The Inn | L.S.

chapter 2

When Harry had finished his tea, Louis took his suitcase and carried it up the stairs. There were four doors on each side of the long corridor and Louis headed for the last door on the left. The doors were a soft wooden tone and Louis pulled a key from his pocket.

"This one is yours. I also have a spare key, so please don't panic if you ever can't find this one."

Harry took the key after Louis had opened the door and the stepped inside. There was a double bed close to the window, a small desk directly in front of the window, an armchair with a folded blanket on top of it and two drawers.

"The bathroom is over there", Louis pointed at another door across the room, "and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask me. That's what I'm here for", he smiled. Harry noticed the small crinkles around his eyes and couldn't help but fond over them. Louis was such a sweet creature and so kind.

"Thank you very much."

"When do you wanna have breakfast? And is there anything you don't eat?"

"Would nine be okay? And uhm, I don't eat meat and I don't drink milk." Harry bit his lower lip and looked into Louis' blue eyes.

"Alright, nine o'clock it is. Just come into the living room and I'll take you to the dining room. I assume you wanna rest for now. Have a good sleep", he said and gave Harry a warm smile.

"You too. Thank you for fitting me in, Louis."

"No problem at all. Good night!"

As he closed the door, Harry sat down on the bed. The sheets were extremely soft, almost silky. He had four thick pillows all to himself and he couldn't be any more comfortable in this room. He got up and started to unpack his suitcase. He had a big stack of books with him. History of the rain, All the light we cannot see, The Song of Achilles, Pride and Prejudice, Memories of a Catholic Girlhood, Slaughterhouse 5, Death in Venice and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. It must've been a pain in the ass for Louis to carry the suitcase up the stairs.

Harry out his books on the bedside table and put his neatly folded clothes in the drawers. He wanted to feel as at home as possible. Because in London he didn't feel at home. Carson didn't let him. Because worrying about getting beat up every time you come home isn't something that makes you look forward to coming home.

Harry's eyes teared up slightly. He didn't want to think about Carson now. He came to Norway to forget about all the pain Carson made him go through. He wanted to forget about all the times Carson made him feel like a piece of shit.

He wiped aggressively at his eyes and unpacked the rest of his clothes. He brought many jumpers, band tees and bold trouser choices. Harry loved wearing extraordinary clothes. He loved feeling pretty and different.

He looked down at his nails. There were still traces of his favourite pale pink nailpolish. Carson always told him he was too feminine for a man. But to Harry, femininity and masculinity were things that had nothing to do with gender. What was wrong with Harry wearing nailpolish and putting lipgloss on?

He gently stroked the soft wood of the windowsill. Outside his window was a lake, not too big and not too small. He could make out a small jetty on the shore and was already looking forward to going for a swim in the lake on warm mornings. Maybe he could have a picnic by the lake and read while he did so.

Harry was a person who would turn everything into art. A lake? No. To Harry it was an oasis of gentle summer breezes and cooling water to surround his hot skin in the summer. Laying in the grass reading whilst dipping your feet into the water and looking up into the clouds, freezing the moment.

Harry loved this earth, he really did. But the world didn't seem to love him back.