Days later, they received an email saying that their edited draft had been accepted and would be sent to the cast. They convened at Noel's to plan for Script Two, but planning took a backseat to chit chatting. It had been more than a day since they saw each other. There was lots to catch up on.
"That was...a bit easy," Harry said with extreme care. Louis grinned and dunked his tea bag. "Do you think we did something wrong? We wrote that so fast, then the edit was so fast, then the acceptance was so fast. It feels like we took months but it's only been a couple weeks."
"I guess we'll see when the cast reads it." Louis plopped his tea bag on a small white plate. "Who knows what will pop up. And you know the rewrites for all three will probably happen at the same time, which will be a nightmare."
"True. We should enjoy the quiet." Harry glanced at his rucksack on the floor, the weight of his laptop leaning against his leg. "Do you want to start working?"
"Not particularly."
Harry chuckled, Louis' eyes crinkling at him as he sipped his tea. "Instead of working, do you want to watch the Mittens videos that were too big to send in a text?"
"Uh, yeah," Louis said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He swung his chair around to Harry's side and bumped into him. "Let's see 'em. I miss my girl. We can work tomorrow."
. . .
"Harry, that part makes zero sense. None."
"Why not?"
"Because not everyone has the same weird sense of humour as we do."
Harry crossed his arms. "You laughed when I said it."
"Yeah, because it was you," Louis said, laughing despite his protest. Harry arched his brows as if his point was proven. "And it was funny in the situation."
"The characters are literally doing exactly what we were doing: Eating burgers."
"Yes, I know, and it was hilaaarious"— Louis held out the word and fluttered his lashes—"when I asked if you needed condiments and you said, 'Compliments? Your hair looks nice today. Huh huh huh!'"
Harry grinned and when Louis started to smile, he pointed across the table. "See! You still think it's funny!"
"It's a dad joke. And I was wearing a beanie at the time."
"The network is built on dad jokes."
Louis sighed and checked his empty coffee cup. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"
Harry tapped his bottom lip. "I'll...compromise."
"Oh really? Do tell."
"We can shelve that line if you can come up with something better."
"What, now? On the spot?"
"No rush." Harry went back to typing. "We can leave it as is, then revisit it another day." He turned a page in his notebook and peeked across the table, nibbling his bottom lip. "Did you add your car research to the outline for the breakdown scene?"
"Nice change of subject. And yes, the research is in there."
"Hey, I actually had another car question. Erm." Harry flipped a few pages in his notebook. "Right. Do you know what happens when a frog's car breaks down?"
"No," Louis stated over the end of his sentence. He was already shaking his head, the corners of his mouth rebelling to rise. "Please, no."
"It gets toad."
"You're never allowed in my flat again."
. . .
Harry dug his thumb into the flesh at the crux of his palm and the underside of his wrist. He frowned at his laptop screen, alternating between massaging the spot and stretching his fingers backwards. He glanced up at the ceiling, then looked to the speakers beside the black television. A smile broke through his seriousness. He craned his neck to look towards Louis' kitchen.
