A World Without Augusts

27

Harry's POV

That dimpled smile never left his lips as he said goodbye to the last guest at the inn. Terrific lady with the most enigmatic stories he'd ever heard. He set the key on a hook, turning back to pen her departure date next to her information.

"I think I'll be back next year if I'm not off to Argentina. It's a beautiful place, I'll definitely recommend all my friends to visit." Her voice was sincere and soft. Harry nodded, still smiling.

"I'd love to have you here next year. Give them this card if you tell them to visit, to make reservations. Do you need me to help you to the docks?"

"No, it's fine. I'm sure you have a lot of work to get to. I'll be off then. Thank you for the amazing stay," she smiled, turning on her heel and picking up a pace.

Harry's face fell as soon as he was sure that nobody was watching him. He walked slowly to the gardens, closing his eyes for a while and letting the wind brush against his face. He bolted the entrance gates, taking his time to look down at Brie every once in a while. He had taught Louis how to make flower crowns here. Well, he had tried. The things he would give to see that smile again, he was convinced not enough people loved Louis the way he needed to be loved. He had been so surprised when Harry put his one on his hair. And that was the day when Harry had promised him to love him in a way so that he would never have to ask for it ever again. Did Louis still look for that love?

He pulled the sheets off the bed in the last room stayed in, stuffing them in the laundry basket with him. Louis' room was still untouched. This was unheard of with Harry, to leave a stayed-in room unattended for three whole weeks. But how could he? It would be like letting go of the last thing he had that was Louis Tomlinson. And he had hadn't even said goodbye to the man himself. His mind swirled around, trying to produce that courage he needed to go through with it but all he ever got was the wish to drag Louis back to him.

He dipped the mop in its bucket, wiping his hands on the apron around his waist. The phone was ringing and he rushed to pick it up. Putting on the best cheery voice he could, he held the receiver to his ear. But before he could speak, the person on the other end did.

"Harry?" And gosh he would recognise that voice among a sea of a million voices. He knew every edge and corner of that raspy voice, he knew it like the helmsman knew the sea.

"Louis? How are you, mate?" Sweet, cheery, charming.

"Uh, I'm alright. How are ya? I hope I'm not interrupting," he said softly and Harry wanted to yell at him.

"Oh no, absolutely not. The last guest left a couple of hours ago, I'm just cleaning up now."

"The infamous cleaning you do when the guests are away huh?"

"Yep, that is it." His voice was a bit strained. How could Louis possibly be talking about cleaning? Did he not know how much Harry adored him? How much he missed him? How he wanted to swim all the way to London? The beat of silence was too much for Harry. "So, what made you call?" he asked, saccharine sweet.

"Nothing um I just wanted to see how you're doing. How's Brie?"

"I'm alright. Brie's peachy. Has developed a sudden interest in walks. I wonder who caused that."

"Walk her alright? She loves the air in her face, gets all dopey." Harry's heart felt like it would crash upon itself. He smiled down at the dog. Gosh did he even want to tell Louis that she still waited outside his room every morning before returning a dejected corgi to Harry?

"Yeah, I try to. How's the job?"

"It's alright. My desk chair doesn't squeak anymore so that is a relief."