next to you ❀ l.s.

six - i get so lost inside your eyes (and the stories i hide)

By the time Louis woke up the next morning and headed into his bedroom to check on Harry, the curly-haired boy was already long gone. He could tell by the cold feeling of the sheets under his fingers when he traced the slight indent in his bed where Harry had slept. The wrinkled sheets were the only proof that he had actually been in Louis's apartment, and the whole night hadn't just been some lovesickness-induced dream.

Along with the throbbing ache in his back from sleeping on the couch, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay. Anything to have Harry close to him, rather than separated by the thin walls between their respective apartments.

To his despair, Louis didn't see Harry for the rest of the weekend. He made a point of hanging around the bookstore with Liam and Niall whenever he could, but he started to feel much too stalkerish for his own liking, so he tried to limit himself.

Although "limiting himself" mostly meant hanging around in the cafe beside the bookstore and staring obsessively out the window to see if Harry walked by, but oh well. Technicalities.

When Louis heard the door slam on Tuesday afternoon, only somewhat muffled through the thin walls, he just couldn't help himself. He leapt up from the couch and grabbed a random coat off the rack, hoping to at least pretend that he actually had some good reason to be leaving his apartment. Besides seeing Harry, of course, because that was plenty enough reason for him.

But again, he wasn't quite ready to accept the 'stalker' label just yet.

Sure enough, as he closed his door behind him and glanced down the hallway, he caught sight of a familiar curly head, walking slowly down the hallway with a high stack of books in his arms. Louis found himself wondering why the boy didn't just buy a backpack, but he figured Harry self-identified as too hipster or minimalist or something. For some reason, something as simple as a backpack just wasn't "Harry."

"Where are you going with all of that?" Louis called out to him.

Surprised, Harry stumbled, tripping over his own feet. The books in his arms flew all across the hallway, and Louis winced. "Sorry!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder as he glanced sheepishly back at Louis.

"Christ, Harry. Are you okay?" Louis exclaimed, rushing down the hallway and dropping to his knees beside the curly-haired boy.

"Yeah, I'm fine." With flaming red cheeks, Harry hurried to gather the dropped books. Louis helped him, creating two neat stacks on the floor.

"What are you doing with all of these anyway?"

"Oh, I'm selling them back to the store. They buy back used books, which is really nice." Harry picked up one book and smoothed its folded cover carefully, staring wistfully down at it.

Louis scanned the title curiously. About a Boy by Nick Hornby.

"Sometimes I wish I could turn my entire apartment into my own personal library."

Louis smiled absentmindedly at the image: Harry, surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of books, smiling as wide as ever with dimples and all. An image of Harry, just truly and purely happy -- and safe. "Why don't you?"

Harry laughed, but the sound held a bitter edge. "I don't have the money for that. I'd be fully broke by now if I didn't return most of the books I buy to read. Not to mention homeless."

"Understandable. If I bought all of the video games I wanted, I'd be broke, too. Not to mention expelled from school for not doing any of my homework," Louis joked.

Harry threw his head back and laughed -- a genuine laugh this time. A wide grin spread across Louis's face at the rewarding sight of Harry's real smile, and he mentally scolded himself for falling so hard so fast. He had really only had a few crushes in his life, and none of them had developed this quickly; but then again, Harry was anything but ordinary.