A World Without Augusts

9

That was the thing about rained down places and pretty boys that lived in those places, they made you think too much. Louis had woken up with an awful headache from how he had gotten drenched in rain the night before. And also maybe fact that he didn't remember anything he said or did that night after those two stupid beers didn't help his sorry little case after all. If you mixed poor decisions with bright blue eyes and a starlit smile, you'd get a Louis Tomlinson. Well, almost.

"Good morning, Louis," Harry smiled, pouring boiling water in a very fancy teacup.

"Good morning," he sighed, wishing he had taken that paracetamol. Harry just looked at him in pity for a while before breaking the silence.

"Alright, I'm gonna say it. You look like you're gonna come down with a fever. I'm gonna go get you a paracetamol and lemon tea with honey," he said a tad sternly and Louis decided that stern didn't suit him. Not like soft flowy shirts and poems and tight pants did. Louis nodded, smiling graciously and Harry walked away with that teacup. God bless the manufacturers of those jeans.

Harry came back after a while with the medicine and a very adorable Brie following him who was undoubtedly wearing a jumper. Harry should thank all his lucky stars that she didn't bite his head off in his sleep, he knew he would've.

"There you go. Don't take this before you eat breakfast okay?" he informed, and Louis immediately popped the pill into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.

"I..okay um Jesus Christ you don't like to listen to package instructions. I'll go get you oatmeal," he stumbled, walking away with slightly widened eyes and Louis winked at Brie who plopped down by his feet.

Louis was sitting with his legs crossed in the balcony, lighting his third cigarette. The wind made that a little hard but he didn't complain, not when the wind felt like it was carrying in untold stories from the sea. He closed his eyes, breathing in the smoke. It didn't smell awfully like smoke, the smell of the sea still prominent to his nostrils and he revelled in it. Four days completely disassociated from the rest of the world and it didn't make him want to rip his hair out. Who was this person in place of Louis? To be perfectly honest, he didn't think he even wanted to know.

"Room service!" Harry's voice boomed inside the room and Louis scrambled to his feet, stumbling to the door with sock-clad feet which made him feel as if he'd fall at every step.

"Hi um how are you?" he asked with cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Just here to collect laundry, love,"

"Yeah um wait just give me a minute ya know what come inside and wait," he tried to speak understandable sentences but the horror of his laundry thrown around the room flashed around his mind.

"How about you come down with your things to the laundry room if you need to? I'm gonna be down there for a while," Harry suggested and Louis felt like he could hug the man at that moment. God bless his wonderful flowery soul.

"That would be perfect. Thank you so much," he smiled a tad too wide but Harry didn't seem to mind, walking away with a soft nod.

He rushed back inside, picking up all the clothing strewn across the floor and couch and stuffing them into the laundry hamper. Just the thought of Harry seeing any of this or knowing about his habits made all his blood rush to his cheeks.

It took Louis way more time than he'd like to admit to clean up his mess of a room. Who knew removing duvet covers took that long? It didn't help that the zipper kept getting stuck on his pants. Walking down the stairs to the laundry room was anything but boring. It seemed like Harry's primary focus while doing up the place was on the aesthetics and as many obnoxious things, he could find. Well, he'd succeeded. That was all Louis dared to say, even in his head.