Chapter Text
It had been a week now. Since the Harry incident. Which Louis had started to call it. It helped him to depersonalise it a little.
Even so… he still felt like a shitbag. He still had guilt nibbling away at him from the inside. More like gnawing actually, truth be told.
And weirdly, he still got himself off each night to the memory.
So weird.
= / =
By the second week, he’d stopped actively worrying that Harry would come back into the coffee shop. Try to start something up. Start to pay him out. Pay him back. Something.
= / =
By the third week, he’ d started kind of wondering if he would ever in fact lay eyes on Harry again. A stupid kind of regret lingering. A stupid kind of theorising emerging. What might have happened for example, if Louis wasn’t, if he hadn’t been… quite so very…stupid?
= / =
By the beginning of the fourth week, Louis knew deep in his gut…he had fundamentally fucked up.
He knew this because…
He couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.
He couldn’t stop shit talking himself.
He couldn’t bring himself to engage with any of the hot punters at the smoky clubs.
By the end of the fourth week, he finally broke, and talked to Oli about it. And look, he didn’t really do that. Go deep. But all the same, Oli listened and nodded and empathised.
And by the end of three pints and some ninety odd minutes, they both agreed, Louis was a fucking idiot.
= / =
Some miracle then.
Week six, and Louis had been counting them – the weeks since Harry. Since he and Harry.
On a random Thursday afternoon, all hope now considered lost to him then ‘fuck my life’ Louis’ brain went, cos walking in through the door of the café, a tentative air to his gait, only fucking Harry!
Louis’ heart leapt out of his chest. Could he not keep away then? Was he feeling some type of way about Louis? The kind of way Louis had been feeling about Harry?
Which he hadn’t properly diagnosed, but which felt kind of like someone had kicked the shit out of you and somewhere around your ribs or just under it wouldn’t stop aching. Wouldn’t heal up right.
The counter chick (Michele) handed him Harry’s order. Flat White. Nothing new in it there.
Harry was waiting but he stood well back. And his eyes weren’t on Louis. There was every chance, Louis reflected sourly, that the kid actually just wanted a coffee.
Just a moment then he had, to decide. He grabbed his pen. He drew an ‘H’. Then he drew a heart underneath. And fuck, that really cost him something, he could tell you.
Then, in a moment of pure madness, he lifted the cup up and wrote his digits on the bottom.
Heart in his throat, he called Harry’s name. Called out ‘Harold’ actually. Didn’t know the why of it.
Harry came. He didn’t meet Louis’ eyeline, despite how hard Louis was willing him to. He didn’t let his fingers brush Louis’ either. Despite how much Louis wanted him to.
Louis did, however, see him clock the little heart. He raised his eyes to Louis briefly, before skirting them away. Louis saw a world of pain in them. He hated himself for it.
The boy turning to leave now, Louis frantic, in case he didn’t find them on his own. Louis’ digits.
“Harry” he called out after him, his voice breaking on the word. Half the café turning to stare at him.
He urgently grabbed an empty cup. Tapped the bottom of it. Stared at Harry intently.
He saw Harry frown, then lift his own cup up, then that he had seen. Then he watched to see if his expression changed. Then he ached to see that it hadn’t. Then he kept his eyes trained on the boy’s back until he had fully disappeared from view.
= / =
Louis was out the back of the café. On his ten. He was sucking on a fag as if his life depended on it.
It was a week since Harry had been in. A week of raising his eyes with hope, every time the bell over the café door had tinkled when it opened.
He was gobsmack amazed in fact, how very many people in the world there were, that wanted coffee. How very many people who came in. How very many people that weren’t Harry Styles.
Yeah. Styles. He’d googled it. Stalked the boy actually. Ridiculous. Knew his life history now. Pathetic. Hadn’t reached out though. The boy knew how to find him. Knew how to reach him. And he hadn’t. And he didn’t. So that’s all he really needed to know.
He found the whole thing really fucking weird. He really did. It was just a hook up. He’d been there before. Hot guys. Good sex. Done and done.
So what was actually fucking wrong with him? It was pretty fucking annoying. He’d been complaining to Oli about it. Waxing lyrical. Was the kid getting a bit tired of the subject in fact? Probably. Louis was boring himself with it even.
He sighed, stood up, stubbed out his fag. Smoothed down his apron. Back to the coal face then.
His phone notification went off. His heart skipped a beat. Always with this lately. So lame. It was never him.
Only this time… he thought it fucking might be. A message. A text. Simply ‘Hi’, but signed with an H.
A tiny little ‘hi’. The smallest bridge back, after Louis’ major fucking ‘oops’.
Nervous fingers, fumbling with it, they flew over the keyboard all the same.
“Harry?”
He stood there and stood there, watching the three dots on his screen tumble around. Then disappear. Then back again. Then disappear.
He checked his watch frantically. Shit. He was out of time. No more dots at all now. Shit. What?
Then, the rattle and buzz of a call. Same number. His hands were pure trembling. He almost didn’t have the balls to pick up. But he had to. Had to.
He clicked the green button. Said nowt. Like a weirdo.
“Louis?” Harry’s lovely gravelly tones.
“Yeah” He fell all over himself to speak now. “Hi.”
Harry sighed only next. Louis squeezed his eyes shut. No idea where or how this was going to go. Only knowing, he was stupidly invested. Overly invested now. Knew he was a day late and a dollar short on that front. At the very least.
“Has anyone ever told you?” Harry started. “You can be a real dick.”
Louis let go a half guffaw / half mangled sob of relief. “Yeah.” He hurried to answer. “May have been said. More than once.”
Silence down the phone now. He scrambled for some words. The only ones he could come up with were two. He hoped they were enough.
“I’m sorry.” Meant it.
“For?”
“Being a real dick.”
It was Harry’s chance to guffaw this time. Then he sighed. The noise made its way down Louis’ ear canals. Tugged at his heart.
“Tell me why I should give you a second chance?” Harry said next.
“Can’t” Louis shrugged, even though there was no one there to see it. “Only…”
“Yeah?”
“I really really want you to.”
Silence only. Seconds ticked past. Together with them, the thud of Louis’ heart.
Harry: “Dunno.”
Frantic now, checking his watch again. The boss had poked her nose out the door, hunting him down. He gestured at her wildly. ‘Gizz just a sec’ he mouthed.
Harry said ‘what?’
An idea dropped into his head. “Meet me here. After work. I’ll make you a coffee.”
More silence.
“I can do that thing now, where I make a heart in the foam” Louis offered. All new flavours of pathetic he was.
Harry huffed out a laugh. “Is that supposed to sell me?”
Louis twisted his lips. “Yeah. Personal growth innit? I’ve got it in me. I swear.”
Nothing further. He had to go. Like really had to now. “I gotta fly H. I’m getting hounded. But I’m off at 5. I’m shutting up. Just me. Please come. Please.”
“Dunno. I’ll let you go.”
Then just dead air. And Harry gone. And Louis scrambling back to his shift, with a mouthful of apologies and a heart full of terror.
Just how exactly he was supposed to get through this afternoon, he didn’t fucking know.
= / =
To say he watched the clock like a hawk was an understatement. To say every coffee he made cost him a little something, well, there was truth in that.
As the time ticked on and the place emptied out, Louis felt more and more sick with nerves. He kept checking his phone. Furtive like. Even though it was against the rules. But nothing from Harry.
Just Louis now, the Manager had left him to it. Lock up and clean down.
5pm had come and gone without Harry. Louis was – how would he say? Fucking devastated.
He’d just finished stacking the dishwasher though, was polishing the milk spout on the coffee machine with his trusty old cloth when he heard it. A timid knock at the door.
His eyes flew up. Was it? His feet flew him over. Yes! Harry.
He unlocked the door. Gratitude washing through him hard. The kid looked like a teenaged dream. Curls still slightly damp at the ends, from a shower was it? Dark skinny jeans, a white tee-shirt. Chelsea boots.
Louis purely breathed out, rather than said his hello.
Harry stood there, hands in his pockets. Coat on. Almost like he wasn’t convinced he was staying.
“Lemme make you that coffee then.” Could not care less that he had just finished cleaning the machine. Could not care less that it would take him a full 20 minutes to do so again.
He heaved a sigh of relief as Harry pulled out a chair. Took a seat.
He did his level best. With the coffee. Aiming for strong, nutty. Certainly not bitter or burnt. He did the heart in the foam. It was a little wonky to be fair. (Fitting maybe.)
He carried it over to Harry, his hands trembling as he put it in front of him. As he pulled out a chair.
Harry gave him a little nod. Louis could not recall a time when he had been more nervous. Not ever. Not for an exam. Not before a gig. None of it.
He watched Harry survey the drink. Then reach for it. Then take a long sip. He wiped his thumb across the foam that had stayed on his top lip. Louis watched the whole thing, utterly captivated.
The boy raised his eyes to Louis. Louis tried not to drown in them.
“S’pretty good” Harry told him.
Louis nodded. Waiting for the next he knew was coming.
“Heart was a bit crooked though.”
Louis was more than grateful to see a hint of mirth in Harry’s eye. To see the slight tug of a dimple. Just the one so far.
“It’s something I’m working on” he reassured the boy. The full meaning hung between them in the air. Louis hoped it was enough.
He wiped the sweat of his palm on his jeans, then slid his hand across the table, close to Harry, landing it palm side up. Begging a touch. Begging a connection. A reconnection.
He tilted his head, squinting slightly up at Harry as the late afternoon sun hit his eyeline. He let himself show just the barest hint of the vulnerability that was smashing through him… “S’that something you could maybe help me with?”
Harry let him sweat, for a beat or two. And Louis thought, ‘Fair’.
Then, Harry took the proffered hand. Real tentative like. He gave Louis a little nod, a very tiny yes.
Louis had half a clue what that might have cost Harry (pride surrendered, risk embraced, or at the very least, accepted)… and he gave his hand a grateful squeeze accordingly.
Then he said ‘Cool’ and Harry said ‘Cool’ back and bugger it if that alone wasn’t enough to set somewhere north of a hundred chaotic butterflies loose in Louis’ tummy.
And that was a fucking new feeling for him. But all the same, he decided, he kind of liked it.