating, standing behind the counter staring at the door, praying nobody walks through it. The clock ticks impossibly slow, Harry’s eyes glued to the entrance.

It’s 5:57 and he decides he can’t take it anymore, practically running to flip the sign and lock the door from the inside, hands shaking as he does. He speeds to the back room, pulling the orange corduroy bell bottoms out of his tote, sliding off his jeans and pulling the pants up his smooth legs, leaving them unbuttoned. Next out comes the white button up he brought, removing his shirt and sliding the cool, soft fabric onto his torso. He does up the bottom few buttons, leaving it open to halfway down his chest. The little antennae of his moth tattoo peek out from the fabric.

Harry kicks off his birks, stuffing them into his bag. He pulls out the brown heeled boots he brought, sliding them onto his feet one at a time. Tucking in the ends of the white shirt into his pants he buttons them over it, standing in front of the mirror and pulling at the tuck. He wants it to look effortless but still put together, meaning that he fiddled with it for five minutes until it looked just right. Harry grabs the rings he brought and slides them up his painted fingers. He fiddles with the clasp of his necklace, laying the paper airplane on his chest.

Looking up into the mirror he messes with his hair, fluffing his soft curls and turning to several angles, making sure he looks okay from every side. Glancing down at his phone he sees it’s 6:13, meaning that he has to leave in five or ten minutes to make it to the restaurant with a few minutes to spare.

He straightens up the back room, shoving his old clothes into his bag and hanging them on the hook for him to take home Monday once he’s back in the shop, not wanting to lug them around with him tonight. He checks in his tote to make sure he has his wallet and keys, throwing the gloss he brought into there as well. Sliding his headphones into his ears he queues up some upbeat music and looks in the mirror one last time, smiling at his outfit choice.

Locking the shop door behind him he sets off towards Kingly Court, the thirty minute walk ahead of him feeling ridiculously long knowing that Louis and Italian food and hopefully some romance was on the other side. Bopping his head to Joni Mitchell he looks down at his phone, smiling at the texts on his screen from Liam and Niall.

Ni: go get em tiger, give him a smooch for me ;-)))

Leeyum: have so much fun tonight haz it’ll be so much fun stop stressing!!!! xx

After half an hour he comes up on the square, bustling with people and activity. It smells amazing, the crowd of restaurants making the air smell like a million different foods. The cafe lights that are strung across the entirety of the square make the ambiance quite romantic, Harry thinks. Looking at his phone the time reads 6:49. He slides his headphones back into their case and throws them in his bag, fluffing his hair again before sitting down on a metal bench near the road, taking time to people watch before Louis gets there. Engrossed in watching a couple argue on the corner, he misses Louis exiting a cab and making his way towards him.

“Harry, hey!,” Louis exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his beautiful face. It takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth from falling open. Louis is dressed in tight black pants rolled at the ankle, shiny black shoes around his feet. He wears a loose plaid button up in colors of cream and red and black, complimenting his tan skin. In his tattooed hands he holds a bouquet of bright green hydrangeas wrapped in soft looking white paper.

“Louis, hi, you look wonderful,” Harry says, standing to greet him.

“Says you, wow, who knew the hippie could clean up so well,” Louis teases, offering him the bouquet.

“Thank you,” he says softly, bringing them to his nose to smell their sweet aroma. “Did you cheat on me?”

“What? I- um,” Louis sputters. Harry laughs playfully.

“I mean on my flower shop. I definitely don’t remember you coming in to buy me these, so you must’ve cheated,” he says with a grin, cheeks pink. Louis lets out a breath, a smile breaking over his face.

“Oh, Jesus, I was floored for a second. And yeah, I guess I did. Had to go all the way across town to get these and their selection wasn’t nearly as good. And get this, the florist there wasn’t a gorgeous flower child with beautiful green eyes. How disappointing.”

Harry’s blush somehow gets deeper and he giggles softly, eyes flitting down to his feet.

“Well, that’s very sweet, um, thank you,” Harry murmurs, once again raising the flowers to his nose.

“I had to get those ones,” Louis says with a small smile, “they were the ones that reminded me of your eyes.” Harry’s stomach flutters with a million butterflies.

“You did a great job,” he says back, “they’re beautiful.”

“And so are you. So, shall we? I made reservations so we should be sat right away.”

Harry nods and Louis offers the crook of his elbow to him, making him giggle. They walk arm in arm to the restaurant, Louis pulling open the door for him and gesturing grandly for him to enter. The restaurant is small but beautiful, with white tablecloths over the tables and little candles burning on each. It was very romantic, making Harry’s heart race thinking that Louis wanted to bring him here, thought of this place when deciding where to ask him to dinner.

Louis speaks softly to the hostess and she picks up their menus, leading them to their seats. They’re brought to a corner with a small, two-person table, sort of secluded from the rest of the tables in the open center. They thank the hostess and Louis pulls out his chair for him, sliding it in once he’s seated. Taking his own seat across from Harry he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, Harry’s eyes following the movement.

“So flower boy, how was the day?,” he asks smoothly, taking a sip from his glass of ice water and leaning back in his chair. Harry suddenly feels very nervous, knowing exactly how the day went but apparently incapable of forming a thought.

“Uh, I’m- good, did some- flower stuff,” he stutters, mentally punching himself in the throat. Louis looks back at him with his lips pressed together, a smile threatening to break it.

“Oh? Flower stuff, huh? As a florist? Interesting,” Louis says, his voice wavering with the promise of a laugh.

“Yes, actually, flower stuff. I know it’s surprising,” Harry says indignantly. “I did many flower things today, in fact.”

Louis lets out a laugh at that, his nose doing the scrunching thing again that makes Harry’s chest hurt.

“I’m sure flower things were done, yes,” Louis says, breathless with laughter. “Any specific flower things, may I ask? Any at all?”

Harry finally cracks a smile, letting the faux annoyance slide away from his face.

“I restocked greenery this morning for a while and in the afternoon I worked on a few arrangements for pickup. Other than that it was slow,” he says, taking a sip from his condensation-slick glass. Louis and Harry both look up as their waiter approaches, a sweet looking woman with dark skin and thick black hair dressed in a crisp uniform and a perfectly white apron.

“Hello gentleman, how are we feeling this evening?,” she asks with a smile, looking between the two.

“We’re just fine, and you?,” Louis responds with a dashing grin, Harry’s stomach clenching.

“I’m quite alright, thank you for asking. May I go over some specials?”

The pair listen intently as she impressively rattles off quite the list of food, trying to remember the catch of the day and the difference between a spaduccio and a carpaccio. After she leaves them with some time to look over their menus, the two pore over the options in almost silence, breaking it only to comment occasionally on something on the menu. Harry decides he’s going to get the mushroom risotto. The waitress glides back to the table a minute later and takes their orders, Louis asking for a filet and a bottle of the house pinot noir.

“Mushrooms, huh?” Louis inquires, wrinkling his nose a bit. Harry laughs at that.

“Yeah, it sounded delicious. I don’t eat meat so I tend to go for the dish with the most carbs possible,” he jokes back, noting the way in which Louis always seems interested in every word he says.

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian,” Louis asks, less of a question than his tone seemed to imply.

“Yeah, have been since I was 11. My class took a field trip to a farm and I met this really sweet pig and named him Clyde in my head and was so sad when we had to leave him. A few days later we had pork chops for dinner and I asked my sister what pork was and when she said pig… well I cried so hard I threw up,” Harry said, snickering at the last few words. Louis burst out laughing, slapping his knee. A few people in the restaurant around them turned to give him a scowl, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Jesus H. Christ, Harry, I think that’s genuinely the funniest story I’ve ever heard,” he says breathlessly, wiping tears from his crinkled eyes. Harry takes a playful bow in his seat, dramatically lowering his arm with a smile.

“Yeah, I couldn’t ever see myself eating Clyde or any other cute little farm animal, have been that way ever since.”

“Well curly, I admire the willpower. I must say that I do enjoy a nice Clyde now and again.”

“Heeeeey,” Harry says with a pout, “that’s not funny. And also, curly? Who’s that then?”

An impish grin crosses Louis’ face and he shrugs, the tops of his cheeks turning pink.

“Listen, you’ve got really curly hair, alright? I don’t think that’s a secret. Besides, you called me ‘Lou’ the first day we met, so who’s dropping nicknames?”

Harry’s mouth flounders incredulously.

“And what’s flower boy then? That was the first five minutes we met!”

“Hey hey hey, that was simply a descriptor. You were a boy that works with flowers, so I called you a flower boy. It wasn’t a term of endearment then,” he explains with a shrug.

Harry clears his throat.

“But, it is now?”

Louis smiles.

“Yeah, it is.”

❀❀❀

“Listen, thank you again for dinner. It was absolutely delicious,” Harry says with a smile, hiking his bag up higher onto his shoulder. They’ve been standing under the cafe lights in the square for nearly an hour, enjoying each other's' company too much to say goodnight.

“It’s no problem, really,” Louis replies sincerely, running a hand through his hair.

“So, I’ll text you then?” Harry asks, suddenly nervous. Louis smiles a little smile.

“Of course, yeah. I’ll even text back, if you want.”

Harry laughs at that, loving the way that Louis smiles to himself at seeing Harry enjoy his joke.

“Well, I should get going then, my Lyft is almost here,” Harry says dejectedly. Louis’ smile falters only a little as he nods.

“Yeah, course, let me know when you get home then?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ll do that,” Harry says, walking towards the street. The black car pulls up and he goes towards it, stopping as he heard Louis saying his name. He turns and Louis is jogging up to him.

“Wait, just a second, sorry. I- well, I just. I don’t want to not see you for a while? Do you- I don’t- what are you doing, like, tomorrow? Is that too soon? I don’t want to be weird. I’m being weird. Okay I-”

“Lou, stop,” Harry says with a laugh. “Why don’t you come for brunch tomorrow? I’ll fry us up a full breakfast and you can meet Mac,” Harry says with a smile, heart fluttering. He wants to see me again. He wants to see me tomorrow.

“Who’s Mac, your roommate?” Louis asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sort of, yeah, he’s my cat. Be round at 1, I’ll text you the address. Oh, and bring bread, I toasted up my last yesterday,” Harry calls out as he slides into the back seat of the car.

“Okay, good, I’ll- well, see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, curly,”

He gives Louis a quick wave and shuts the door, sinking back into the leather. Through the tinted glass he sees him pump his fist a little, spinning on his heel and starting off in the direction of his flat. Harry laughs quietly at that and lets his eyes slide shut, heart beating fast. He looks down at the flowers in his lap, bringing them up to his nose again, the bright green of the blossom bringing a smile to his lips.

Chapter Text

❀❀❀

Harry’s eyes crack open as his alarm chimes next to him, the sunlight filtering in through his lashes. He groans quietly, rolling over onto his stomach and sighing deeply, his breath huffing into his pillow. Propping himself up on an elbow he turns of his alarm, his phone reading 10 am and about twenty text notifications from both Niall and Liam. The most recent from the two of them, only a few minutes ago, read:

Ni: you wanker!!!!!!!!! u better let me know how it went this instant!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Leeyum: hazzzzzz wake uppppp we need details!!!!!! xxxxxxx

Harry smiles to himself, propping his back against the pillows behind him and clicking the facetime button next to Liam’s contact, the beeping of the dial lasting less than a second before he picks up, Liam’s eyes practically bugging out of his head.

“Babe! Babe I have him on facetime, get your ass in here!,” Liam shouts, presumably at Niall, as he sits on their couch, hearing Niall shouting unintelligibly in the background.

“Oh my god, Harry, how dare you!,” Liam chastises loudly. Harry hears the couch squish beside him, seeing Niall’s disheveled face pop up on screen.

“You fuckin’ knob!”

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes and shrugging.

“I’m sorry, you guys, I got home at nearly ten o’clock and Mac needed fed and I had to shower and it was so late by the time I was even in bed and…” Liam’s unamused face stops his rambling.

“Sorry, guys, I know you’re probably really curious and I should’ve texted,” he sighs, running his hand over his tired face. Mac peeps beside him, looking up at him with his big eyes and snuggling into his side.

“Yeah, mate, for all we know you coulda been axe murdered by tattoo magoo last night and we’d be none the wiser!” Niall exclaims, raising his hands dramatically. He sees Liam nod in the corner of the screen.

“I literally have my location shared with both of you, I’m almost positive that you checked it about a hundred times last night. In fact, I bet you know when I got home better than I did,” Harry says teasingly, seeing Liam’s cheeks turn a bit pink at that. He turns the camera to face Niall, who blows air out of the side of his mouth and waves Harry away with his hand.

“Ridiculous, we don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about, honest,” he says, crossing his heart and giggling ridiculously.

“Sure, Ni, I bet you don’t,” Harry says with a chuckle, stroking Mac’s ears with his free hand.

“Well don’t keep us waiting now, Harold, what happened?,” Liam shouts, pulling the phone again to face him. Niall shouts his agreement from off camera, pushing his head in next to Liam’s.

“Alright, alright. He brought me green hydrangeas because he said they reminded him of my eyes,” he says, Niall and Liam cooing, “and he wore these gorgeous leather looking brogues and a button up with black pants and his hair looked so cute. The restaurant was so nice and I had mushroom risotto and we drank an entire bottle of pinot noir, the expensive kind, and talked for nearly two hours straight.”

As he tells the story Niall and Liam ooh and ah at the right points, sighing romantically when he tells them about the story Louis told him involving him learning to braid hair from his little sisters and wanting to braid Harry’s. Once he gets to the end of the story, he tells them that Louis is coming over in just a little over two hours for a brunch.

“Already? So soon?,” Liam asks insistently, looking impressed.

“Damn H, slip him some tongue? That was fuckin’ fast,” Niall jokes, an obnoxious laugh making Harry grin.

“No, Niall, no tongue. Actually, no kiss at all. He was very gentlemanly. Pulled out my chair and all that,” Liam coos again. “But yes, Li, he’s coming over again. He told me he didn’t want to not see me for a while and just asked what I was doing today, so I invited him over.” Harry blushes a little, suddenly feeling silly for his enthusiasm.

“I think that’s lovely, Harry,” Liam says with a reproachful look to Niall. “I’m excited to eventually meet this mysterious gentleman and hear how today goes. If he doesn’t fall in love with you after one of your famous fry-ups then he’s hopeless,” he says teasingly. Harry snorts at that.

“Yeah, Li, I’ll keep that in mind. Listen, I’ve gotta get ready and straighten up the place, throw a hoover over the carpets and that, I’ll text you guys later? And we can do something this week?,” Harry inquires, sliding out of his bed and stretching.

“Don’t forget, ya wanker!” Niall shouts, smacking a wet kiss on Liam’s cheek. Liam recoils with a disgruntled look on his face and rolls his eyes.

“Have so much fun, H, we love you! Bye!”

“Bye, you lot. Love you.” He hangs up the facetime call, sliding his phone into his pajama bottom pocket and padding into the bathroom, having a wee and brushing his teeth. Making his way into the kitchen he starts up his record player with Van Morrisson and singing along while he does up the dishes in the sink. After drying them with a soft yellow towel from his mum he stacks them away in the cupboards, feeds Mac, cleans off the counters with a rag, and wipes down the cooktop.

He stops with his hands on his hips, turning to the living room and dining area and surveying the bit of mess from the week. He decides to straighten and dust first, hoover next, and then light some of his favorite candles. He dances along as he straightens, tucking the mail on the table away in the organizer on his little set of shelves by the stairs where it belongs. He rights his shoes on the shoe rack, fluffs the soft white pillows on his green couch, folding the knitted blanket strewn over the cushions and laying it over the back.

Two empty mugs on the coffee table from tea go into the dishwasher, chairs are pushed in under the table, the rug is straightened from it being pushed around by Mac’s playing, and he vacuums the entire room, even getting on his hands and knees to get under the couch. He takes the bunch of white lilies brought home from the shop Friday from in the fridge and does them up in a pitcher, setting them on the counter. He smiles, pulling back the curtains a bit to let the warm, natural light stream in. He looks at the clock. 11:30.

Lighting two of his wood-wick honeysuckle candles he sets one on the coffee table and one on the hob, the gentle crackling and sweet smell making his little flat seem even cozier. Mac hops up onto the dining table, making his way to the window sill to gaze outside for a while. Harry pats him affectionately and goes into his bedroom, already dreading picking out what to wear.

He flips through his closet with a hand on his hip, huffing at his otherwise fine clothes, only inadequate for this day. He pulls off his pajama pants and kicks them into his laundry basket, sliding a pair of bell bottom jeans, soft and worn in, up his legs. Deciding on a lavender knit jumper he pulls it over his head, it resting comfortably just below his bum. He loved to shop at charity shops, often picking up soft old finds that were just big enough on him to be cozy. He picked this one up for three pounds and it’s been well loved. Slipping his feet into some fuzzy socks with bananas on them, he looks in the mirror and sees that he actually looks quite cute. With a smile to his reflection, he walks into the bathroom and flips on the lights, looking at the mess that was his hair. He sighs, separating it into two sides and beginning to french braid it back. He decides to pluck some of the baby’s breath from the little vase on his bathroom counter and tuck it into the back of the braids on either side of his head, turning slowly from side to side to make sure it looked alright.

He applies his essential oils behind his ears and on his wrists, the calming scent of eucalyptus filling his nose. After deciding he should also put on moisturizer he brushes up and styles his eyebrows and subtlely curls his eyelashes. Mac meows at him from the doorway and hops up on the counter, nuzzling his little face into Harry’s stomach.

“Now listen here, young man,” Harry says to him with a faux stern tone, “you’re going to meet a very special friend of mine today, and you’d better be nice.” Mac looks up at him with his sweet eyes and blinks slowly back at him. Harry takes that as a sign to continue.

“I mean it. He’s very kind, and funny, and he’s a lot nicer to me than the last was, so please be very polite and don’t drink out of his mugs and please leave his shoelaces alone.” Mac peeps softly, rubbing his head into Harry’s hand. Harry sighs, scrunching his little face between his hands and placing a loud kiss in between his eyes. Mac peeps again indignantly and hops off the counter, padding back into the living room.

Harry decides to follow him, the sweet smell of his burning candles surrounding him as he walks into the room, the hardwood warm under his feet from the streaming sunlight. It’s only a little after noon and he has some time to kill so he decides to pull out his easel from the corner of the kitchen, sliding his smock over his head and tying it behind his back. The half painted canvas in front of him looks back at him with just the hint of what was to become a blackberry branch. He pulls the plastic wrap off from the oil paints on his palette, crinkling it up and tossing it into the bin. He looks down at his phone to make sure it has the sound on for a text from Louis and picks up burnt sienna with his paintbrush.

He loses himself in the work for a while, gently shading in the knobs on the branch and finely adding wood grain. He brushes away a curl on his cheek, leaning in close and gliding the paint across the primed canvas, the branch beginning to take shape. After about half an hour his phone begins to chime, looking down to see an incoming facetime call from Louis. His heart jumps a bit as he sets down his paintbrush, sliding across the answer bar. Louis’ concerned face pops up.

“Uh, hi! I think you sent me the wrong address? I’m in front of a Thai restaurant,” Louis says, looking up presumably at the sign. Harry chuckles softly as be rips a new piece of plastic wrap and lays it onto his paint, setting the palette on the easel shelf.

“I live right above that,” Harry says with a grin, “I’ll be right down to get you.”

“Oh, good, I felt like a right moron,” Louis says with a sharp laugh, cheeks a bit pink. “I’ll be waiting.” He hangs up.

Harry pulls off his smock and hangs it on the side of his easel, sticking the paintbrush back in the cup of artist soap and water, giving it a hearty swirl before he slides his feet into yet another pair of birks before trampling down the stairs with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. He bursts through the door at the bottom of the stairs, smiling and greeting Tom as he pushes through the front door. Louis turns at the sound and smiles at him, like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Hey there, flower boy,” he says, cradling a brown paper bag with far too many items in it to just be bread.

“Hey, Lou,” he replies, smiling back at him. “I live right upstairs, and lucky you, you’ll get to meet Tom.” He opens the door and ushers Louis inside, Tom’s head raising to look at them as the bell chimes.

“Tom, this is Louis, Louis, this is Tom. He owns and runs this place and makes the best meal you’ve likely ever had,” he says proudly. Louis raises a hand, smiling and greeting him. They exchange pleasantries, Tom joking kindly with Louis as Harry smiles along, his chest filling with pride as he sees Tom taken by Louis’ charm. It wasn’t like this last time.

“Well, we’re off to cook a full English. If you hear screaming, ignore it. Louis has most likely accidentally caught himself on fire,” Harry says teasingly, Louis feigning a scandalized face. With a hearty laugh from Tom and a wave goodbye, Harry leads Louis down the little hallway to the door to his apartment, swinging it open and climbing the stairs.

“Holy shit, it smells incredible in here,” Louis says suddenly as they reach the top of the stairs, scanning the apartment with a soft smile. Harry flushes, sliding off his shoes and setting them in the shoe rack. Louis slips his Vans off, revealing very small socked feet. Louis seems to notice Harry looking at them, and Harry coos with a teasing smile on his face. Louis huffs indignantly.

“Listen, they are small but they’ll still kick the shit out of you. Watch it, Styles,” he warns, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest. Harry rolls his eyes and grins.

“So, welcome to my apartment. Mac should be around here somewhere…” As if on cue, Mac peeps from under the chair and slinks out, stretching languidly. Louis awes loudly, immediately dropping to his knees and reaching out a hand. Mac looks at his hand suspiciously, as if deciding whether or not to allow Louis to pet him. Apparently he decided to let him because he walks over to Louis’ outstretched hand and presses his head into it, nuzzling his palm. Louis looks up at him with big eyes and a pouty lip and Harry huffs out a laugh, smiling fondly back down at him. Louis sits cross-legged and allows Mac to crawl into his lap, purring loudly as Louis scratches behind his soft ears.

“I love him,” Louis says softly, more to Mac than to Harry. The brown paper bag abandoned by the steps, Harry picks it up and carries it to the dining table.

“What all did you bring, the entire store? I asked for bread,” Harry says jokingly, pulling a loaf of sourdough, a container of eggs, Kerrygold butter, a container of orange juice, and two onions out of the bag.

“Yeah,” Louis says sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure that you had everything you need and so I just picked up a few extra things.” He smiles up at him from the floor, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, thank you, I really appreciate it.” Harry’s cheeks feel hot as he folds the paper bag and moves the groceries to the counter. Louis finally stands, making his way towards the kitchen.

“What are we listening to?,” Louis asks, gesturing towards the record player still playing music softly.

“Astral Weeks by Van Morrisson,” Louis nods, “it’s one of my favorite albums. It’s good background music, you don’t have to really focus on it to enjoy it,” he explains, pulling out a cutting board and his cast iron skillet.

“Cool, yeah it’s good. So, no grand tour then?,” he asks jokingly, looking around him.

“Oh yeah, of course,” Harry says with a soft laugh. “This is the kitchen.” Louis snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Duh. I mean like… show me your favorite mug and the best seat to see the telly and where you keep the vacuum. It sounds silly but I want to know,” he says, a sparkle in his eyes. Harry’s cheeks heat up and his eyes drop. He nods a little.

“Okay. The stove only has three burners that work well, but the front left is my favorite,” he says, brushing his hand over the cool metal. Louis nods along. “I keep the tea up here on this shelf because that’s where my mum always kept it.” He reaches up into the cabinet and pulls out two mugs, one being the kitten mug with ribbons on their collars and the other being the hand painted mug his little cousin made him as a Christmas gift last year. “These are my two favorites, and they’re the perfect size for a cuppa.”

He putters around the kitchen, showing Louis the best sun spot for growing herbs, picking off a sprig of mint for Louis to try. He shows him his painting nook and Louis runs his finger along the edge of the canvas, a small smile on his lips. Harry shows him the broom closet and his favorite jacket and the detergent he makes at home to limit his plastic use.

“I thought you’d be the no plastic type,” Louis says with a smile. “That’s why I got a paper bag.” Harry’s heart races at that, the thoughtful gesture making his chest hurt.

“That’s very kind of you,” Harry murmurs, smiling up at him. Louis reaches a hand up and gently brushes along Harry’s cheekbone, his eyes closing at the touch.

“I think you’re precious,” Louis says quietly, his hand dropping back to his side. Harry can barely breathe, his eyes fluttering back open.

“Thank you,” Harry manages to get out, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. They’re very close together, their faces less than a foot apart. Harry can feel Louis’ breath, see the slight lines around his eyes and the faded freckles on his nose. Louis leans forward, just a touch, and Harry’s breath catches, his lips parting. With a smile, Louis closes the distance between them and touches his lips to Harry’s once, twice. Harry’s skin blooms with heat where their mouths meet, radiating out around his face and sending sparks down his arms and into his fingertips. His hand comes up to rest softly on Louis’ arm, a ghost of a touch. Louis pulls back a few inches and looks into Harry’s eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

“Was that okay?,” he asks gently, sliding his arm out of Harry’s grasp to take his hand. Harry nods, dreamlike, and his mouth breaks into a smile, cheeks pink as he lets out a soft laugh.

“That was okay,” he replies. Louis smiles back at him, a hand sliding up to cup his cheek tenderly. He leans slightly into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels the warmth of Louis’ soft hand on his face. He brings his hand up and lays it over Louis’, squeezing it gently. Opening his eyes he leans forward again, brushing his lips over Louis’ sharp cheekbones, marveling at the softness of the skin there. He can hear him sigh quietly, hand dropping from Harry’s face to grasp gently at the outside of his arm, his thumb brushing the soft material of the lavender jumper. With a feather light kiss to the cheek Harry pulls back to look at him, eyes cloudy like a storm and a small smile playing on his thin lips.

“I’ll show you the rest of the flat, if you’d like,” Harry says softly, grasping Louis’ tattooed hand in his own ringed one. Louis nods, and Harry leads him down the short hallway to the loo. He takes his time showing Louis the many colors of nail varnish he has in the organizer in his drawer, even taking time to let him smell his favorite lotions. He leads him down the last bit of the hall to his bedroom, pushing open the door and leading Louis inside. Louis proceeds to make his way around the room, in no hurry, and brushes his finger along the picture frames on his dresser. He thumbs gently at the little ceramics Harry has sat on his shelves, throwing him a smile at the little cat that looks just like Mac. His hand runs over the soft duvet Harry has on his bed and he stops to look out the window, smiling.

“The sun feels wonderful on my skin from here,” he says, his eyes closing. Harry comes up behind him and gently lays his hand on his back so as not to startle him. Louis stays still as if he hadn’t felt his touch. He lays his cheek on Louis’ shoulder, just a few inches lower, and feels the heat of the radiating light. Louis chooses then to move, tilting his head only slightly to rest it on Harry’s. They stay like that for a while, their skin welcoming the pleasant sensation, and their hearts welcoming it, too.

❀❀❀

“God almighty,” Louis groans, leaning back in his chair with his hands on his stomach. “You can fuckin’ cook.” Harry laughs at that, taking a sip from his mug.

“Why thank you, it would be a shame if I invited you over for a brunch only for it to be terribly average.” Louis grins, rubbing his belly dramatically.

“I didn’t know that eggs could taste that good, honestly. And vegetarian sausage? Who knew it was good. I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what you get for judging it before you try it,” Harry chastises teasingly, standing up to gather their plates. Louis’ eyebrows pull together.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what do you think you’re doing, flower boy?,” he asks, tone challenging.

“Cleaning up?,” Harry asks quizzically, freezing with plates in hand. Louis shakes his head.

“No way. You did all the cooking, there’s absolutely no fuckin’ way you’re cleaning up, too.” Louis stands at that, taking the plates from Harry’s hands as he watches with eyebrows raised. Walking to the sink, Louis turns on the tap and begins to fill the sink, squeezing washing liquid into the basin. He comes back to the table to grab their glasses. “Sit.”

Harry, ever the good listener, takes his seat again as Louis begins to load the dishwasher, taking the dishes from the stovetop and setting them in the now full sink.

“Tell me about your work, and your friends, and… well, everything I guess.” Louis turns his head to look at him as he says it and Harry’s cheeks flush a bit but he holds his gaze.

“Alright, curly, but if you get bored you have to promise to stop me.” Harry giggles but nods anyway, resting his chin in his hand. Louis tells him about where he grew up, talking more about his sisters and his mum, Jay. He shows him his ankle tattoos with soapy hands, launching into stories about The Rogue. He tells Harry about being in Grease, reenacting ‘Greased Lightning’ choreography and singing into a spatula which puts Harry in stitches. He talks about Zayn and the tattoo shop, about their shitty flat with a mouse in the walls, and about why he moved to London. By the time the dishes are done, Harry is sitting beside the sink on the counter next to Louis, laughing and smiling along with his stories. Louis drains the sink, wiping his hands on a dish towel and gently lifting Harry off the counter and back onto the floor.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” he says sincerely, hands still resting on Harry’s hips.
“Then don’t,” he says quietly, “please.” Louis smiles at that, squeezing softly.

“Do you want to watch some telly? I’m sure there’s something shitty on we could enjoy,” Louis says with a wrinkle of his nose. Harry nods and takes Louis’ hand, leading him to the couch in the living room. He folds his legs under him, patting the cushion next to him and smiling up at Louis. Louis curls up beside him, pulling the knitted blanket from the back of the couch over the two of them and handing Harry the remote. Flicking through the channel, Harry lands on Flip or Flop on HGTV and looks over at Louis with eyebrows raised. He nods and lays his head on Harry’s shoulder. They watch quietly for a while, Mac peeping and hopping up onto the couch to settle on Louis’ legs.

“They never should’ve chosen that god-awful backsplash in the kitchen,” Louis comments sharply, shaking his head. Harry nods, adding “It totally clashes with the marble countertops.”

Eventually Harry gets up to make them tea and sneaks a look into the living room, watching Louis pet Mac’s soft head and roll his eyes at something on the telly. It looks so… domestic. Louis, on his couch, under his blanket, petting his cat. His heart races suddenly and the kettle shrieks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He fills their mugs and adds only milk to Louis’ tea, remembering the fuss he made this morning about adding sweetener to a cuppa. Carrying their mugs out, Louis thanks him and brings the cup to his lips, blowing softly at the steam curling around the edges. His small hands cradle the mug as he takes a small sip.

“You remembered,” he says with a smile. Harry nods, his cheeks hot, and turns back to the TV, taking a sip from his own mug.

“ I really like you, you know,” Louis says nonchalantly, not looking away from the screen. Harry’s stomach twists.

“I really like you, too.”

❀❀❀

“I’m going to miss you,” Louis says with a pout, lingering at the top of the stairs. Harry laughs softly at that, squeezing his hand.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he replies. “When can I see you again?” Harry asks. Louis grins, eyes crinkling.

“Let me take you out for lunch Wednesday, anywhere you want.” He sighs at that.

“I wish I could but I’m the only one at the shop and I can’t close for lunch,” he replies, disheartened. Louis’ face falls for only a moment before he says, “Well I do get a break. How about I bring you lunch? At the shop?” With a twinkle in his eyes he looks genuinely excited, making Harry smile wide and bite his lip.

“I’d really like that, Lou.” Louis smiles even wider at that, pumping his fist a little.

“I’ll be by around half noon, and I know just the place to grab us food,” he says, “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“You sure do a lot of minute counting,” Harry comments teasingly.

“When it comes to seeing you, it’s all I can do to not go insane,” Louis replies with a shrug. Harry smiles at that, bringing a hand up to cover his face. Louis reaches up and takes his hand, holding it in his own.

“I like making you blush.” Harry shakes his head slowly. “You’re awfully good at it.”

Louis smiles at him softly, still holding his hands. He leans in and presses his lips to Harry’s, releasing one of his hands and placing it on the side of his neck, his thumb tracing Harry’s jaw slowly. Harry’s lips part and he sighs against Louis’ mouth as he presses in for another kiss. Harry’s hand comes up to his shirt, gripping the fabric in his fist. Louis slots his lips against his, the hand not on his neck coming up to press gently against Harry’s back. They both pull back a bit, their lips still just barely touching, and Harry looks into Louis’ clear blue eyes. They smile at each other, Harry giggling softly as Louis gently pinches his cheek. He takes a step back, reaching for his jacket and sliding it on.

“Wednesday,” he says as he makes his way down the stairs.

“Wednesday.”

When he hears the door at the bottom of the stairs open and shut, he brings a hand up to his mouth, letting his fingers run over his lips, heart still beating like he’d just run a mile. He clears their mugs from the coffee table and refolds the blanket, laying it over the couch. From the dining table he hears his phone chime.

Louis: 3,960 xx

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning Harry’s eyes crack open with his alarm, a yawn escaping his lips and sunlight streaming in through the curtains and onto the bed. Mac stirs beside him and peeps disgruntledly, stretching out his paws and closing his eyes again. Harry groans and reaches to his bedside table to shut off his alarm, groggy eyes squinting at his phone screen. He pulls it to his chest and scrolls through it absentmindedly, reading through some emails and responding to the silly snapchats Niall and Liam sent to their group chat. Sighing heavily he locks his phone and sits upright in his bed, rolling his stiff neck and shoulders. With a scratch to Mac’s head he slips out from under the covers, sliding his feet into his slippers. Padding into the bathroom he unbraids his hair and lets it fall in waves around his tired-looking face. Regretting staying up so late to finish his painting last night he brushes his teeth and washes his face, Mac eventually stirring and slinking into the bathroom. He hops up onto the toilet seat and stares up at him with green eyes, tail flicking. Harry kisses in-between those eyes and picks him up, cradling him to his chest as he walks out into the kitchen to get his food ready. Filling his dish he sets Mac on the ground and he peeps, quietly eating as Harry sets the kettle on the hob. His phone dings from where he’s left it in the loo and he pops back in to get it. The message notification on the screen is from Louis.

Louis: good morning sunshine, please if you would give mac a smooch for me. missing you both xx

Harry smiled giddily and slid the message across to respond.

Harry: wouldn’t you know i just did that, did he put you up to it?
Harry: and good morning lou, miss you too xx

He smiles again, holding the phone to his chest as he walks back into the kitchen to finish making his cup of tea. As he gets ready for work he and Louis text a bit, Harry sending him pictures of Mac and Louis of the god-awful burnt mess he made trying to fry an egg like Harry had for him a few days prior. As Harry walked to work sipping his green juice he slipped his headphones into his ears and rang Liam.

“Hazza! Mate, how are you?,” he answered cheerfully, no doubt just getting back from some sort of high intensity workout.

“Hey, Li, good, missing you. How are things? And Ni?,”

“Oh, gosh, you know how moving is. We spent all this weekend repainting the cabinets, and by we I obviously mean me as Ni watched and ate an entire pizza,” Harry giggled at that.

“How was Sunday then? You and punkish delight do the dirty yet, hmm?,” he asks with a suggestive hum. “Give me all the details.” Harry snorts.

“No nasty, Li, we’re taking things slow. After Adam I don’t know if I could handle any more than this, honestly.” Liam has gone quiet. “He kissed me,” Harry finally says with a breath, heart fluttering at the memory. Liam gasps loudly.

“Oh my god, H, you should’ve led with that! What was it like? Did his breath smell?” Harry laughs loudly as he says it.

“Geez, Li, no it didn’t. It was lovely. He was… very gentle. Like I was made of glass,” he says quietly, fingers gripping around the edge of his cup. Liam sighs.

“Harry, you’re not though. You can’t forget that. I’m glad he’s being sweet but you’re not fragile and you deserve this. You deserve a good guy.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way-” Harry starts.

“I know you don’t. I’m glad he’s treating you like he should. Like you deserve to be treated. I just wanted to remind you. You’re very resilient, H, and I’m proud of you for this. I don’t think I can remember the last time you’ve let a guy take you out like this,” he trails off. Harry sighs.

“I love you, Li. Thank you. He’s… I don’t know how to describe him. He looks like everything he isn’t. He’s the opposite of scary or rude. He’s so kind and funny and gentlemanly, with manners from a good mum. I really, really like him.”

“Well then, cassanova, when do we get to meet the guy? Ni and I are dying to check him out,” Liam says insistently, and Harry can hear him jingling the keys into the door of their apartment.

“Soon, Li, he’s coming by the shop tomorrow for lunch. Like, bringing me lunch,” Harry says with a smile, rounding the corner on the shop.

“Well, H, you’d better give him a kiss for me. He sounds dreamy. Talk later, love, have a good day at work,” then holding the phone away from him, “Ni, did you sand the pantry door like I asked, you bugger?”

“Bye, Li, love you.”

“You too, Hazza- Ni, I’m SERIOUS-” and hangs up.

With a smile he pockets his phone and digs out his keys, unlocking the shop and taking in the morning light filtering through the snapdragons. Breathing in the sweet scent he sets up for the day, hanging up his jacket and flipping on lights, opening up his email, and flipping the sign once nine o’clock hits. He switches on the radio to an oldies station, lifting his apron over his head and bobbing his head along with a Beach Boys song. Tying up his hair in a scrunchie he begins the day, optimism as crisp as an apple on his tongue.

❀❀❀

After spending Tuesday night and Wednesday morning with near painful butterflies about seeing Louis again, Harry can’t stop staring at the clock, noon coming closer and closer but seemingly slower and slower. He’s rearranged the cooler twice already and has been sweeping the nonexistent mess from the floor for twenty minutes, having already finished the 4 arrangements for pickup that day. He’d only had one customer, a man seemingly making up for a misgiving with a bouquet of gorgeous red roses and a tired looking face. Since then he can’t stop the energy buzzing through him, hot like a live wire pulsing through him to the tips of his fingers. He turns the radio up louder, leaning against the counter as he glanced at the clock again. 11:47.

With a huff he walks into the bathroom in the back of the shop, taking in his appearance. Soft brown curls hit his shoulders, wide green eyes looking back at him. A soft looking green jumper hangs off of his skinny frame, hitting the tops of his jean clad thighs. It was almost getting too cold for birks, which he compensated with by slipping some striped knitted socks on underneath. Running his hands nervously through his hair he swiped on some chapstick and pinched the top of his cheeks, the apples turning a rosy pink. Reaching into his tote for his cologne he spritzed his wrists and neck, waving his arms wildly to try and get rid of the “I just put on cologne” smell. He nods to his reflection, slipping the bottle back into his bag and tightening the tie on his apron around his waist. Right as he looks up at the clock reading 11:51 the bell chimes and he looks over, seeing none other than crinkly blue eyes looking back at him.

Louis looks incredible. He wears an oversized black knitted jumper and skinny jeans with holes in the knees, shiny black Doc Martens around his small feet. In his hand he carries a reusable grocery bag, his mouth widened into a blinding smile.

“Hey, flower boy,” he says charmingly, walking further into the shop and setting the bag on the workbench. He approaches Harry and takes him into his arms, squeezing him lightly. Harry buries his face in his soft hair and inhales, the smoky smell almost intoxicating.

“Hi,” Harry breathes back, wrapping his arms around him. Pulling back Louis pulls both ends of his apron tie with him, pulling it gently over Harry’s head and hanging it on the hook.

“Hungry?,” Louis asks, pulling styrofoam containers out of the bag. Harry nods and blushes, coming closer to look inside.

“Ah ah, not yet, young Harold. Please go wait in the back,” he says with a wicked smile, crinkling his nose. Harry, perplexed, does as he is asked, pacing nervously back and forth until Louis calls his name.

As he walks out into the shop his heart flutters as he takes in the sight Louis prepared for him. One of his cleaning towels has been laid out on the bench and two paper plates are on either side of it, heaping with food. Harry’s eucalyptus candle is lit between them and a bottle of sparkling cider is uncorked, two plastic flutes in front of each plate. The food smells delicious and familiar and he comes closer, seeing summer rolls and noodles.

“Is that-”

“Tom’s? Yeah, I asked him what you got and I ordered what he recommended. Drunk noodles? Drinking noodles? I don’t know, but they smell delicious,” he says with a shrug, grinning. Harry’s heart is caught in his throat as his eyes well up. Concerned, Louis’ brows furrow and he grabs his arms.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks worriedly, looking into his tearful eyes.

“I just…” Harry whispers, closing his eyes. “I’ve never had anyone care for me like this.” His voice breaks and a tear falls down his face. He feels Louis’ hand reach up and brush it away, cupping his face. He opens his eyes into Louis’ blue ones.

“I cannot imagine anyone stupid enough to treat you any differently,” Louis says quietly, wiping away another tear. “I am only doing what you deserve and what I want to do for you because I really, really like you. A lot.” Harry smiles at that, sniffling and nodding.

“And I hope that I can do wonderful, cheesy things for you for a very long time, flower boy, because you’re very special,” he adds on, squeezing Harry’s arms and letting his hands drop to Harry’s. He pulls him around the bench and sits him on the stool, wiping away any stray tears and placing chopsticks in his hand.

“Now, eat up. I don’t want my drinking noodles to get cold,” he says with a grin. Harry nods and takes a bite of his food.

“Drunken noodles,” Harry mutters quietly with a mouth full of pad thai. Louis’ eyes nearly fall out of his head at that and he exclaims, “Drunken?” They both laugh, clinking plastic flutes and toasting to noodles with drinking problems. As Louis sips his cider Harry watches him with a private smile, feeling the bubbling of something deep in his stomach that warmed him all over.

❀❀❀

After nearly half an hour of talking and laughing and feeding each other bites of sticky Thai food they sat back on their stools, pouring more of the bubbly cider into their glasses. As Louis was in the middle of a very animated story about his first time tattooing a client, the bell jingles, both of them turning their heads towards the door.

“Niall, Liam-” Harry starts with a jolt.

“Hazza!” Niall exclaims, clattering over to him to pick him up in a tight hug. Liam hesitates by the door, eyes locked with Harry’s over Niall’s shoulder. He mouths a ‘sorry’ with a guilty smile and averts his eyes.

“And who is this?,” Niall says in reference to Louis smiling confusedly at the three of them. “Could this be the infamously handsome Louis?” Niall continues, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Louis snorts and stands, extending a hand to him.

“The one and only,” he jokes back, clasping Niall’s hand in his and giving it a firm shake. Niall turns to Harry and raises his eyebrows with a smile and a wink.

“Harry’s told us so much about you,” Liam pipes up from the door, slowly making his way towards the three of them with a small smile. “When Harry told us you were coming in today for lunch Niall insisted that we pop by.” Harry glares at him as Louis turns to shake his hand as well, saying, “Well, I’m glad you did. Niall,” he gestures to the blonde with a knowing grin, “and Liam.” They both nod and Niall claps his shoulder.

“Good lad,” he quips, looking him up and down. “Great ink, man,” he adds on.

“Thanks, mate, did a lot of it myself or had it done by friends. Harry told you what I do?” Niall nods and Liam takes that as his cue to finally look him up and down as well, throwing an impressed look at Harry.

“Well, I definitely didn’t expect to see you guys today,” Harry says with a hint of panic in his voice. Louis must be furious, plans changing like this at the last minute. He probably thought they were ambushing him, all part of Harry’s plan to force him to meet his friends. If this were Adam- Harry’s thought gets cut off as Louis pokes into Harry’s dimple.

“Oh Curly, no better time than the present to meet the important men in my important man’s life,” to which Liam coos and squeezes Louis’ bicep. Another impressed look to Harry.

“Listen, Ni and I are headed to the pubs tonight to celebrate finally being done painting that fucking kitchen as of today, would you all like to join us? If you’re free?,” Liam asks with a sly smile. Harry’s heart beats faster than before, throwing a glance over to Louis. His smile, as easy as ever, looks back at him.

“Well I’m free tonight, lads,” he says with a nod to Harry, “and I do hope that dear Hazza over here is quite as free or we will have a night without him, which does tend to ruin the fun.” Harry’s cheeks blaze pink and he ducks his head, Niall circling his arm around his waist and squeezing lightly.

“I’m, yeah, I’m free. Tonight,” Harry manages to get out, raising his eyes to meet Louis’. Liam claps.

“Oh, excellent. How about we meet you at Golden Lion at, say, 7:00?”

Louis agrees and pulls Niall in for a hug, clapping his back.

“We’ll be there,” he says with a grin. “So nice meeting you guys, seriously, I’m so glad you stopped by.” Liam smiles back at him and pulls him in for a hug, too.

“Well we’ll be off then, we’re grabbing coffee before we head back to the office for the 3:00. Love you both, bye!” Liam calls to them, ushering Niall out the door. He throws a wink at Harry and the bell chimes again as the door glides shut. Harry’s heart is in his throat and he turns slowly to face Louis.

“They seem so nice,” Louis says with a smile at him, taking Harry’s hand in his. Harry can’t meet his eyes. Their date had been ruined, all of Louis’ hard work. All of the thoughtful planning…

“What are you thinking?,” Louis asks quietly, placing his finger under Harry’s chin and tilting his face up towards him. Harry averts his gaze, biting his lip.

“I’m- I’m really sorry. I had no idea they would come, and-”

“Baby, why would I be upset?,” he asks Harry, brows furrowed together. “Your friends decided to drop by and snoop on the new guy. That’s like, classic best friends. If anything, that shows how much they care and I love knowing you have good friends like that. Why are you upset?”

“I just… our date got ruined. You set up such a lovely and thoughtful meal and put all that work in and then they came and took up your time and now your night and I’m so, so sorry…” he says with a sniffle, begging himself not to cry. Louis reaches up and cups Harry’s face in his tattooed hand, caressing his cheek with his thumb.

“Nothing got ruined. Nothing. I had such a wonderful time with you, and I loved meeting your friends. They seem so nice and I really can’t wait to go out with you all tonight. It means I get to spend more time with you,” he murmurs, gently pinching the top of his cheek. Harry smiles meekly back at him, wrapping his arms around his waist. He sets his head on top of Louis’ and smiles.

“Perfect fit.” Louis snorts indignantly, pulling back and stretching on his tiptoes. He plants an obnoxiously wet kiss on his forehead, making Harry giggle.

“Listen, curly, I’ve gotta head back to the shop for some more appointments. How about I swing by and grab you when the shop closes and we can head to the pub together?” he asks with a squeeze to his hand. Harry nods and smiles.

“Yeah, course. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.” Louis’ grin grows at that and he pulls Harry to him, pressing his lips against Harry’s and holding his hips.

“I’ll miss you too, flower boy. Be good.” With that, he slides his phone into his back pocket, ruffles Harry’s hair, and walks out the door. Harry stands there in the same spot for a while, feeling the burning hot skin on his hips from where Louis held him only seconds before. He snaps out of it, turning to finish cleaning up their mess from lunch. The radio, still on quietly in the background, croons quietly at him as he tidies. He catches himself singing along with an old song by The Spinners, dancing back and forth between the bin and the bench and wiping along the top with a wet rag. He picks up his shears and holds them up into his mouth, singing along dramatically.

“Say you feel the same way too and I wonder what it is I feel for you… could it be I'm falling in love?”

Chapter Text

Closing up the shop felt like a privilege today, Harry thought, as he bustled about straightening azaleas and honeysuckle, the evening autumn light streaming gold through the shop windows. Harry stops for a moment in his tidying and looks around at his creation, the black and white tiled floors gleaming softly in the glow of the dying evening. The quiet hum of the cooler had become like music to him after the years of hearing it day in and day out. The display of houseplants he had added in the last year were growing beautifully, snake plants and monsteras stretching their gorgeous leaves with the changes in the sun throughout the day, string of pearls draping elegantly down the wooden shelves and cascading towards the floor. A warm sense of pride settled in his chest and he sighs, turning to the back wall and straightening the gleaming rolls of ribbon in their organizer. Flipping off the radio he hears a gentle rap on the door, looking over and seeing Louis waving happily through the glass. He smiles and hurries over to it, unlocking it and pushing forward, allowing him to slip through before he re-locks it.

“Hi,” Louis says breathlessly, pushing his soft brown fringe out of his face. He stretches up and plants a kiss on Harry’s lips, pinching his cheek affectionately.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry responds happily, cheeks a pleasant pink shade.

“How was the rest of the day, love?,” he asks, taking Harry’s hand in his. He absentmindedly runs his finger across the rings adorning his knuckles and smiles up at him.

“Good, good, steady. How were your appointments?”

They talk for a while, Louis pulling out his phone to show Harry some of the pieces he had worked on that day, animatedly talking about the walk-in Zayn got that asked for a discount because he went to high school with Zayn’s sister. Harry finishes closing up as Louis helps sweep, Harry hanging his apron on the hook and sliding the shears into the front pocket. He throws his tote onto his shoulder and he and Louis left the shop together hand in hand, strolling the London streets to Golden Lion. Coming up on the block Harry pulls out his phone and sends Liam a text that they’ll be there in a minute. He gets a response that they’re inside, waiting for them at the bar.

“Ready to head inside then?,” Louis asks with a grin, squeezing Harry’s hand. He nods and smiles back at him, pulling open the door for Louis to enter into the noisy pub.

They wade through the after work crowd happy hour towards the bar, looking over heads for the signature blonde hair. Pushing ahead, Louis points to the end of the bar and pulls Harry along with him. Turning his head, Liam’s face lights up and he waves, bumping Niall with his elbow and saying something in his ear. Niall turns and waves wildly, making Harry smile. The low roar of the crows, music, and clinking of glasses and dishes from the kitchen swirl in Harry’s head and he swallows hard, forcing his brain to focus.

“Hey lads!,” Niall exclaims, sliding off of his stool and pulling Harry into a crushing hug, reaching around his back to grasp Louis’ hand. Harry watches as Liam claps Louis on the shoulder and offers him a stool next to him, Niall pulling his jacket off of the stool next to him for Harry to sit on. They take their seats, Harry ordering a vodka soda and Louis ordering a pint.

“How was the day?,” Liam asks the pair, taking a long draught from his pint. Harry takes a small sip from his drink, leaning closer to them to talk over the music.

“It was good! Shop was steady, closing was minimal, good company for the walk,” Harry says with a smile and a glance to Louis who is talking animatedly to Niall about beers. Liam smiles as he looks over at them too.

“They seem to be fast friends,” Liam tells him, turning back to Harry. Nodding fondly Harry takes another sip from his drink, the buzz of the vodka helping him take his mind off of the swelling anxiety in his chest from the noise and crowd surrounding him.

The four of them spend the next several hours in rapt conversation, spanning from football to music to embarrassing childhood stories, leading Louis to reenact the first dance with his first girlfriend Hannah with Niall, sending Liam and Harry into breathless laughter. By this point, Harry is sufficiently drunk, about four vodka sodas in and near breaking point on Niall asking to take a shot. He knows better, is the thing, and knows he has work in the morning, but the fun he’s having nearly makes him cave. It’s not until he sees a tipsy Louis stifling a little yawn and rubbing his eyes with jumper covered hands that he realizes just how exhausted he truly is.

“Lou, are you ready to head out?,” Harry calls to him from across Niall, watching him nod in response and give him a sleepy smile. With a thumbs up, Louis slides off his stool and offers a hug to Niall, who pulls him into his chest and claps his back.

“Had a right laugh, mate, it was good to spend time with you! I hope we can do it again!”

Harry laughs a little at how much thicker his accent gets when he drinks, squeezing Liam and placing a kiss on Niall’s flushed cheek.

“Love you guys, thank you for having us,” Harry says with a small smile, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. Louis takes his hand and brushes his thumb over the back, throwing an arm around Liam.

“Love you, H, we’ll see you soon,” Liam says over Louis’ shoulder. With a wave Louis leads Harry back through the bar and pushes the door to the outside, the crisp October air swirling around them as they stumble out onto the sidewalk. Louis sleepily grins up at him and pokes a finger into his dimple. Harry, just beyond tipsy, giggles and sticks out his tongue at him.

“That was so much fun,” Louis says with a giggle, wrapping his arms around himself and swaying a bit. Harry nods, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and squeezing.

“We probably should’ve eaten dinner before drinking,” Harry laughs, resting his head on the top of Louis’.

“Yeah, ‘m starving,” Louis groans. “I want a takeaway.” He looks up at Harry with big eyes and a pouty lip. “Come back to mine,” he says softly, pressing his face into Harry’s chest. Harry wonders if he can hear his heart hammering in his chest

“Okay.”

❀❀❀

After a ten minute walk to Louis’ apartment building and a call to a pizza parlor, Louis turns and smiles.

“This is me,” he says, gesturing to the brick entryway behind him. The architecture looks old, more dated than Harry’s apartment building. Flower boxes line the first floor windows and ivy grows around the arched and gated doorway leading to the hallway and stairs.

“I’m on the third floor so it’s a bit of a walk,” he says apologetically, noting the slight sway in Harry’s stance. Harry nods back and takes Louis’ hand in his. He honestly cannot remember the last time he’d been to a guy’s apartment. Six months? A year? He refused to let his mind wander further.

Louis puts a pin onto the pad and swings the gate open, pulling Harry through the archway and through to a set of iron stairs, climbing two flights to a green door. Louis rifles around in his pockets until he pulls out his keys, jamming one into the door and turning it. The handle groans and the door sways open. It’s dark inside, Louis fumbling around for a light switch and flipping it on. Light floods the kitchen to the right. Light brown cabinets hover over warm countertops and a little dining table with mail and glasses strewn about it sits in the center. Shoes line the hallway across from the kitchen, Vans and Doc Martens evidently from Louis’s small feet. Louis kicks off his shoes and lines them up, too, throwing his keys in a dish on the counter.

“Welcome home,” he says with a shrug. “It’s not near as nice as yours, but it works.” Harry smiles and shakes his head.

“It’s lovely.” He steps forward, glancing again into the kitchen and making his way into the living room, a comfy looking gray couch facing a media console overflowing with game systems and wires, an impressive looking DVD collection taking up one entire shelf. Two red bean bags are thrown in front of a paint chipped coffee table and huge windows line the far wall, as well as a sliding glass door seemingly leading to a terrace. To the left is a darkened hallway.

“Zayn and I live here but he’s always at his girlfriend’s so it’s usually just me,” Louis says, clanking around in the kitchen and putting the kettle on the stove.

“Tea?,” he asks. Harry nods and smiles, slipping off his shoes and padding into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist at the stove, pressing his nose into the back of his head and kissing softly.

“It’s a nice place, Lou,” he mumbles into the back of Louis’ head, pulling back and wrapping his arms around himself. He glances around the kitchen, scribbly drawings stuck with a magnet to the fridge and a stack of dishes in the sink. There weren’t many things on the walls, except for a few old band posters and a Doncaster footie roster taped crooked to the closet door. It felt very authentic to Harry and he instantly felt at home here.

“Aw geez, curly, you’re gonna make me blush,” he says teasingly, turning from the hob and pressing into Harry’s side. They stood like that for a while until the buzzer next to the fridge went off, a “pizza!” coming from the speaker. Louis hummed happily and stumbled over to the speaker, pressing the button with a click and a “coming.”

Louis disappears out the door for a moment and as he does Harry steps closer to the fridge, thumbing at the football drawing scribbled with crayon. In the bottom corner is written “Ernie” in chicken scratch. The drawing next to it is of a curly looking dog and two cats and a handful of stick drawings, labelled “Doris” in the corner in much neater handwriting. A smile comes to Harry’s face and the door opens, startling him.

“Pie’s here,” Louis says with a grin, kicking his shoes off against the wall. Harry smiles back, sparing one more glance at the drawings on the fridge. Louis must have noticed him doing so, saying, “Me youngest siblings, the twins, drew those for me. Had mum help send ‘em in the mail to me, little dears. Cried like a baby.” Harry laughs at that, noting the fondness in his voice as he spoke about them. Louis sets the box on the dining table and rummages through a cabinet for two paper plates, grabbing paper towels as well. The kettle shrieks and Harry walks over to the stove and turns off the burner, removing the kettle from the heat.

“Thanks, love,” Louis says as he grabs mugs from the drying rack, slipping tea bags in each of their cups. He fixes Harry’s just how he likes it and brings them to the table, Harry watching from the stove. Louis sits and opens the box, looking up at him where he stands.

“If I remember correctly you don’t prefer to stand to eat, so why don’t you come join me?”

Harry nods and his cheeks flush pink, coming to the table and pulling out a chair for himself. The pizza smells delicious and he eagerly watches as Louis pulls out a piece connected by a string of cheese and sets it on his plate, going back in for a slice of his own. Louis sinks his teeth into the piece and groans, closing his eyes.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he says with a mouthful of food. Harry smiles and takes his own bite, the greasy deliciousness settling pleasantly in his alcohol filled tummy. They eat in silence for a bit, stopping only to take long sips of their mugs and comment on the cheese to sauce ratio. Once only three pieces remain of the rather large pizza, they both lean back in their chair with full bellies, sipping slowly from their cups and feeling their buzzes start to fade away. Harry looks over his shoulder at the clock on the microwave, seeing it read nearly midnight. With a sigh he stands, clearing their plates to the bin.

“I should get going, it’s a walk back to my place and it’s already late,” he groans, going to slide on his shoes.

“Wait- I mean, you could always stay here,” Louis says with a start. Harry’s stomach drops, a flush covering his cheeks.

“Well, I, I don’t know-”

“You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep in Zayn’s, I’m sure he won’t mind. Hardly uses it anyway. And in the morning you can head to work and since I don’t have appointments since 10:30 how about I go to your place and feed Mac? Tire him out a little?” Louis’ face is sincere, his blue eyes crinkled around the outside. Harry’s heart is beating so fast, his hands clenched by his sides. He finds himself nodding even against his better judgement. Louis’ face breaks out into a somehow bigger smile and Harry finds his doing the same.

“Thank you, Lou, that’s very generous of you. You don’t have to-” Louis stops him.

“I want to. I’d love to. Only problem is that my room is a bit messy and I don’t want you staying somewhere like that so I’m gonna clean it up for you, is that okay? You can shower while you wait, if you want?” he asks. Harry nods again, head flooded with thoughts.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Harry says with a small smile. Louis nods and tells him to follow him down the hall, flipping on the light as they go. At the end is a door which he pushes open, leading to a white tiled bathroom. He reaches into the cupboard on the left of the door and produces two towels and a flannel, setting them in Harry’s arms.

“The shower is hard to get started because the tap is disconnected on the far side so you can just- actually, I can just start it for you,” he explains, pulling back the curtain and fiddling with the tap before it jumps to life, beginning to fill the bathroom with steam.

“Hot is on the left, cold is on the right. Use anything you’d like, and there’s spare toothbrushes under the sink,” he says to Harry, gesturing to the little cabinet.

“My room is right out the door to the left, so once you’re done you can go in and I’ll leave some comfy clothes on the bed for sleep, okay?”

Harry’s eyes were already drooping with the warmth of the steam curling his hair, but the added soothing of direction and kindness from Louis and the end of a buzz was making him pliant and soft, nodding his head in understanding. He sets the towels and flannel on the closed toilet lid and makes a grabby hand at Louis as he tries to leave. Louis chuckles and pulls him to him, rubbing his hands up and down his back. He kisses the side of Harry’s head and releases him.

“Shout if you need anything, love,” he says as he pulls the door shut. Nodding, Harry turns to the mirror and stares into it, glassy eyes looking back at him. Pulling his jumper over his head he folds it and sets it on the counter, sliding off his jeans next and setting them on top. Stepping out of his pants he pulls back the curtain and steps inside, the burning hot water feeling incredible on his skin. He turns to let the pulse of the showerhead beat into his back, sighing heavily. Tilting his head back the water rushes over his scalp and down his face, soaking his hair. Harry stands like that for a while, water falling down over his face and body, warming him under his skin. What the fuck was he doing here? That intrusive little voice caught Harry off guard, having been under control for most of the night. This is intimacy, Harry. Borrow my clothes, visit my apartment, let me feed your cat intimacy. Sudden fear gripped his chest like a vice, knocking the breath out of him. Harry suddenly realized, quite quickly, just how terrified he was of losing this. Of fucking this up. Harry breathes deeply through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against the thought, the mere idea of it , it was too much. Pushing through the near-paralyzing sense of dread Harry grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the side of the bath, squeezing a glob of it into his shaking hands. He runs his fingers along his scalp, massaging the suds into his hair with gentle attention.

After a thorough rinsing of the shampoo and some conditioner, Harry reaches for the body wash tucked into the rack hanging from the shower head. Uncapping it he breathes in the scent, a musky woodsy smell that flooded his mind with Louis. He smiles a little, squeezing a bit of it onto his flannel, scrubbing his skin softly with the gel. That nagging voice tells him to scrub hard, rid himself of that dirty feeling, the invisible grime covering his skin, and he pushes it away, ignoring the urge to rub harder still. He runs the flannel softly over his arms and chest, enjoying the feeling of washing the day away.

After lingering with the smell of the body wash on his skin he rinses the suds down the drain, turning to switch the water off. Pulling the curtain open he steps out onto the bath mat, grabbing the towel from the toilet seat and unfolding it, wrapping it around him and patting his skin dry, reaching for the other towel and twisting it around his hair. After tying the towel around his waist he searches for a toothbrush under the sink, finding it and giving his teeth a thorough scrub with the toothpaste on the counter.

Harry cracks the door to the bathroom, the steam whirling out into the hallway. He looks out into the hallway, the door on the left open and Louis nowhere to be seen. He pads into the carpeted hallway and into Louis’ room. It’s small, with one window on the far wall and a queen bed on the left, fitted with dark gray sheets and a lighter gray duvet. A dresser against the opposite wall sits with a crowded surface, covered with a record player and piles of cassettes and CD’s. A heap of dirty laundry sits in the opening of the closet, hung with dark clothing and floor covered in shoe boxes. The wood floor is covered partially with a big black rug in the center of the room. Shoes sit in a pile by the window, along with several instruments leaning up against the sill. Most notably is a beautiful cherry red bass guitar gleaming dully in the dim light. Shutting the door behind him Harry steps further inside, the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne very inviting. Laying on the bed is a pair of sweatpants and a Joy Division t-shirt, no doubt chosen by Louis for its larger size that will (hopefully) cover Harry’s entire torso.

Letting his towel fall to the floor he pulls on the soft joggers which rest just above his ankles. Pulling the shirt over his head and trying not to stretch the neck too bad around his towel he yanks it down over him and, luckily enough, it fits well. Now that he’s dressed he looks around on the walls, framed vinyls and posters covering the white paint behind them. The room is comfortably cluttered, a stick of incense burning on the bedside table presumably from Louis feeling self conscious about the smell of cigarette smoke. With a smile, Harry picks his towel up from the floor and opens the door, making his way back into the bathroom and hanging that and his head towel on the rung. He switches off the light, suddenly nervous to go into the living room where he can hear the muffled sound of the TV on. With a deep breath, he walks down the hallway and into the room, seeing the back of Louis spread out on the couch, another hot mug of tea in his hand. In front of him sits another mug, considerably lighter than his own.

Harry rounds the couch and Louis looks up at him, his face lighting up.

“Hello,” Harry says softly, standing there with his hands joined in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest as he can feel Louis taking in his appearance. Louis extends a hand to him and smiles. Harry takes it.

“You look adorable in my clothes,” Louis murmurs quietly, and then, “How was your shower?”

“It was good, found everything fine,” Harry says with a shrug, shimmying between the couch and the coffee table and curling up next to Louis on the cushion. Looking up he sees that HGTV is playing quietly from the screen.

“Made you a cuppa,” Louis breathes, leaning forward to grab it and hand it to Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing. Harry’s stomach does a backflip.

“That’s very sweet,” he says into the rim of the mug, taking a sip.

“You’re very sweet,” Louis says back simply, kissing the side of his damp head. Harry smiles into his tea and takes another sip, snuggling closer into his side. They watch TV silently for a while, sipping from their mugs and pressing sleepy kisses into one another’s skin. Once the clock hits 1 Harry cannot stop himself yawning, eyelids drooping. Louis, looking down at him, smiles softly and takes their mugs into the kitchen, sitting them on the counter.

“Up you get, love,” he says quietly to Harry, nearly asleep on the couch. Harry nods and stands, yawning again. Louis leads him down the hall to his room and pulls back the duvet, Harry sitting down on the sheets.

“I’m just across the hall if you need anything,” he tells him, running a thumb across Harry’s chin. Harry nods, smiling up at him.

“Thank you, Lou.”

“Good night, Harry, sleep well,” he says while turning off the light, his silhouette backlit from the light in the hallway.

“‘Night, Lou,” he murmurs back, sliding his legs under the cover. The door clicks shut and he hears the floorboards outside the door creak, Zayn’s door opening and closing. Harry turns over and presses his face into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. He breathes deeply, the smell of smoke and shampoo and Louis filling his nostrils. He sends a quick text to Liam about his current state and sets an alarm, pulling the blanket over his shoulder, falling into a deeper sleep than he had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Harry’s eyes crack open as his alarm blares and he swipes his hand over to his bedside table to turn it off, his arm swinging through open air. What the fuck? He opens his eyes completely and is startled to see that he is not in his sunlit bedroom snuggled up next to Mac. For a second he panics before realization hits and his chest sags in relief, the smell of tobacco comforting instead of unfamiliar. He sits up slowly, reaching over to Louis’ nightstand and turning off his alarm, his screen reading 6:30 a.m. Harry rolls his neck, hearing it pop, and breathes in a heavy breath. Sliding out from under the covers he stands and stretches, walking over to Louis’ window to peek outside at the weather. As he approaches he notices something laying on the window sill and looks closer at it, seeing the forget-me-not he gave Louis drying in the sun. His stomach does a twirl and he smiles, picking it up gently and stroking the fuzzy stem. Louis had kept it.

After sneaking out into the loo for a wee and to brush his teeth he changes into his jeans from the night before but leaves Louis’ t-shirt on. Padding down the hallway and into the living room, the smell of brewing tea drew him in. Louis stood in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and no shirt, his tan skin nearly covered with tattoos. Harry had never seen him without a shirt on and he lingered by the hallway, watching the massive ocean scene completely covering his back stretch and contract with his movements. There was a giant ship with two masts sailing through a roiling sea and a kraken emerging from the depths, the tentacles disappearing under his waistband. Harry wondered how far…

His muscular arms were stirring batter in a mixing bowl, his shoulders covered in classic style sailor looking tattoos, more nautical themes covering his biceps and the back of his neck.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” Louis says without turning around, continuing to whisk. Harry swears he feels his entire body turn pink and he bites down harshly on his bottom lip, walking further into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Harry softly says, coming up behind him at the stove and seeing a box of pancake mix and messy looking measuring cups strewn on the counter next to him.

“Good morning, curly,” he says back, turning his head to kiss him. He’s wearing silver rimmed glasses Harry has never seen him in before that make him look even cuter. Harry’s cheeks are still pink when he pulls away and Louis winks at him, turning his attention back to the batter in the bowl.

“I’m making pancakes, in whatever shape you want. I’m a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to shaped pancakes,” he explains with raised eyebrows, making Harry giggle.

“Any shape?,” Harry asks in disbelief, pursing his lips at him. Louis nods slowly, tapping the whisk on the side of the bowl and throwing it into the already half full sink.

“Can I get a flower then? A big one?” Harry asks with a shy smile, resting his head on Louis’. Louis makes a noise of affirmation and sets a skillet on the hob, lighting the burner. While he begins to cook Harry makes his way over to the sink and starts the hot water, hearing a tut from Louis.

“No, no. No dishes, boy who doesn’t live here,” Louis says with a frown, turning his attention back to the skillet. Harry continues anyway, filling up the empty side and plugging the drain, beginning to wash the bowls and silverware first and setting them in the drying rack.

“Baby, I’m serious. I can do them,” Louis repeats from the stove, his voice verging on whining. Harry snorts and turns with a soapy spoon in his hand.

“Weren’t you the one a few days ago who refused to let me do dishes after I cooked? Hmm?” Harry asks with raised eyebrows, turning back around and continuing to wash.

“I’m not even really cooking, I just added eggs and oil to this mix and stirred and am now heating this gunk to make funny shapes. You cooked a full fry-up with actual ingredients, it’s not nearly the same.” Harry shrugs.

“I think it is,” he says back simply, scrubbing at a plate with the scratchy side of the sponge. He hears Louis sigh but gets no further argument, smiling to himself. After a few minutes Louis announces that the pancakes are done and Harry dries his hands on a dishtowel and follows Louis to the dining table, feeling his stomach rumble. Louis sets down the platter of pancakes and a bottle of syrup, handing Harry a plate and silverware. Louis slides his pancake onto the plate. Looking down Harry sees a beautifully formed sunflower with big petals and a thick stem, complete with chocolate chips in the center for seeds. Harry smiles up at him and Louis’ face is indescribable, reading every emotion on Harry’s face for his reaction.

“This is incredible, Lou!” Harry exclaims happily, looking back down at his flower with a grin. He grabs the syrup and uncaps it, drizzling a pool of it onto the petals. Louis grins humbly and shrugs, serving himself a pancake shaped like a cactus. They eat their breakfast and share sticky sweet kisses, Louis plopping a cat eared pancake onto his plate to Harry’s delight. After three pancakes and a cup of tea Harry is stuffed, taking their plates to the sink and washing the remainder of the dishes.

“It’s nearly 8:00, love, I don’t want you to be late,” Louis tells him from the table, sipping from his mug. Harry finishes up the last dish and dries his hand, digging through his tote and pulling out his keys. He slides his apartment key off of the loop and sets it on the table by Louis, turning down the hallway to grab his jumper from Louis’ room and pull it over his head over the t-shirt Louis gave him for bed, smiling secretively to himself. He pulls his hair up in a ponytail and heads back into the kitchen, sitting next to Louis at the table. Louis looks up from his phone and smiles at him, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I wish I didn’t have to work,” Harry says quietly, hands folded in his lap. He twists his ring around his middle finger as Louis runs his hand through his hair.

“I know baby, I wish you didn’t have to either.” He scratches his naked stomach idly as he sips from his mug, drawing Harry’s eyes. Covering his entire stomach is an elaborate porthole tattoo, through which you can see the stretch of the sea and various nautical creatures. Feeling his eyes there, Louis begins to speak.

“Got that about a year ago, Zayn did that one,” Harry nods as he speaks, “and it hurt like a bitch. I knew stomach tattoos were supposed to burn but I had never felt anything like that. The thing in entirety took four hours and I took probably seven breaks,” he chuckles. Harry smiles, poking his finger into the screw inked around his belly button. Louis jerks back and squeaks, drawing his eyebrows together.

“That tickles,” he frowns, pouting out his lip. Harry lets out a laugh and swoops in to kiss his pouty lip, making Louis break into a smile against his will. Harry gently pinches his cheek and stands, sliding on his birks and pulling his bag onto his shoulder.

“You can leave the key with Tom, I’ll grab it on my way up,” he says, coming back to the table and leaning down. Louis wraps his hand around the back of his neck and pulls his mouth to his own. Harry’s lips part and he sighs, feeling Louis’ tongue poke slightly at his lower lip. HIs heart jumps and he turns his head, resting his hands on Louis’ shoulders. Their lips slide together lazily, Louis still tasting like maple syrup and tea. He finally releases Harry from his grip, pressing a swift kiss to his jaw, and Harry stands, feeling light in the head.

“I’ll call you,” Louis says, his voice deeper than normal. He places his arm behind his head and leans back in his chair, smiling at him. Harry’s heart hammers in his chest and his cheeks flush, eyes roving over his torso.

“I’ll be waiting. Thank you again for taking care of Mac and for letting me stay, and for making wonderful pancakes,” he says, stumbling over his words a little. Louis stands and walks to the door, unlocking the dead bolt and pulling it open.

“Have a good day at work, curly,” he says softly, leaving a burning kiss on Harry’s cheek. Harry walks through the doorway and onto the landing to the stairs, looking up one last time to catch a wink from Louis as he shuts the door. Palms sweaty Harry sits suddenly on the steps, the cool morning air turning the metal cold, the feeling sinking into him through his jeans. He breathes slowly with his eyes closed, mind racing and heart beating out of his chest. Harry stands after a moment, descending the rest of the stairs and out onto the street, joining the bustle of London to the shop.

❀❀❀

Louis: mac says hiiiiii

Harry smiles widely at the photo on his phone, Mac’s squishy orange face pressed against Louis’ arm as he snaps the picture.

Harry: very cute, the both of you :-) xx

Louis: i’m blushing

He smiles and locks his phone, sliding it into the pocket of his apron and sighing softly. It was barely 10 and he was already missing Louis, having seen him only two hours before. Flashes of the night and the following morning flit through his mind, Louis’ tanned and tattooed body burned into his retinas. He looked so soft, rumpled caramel colored hair and glasses resting on his perfect nose. It was the sleep-soft Louis that Harry felt butterflies for especially.

When Louis texted him he was on the way home, Harry had just gotten his takeaway order of a sandwich and smoothie from the cafe down the street and was munching happily on it at his workbench. He sent back a silly selfie of him sipping his green goddess smoothie and thanked him again, receiving many hearts and a snail emoji in return from Louis. He smiles and sets his phone down, continuing to eat his lunch.

Once the day ends, Harry has made dozens of bunches of flowers and several arrangements, dusted the shelves, and reorganized his ribbon in color order. With the accomplished feeling of a productive day, flipping off the lights and locking the door was well deserved. The chilling air of the October evening enveloped him and he gripped his arms around himself after sliding his headphones in, his nose getting cold at the tip. He hurries home, a hot bath and soft pajamas sounding like the best thing in the world. The jingle of Tom’s restaurant door was such a pleasant sound and Harry reaches up, sliding his earphones out of his ears and back into the case.

“Hello Tom,” he says cheerfully, Tom’s lined face looking over his shoulder at the sound.

“Harry!,” he exclaims happily, turning and striding to the counter. As he approached he ducked down and came back up with Harry’s key to the apartment and a brown bag.

“What’s this then?,” Harry asks quizzically of the bag. Tom smiles softly.

“Louis asked me to have your usual ready for you when you got back. All paid for and piping hot.”

Harry’s stomach swooped and his cheeks flushed pink as Tom pushes it across the counter.

“He’s a good one, Harry.” The sincerity in his eyes stopped him in his tracks and he floundered for a second before picking up the bag.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

After bidding Tom goodnight and heading up the stairs, he kicked his shoes off at the door as Mac padded up to him with a meep and rubbed against his legs. Scratching between his eyes he notices something tied to his collar with a soft pink ribbon. Sitting on the floor he undoes the bow, off coming a little paper tag.

“Check the fridge,” it reads in scratchy handwriting.

He stands, moving clumsily fast over to the fridge and pulling open the door. An enormous plate of chocolate covered strawberries sat on the middle shelf, enormous and red with drizzles of milk chocolate and little flower sprinkles. His heart pounded in his chest as he sets down the bag of food on the counter and pulled out his phone, dialing Louis.

After ringing only twice, he picks up.

“Why hello there, Curly. Miss me already, then?,” he asks slyly. Harry’s face splits into a grin.

“You’re too much,” he replies softly, leaning against the fridge.

“Why’s that?”

“Dinner, these gorgeous strawberries… I feel spoiled, Lou.”

He hears him chuckle into the phone.

“You deserve to be spoiled, honey. I’m doing my duty, really. Please just enjoy it and relax tonight, H.” Harry’s smile grew wider.

“Thank you… so much, for everything,” he says back in an almost whisper. They both knew that everything didn’t mean dinner and dessert, but neither said a word for a while. They breathed into the phone, Harry clutching it in both of his hands.

“Of course, Harry. Eat your food, take a bath, and get some rest, okay? Text me in the morning if you’d like.” Another moment of silence.

“Okay, Lou. Have a good night,”

That evening Harry enjoyed every bite of dinner and managed to eat three strawberries, his stomach a pleasant pooch from his fullness. He took an indulgent bath, shaving his legs smooth and exfoliating with a sugar scrub. He took time to rub lotion everywhere, the sweet scent filling the steamy bathroom air. All the while he did these things with a warmth in his chest, feeling comfortable and taken care of and safe. By the time he slipped into bed he was practically asleep before his head hit the pillow, the soft sheets cradling his pampered skin and his chest falling in a soft sigh. The moonlight peaked between the curtains to fall gently on Harry’s cheek, unbeknownst to his sleeping figure. He dreamed.

Chapter Text

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Harry’s eyes crack open as his head vibrates slightly. It’s still dark in his bedroom, the darkness you find between late night and very early morning. The buzzing briefly stops and immediately starts back up again as Harry pats his hand around his bed for the source of the sound. His hand lands on his phone, face down on the sheets, and he turns it over, squinting against the bright light on his sleepy eyes. A cold fear trickles through the top of his head and through the rest of his body, gripping his heart in a vice-like hold. His stomach drops as he reads the name that has left him 13 missed calls. Adam. Breaths are slipping faster and faster through Harry’s lips and he jumps as the phone begins to buzz again, falling between his fingers back onto the bed. His racing heart was pounding in his chest as his eyes locked on the incoming call on his screen, unable to look away. For an hour Harry stays just as he is now, eyes on his phone slowly leaking tears, arms wrapped around himself like a child and nails bitten raw. Finally, when the clock has rolled past five in the morning, the calls stop coming in. His phone screen stays dark and Harry can't tear his eyes away, waiting for another buzz. It never comes. He isn’t sure how long he stays like that, waiting, but eventually he falls into an uneasy sleep.

❀❀❀

The sound of his alarm shoots him upright in bed as he gasps, snatching up his phone to silence the sound. He looks at the notifications on his phone, relaxing just a bit when he sees that it’s just the news and a few emails. He flops back down onto his pillows, exhausted. His eyes felt tight and swollen from tears and his head pounded from the interruption of his sleep. Mac meeps from the door and Harry turns to him, smiling softly at the curved tail and pink nose.

Sitting back up slowly he rolls his neck gently, the popping and cracking causing him to wince slightly. He sighs and swings his legs out of bed, hopping in for a quick shower and to brush his teeth. His mind is busy during his normally calming morning routine, thoughts racing through his brain like a ticker tape. He finds himself checking his call notifications just to confirm that last night was real, that Adam was calling again, that he had decided to come back. He threw up.

He walked to work in a daze, forgetting to slip his headphones into his ears and kicking himself halfway to the shop once he realized that he left his smoothie in its container on his kitchen counter. It was as if he was watching himself go through his day. His body was going through the motions, arranging and tidying and interacting with his customers, but he was outside of himself. He was above his body, watching him.

The door tinkles and he looks up, the familiar face of his regular customer Jo smiling at him. Her mouth is moving but the words are making no sound. A high, shrill buzzing noise is pulsing through his ears and he smiles weakly at her, hoping this answers her words well enough. Her eyebrows knit in concern and she says something else, reaching her hand out to him. The buzzing heightens into a ring and he falls forward, his vision going dark.

❀❀❀

“Harry, baby, please. It’s okay, just breathe,” a familiar voice soothes from above him. Above him? What in the… He cracks his eyes open and sees Jo, her kind face and deep brown eyes peering down at him, a smile lighting up her features when she sees him coming to.

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, softly squeezing his arm.

“Mr. Styles, can you tell me what day of the week it is?” Who’s voice is that? He turns his head weakly toward the sound and a man dressed in a navy polo and pants with patches on the sleeve, a medical bag by his side, kneels beside Harry and smiles calmly down at him. Right, his question.

“Um, Friday? Why? What happened?” His heart rate accelerates again as he takes in his surroundings. He’s on the floor of the shop and fuck, his head hurts.

“You fainted, dear,” Jo coos at him in a motherly tone, pushing a hair back off of his forehead. “I had come into the shop for a chat and you were slate white, practically gray, sweating and shaking and then you just collapsed into my arms. I called the paramedics and they have been looking after you.”

Harry’s face flames red and he struggles to sit up. The paramedic pushes against his shoulder to keep him laying down and shakes his head with a short laugh.

“Relax, Mr. Styles. You’re okay. It’s no bother at all, it’s actually my job. Is there someone you’d like me to call, Mr. Styles?”

“Harry. M’ Harry,” he mumbles. “Can you call my friends? They live close by and they can come help me close up the shop early for the day.” He pats his pockets weakly and pulls out his cellphone once he feels it, opening his contacts for Niall and Liam. He lays his head back on the floor as he hears the paramedic, focusing on sucking in breaths between his dry lips. Jo keeps rubbing his arm softly and giving him small sips of water.

“They’re on their way, Harry,” the paramedic says, sliding the phone onto his workbench and smiling at him.

“Thank you so much, I’m so sorry you both had to fuss, I have no idea what came over me,” he mumbles, smiling sheepishly up at them. The paramedic shakes his head.

“Again, it’s no problem at all. Can you remember what was happening before you lost consciousness? Did you feel dizzy, nauseous, were you in pain?”

The image of Adam’s face pops momentarily into his head and he banishes it immediately, shaking his head softly and squeezing his eyes shut for just a second.

“Um, I felt sort of dizzy and sick to my stomach, kind of weak. Honestly, I forgot my breakfast smoothie I normally have in the morning. I think my blood sugar dropped and I fainted. It’s happened before,” he lies, avoiding eye contact with the paramedic. Jo sighs and nods.

“That’ll do it, sweetie. You have to have your breakfast dear, it’s the most important meal of the day, hmm?” Her eager face smiles down at him and he can’t help but smile and nod back at her. The door jingles again.

“Oh my god, Harry? Are you okay?”

“Jesus Christ, Haz, what the hell happened?”

“Why didn’t you just stay home if you were feeling sick. Are you feeling sick? Are you sick?”

Liam and Niall are a flurry of worry, Liam already on the ground flitting his hands around Harry’s body seemingly looking for injuries or answers. Niall stands behind him. Looking worriedly down at him and back up at the paramedic like his head was on a hinge.

“I’m fine guys, I promise,” he croaks at them, taking Liam’s clammy hand and squeezing it with what strength he had. Niall opens a crinkly brown bag he brought and shoves a bagel in his hands.

“Eat this, Haz, it’ll make you feel better. Can he eat?” he directs at the paramedic, who nods and gestures to Harry to eat. Flushed red from the eyes on him he unwraps the foil, picking off a piece of the sesame bagel and popping them in his mouth. He smiles softly and lays his head against Liam’s torso.

“Thank you guys, this is good.” He swallows again. “I fainted. I forgot my smoothie on the counter and didn’t realize how long I had been working, I guess. It was lucky Jo was here, I think she caught me.” Liam sighs in relief and begins to talk to Jo, but Niall catches his eye over Liam’s shoulder and gives him a knowing look. Harry’s cheeks darken and he averts his eyes quickly, popping another piece of the bagel in his mouth.

The paramedic begins packing up his bag and takes Harry’s blood pressure again as Liam fawns over him, snapping at Niall to get a bottle of water from the back room fridge and thanking Jo profusely for taking care of him. Niall continues to keep a wary eye on him, but Harry refuses to catch his eye and pretends to be totally engrossed in the conversation Liam and Jo are having. His head is throbbing but the bagel is sitting well in his stomach and the water bottle Niall finds and cracks open for him feels good in his overheated body. He can’t shake the hollow feeling of shame in his chest from this whole episode, brought on by what Harry concluded was an overreaction. As he begins to close up the store early, the paramedic and Jo leave and Liam begins to write a sign alerting customers of the store closing early with a thick black marker. As he goes to tape it up to the door Louis rounds the corner and stops short at the sign, gaping at Liam through the door.

“Louis is here!” he squawks, yanking the door open. Louis rushes in, eyes wide as he looks around wildly until his eyes land on Harry.

“Jesus Christ, I just was out for a smoke and saw an ambulance pull away from the shop and ran down here. What the hell is going on?” He’s out of breath as he drops down next to Harry and flutters his hands over him, unsure where he’s needed. Harry answers, beet red.

“I forgot to eat this morning and fainted. Thank god a regular was in here and helped me but I’m just gonna close up shop early today. I’m a bit shaken up.” His voice sounds hoarse even though he had just had a sip of water and he clears it self consciously. Louis tuts.

“For fuck’s sake, curly, you scared the piss out of me.” He looks around and meets Liam’s eyes, who shakes his head in agreement and sighs. “You can’t do that. You can’t not eat or… I don’t know, be sick. Okay?” Harry snorts at that.

“Okay, Lou, I promise I’ll never be sick again. I wouldn’t want to worry you,” he teases, leaning his head into Louis’ shoulder.

“You know that’s not what I mean. I was just scared, is all.” He says quietly, stroking gently through Harry’s hair. “What did the medic say?”

“He said his blood pressure was normal and he couldn't see any visible bumps or bruises from the fall. He wants him to keep an eye out for symptoms of a concussion just in case, though,” Niall explains, taking the empty water bottle from Harry’s hands and tossing it in the recycling bin.

“Good, that’s good. Good.” Louis stammers, standing back up. “Do you need anything?” he directs to Harry, eyebrows knitted together. Harry shakes his head and smiles gently at him.

“I’m okay, Lou, thank you. I’m sorry to scare you all, really I am, I just made an oopsie and paid for it, I guess. No harm done.” Liam scowls down at him.

“You’re lucky it wasn't worse, Harry. Honestly. Please call if you need anything at all and get some rest. Drink plenty of water, ice your head…” he continues the list as Niall swoops down to kiss Harry’s forehead and ushers him out the door. The bell tinkles as it shuts behind them.

“Oh honey,” Louis sighs, leaning back to sink down onto the stool at Harry’s workbench. Harry grins sheepishly and shrugs. They sit quietly for a minute before Harry’s phone begins to buzz loudly on the bench and Harry gasps, startled. He jumps to his feet and grabs the phone, seeing only his pharmacist’s number. His prescription was ready. He sighs and sets his phone back down.

“Uh…” Louis begins, looking quizzically at him. Harry freezes, not even realizing that the actions he just took were most likely out of the norm for someone receiving a phone call.

“What’s that all about?” Louis asks quietly, avoiding Harry’s gaze. He picks idly at the hem on his Slipknot t-shirt and waits for a response.

“Well. I’m. I was just a little jumpy, I think,” Harry lies badly. Louis doesn't seem convinced and raises an eyebrow. Harry’s throat constricts and he forces himself to swallow.

“I got some calls last night. From someone I used to date.” The words burn coming out of his mouth. “He called a lot. Many times. And I was making sure it wasn't him.”

“Someone you used to date?”

“Yes, someone I used to date. He still calls me from time to time. And I don’t answer.” Louis is quiet as he takes this information in. Harry’s heart is hammering in his chest as he watches Louis’ face closely.

“Why does he still call?”

“He drinks. And calls. I used to answer, and he would apologize. I don’t answer tham anymore and he wants me too.” His voice breaks.

“What does he apologize for?” Louis asks, merely a whisper.

“For hurting me,” Harry breathes, eyes slipping shut and a tear rolling down his hot cheek. He reaches up to wipe it away with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Like, breaking up with you and hurting your feelings? Or hurting you?”

“I broke up with him.” It’s a half answer, but it conveys what Harry isn’t saying. Louis blinks slowly as he processes that and nods once.

“Harry…”

“Please, don’t. Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m tired of talking about him. I’m better. It’s been a long time. I’m better,” he croaks, more tears spilling from his eyes. He hears Louis’ stool creaks as he stands, a warm hand beginning to rub soothing circles into his back.

“Is that why you were sick today? Why you fainted?” Harry nods at that and Louis hums, pulling him into his chest. He smells warm, like cedar, and Harry breathes him in. Soft kisses are pressed into his hair as he cries quietly, his hand fisted into Louis’ shirt. They stay like this a while, Louis’ heart keeping time.

❀❀❀

Chapter Text

“Harry, sweetie.” He stirs slightly, eyes cracking open. The light filtering gently through his kitchen window is golden yellow, near orange, the hallmark of an autumn evening. He sits up slowly, feeling Louis’ hand on his bicep. He looks over at him, blue eyes soft with a smile and brown hair rumpled from what Harry assumes was also a nap. They’re squished together on Harry’s couch, Mac tucked into the bend of his knee with his little paw covering his eyes.

“How long were we out?,” he asks with a croak, swallowing thickly. He stretches his arms over his head and groans with the feeling. Louis glances down at his phone and replies, “About two hours.” Harry smiles and lays his head on Louis’ shoulder, sighing.

“It felt good. I think we needed it. Still recovering from Wednesday night, if I’m being honest.” Louis chuckles, brushing his curls off of his forehead and replacing them with a kiss.

“How are you feeling now? Any headache? Are you nauseous at all? Dizzy?” Harry shakes his head.

“I’m feeling good, just tired is all. Dinner hit the spot and a full belly always makes me sleepy. And I didn’t sleep too well last night…” and his voice trails off the silence louder than the sentence had been. Louis’ breath is even and slow and when he takes a deep breath, Harry knows it’s coming.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The sentence hangs out there in the air for what feels like eternity. Harry rolls the idea around in his mind. Does he want to talk about it? Will talking about it give him anything he doesn’t already have, tell him anything he doesn’t already know? Will it just give Louis even more reasons to rethink his decision to be with him? He decides to go with a safe, “Do you?”

Louis sighs at that, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s arm gently. He squeezes his shoulder once before answering.

“I think it would make some things make more sense that way, yeah. But I’m not going to force you to. Ever.” Harry looks up at him as he says it and Louis looks back unwaveringly, a slight wrinkle between his eyes. Harry’s eyes drop again. Several more seconds tick by in silence. The warm glow from the window is trickling down, down, behind the buildings that surround him. The darkness is settling in. Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he starts.

“About three years ago I met this guy, Adam,” he chokes his name out, “at a party with friends of friends in East London. He was a drummer for an indie band that played some shitty little venues around the city and he worked as a bartender. I thought he was cute so I decided to talk to him. I had only had the store for a couple of years at that point and really only knew Niall and Liam and some people from uni that ended up around here.” Louis nods and smiles at him to continue.

“We got to chatting and ended up going on some dates together. He seemed nice enough, got along well with all of my mates, and treated me well. He hated the shop, though. Said all of the smells of the flowers together gave him a headache, so he never came around.” Louis’s arm stiffens at that and instantly relaxes again, trailing soothing scratches over his skin.

“How long were you together?,” he asks quietly. “About a year and a half,” he mumbles back, focusing intently on the weaving pattern of the blanket spread across his and Louis’ lap. Mac snores gently against his leg and he twists some of his fur softly, purposefully.

“During the time we were together things just got… worse, I guess. It started with him getting upset if I’d go see Niall and Liam or my other mates after work. I only had so much time on my own and if I was free he liked to spend that time with me. Then it was other stuff, like, picking out my clothes or what I ate or when I’d see my family. It was that that started pissing him off. I didn’t wear what he’d want me to? He’d hit me. I’d take the weekend to go to Cheshire and visit my mum and sister? His band was playing and I knew that, so he’d hit me. Eventually, I just kind of… did everything he said. And I thought it would stop him from hitting me, but he found reasons. Stuff I’d do wrong, or rather stuff he thought was wrong. And it sucked.”

Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest. His palms felt sweaty and he rung them in the blanket, the soft fabric painful against his sensitive skin. He was terrified to look up at Louis, afraid of what horrified or rejection-addled look would face him. He finally snuck a glance and was shocked to see not disgust, but tears. Big, fat beads of water slid silently down his cheeks and onto his shirt. His watery blue eyes met Harry’s own and blinked slowly, a tattooed hand coming up to wipe his face. Harry’s heart breaks and he reaches a hand up to cup his damp cheek.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers softly, eyes slipping shut. He feels Louis shake his head and opens them again. Louis grabs the hand on his cheek and squeezes.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry.” More tears leak from the corners of his eyes and his face crumples, pulling Harry to his chest. Harry begins to cry too, feeling the dam release and feeling oddly relieved that this secret, this terrible part of him, was out and open in front of them. They both cry for a minute, clutching and petting each other with wet faces and broken hearts. Eventually their cries quiet to hiccups and slow, soft breaths in sync with one another. Louis lifts Harry’s head up to look at him.

“You never deserved any of that. You never, ever did anything to deserve that. You never will do anything to deserve that. You made it out, you’re here now, with me, and I’m never going to let anything happen to you again.” He pulls Harry somehow closer to him and squeezes him, firm and comforting, to his chest.

After Louis leaves for the evening after making Harry promise to call if he needed absolutely anything, Harry feels utterly exhausted. It’s nearly 10:00 and the light from the lamps in the living room casts warm halos onto the carpet and walls. He fills Mac’s dish and refills his water before finishing off two chocolate covered strawberries and doing his skincare routine. Louis texts him that he made it home and tells him to get good rest, accompanied by lots of hearts and flowers and sparkles. Tomorrow was Harry’s busiest day of the week at the shop and he knew Louis was right. He brushes his hair and braids it, not bothering to shower. His body was tired, as was his mind, and he crawls into bed. Flipping the light off he sets his alarm and switches his phone on “Do Not Disturb,” giving him just an ounce of peace of mind for that night’s sleep. As his eyes drift shut he is pleased that the t-shirt he wears still smells faintly of Louis.

Chapter Text

❀❀❀

When Harry’s alarm goes off the next morning, his sleepy eyes take in the dulled light that fills the room, a gloomy English morning casting a grayish tint over everything. He flips off the alarm and his Do Not Disturb setting, pleasantly surprised that there are no missed calls, just some emails and a text from Louis from 5 a.m. He knew Louis was a bit of a night owl but certainly didn’t take him for the early riser type.

Unlocking his phone with a yawn, he sees that it’s a photo of a tanned thigh, already covered in tattoos, but sporting a reddened, gleaming with petroleum jelly-fresh tattoo of… a mushroom? He flushes as he realizes this must be Louis' tanned thigh. Harry smiles slightly, typing back to Louis.

Harry: whoever got this must be a fungi… *mushroom emoji* *wink emoji*

In less of a daze than the previous day, he flits about the apartment doing his various tasks before heading to the shop, green smoothie securely in hand and podcast in his ears. Though it would be easy to close the shop another day and take time to rest after his.... incident, he knew his mind tended to wander, and he was determined to keep himself busy today. Harry takes comfort in the morning air on his skin, the feeling of its dampness clinging to his hair. Familiar. Safe.

While the morning at the shop was slow, lunch had a rush (always does on the weekends) and stayed steady through the early afternoon. When the clock hit 2 he realized he still hadn’t heard from Louis. Anxiety settled in his stomach like a rock as he pulled his phone out again, not a single text on his screen. Should he call? Just to be safe, obviously. He’s probably just busy, and hasn't gotten a chance to get to his phone.

Orrrr… he’s already tired of you. You scared him off. Showed him a bit too much.

Harry physically shakes his head at this, hearing his therapist’s cool voice in his head. “We must choose to separate reality from anxiety, or else we live in fantasy every day.” He repeats this a few times to himself, staring down at his empty phone. Before he even thinks twice about it, he’s hitting the call button next to Louis’ name and holding the phone to his ear, biting nervously on his nail. It rings many times before going to his voicemail, a cheesy little recording about how he’s probably on the other line or “tattooing one at the moment,” and to call back.

As he opens his mouth to record his voicemail, his phone begins to ring. Louis’ name flashes up and his heart skips as he rushes to push the green answering button.

“Louis,” he breathes softly, relief flooding his tone. He hears a bit of commotion before a response.

“Hi honey,” he croaks back, sounding dreadful.

“Are you sick?” Harry asks, concerned. Was his own throat scratchy? Nose runny? No, he didn’t think so, but colds can set in fast…

“No darling, deathly hungover and about to fuckin’ perish. Zayn scored a bigshot celebrity tattoo appointment and is set to make a pretty pound, wanted to go down to the bar… and the night ended with tattoos, it seems.” Harry laughs at this quietly, then tuts at him.

“You poor thing, lucky to see the light of another day.” Louis snorts at this. “And I like the tattoo." At a noise of surprise and confusion from Louis, he follows up with, "You sent it to me last night, or uh, this morning, more like. Still awake at 5 a.m. then?” he teases with mock disapproval. Louis sounds surprised at this and there is a bit more shuffling around as he seemingly puts his phone on speaker.

“Bloody hell, I did show you him. Fungi, you cheeky thing. So you like it?”, he asks with an odd tone of hesitation in his voice. Harry puzzles over this. Does he wonder if I’ll still like him with a mushroom tattoo? Alongside the 500 others he must have, this one doesn’t really send him reeling.

“He’s lovely, of course. Why… why a mushroom?” Louis waits just a beat too long to answer.

“Well, you don’t eat meat.”

“Right, so I’ve heard. Big fan of a mushroom. Why are you being so quiet then?” Harry implores, a small knot of nerves in his stomach. Louis is quiet again for a minute.

“I think… and don’t hold me to this, I was absolutely pissed and singing Rihanna before this but… I think I got it because of you. By accident” A pause goes by. “I told Zayn about how you got that mushroom rice thing for dinner because you didn’t eat meat and, well, when the tattoo gun came out I got a mushroom from him. Bit too on the nose to be a coincidence, so... ta-da.” Silence again.

Harry’s heart was hammering like he had been running, his throat tight with an indescribable emotion. His fingers curled around the phone tighter.

“Whatever mushroom you’ve got tattooed, Lou, it’s my favorite mushroom. The best one I’ve seen,” he says quietly, hearing Louis chuckle on an exhale, “and I like that it’s on there now.”

“Forever,” Louis adds with what Harry knows is a wicked grin. Harry laughs at this and smooths a sweaty palm down his leg.

“Well, I just wanted to call and check in since it was so late, I don’t mean to be a pain-” Louis cuts him off before he finishes.

“Uh uh,” he tuts, adding “No apologies for caring about little old me. And I love to start my day hearing your voice, flower boy. Anything fun planned for this weekend?”

Harry tells him about the orders he has to fulfill this afternoon and the video call he has with his mom and sister that night, very obviously leaving Sunday wide open. Louis seems to pick up on this, as Harry hoped he would.

“Busy, busy… too busy for lunch Sunday? Zayn’s girlfriend is in Ireland for some wedding thing for her cousin and he’s at the flat for the weekend, he’d love to meet you.” Anticipation colors his words, and before Harry can respond he continues in a rush.

“Of course, though, don’t feel pressured, and if you’re busy we can-”

“I’d love to come for lunch. At noon on Sunday at yours? What can I bring?”

Louis sounds much more relaxed when he responds, telling him they can order a takeaway and just to bring his “winning personality” and “boyish charm.” Harry hangs up the phone feeling 100 pounds lighter and a bit pink in the cheeks.

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Gemma and his mother’s squeals of excitement over Harry’s details of Louis are driving Mac insane, his ears twitching back and forth and eyes darting towards the floor in search of whatever high pitched rodent may be in distress.

“His roommate, mysterious Zayn, now wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” they exclaim together, Gemma and his mum both getting somehow closer to their cameras. He nods, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought. Though he had no real reason to be, he was nervous. Liam and Niall were easy to please, especially given Harry’s history, but he had no idea what Zayn would think of him, or how he would compare to Louis’... past partners.

As if reading his mind, Gemma asks, “So has he ever, like, dated Zayn? Or is this just a mate thing? Who has he dated?” He shakes his head and shrugs a bit, biting down on his lip before answering.

“I’m not sure, really. We haven’t talked much about that kind of stuff. Just…,” he trails off. They raise their eyebrows expectantly at him to continue.

“Just Adam, actually,” he finishes. There is a beat of pause, just a second too long.

“Oh! What did you tell him, love?,” his mum asks, feigning a nonchalance that is far out of character for her.

“Most of it, some of it, I guess,” he says carefully, “the important stuff.”

Gemma seems far away as he talks and his mum smiles encouragingly at him.
“He was sad,” he mumbles lamely, unable to get more out.

“Sad that it happened?” Gemma asks quietly after a moment.

“Yes,” he manages to get out, barely a whisper, and he clears his throat. “Sad that it happened, that someone could do that to me. He cried when I told him, really cried.”

They’re silent, both nodding to themselves.

“He seems like a kind soul,” his mum finally says, emotion thick in her voice. His eyes meet hers, through the screen, and he feels a million miles away from home. Gemma nods at his mother’s comment.

“I hope that meeting his friends brings you more great people to spend time with, and that everything goes well. What’s the occasion?”

Before Harry knows it they’re back in conversation, laughing and joking and interrupting each other again for the rest of the night, the subject put away to bed.

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Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Harry’s eyes fly open, having fallen asleep with his phone against his face after the call with his mum and sister went till nearly midnight. He jumps away from it as if it shocked him, falling face up onto the duvet. The time on his phone read 3:38 a.m. and the caller ID showed a blocked number. Heart beginning to race, he sits upright in bed, eyes glued on the glowing screen. Finally, finally, the call ends, popping up as “missed.” Before he can even take a deep breath, another rolls in, and another, and another, for the next hour. Eventually, Harry just turns it off and throws it into his closet, hearing it hit the laundry pile and flop onto the floor with a thud. Body racking with sobs, he drags himself into the bath and soaks into a pile of mush, his tears melting into the water. After another hour, he sits up stiffly to drain the bath and wraps his arms around himself, the chill of the air striking against his wet skin. He curses himself as he realizes his towel is in the bedroom, hanging on his closet door.

Hesitantly, he stands and attempts to shake, not unlike a dog. When that doesn’t work, he decides to make a run for it. Darting out of the bathroom, he scampers into the bedroom and grabs his towel from the hook, wrapping himself tightly and shivering into the fabric. His hair dripped coldly down his back and he tied it up with the band on his wrist. As he dries off, his phone catches his eye from the floor of the closet. He picks it up tenderly, like it may explode, and powers it on. When the screen finally lights up, his stomach curls when he sees the 42 missed calls and eight voicemails on his notification dock.
The time on his phone now read 6:03 a.m. While his body felt heavy with exhaustion, his mind was far from able to rest. With a sigh, he set the phone on his dresser and pulled on a pair of tracksuit and a jumper, sliding his feet into his slippers. He wondered absentmindedly if Liam was awake yet, and grabs his phone without looking at the notifications again.

Harry: hi li, up at the crack of ass, call me when u can

He locks his phone, prepared to wait, when a *buzz* surprises him.

Liam: hiii been up for ages (30 minutes) bc im going for a spin class wanna come?? i’ll pick u upppp

Harry ponders this for a moment before typing his response to Liam.

Harry: yes i do <3 let me get dressed

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