petal [book 1] ❊ l.s.

six - home

Louis fussed over Harry relentlessly when they first arrived back at his apartment, and Harry was too awestruck to protest. His eyes were wide and shining as he took in Louis's apartment for the first time; he barely knew the older boy, but somehow, he could picture Louis here.

Nothing was missing. Every tiny detail felt exactly right; just as he had imagined it.

"Harry." Louis's voice snapped him back to reality, and he blinked, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He still stood just inside the front door, but Louis had somehow managed to coax his coat (well, technically it was Louis's coat) and shoes off without him even noticing.

"Sorry. I'm just . . ." thinking about the feeling of this apartment? ". . . overwhelmed."

"It's alright," Louis assured him. He draped Harry's coat over the back of a chair in the kitchen rather than mixing it in with his other ones on the rack; it was his, technically, but he wanted to make it clear to Harry that he had no intention of taking it back. "I'm going to grab you some clean clothes, alright? Any preferences?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting his voice not to waver. He figured that he probably shouldn't say, "Anything of yours is perfect," especially considering the fact that his lack of filter was the thing that got them into this mess in the first place.

Before he knew it, Louis had returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms. He ushered Harry down the hallway to the bathroom to change. "I'll be in the living room," the older boy said.

"Okay."

They both kept their voices low, hushed and muted like they were constantly telling secrets. Each and every moment moved in slow motion. Their time together felt stolen, somehow, as though they were nothing more than tiny pawns in the hands of some unknown forces, larger than life yet fully invisible.

Alone in the bathroom, Harry quickly changed his clothes, sighing happily when he saw that Louis had chosen a loose-fitting sweater and a thick pair of sweatpants. He nearly lost his balance a few times, clutching the cold edge of the counter for support. He had always been clumsy, but this was different.

He could barely think straight, for more reasons than one.

His head was buzzing loudly, but it often did when he felt overwhelmed -- as though his mind grew too busy to effectively block out the voices anymore. Once he finished dressing himself, he closed his eyes, gripping the sink so tightly that his knuckles turned white, matching the shade of the pale ceramic perfectly.

"Get yourself together," he muttered under his breath. He locked eyes with his reflection in the mirror, and he could almost see the cloud of voices floating around his head like some kind of sick, twisted halo. "What is wrong with you?"

"Harry?" Louis's voice came through the closed door, even more muffled than it had been. The older boy rapped on the door as he spoke, making Harry jump. "Everything okay in there?"

Harry opened the door quickly, revealing an anxious-looking Louis on the other side. He pasted on a smile. "I'm okay. Thank you for the clothes."

"Of course, of course. I just . . . are you alright?" Louis's eyes glistened with concern. "Listen, I didn't mean to, like . . . I don't know, force you back here? I just wanted to make sure you were safe and warm, and I know I can be a bit demanding and overbearing sometimes but --"

"Lou." Harry's shaky tone had miraculously turned smooth and soothing, like he could just sense that Louis needed that stability and reassurance. "Louis, it's okay. You're wonderful, you . . . I've never met anyone as kind as you," he said sincerely.