Shy Side

four

Harry bundles up, his big jumper practically coddling his torso. He has a hat tugged over his curls, and gloves on his hands. The kind that allows you to also go on your phone at the same time.

He walks down to the field from where his mum dropped him off. He would have driven himself, but due to the crazy amount of people, the parking is too full and hectic to even find a spot. It's more of a drop off event. He searches for Louis throughout the enormous crowd, eager to find him. He isn't sure if he should go to the stands and find him, or wait on the hill. He'd rather not go in the stands snd catch people's attention. Having more than one person staring at him is enough, and with the abundance of people in those stands he thinks he could die if he even attempted to go in.

Not one face he spots is familiar considering there isn't a soul except for the players that don't have hats and coats swallowing them up. It's too cold not to have them, honestly.

"Harry," a perky voice amongst the crowd even on the hill speaks up, and a hand slides from his bicep to his elbow gently. He turns, not startled thanks to the soft approach.

"Hi," Harry says, a puff of cold air coming from his lips. Louis smiles at him. He wants to point out how much Harry's green eyes pop against the red hoodie, but he keeps it to himself.

"Do you want a hot chocolate? It's bloody cold out here," he comments, and starts a slow walk alongside Harry.

"I'm good, but thank you," he in return wants to squeal about how cute Louis looks with his glasses on, since he hasn't ever seen them on him yet, but he refrains. Most guys don't want to be "cute". They'd rather manly. Yet Harry likes Louis looking cute, so he admires the way his glasses frame his face in his mind.

"So what brings you to wanting to go to the footie game, of all places," Louis smirks, "I never thought you'd be one for the sport," Harry would argue against his assumption, but it's true, so there's nothing to say.

"I, uhm, I don't know. Thought you'd like it, I hope," Louis smiles at that. They stood off to the side of the stands and snack booth.

"You risked your Friday night for a kid like me?" he asks, facing Harry, "who didn't even have the balls to ask you out in person," he speaks a bit quietly, and it all makes Harry blush and look at the buttons of Louis' coat instead of his pretty blue eyes.

"Uhm, y-yes?" he winces at the cold whipping at his cheeks, which is sure to give him wind burn on his face later on that night.

Louis ducks down a bit, since Harry is looking down. "Would you like to go somewhere else, love?" he asks, "somewhere you'd like to go, rather than to a footie game that's so cold it might freeze your pretty face off?" he's grinning, and god, does Harry just want to marry him on the spot. The compliments and sweet genuine persona of all that is Louis Tomlinson is getting the best of him.

Harry looks into his eyes for once, nods, and purses his lips. And when Louis' light touch on his arm goes slowly down to his hand, he lets him hold it. His touch is calming, and makes him want to melt on the spot out of ease from the boy.

So, instead of going to the cliche ice cream date due to the cold, they stop by the local cafe that everyone always goes to. They sit at one of the back tables, drinking hot chocolate while talking, and talking. Letting Harry take his time with speaking, and touching, and anything else that he isn't used to on a date.

Eventually though, once an hour and a half has gone by. When the audience from the now finished game have started swooping into the cafe, Louis decides to take Harry home. It's getting late anyway, and he can see the way Harry's shoulders are slumped out of tiredness.

His house isn't far from where they are, and Louis realizes it isn't far from his own home as well. He walks Harry up to the door, taking his gloves off on the porch. He smiles, his head tilted the slightest to the side. He reaches his hand up, touching Harry's jaw lightly with the back of his hand, and when the boy doesn't flinch or move away, he turns his wrist, moving his hand to cup Harry's cheek. His movements are slow, and calm, and Harry just thinks that he does things in the smoothest calmest fashion. The only fashion that works for him.

"Your cheeks are cold as ice," he smiles, "guess the hot chocolate didn't work," he jokes, which makes a small smile play on Harry's lips.

"I liked it," he whispers, "th-thank you, for uhm, tonight," he tells Louis.

Louis only nods, and slides his thumb across his cheek. He wants to kiss him so bad. So so bad. But he can't. He only met him that week and he can't risk it, knowing, or at least guessing, that Harry has some sort of social anxiety. So he just lets his hand slide back down to his own side. "I'll talk to you, tomorrow, Harry Styles?" he asks.

Harry hopes Louis can't see his cheeks flare up in the dark night, and nods, "Yes," he says. And after another moment, he lets himself into his house, giving Louis a shy wave as he backs himself off of the boys porch, and back down the driveway.

Harry shuts the front door behind himself, and leans against it, eyes wide. He can't really believe that he just went on a date with Louis Tomlinson, and that there was the smallest chance that they could have almost kissed. If only he was strong and confident enough. If only his stupid disorder didn't get in the way of everything, he thinks.

He rubs his hands together, and then over his ears and cheeks to get some warmth and feeling back into his face. He loves the winter, but the cold can bother him at times. Usually once he gets inside and realizes how cold it actually was. The only difference with this time, was that it was just Louis. Louis Louis Louis. The perfection that is Louis that makes him smiley and nervous and forgetful of everything bad, even the cold.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh. A stressful, happy, "glad that he went out with Louis", sigh, and goes up to his room for bed, the last few minutes of that good night replaying in his mind.

-

YAYAYAYAYY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS BC I RLLY RLLY DID!!!!