A World Without Augusts

16

Louis' first thought in the morning was that Harry had not ended up staying the night. To say the least, Louis was disheartened when he was left with a peck on his cheek. If he was cruder, he might've given Harry an earful of just how much he wanted to simply touch him. Even if it were cuddles. It was an evergrowing want since their first kiss, to touch. Harry was so very warm and so fucking soft. He was gone, big time.

It was colder than usual in the inn causing Louis to dig his hands into the pockets of his trackies. He paced his way to the kitchen, Brie matching his step all the way. Harry wasn't there and Louis definitely didn't appreciate the pang of anxiety he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"Where is he?" he asked to really no one but expected an answer nonetheless, staring at the dish of oatmeal in the oven to keep warm. He walked out of the room, bumping into a guest. Call it what you want but Louis never really talked to any of the guests, always sticking to Harry.

"Mate, um have you seen Harry?" Louis' eyes growing to look wilder by the minute.

"Yeah, he's in the boiler room. It's stopped working since dawn so he called the mechanic." The reply was easy. Something one could easily expect. He nodded with a smile, turning on his heel. He walked as fast as he could without gathering attention, the last thing he needed was the other guests thinking he was obsessed with Harry. Even if that had some truth in it, they didn't need to know.

"Harry!" he breathed as he caught sight of the man crouching beside someone tinkering with the machine. Brie ran up to him, launching her little body right into his lap. And of course, he caught her.

"Hey, the machine was being uncooperative so I called John. He's the best on the island." Dimples at the last sentence. John snorted at that.

"Lad, why don't you just say that I'm the only one who can fix this old thing?"

"But you are the best! You fixed my sink last year, it's still running as smooth as ever," he insisted and John sighed. Louis silently chuckled at that. Nobody could deflect Harry's compliments. That boy was exceedingly persistent. He walked up beside Louis who slipped a hand around his waist.

"The way you act is shameful," Harry whispered into Louis' ear.

"Don't fool yourself, baby. You like it," he smirked, strengthening his hold on Harry.

"You're so full of yourself," he scoffed, still leaning into Louis' touch.

"Full of me huh?" Louis raised his eyebrow and Harry was long gone, cheeks crimson red. He was staring at Harry when a cough brought them back. Curse John for ruining this.

'It's uh done. I'll put it on your tab. I have more work to get done at the Garda's." Louis could tell how awkward it was for him. Thank the Gods, Harry smiled with a nod and he was off on his merry little way away from Louis. Flirtatious Louis was an uncomfortable thing to be around if you weren't the one being flirted with. Zayn had reminded him of that way too many times. But the look on Harry's face. That look made it seem like maybe it wasn't a bad thing, just them together.

There was a low hum of the pot of soup bubbling on the stove and Louis listened for that tinkle of Brie's bell whenever she decided to stretch. Harry was cutting bread to make croutons, waist swaying to the silly tune he was humming. Louis had gotten a little braver ever since he opened that jar for him and the proof of that could be seen in how Louis sat right beside Harry.

"You're pretty when you cook." Louis crossed his legs, smiling. Harry only shook his head with a scoff but Louis could see those dimples giving a peek. Yeah, life was frighteningly perfect at that moment, like something Louis wouldn't let break. Even if Harry wouldn't mind if he fucked up.

Louis was sitting on the balcony with a knit blanket around him, waiting for Harry. He sometimes had extra work or Louis went up for a nap but he would always come up to watch the sea with him. But, it had been over half an hour after the clock struck ten and there was no sight of long legs in awfully tight jeans. He could hear a faint laugh from the beach and he jumped up. If someone was there, it couldn't be good. As to what Louis did next, he blames it on why his mum raised him to be a good man. He grabbed a jacket and ran out of his room.

"Fucking crazy idiot what is he thinking?" he grumbled, running on the sand was more difficult than he remembered when it's cold and wet from the rain that evening. As he paced closer to the water, he realised it was Harry. Harry Motherfucking Styles.

"Goddamnit, Harry what are you doing?" Louis yelled, taking off his shoes.

"None of your business," he giggled, splashing water at Louis. "Oh oh, you should swim with me!"

"Love, are you alright?" Louis asked, walking into the water. He took Harry's hand, pulling the boy towards himself.

"I...I'm fine. You're so stupid, Louis. Can't you see how dear you are to me?" His voice was accusing, pressing slobbery kisses on his face. Whiskey. It was the smell of whiskey.

"Are you drunk, Haz?" he asked, trying to pull Harry towards the shore away from the water.

"No...no I just had a little teensy bit. Oh and then a bit more!" he babbled, letting Louis drag him a bit. "Just like my grandfather. He'd start with a little bit but then poof! The whole bottle's down his fucking throat," he went on, eyes turning red.

"Baby, no, baby. You're not like that. Oh, love," Louis assured, almost out of the water with Harry who nodded, still crying. "Let's go back yeah? I'll tuck you in," he suggested, putting his coat around Harry's shoulders.

"Will you help me clean the mess? He broke bottles...they hurt when they cut," Harry asked, almost pleadingly as he clasped Louis' hands. And fuck, his heart shattered right then.

"Yeah, I'll clean everything up. All you have to do is go to bed," Louis answered, holding back the lump in his throat. Harry giggled. He fucking giggled as he almost fell out of Louis' arms before he caught him again.

"You caught me," he said with a dopey smile.

"Yeah um yeah I did, love." Louis tucked one arm under his knees.

"You'll always catch me won't you?" Harry asked as Louis lifted him into his arms. He decided dragging Harry was way more work than carrying him. Louis didn't answer that question and Harry had gone to counting stars. "That one's where you came from," he informed, pointing at a rather bright one and gosh the way Louis' heart clenched. "Because it's so bright, like you. So far away," Harry mumbled, eyes closing and Louis just wanted to tell him that he was the one made of stardust and comets. Not him.

Louis sat Harry down on his bed, taking off the wet clothes. He was so out of it and God Louis just wanted to wrap him up. Beautiful boy he was. He suddenly burst into laughter when his hand brushed his stomach.

"Tickles," he giggled, leaning on Louis who cradled his back.

"Let me get you some joggers, give me a minute," Louis tried but Harry had other plans. He had a death grip on his shirt sleeves.

"I never told you what you smell like. You smell like city life and bread baked just right. You smell like you bring home wherever you go, like a beacon. I need to build myself a home, Louis," he rambled, eyes closing again. Louis couldn't speak. He didn't know whether to answer or to contradict or to simply nod. He didn't know how to handle the way the mess of a drunken Harry was ruining him a thousand little times over and over again. He didn't know how to face Harry the next morning, the same Harry who didn't even like the taste of alcohol. And gosh, he really didn't know how to get joggers on Harry who was fast asleep against him in boxers.