Got the sunshine on my shoulders - by: hattalove

chapter four

Once he gets back (and changes in a side alley – he's not proud of it), he decides to go back to trying to have a conversation with Louis. It's only three in the afternoon, though.
He stops by the chippy, feeling marginally more confident in fresh clothes.

"Hiya," someone who is definitely not Louis says from behind the counter. In fact, it's someone Harry doesn't recall ever seeing before: still a teenager, he'd bet, with a few angry red spots on his nose. "What can I get you?"

"Um, hi," says Harry, certainly not projecting any of the confidence he feels. "I'm looking for Louis?"

The kid frowns, then tilts his head. "Who?"

"Louis Tomlinson? He works here."

"Oh," he raises his eyebrows. "I know Louis, I think, but—mate, he definitely doesn't work here."

Harry purses his lips. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'm here every day, I think I'd know."

"He did work here though, right? Some time ago," Harry tries. His thoughts are running off in a dozen different directions. He'd just thought—he'd assumed.

"Not since I've been here," the kid shrugs. "And it's been a couple of years now."

Louis doesn't work at the chippy anymore. The information is shocking to Harry, mundane as it is – he'd had an imagine of Louis in his mind that was stable, never changing, never moving forward, just like Louis himself: lives in the same house, dresses the same way, works at the chippy.

But he doesn't. He's—is he jobless?

"Do you know where he works, then? I need to talk to him."

The guy shrugs, smirks. Stirs through a pot of gravy. "No idea. Just try his house or something."

"Right," Harry nods. "Yeah. Thanks for your help."

"No worries, mate," says the kid, with his back already turned. "Hope you find him."

Harry laughs, then heads back out into the sunny street. To the house he goes, just as he was told – and also because he can't think of anywhere else to look.

It's a lovely walk at this time of day, warm and quiet, and the gate is open, but Harry doesn't stop to appreciate any of it. He's thinking, always thinking, about the fact that Louis has changed.

It is a little naïve to expect everything to be the same. And yet, because Louis had been a constant for a better part of Harry's life, Harry expected him to just stay stuck and never move on.

To wait.

It's a horrible, horrible thing to realise, but he can't quite bring himself to feel bad as he stomps up the road and remembers the way Louis treated him. He has moved on, clearly – to being a tired, small, angry man.

He squares his shoulders when he knocks, fully expecting to be turned away again. This time, though, he's not leaving.

"Don't tell me you're back," Louis's voice comes from behind the door. He doesn't sound that angry today.

Harry almost cracks a joke, but he stops himself in time. He's on very, very thin ice here.

"I wouldn't have to be if you signed the papers."

"Do you ever get tired of saying that?" he asks. There's a thud, like he's sat down to have a conversation.

Harry feels a spark of excitement travel down his spine.

He didn't leave.

"Not really," he says, leaning one shoulder against the door. It doesn't do anything, but it makes him feel a little more powerful. "It's the only reason I'm here, so if you would—"