Under Coloured Trees || Larry Stylinson

7

It's Tuesday. Louis hasn't seen Harry since last Friday at the bar when he walked out on him in the middle of his attempt to initiate their first conversation that wasn't based on throwing wounding words at each other. 

Louis hasn't thought about it since he fell asleep that night with Harry's weird apology spinning around in his head. Okay, maybe he kind of has, but not too intensely. The thought just crosses his mind from time to time. 

But now, when he's on his way to the bookstore, he's starting to consider it again. Is Harry bad? Is he not bad? Does he hate Louis? Probably. But the fact that he doesn't like him or that they don't get along doesn't mean he's wicked or anything. Don't get him wrong, Louis has never thought of Harry as some evil and immoral being, he's not. Louis knows that. And Louis also knows that deep down he's even... good. Not to Louis, but you can see it in the way he treats Niall or the way he speaks to Zayn. 

The thing is, being good on the inside counts for absolutely nothing, Louis figures. You have to actually be good and get involved. And Harry doesn't. He doesn't get involved. It's not only that he didn't even let Louis start a conversation, which, Louis will admit, stung a little bit, but he also doesn't get involved with the rest. He didn't want to go out, Niall had to convince him.

You know what? Fuck him. Fuck Harry and his weird ways. Louis is tired. He's tried, he really has. But Harry's not having it. So fuck him.

Louis keeps walking determined. He sometimes falls into this sort of trance when he's thinking and he doesn't realize what's going on around him. It's dangerous really. Louis' gonna get hit by a bus or something one day. The point is, it's raining and he hadn't even noticed. He doesn't know at what point it started. But what he knows is that he's soaked right now. He didn't take an umbrella with him because he doesn't own one, so his shirt, jeans and shoes are completely drenched. Great.

He starts trotting a bit and he finally makes it to the store. His clothes are soaked, his feet are wet, and his hair is plastered to his forehead. He's dripping on the floor, creating a puddle around him.

Harry looks him up and down from behind the counter, eyebrows raised in sort of an amused look. How is he always here when Louis appears? Punctual little shit.

"What are you looking at?" Louis asks him in a tone that sounds more bored than challenging.

Harry shrugs "I'm just surprised you didn't drown. Should I bring you some water wings next time?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I know it doesn't look like it but I'm rolling on the floor on the inside, I swear. I'm just a very reserved person".

"Yeah sure," Harry scoffs and shakes his head lightly while making his way to the back room.

Louis just rolls his eyes. "Bitch" he mumbles looking around for something to at least dry his hands and prevent his hair from continuing to drip all over the carpet.

Then Harry comes back, carrying what looks like a pile of folded clothes in his hands. He stops in front of Louis.

"Here" he offers, a little awkward. "Put these on"

Louis doesn't know what to say. Is this a joke? He opens his mouth to talk but nothing comes out. Harry turns around then and gets behind the counter again, making a gesture towards the back room. "Go change". His face is blank. That makes Louis snap out of it.

"Why do you have a secret stash of clothes hidden in the back room of a bookstore?" he finally says.

Harry tries to contain a smile, looking down at the floor, his curls falling over his eyes, framing his face perfectly. "I don't. I was gonna go to the gym later. Those are the clothes I usually put on after showering and all. But you look like you need them more than I do, so".