Got the sunshine on my shoulders - by: hattalove

chapter ten

A couple of days pass. The weather gets warmer, which apparently makes the water damage specialist optimistic, and he gives mum a conservative estimate of five weeks to get the house dry.
She immediately tries to pack up and find a place to stay in Stoke. Louis has to stand in front of the door to physically stop her from leaving.

"It's five weeks!" she shouts, but only a little. Louis holds on to her shoulders and tries to explain that it's fine.

Harry watches the whole scene from a corner in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a cup of tea and smiling to himself. Somehow, this has already become normal.

He has to keep reminding himself that it's temporary, that it's a life that belongs to somebody else, a Harry who's long forgotten now. This Harry has got a fiancé and a career to go back to. He's been meaning to get Louis alone, to explain himself, to apologise; to finally get him to sign the sodding papers so he can leave. Once Louis knows he's serious about saying sorry, they won't have anything to give each other anymore. He's stayed for far too long.

"This is the last time I'm arguing about this," Louis is saying when Harry tunes back in. He's laughing, though, and he looks—younger, lighter. Different from when Harry first saw him that morning by the gate. "You're staying. I don't want to hear any arguments."

"But—" mum starts immediately.

"Have I been that bad to live with?"

"Wha—no, of course not," she frowns. She's still got her little suitcase sitting at her feet, but she's stopped clutching the handle. Behind her, Robin is looking up into the ceiling with a smile on his face. He doesn't have any luggage. "And it has been nice to actually see my own cat for a change."

Louis scratches the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he says. "You know I keep dropping her off at the road to yours on my way South, and I always find her back here."

Mum shakes her head. "She always does what she wants, that cat. Just make sure you look after her."

Louis puts an affronted hand on his chest. "Who do you think I am?"

She laughs, nods. Kisses him on the cheek, and then she's grabbing her suitcase and pulling it back up into the guest bedroom. Louis and Robin exchange a look. For a second, Harry wishes that he was a part of it, but he did hide himself away on purpose.

He's just—finding it difficult to take up space in this house. He's so full of guilt, and remorse, and a whole host of other feelings he can't name; even so much as taking a cup out of a cupboard feels wrong.

He's made a nest in his little guest room, and when he's out of it, he prefers to slink along walls, hoping that everyone – Louis, mostly – forgets he was ever there. It's not the best way to live, but it's temporary. He's just got to—rethink his approach, and come up with some miraculous plot to get Louis to sign. And somehow, impossibly, apologise.

At least he'll mean it this time.

Liam comes by later that night, for what is apparently his and Louis's standing Thursday night movie date. Harry's spent all afternoon on the phone with Marcus, and is feeling a little lonelier than usual; he manages to actually make himself ask whether he can join them, and they say yes with no obvious reluctance.

He does sit away from them, aware of the years of friendship between them that he wasn't a part of. They're just—piled on the sofa, really, sprawled in each other's personal space, and Louis is trying to get mushrooms off the pizza they ordered to stick to Liam's forehead long enough to take a picture. Liam lets him, which makes Harry smile.

He's curled into himself in the armchair, scrolling down his Twitter feed. He hasn't actually posted anything in weeks, and his fingers kind of itch with the incessant need to tweet a sad song lyric or something, but he manages to resist.