A World Without Augusts

21

It was raining the next morning when Louis woke up. It was a day to be written down in history. He had woken up before Harry. It was four in the morning and he knew he woke up because the new information about his employment status was not leaving his mind.

He breathed in the air, it smelt like fabric softener and some Miss Dior perfume. Louis just wanted to memorise the way the rain fell against the window in Harry's room, the way the floor creaked in places and the way Harry's laundry smelt. He wanted to lock all those things which were so fundamentally Harry Styles in jars and keep them with him forever. All because he now belonged to Harry in a way that Harry didn't belong to him.

Harry stirred in his sleep before lazily opening his eyes. Louis smiled at him, brushing the unruly curls away from his face.

"Morning, love," he said softly and Harry just sighed, pressing his face into the pillow. "I thought you were a morning person? Yoga and all?" he teased, kissing his shoulder.

"Why are you awake before me?" His voice was accusing, like Louis had ruined his entire day just by waking up early.

"I don't know, but I won't ever wake up again before you okay?" His fingers traced the ship tattoo on his shoulder. Harry nodded, lips still a bit pouty and Louis kissed it right off. He could do that now. But for how long was the actual question.

Louis was watching a rather dreadful scene unfold in front of him. Harry's produce guy had gotten were apparently mediocre and disgraceful tomatoes. They looked fine to Louis but it was Harry whose opinion mattered.

"I can't believe you would do this to me, Joe! How in the seven wonders of the world am I supposed to serve these to my guests? I am making whole roasted tomatoes to go with the chicken," he groaned, burying his face into his hands.

"Harry, mate, I don't know how many times I need to tell you but these were the best ones today and I kept them for you," Joe went on in the most consoling voice his aged hardened face could muster and Louis decided it was time for him to step in if the guests were going to have any lunch, to begin with.

"Haz, look at me," he started, rubbing his back. Harry just made a sound of displeasure, keeping his face right there between his hands. "No, look at me. Come on, baby," he pressed further and Harry looked up with eyes that could murder.

"What do you want now?" He was glaring.

"I think it's okay. The tomatoes," he said softly and Harry just about went for his throat.

"They are shameful. I will be humiliated if I serve them roasted whole." His voice was almost whiny and Louis ignored how that tugged at his heartstrings. This is how his voice would sound when he will ask Louis to stay.

"Then don't serve them whole, Bambi. Make a nice sauce out of them and serve your chicken on top of it," he suggested and that seemed to calm him down.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," he sighed, taking the crate of tomatoes. "Thank you, Joe. Sorry for yelling," he smiled sheepishly but the man just shrugged.

"Hey mate, I'm sorry for Harry's outburst earlier. He had been planning this since yesterday when he was making brekkie and this just threw him off. He means well," Louis explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know he means well, lad. He's the nicest guy I supply to. This is nothing, you should have seen the cabbage crisis last year." His harsh features showed some form of softness in reminiscing Harry's quirks and Louis felt a bit at ease. Nobody would get angry with Harry, even if he wasn't there.

Harry's hand felt just like home to hold as he was being led to the centre of the island. The colour scheme was still the same, the same grays and blues adorned the streets and walls. It was all so familiar to him. The street that led to the pharmacy, the good pub, the school where Niall taught, the pickle shop. Harry was going to the school to drop off lunch for him and Louis tagged along. He wanted all of his time, every minute.

"Harry! Thank you for this, the missus is out and you know I can't cook to save my life," Niall smiled, taking the box from him.

"It's alright, Ni. You know I would do this every day," he spoke, patting his shoulder.

"How were the classes today, Niall?" Louis asked, feeling excluded. Harry's attention felt so awfully dear to him at that moment.

"Ah well, you know, it was alright. Kids are a proper nuisance when it comes to English," he stated and Louis nodded.

"I'll get going then. I've got guests to feed. Be there for supper?" he asked, adjusting his grip on the tote bag.

"You bet I'll be," he beamed.

Louis' eyes flit towards the monkey bars on the playground as they were leaving. The children were in classes and the field was empty.

"Come with me," he said as he led him towards the bars.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust me, sweetheart," he winked, climbing up the structure. He swung himself and hung upside down, facing Harry.

"Louis you'll hurt yourself, you idiot! Get down!" he hissed and Louis just gave him a dopey smile.

"I'm trying to kiss you, baby," Louis chuckled and Harry just looked at him in disbelief. "Kiss me, I'm getting lightheaded," he insisted. Harry closed the distance, pressing his lips to Louis' and oh God, he would miss being kissed by him.

There was something oddly fascinating about watching Harry wash up dishes while he dried them. He knew when his eyes were on him. The way he watched him. The weight of the real world was so heavy. Harry had said he would help him carry it. He had said that he would take care of him. And now, when Louis needed it the most, he couldn't ask it from him. The clattering of crockery stopped as the last plate was placed on the drying rack. The work for the day was over. They walked hand in hand to the balcony. He wanted to carve every turn Harry's veins took on his heart.

Louis leaned against the cold wall and Harry was sat in front of him, staring at the patterns the waves spun but Louis knew he was stealing glances at him. Smoke from the cigarette carelessly held in Louis' left hand drew patterns in the dimly lit air. He got up on his knees, towering over Harry. He took another drag before putting it out. Cupping Harry's cheeks, he kissed his forehead. Harry brought his head up and pecked Louis' lips.

"Kiss me properly. Kiss me until I'm bloody sick of it. Just kiss me," he said in a choked voice he hoped Harry thought was the result of the smoke and not the lump in his throat. Harry moved his lips against Louis, going pliant and letting him take the lead. Louis could never understand what went on in Harry's mind but he knew he belonged to Harry in a way that Harry didn't belong to him.