; 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | harry styles one shots.

; bad migraines & tense housemates

You Taught Me A Lesson
(That Feelings Are Reckless)

✉️ SUMMARY:
After swallowing the Excedrin, Harry stays silent. The last place he wants to be right now is in the same room as Louis. The aura between the two of them had been uncomfortable from the get go, but Harry has never wanted to escape it more than he does at this moment. Unfortunately, his legs have made it clear that that won't be happening any time soon.

Dammit.

They were so close to having a normal interaction.

✉️ NOTES:
finally! a new chapter :)
thank you to all of you who stick around to keep reading what i write. i hope this one isn't disappointing. i'm not totally happy with it but it's not the worst thing ever, i don't think?
oh my god i get so nervous every time i post on here WHYYY
well enjoy??!?!!??(hopefully)

✉️ WORK:
It's not that Harry and Louis don't get along.

It's just that they don't.

Get along, that is.

It's nothing new, really. Ever since Louis moved into Harry's house after his previous housemate left him high and dry, there's been a tension in the air that Harry certainly doesn't appreciate. Louis seems unphased, like he couldn't care less that he and his roommate don't get along, and Harry is a little bit jealous of his apathy. He's all too aware that he cares too much about what people think of him, but he can't stand the idea of someone not liking him. The last thing Harry ever wants is to be a nuisance, and Louis has a knack for making him feel like exactly that. He doesn't do it on purpose, at least Harry doesn't think he does, but the subtle sighs and eyerolls lead him to believe that Louis isn't too fond of his fellow tennant.

After a while, Harry had decided it was in everyone's best interest to just keep his distance. He tried the entirety of the first month to include Louis in his plans, to get to know him, to be friends. All that got him, however, was Louis being out of the house more often than not and a short 'We're housemates, Harry, not mates.'

So when Harry's boss, a sweet older gentleman named George, forces him to stop organizing the books on the shelves and go home early because I'm pretty sure I can feel your fever from over here, lad, Harry isn't expecting to see Louis' car when he pulls up to their house. There it is, though, the definitely unreliable and questionably dangerous 2011 Kia, parked along the curb. Resting his aching head on the steering wheel of his own piece of junk car, Harry takes the first deep breath he's taken in what feels like weeks. The exhale is choked and sounds a little too teary for his liking. He's just so tired and hot and God, he wants his mum. He wants a hug.

The old hinges of the rickety front door squeak open before he even gets to the steps, and Harry almost trips over his stumbly feet at the unexpected noise. Is their door always so obnoxiously loud? Or is it just his headache? A hand grabs onto his clammy bicep before Harry becomes victim to his dizziness and faceplants into the cement stairs.

It's Louis, he realizes belatedly. He doesn't know who else it would be, but Louis helping Harry seems so... un-Louis, it surprises him. Nevertheless, Harry's mum raised him with good manners, and he murmurs a shaky, "Thanks. Sorry."

Once he's confidently steady on his feet, the firm grip loosens, but stays for a beat too long. "What are you doing home? Your shift doesn't end for another hour."

Home.

Louis has never called their house a home before.

Harry blames the warmth prickling his cheeks on his too-high temperature, but he knows it's because Louis said home. Freudian slip, perhaps, but Harry'll gladly take it. He's worked so hard to make their place feel homey for Louis and himself, and it makes him happy to hear Louis recognize that. He is also 100% aware that the blush is partly because Louis knows his schedule. He knows he's supposed to be at the bookstore right now. Harry didn't think Louis ever acknowledged his existence in the first place, let alone enough to pick up on his work schedule.