~*~ Louis ~*~
A faint knock comes from the door as they are putting away the last of their clothes in the closet and drawers. Harry opens the door to reveal his mom on the other side. She sweeps into the room, shutting the door behind her, allowing for privacy. “Tommo can’t stay in here with you. We will find him a room in the other wing. Your dad won’t allow it.”
Harry barks an incredulous laugh. “Won’t allow it? Right. In case you missed it, I’m an adult, and it’s not his decision to make. Tommo stays with me. End of discussion.”
“Harry, don’t make this hard,” Harry’s mom sighs.
“No, mum. I’m not the one making it hard. He started this. I’m ending it. My friend stays with me, or we can just go back home," Harry declares.
“This is your home, Harry, not that seedy room you stay in at university.”
If the weariness on his face is anything to go by, Harry has obviously had this conversation many times before. “This is no longer my home.”
Louis sees the heartbreak flash over Harry’s mom’s face, gone in an instant. “Alright. I will tell your father that Tommo will be staying in your room. He’s not going to take it well. He had planned for Rayne to stay in here.”
Harry sighs. “Honestly, mum, I don’t care what he had planned. Why would he expect me to share a room with someone I don’t even know anyway?”
“Well, he hoped you would hit it off with her; and well, you know. You’re at the age where sex is normal early on in a relationship.” Louis cannot believe what he is hearing. Were Harry’s parents setting him up in an arranged relationship or were they whoring him out for another reason?
“Oh, God. Stop. I’m not having this conversation.” The humiliation from the conversation is tangible on Harry’s face.
“Alright. I will let him know of your wishes. I can’t guarantee he will listen, but I will let him know anyway," she responds softly.
When Harry’s mom leaves, Harry flops onto the bed, watching as Louis surveys the room around him. It doesn’t look like it has been touched since Harry was in his early teens. Trophies, photos, and books adorn every available surface. Posters of bands, footie players, actors, and actresses cover the walls. It’s nothing like the Harry he has come to know over the last week. The one that has expressed interest in music and singing and photography. He tucks away everything he sees into his memory. Harry is a puzzle he intends to figure out.
“Sorry, about that,” Harry whispers.
“Are you sure you want me to stay in here with you? If it’s easier for you, I can take another room," Louis offers.
“I want you to stay. That way he, never mind. It’s not important." Harry rubs his hands over his face. "I can sleep on the floor. I just need you in here with me. Please.”
Louis hears the desperate pleading in Harry’s words and nods. “I can do that.”
Harry’s stomach rumbles loudly during the silence that follows causing Louis to chuckle as he continues to peruse the books lined up on Harry’s bookshelf. “Hungry much?”
“Yeah. I haven’t eaten in a couple of days,” Harry admits flippantly.
Louis looks back at him sharply. “What? Why the hell not?”
