And Now A Piece Of Me Is A Piece Of The Beach || larry stylinson

12

“You’re ill, and you need to go to bed.”

“I’m not, I’m fine!” whined a snotty-nosed, croaky-voiced Louis.

“You just put the green tea bag in the coffee mug and the whipped cream on the tea; you’re not fine.”

Harry watched as Lou battled with the dishevelled boy who was certain that the red rims around his eyes, the pockets of lavender under his eyes, the redness of his nose, and the lack of bounce in his step, had nothing to do with his health. Of course, everyone could tell that he was somewhat under the weather, even a vacant pensioner who offered him her hanky. Louis politely refused.

“I’m fine,” Louis insisted. In reaction to an unattractive dribble of snot coming out of his nose, he wiped it with the back of his hand. Okay, so maybe it was a little cute the way Louis looked so warm and worn and just generally soft, but that was not attractive in anyone’s books, especially not Harry.

“Look, I can’t afford to kill all my customers off and face murder charges just because you wouldn’t get ya’ fat arse home to rest,” Lou said seriously. “Those things cost a lot, and I have a small child to support for another, like, lifetime. So, like, I’ll have to banish you from the premises if you don’t leave, like, now. ”

“Banish me?” Louis said, either feigning offence or actually feeling insulted, his blocked nose seemed to cut off any tone other than whine in his voice.

“Yes, banish,” Lou said with a nod and deadly serious eyes.

“I can’t do that,” Louis said in one last bid to save himself.

“Oh, no, you can’t, because you’re a twelve year old child who doesn’t know the difference between fuckin’ E and Paracetamol,” Lou said, somewhat condescendingly, Harry noticed.

“Oi, that was an honest mistake!” Louis exclaimed weakly. Harry almost wanted to pat him on the head in comfort as he fought a losing battle.

Lou ignored his retaliation and turned to Harry, eyes wide and an imaginary light bulb flashing above her head. “Harry can look after you, y’know, because you’re an incompetent little fuck ‘n all that.”

“That’s unfair. I’m not totally incompetent...” Louis said pathetically, shoulders slouching and head bowing.

“When you’re ill, you are,” Lou stated in reply, not even glancing in Louis’s direction. Louis sighed deeply, Harry saw out of the corner of his eye. “So, H, what’d’ya say? Fancy pullin’ on that nurses costume y’got and lookin’ after Moaning Minnie over there?”

Harry’s eyes widened and a red flush pooled in his cheeks. He could feel the heat rushing around every part of his body in utter humiliation. The purple (“it’s lilac, Harry, not purple.”) haired lady smirked triumphantly as she took in Harry’s mortified reaction. Harry saw the way that Louis’ head had shot up instantly, jaw dropped and glassy eyes shockingly wide. Even he had a flush upon his cheeks, though Harry was unsure whether that was because of his illness or not. He hoped it was the former, and not because he believed that Harry had one (he did) and imagined what he looked like in it (Harry would most definitely say, “no comment,” to that one).

“If I win that surfing competition next summer, d’you think I’ll have enough money to support the lawyer charges when I fuckin’ kill you?” Harry said, scowling. The red-tinged acid wash on his cheeks was not going to dissipate any time soon, he was sure of that, especially since Louis’s reaction was waltzing around his mind without any intention of stopping.

Lou stuck her tongue out at him childishly and then instinctively turned in the direction of an awful hacking cough making a racket in the café. Her sympathies seemed to change upon seeing Louis almost doubled over, holding his stomach as he rattled out a hideous splutter.