records: l.t. // h.s.

two

When Louis enters the record store a Nirvana song is softly playing throughout. The little bell above the door doesn't ring and Louis's eyebrows furrow. He's enjoyed listening to that stupid bell since he saw Harry a couple weeks ago.

Louis dumps his backpack on the couch and takes his normal seat. For the past two weeks Louis has sat here, sketching, and waiting for Harry to return. Every time that stupid bell rang, Louis doesn't mutter 'hipster' or roll his eyes anymore. The second that bell rings his eyes quickly look up in hopes of getting lost in that sea glass green again.

The first week Louis was hopeful and positive that he would see Harry again. When the second week came around he began to get doubtful yet he still sat on this old, worn out couch everyday. It's now been sixteen days since Harry walked through that door and Louis is only holding on to a sliver of hope.

Zayn is checking out a few records to an elderly man at the counter so Louis takes out his journal from his bag and opens it to his latest page. With his green colored pencil in his small fingers, he continues to add detail to the two eyes.

When the irises seem to finally be the correct shade, the other side of the couch sinks in and Louis looks up to meet hazel eyes.

"So are you ever going to tell me why you're here almost everyday?"

Louis closes his journal and places it on his lap, fiddling with his little thumbs.

"I've been waiting-I've been hoping-uh that-that boy, Harry would come back?" Louis's voice squeaks at the end making it come out more like a question rather than a statement.

"Harry..." Zayn mumbles into his lap as if he's trying to remember something.

Louis's eyebrows furrow, "Yeah he was that-"

"Harry!" Zayn claps his hands together with a smile on his lips. "Tall? Curly hair?"

Louis nods, still confused where Zayn is coming from.

"He came in yesterday when you were at your match."

Louis sucks in a breath and feels like his world is collapsing into itself. Harry was here when he wasn't.

"He was?" Louis asks his voice so low and in pain he can barely hear himself.
However, Zayn is still smiling and Louis is more confused than ever. Zayn puts his hand on Louis's small knee, rubbing circles for comfort.

"He asked where you were and if you could possibly ring him up."

Louis can feel his heart beating in his throat and it's beating so fast he thinks it may burst. Harry asked for Louis? Harry asked for Louis.

"I told him you were at a match but you'd definitely be here some other day."

"What did he buy?" Louis mumbles.

Zayn's eyebrow raises, "Mozart. Why?"

Louis's eyes shut from smiling so big but he doesn't reply because a little girl taps the bell on the counter. Zayn gets up to help the young girl, leaving Louis to practicing his dribbling behind the same shelf from sixteen days ago.

An hour passes by of Louis practicing and Zayn ringing people up before Zayn mentions he has to go down the street to get some type of dust cleaner. Louis takes his spot behind the counter like he usually does when Zayn has to go get supplies. Louis begins to absentmindedly sketch chestnut curls on the page from earlier, flicking his wrist in light, long strokes.

It's not until an hour of Nirvana playing lightly does Louis hear footsteps.

"That took you longer than usual just for a can of whatever the bloody hell you were getting, Zayn," Louis chuckles.

There's a moment of silence before a Beethoven record is set on top of Louis's journal. Louis takes a deep breathe before looking up to see those evergreen eyes and Louis feels as if the room got twenty-times warmer.

"We'll look who's back," Harry grins, dimples and all.