1918 [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Six

The curly had to admit that even if it had only been a few days, it felt like he hadn't been in the flat of Louis' in weeks. He knew that it wasn't true of course, the books and papers on the same place as he remembered. Even the blanket Harry had used the very first night was in the same place, a little moved maybe, but it was diffiently in the same place.

"You can sit down. I'll make some tea," Louis had said just moments ago, Harry accepting the offer as he moved over to the piano once again. The stool was cleaner, harry noticed, the red cloth over it much clearer. He usually didn't notice things like that, never really caring about details like those. Not even in his own apartment had he cared, just stuffing dirty things into a corner. He blamed it on that he only was as young as he was, that he shouldn't have to worry about it. But obviously he had to, having to grow up quicker than necessary - due to the fact that the boy had to live on his own, make money on his own and ive on his own. But Harry shugged it away by now, sinking down on the wide chair in the same moment that the supposed philosopher came out from the kitchen with two streaming cups of tea, sitting down right next to him with a smile on his thin lips.

"So you heard me play? When?" the blue eyed asked right after a sip of the tea, glancing up at the boy right beside him.

Harry cleared his troat before he responded, a small chuckle tickling in his throat.

"Yesterday. I was chilling on Liam's couch when I heard you through the wall."

Louis frowned, eyes furrowed.

"It doesn't matter for how long I think, I will never understand some words you are saying," he laughed and shook his head, quickly wiping of the piano keys as if it had been dust on them. "You tell people you're cold all the time, yet you refuse to let me close windows and give you blankets."

"You would actually give me a blanket if I asked you to?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I'm a stranger to you."

"Your name is Harry, you're from London according to yourself but you clearly grew up is Cheshire. You like bathing in rivers and you like tea. You speak weird and you sleep a lot. Isn't that enough?"

Harry stared at Louis, feeling his own fingernails cut into his palms.

"How did you know all of that?" Harry mumbled in response, watching Louis curiously. "I never told you that I'm originally from Cheshire."

Louis chuckled and pressed down some keys, playing a short melody. "I guess that it's just meant for me to know things about you then."

"You're scary Louis."

"Just another thing to love about me, right?"

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, cheeky."

"Maybe so."

The two of them fell silent after that, Harry only looking down on Louis' small hands that gracefully moved over the keys, Harry feeling himself slowly sway along with the melody - whatever it was he played. It was really pretty, slow and calming. The keys seemed to fit Louis' fingers perfectly, Harry seeing Louis swaying back and forth himself with closed eyes. His eyelashes pressed against his cheekbones lightly, almost like feathers. The smile on his lips were also unmistakable. He was happy. He was home, somewhere where he had always been supposed to be. Playing the piano, that was what he was meant to do. You could see it clearly from here. At least it was easy to see for Harry, where he was sitting on the very edge of the stool.

The song ended too soon, Harry thought, almost falling off the chair in surprise when his green eyes met with blue. Harry opened his mouth so compliment him, but he realized that he really couldn't. He didn't really listen, to be completely honest. Louis looked so into it, and yet Harry didn't listen.