petal [book 1] ❊ l.s.

four - the windy city

After a few hours of tossing and turning in bed, his thoughts consumed with curly hair and dimples and bright green eyes, Louis untangled himself from his covers and got dressed.

He moved fairly quickly for how tired and sluggish he felt, pulling on a loose-fitting pair of gray sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt. He didn't bother with a hat and gloves, although he did grab his winter coat from the row of hooks by the door on his way out.

The jarring bang of his front door slamming shut behind him wiped any thoughts of sleep from his restless mind. It was well past midnight and he had work in just a few short hours, but Louis knew that trying to sleep was no use. He would just have to dope up on coffee before work and hope he could make it through the day without needing an embarrassing power nap in his office. Maybe he could even make up an excuse to leave early. One perk of being the boss that he rarely took advantage of was the fact that people rarely questioned his judgement.

He frowned, aimlessly wandering the deserted sidewalk. His life had somehow flipped upside down in under twenty four hours. The past day felt like an entire lifetime, even though it was only lunchtime when he met the curly-haired boy with captivating green eyes for the very first time. His frown deepened, a creased wrinkle forming between his knitted brows -- he hated not being in control, and there was a certain someone controlling his every thought.

The roads were fairly empty at this hour, with just a few stray cars ambling down the surface streets. Louis watched them curiously as they zipped by, wondering what reason the drivers had to be out so late. He wondered if the drivers thought the same thing when they saw him.

He took his hands out of his pockets, clenching them into fists at his sides. Screw Harry for keeping him up at night. Screw Harry for being so god damn interesting and adorable and innocent, and for not having a normal job -- like, seriously, he just had to be a psychic of all things? And most of all, screw Harry for making him feel this way, whatever it was he was actually feeling. If he could figure it out, maybe he would finally fall asleep.

Louis exhaled deeply, his breath puffing out in front of his face in the cold air. He hated Harry so much, but he couldn't help wanting to see him again.

And fate works in mysterious ways.

A harsh cough caught his attention. He paused at the opening of a shadowy alleyway, peering curiously toward the other end. Like most cities, Chicago was swarming with homeless people, and Louis tended to avoid eye contact and keep on walking; fancy-looking businessmen like him were especially prone to poor beggars pleading for some extra cash.

But something made him stop.

He took another step, his shoe clicking quietly against the pavement, and he caught sight of an eerily-familiar head of chocolate-brown curls. He started cautiously down the alley, his right hand trailing lightly across the icy brick wall as he walked. Once he stood within just a few feet of the huddled figure, he was sure.

"Harry?"

The boy looked up at the sound of his name, surprise flashing across his face. "Hi, Lou," Harry rasped, offering a small smile to the blue-eyed boy. Against his better judgement, Louis let the nickname slide. "What are you doing out here?"

"What are you doing out here?" Louis countered. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, suddenly all too aware of the biting cold. "It's freezing out."

"It's not so bad." Harry cracked a small smile that was offset by his teeth chattering together.

Louis frowned at Harry's pathetic excuse for a joke. The boy's red lips looked almost blue, and his entire body seemed to tremble with every shaky breath that he inhaled. Somehow, he was still just as beautiful as when Louis first saw him, if not more -- and just as intriguing, if not more.