It's Getting Cold These Days [Larry Stylinson AU]

Two

Harry trailed behind Nick, hands stuffed in his pockets, lips chapped from the cold. His breath swirled around his head on every exhale. He shuffled along, kicking snow as he walked, gaze locked on the ground. The warmth of Nick's arm over him bled into his shoulders. If he closed his eyes, he could lean into it, without thinking where they were going, without seeing Niall guiding them down narrow alleyways and along trafficked streets.

"It's my favourite pub," he kept saying, glancing back at them where they wobbled over ice, tangled together.

Harry had dropped a plate at work. It shattered in the middle of the café during afternoon hours. Both Niall and Nick had apologised for him when he couldn't speak, that it was during a hectic time. Niall had swept up its pieces as Nick put on his most charming smile to the costumers. Harry remained behind the counter, slumped on a shabby stool.

Nick held him upright while his eyes slid shut, even hissed at people who bumped into them. Fumes rose from gaps below the pavement. Harry gave a few feeble coughs, willing his eyes open to be met with a subtle hut in the row of extravagant restaurant and old record shops. It glowed, nestled into a bizarre mix of bricks and planks, and despite its tranquil Harry sensed a crowd moving inside with one conjoined heartbeat. His heels dug into the gravelled path as Nick tugged him forward, following Niall into the heat.

"I'll buy you a few drinks," Nick said while Niall ploughed their way into the heart of the building. Despite the comfortable warmth indoors, his breaths brushed Harry's skin. "Just tell me what you want and I can fix it. It'll take the edge off."

All Harry could think about was the glaring NO SMOKING sign by the bar.

Niall's trail ended by a near empty table where someone tapped their nails to their glass, chin tucked into the elbow where it rested on the table top. The bloke perked up when the three of them slid into the booth. Drinks were handed out to everyone. Even tucked into the wall, Nick touched him somehow, whether it was grasping for the same glass or their knees nudging.

"Well, you've met Louis," Niall said and patted the man on the back.

Louis had left the café right before the plate accident, after hours of conversing with Niall between costumers and ordering new tea because it cooled. He had snuck glances at Harry dragging himself across the room and back and only a few times did his gaze stay as Harry saw him. Harry had met Louis.

Those blue eyes cut through the gloom, soft spears of ice that melted against Harry's cheek. It took him a moment to realise that Louis had raised his glass and spoken and that they were all sipping now. Harry didn't hesitate to gulp down his own drink.

"Where are you from?" Nick said.

Small circles thumbed into Harry's spine at Nick's idle touch as the man waited for a reply.

"Up North," Louis said. "Not far enough to gain me an accent though. Moved here a few months back. Everything was too quiet up there, and mum worked a lot so that didn't help. The sounds are everywhere here and I've got a lively roommate now so I'm good."

"Too quiet? Didn't you have any noisy pets?"

Harry licked his lips, pulled himself up from the seat. "I have a cat."

He regretted opening his mouth when Niall's jaw hacked down an inch. He hadn't ever spoken that much in Niall's vicinity. If he had known that this reaction would come, he would have kept his mouth shut.

After a harsh silence, Louis smiled at him. "What kind of cat?"

Harry sank down in his seat again. Nick's arm draped over him by reflex, drenched him in familiar smells too distant to locate.