They were ROOMMATES

16

The next morning when Louis wakes up alone in his own bed, he thinks back to last night and decides him and Harry really need to talk.

He fixes Harry a cup of tea just the way he always takes it, piping hot, black, with just a pinch of sugar, then tells him he should dress to take a walk. It's easier to have this conversation on foot, Louis decides. Talking about feelings makes him antsy as it is, and if he's feeling particularly vulnerable and needs to run a way... at least this way he'll already be wearing shoes.

Harry dresses in a pair of holey old sneakers with frayed laces, probably because the ground is so wet and mucky today. He hasn't said it, but Louis notices the way he never wears those boots he got him on days when the weather's gross and might ruin them. It's sad, but also a little endearing. It feels good to know that Harry cherishes a gift from him, like they hold some sort of sentimental value just because they came from Louis.

Louis on the other hand, dresses fully prepared for the weather. After all, he isn't sure how long this conversation will take, and he gets cold easily. Not to mention the fact that if this conversation takes a bad turn he might have to run away forever and live in the forest where he'll never have to show his face again. That's why he wears yellow rain boots with a heavy jacket.

With a deep breath, he leads Harry out the door and onto the narrow nature trail behind the dorms. The weather is strange today. It's not warm per say, but it is a lot warmer than it normally is mid December. But the warm weather means mud and sleet and melting snow dripping from the trees, drizzling along the edge of the path in small streams.

Harry is nervous. Last night after Niall left, he assumed that him and Louis would resume where they left off with their steamy make out session, but that's not what happened. At all. Instead, Louis just looked at him with what could only be described as regret, before apologizing and immediately retreating to his own bed for the night.

Was it that bad. Was Harry that bad at kissing that it was a dealbreaker? He's almost certain that's the case. Why else would the first words out of Louis' mouth this morning be "we need to talk"? Why else would he be leading Harry into the forest, far away from the dorms? He probably wants to get as far away from the dorms as possible, as not to taint their home base with this conversation.

God, Harry has never sweat this much in his life, despite the fact that his sodden feet are absolutely freezing from wading through mud and sleet. He should have worn his boots, and maybe it's stupid, but he's already about to lose Louis, and the last thing he wants is to ruin those boots because he wants to hold on to what little of Louis he has left.

Just as he thinks that, Louis reaches for his hand with a nervous little smile, and they both sit down on a soggy metal bench. Harry's butt is cold, but he doesn't have it in him to care. He squeezes Louis' hand like it's liable to disappear at any given second.

"I've been thinking..."

Here it comes. He's breaking up with me. Louis Tomlinson, who was never even dating me, is breaking up with me.

It's in that moment that Harry first gets a real good look at Louis' facial expression. He looks nervous, yes. But there's something else there too, something that's vulnerable and pulls at Harry's heart strings.

"Haz, I'm just going to come right out and say it... I'm kind of crazy about you," he begins. Every so often he'll break eye contact and glance at his own hands instead, which are fiddling nervously with the hem of his jacket. "And the the thing is... I'm kind of a mess when it comes to relationships. I find men at bars and I take them home the same night we meet, and I have sex while keeping a wall up between what's physical and what's emotional."