café » l.s ✔

xii

From Mozzarella: Please come over

Louis was having another one of his sulking sessions—you know, the ones where he watched a bunch of sad movies and cried—when his phone buzzed on the table, making a loud noise that he couldn't miss no matter how hard he was crying. He read the text and raised an eyebrow.

What was the point of going if all Harry was going to do was give him speeches and facts? (As if he didn't already know the things he was telling him) He hadn't talked to Harry in over a week, he hadn't talked to anyone in over a week, if he was being honest. He was an empty shell of a human that went about his day, not bothering anyone, not interacting, barely existing. He was practically selectively mute.

When Harry tried calling him he would ignore, when he walked in the café to talk to Louis, Louis would hide in the back and beg Niall to tell him he wasn't there. (He used the same excuse three times in a row and he knew Harry was becoming wary about it but he still went with it)

Niall was harder to ignore since he was with him nine hours a day but Louis tried his best, only talking to him when he really needed to. As for Zayn, well, he was Zayn. Louis found out yesterday that he quit and now worked at some art gallery downtown. Good for him, though.

Louis looked at the text again and sighed, throwing some hoodie that was laying around in a pile next to the couch on and switching the TV off. It wouldn't hurt to see what he wanted. Although, Louis promised himself that if Harry as much as breathed about the topic, he would get up and leave. He was sick and tired—so fucking sick of people telling him what he already knew. It was not like he didn't know he could lose his voice with the vomiting or that his body could give out with how little he was eating or that he could be losing his hair—already was—or that his stomach could hold the risk of never being able hold down food ever again. He already knew, so he didn't need to hear it left and right, over and over again.

*

"I'm telling you now if you called me over to tell me that what I'm doing isn't safe, blah blah blah, then I'm going to leave now." Louis said as soon as Harry opened the door, hands in his hoodie pocket and eyes still a bit red from the crying earlier.

His hair was tucked in a grey beanie because it looked like he had permanent bed hair and same dark circles were under his eyes.

"Don't worry, I, um, wanted to hang out. I just..." Harry ran a hand through his own hair and looked at his boots for a second then at Louis. "Miss you, is all." He said quietly, making Louis feel very guilty.

"I missed you too. And your horrible pick up lines." Louis smiled small, picking at his dark jeans.

Harry chuckled, taking Louis' hand so easily and tugging him in, Louis closing the door. "Good because I've collected a lot. You'll love them." Harry returned the smile, making Louis' smile widen. He really did miss those dimples and that grin and those green, green eyes and Harry's long hair that Louis always teased him about and told him 'he should cut' when he actually loved it. He missed Harry. He really did.

Harry softly pulled Louis into the kitchen, which Louis realized was a mess. Pans were everywhere, flour all over the counter top and Louis just noticed some on Harry's hair.

"What happened in here? More cookies?"

Harry nodded, his curls falling
on his face before he pushed them back again, Louis finding it endearing. "Yeah. The kids love my cookies." He smiled, referring to the nursery he usually baked cookies for. "And they're so cute too. They smile so big when they get the cookies, I love it." Harry let a small giggle slip and Louis' heart skipped a beat or two—or five. He bit his lip and stared at Harry, shaking his head at the boy with the goofiest smile on his face.