falling for your hallelujah // l.s.

five

Day Nine: Gingerbread latte and a lemon cupcake 

Without realizing it, this boy outside has filled himself in to Louis's schedule so seamlessly it was as though he'd always been there. Louis knows this isn't so, because Louis's only known him nine days.

"Our master baker has outdone himself." Observes Louis, on the pile of piped yellow icing on top of the sponge. "Also, I'm not sure if gingerbread and lemon really go that well, but it's the only latte you haven't had and I thought we might as well push them all out of the way before we start something else. Like coffees. But not espressos, espressos are shit, they're like two millilitres of coffee, no one wants that. Unless you want that?"

There's no reply (if there was one, Louis would probably have fallen over) so he continues.

"By the way, our coffee machine exploded at home. Flat? Not sure if home is here or home home, like with my family. Anyway, who knows what Niall was doing to it, because me and Zayn were sleeping like all other good people, and then there's a bang and we rush in our weary bones, to find him standing there, dripping hot coffee. Our fridge, oven and walls will never be so clean as they once were."

The way the kid uses his tongue to swipe of the icing before he bites into the cake is proving to be a real distraction. It's not like Louis's a teen anymore, he's twenty three (and should probably work somewhere other in life, but the cafe pays well) and this shouldn't be getting to him. But it does. And just because Louis borders on creepy, he watches him scoop a little of the icing on the tip of his tongue before it goes back in, and somehow there's a dot of it on his nose, and it's too cold for Louis to be thinking straight.

"Maybe I should bring you something else. It's not like you have other food."

Louis stares at the boy for a space of four seconds, and blinks. "Was that rude? I think that was rude. Oh, fuck, I didn't mean it. I was trying to be sensitive."

Louis wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but the person sitting beside him carries on licking at the icing.

"I guess you don't mind. I'm sorry, if it counts."

As Louis walks back to the front door of the coffee shop with the cup in both hands, he almost thinks he misheard. But the street's empty, because it's during work hours, and Louis doesn't imagine things (not often, anyway).

He turns back so they're face to face again, him and this boy who's made his home on the street.

"Harry."

"Louis." He replies, louder than the other boy, but gently.

There's no other words said, and it's like something has clicked into place. It's a small something, if you look at the whole masterpiece, but it's a start.

Louis taps the tips of his fingers against the china, and walks back inside.