Louis shivered slightly at the cold of the smooth kitchen floor on his bare feet as he waited for the toast to pop up from their rather fancy and expensive toaster. Why they hadn’t just gotten a normal toaster was a mystery to him; the amount of money they spent didn’t make the toast taste any better.
His ears perked up at the sound of shuffling feet behind him, a drowsy Harry dragging himself to the fridge and swinging the door open. A strange feeling beat erratically in Louis’ chest, making him suck in an uneven breath. The noise must have caught the younger boy’s attention because he lifted his head to peer at Louis, eyes still slightly puffy with sleep and cheeks flushed. He raised an eyebrow quizzically as he reached a hand in the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, unscrewing the cap and closing the door with his hip. A slight smirk twitched at the edge of the boy’s mouth. He crossed the kitchen, toward Louis, eyes losing their drowsy glaze and twinkling.
Louis blinked rapidly but kept his face stoic, what was this? This was Harry, the dickhead he was forced to live with if he wanted to keep his job. This shouldn’t elicit strange feelings in his chest. Maybe it was hunger. But Louis knew that wasn’t the case. He knew that his chest clenched uncomfortably as Harry approached, reaching above his head into the cupboard for a glass, because he couldn’t help but think of Harry’s face as he fucked him, the way his eyes glazed over in ecstasy, how he had kissed the spot on his shoulder where two, small, crescent shaped scars still lingered from the violent bite weeks ago. The skin tingled as he remembered, sending another shiver up his spine.
The toast popped up, nearly causing Louis’ to jump.
"Do you want some toast?" He asked, carefully pulling the bread from the warm machine, dropping the pieces hastily on the plate as they burned his fingers. "And I was going to make some eggs."
"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged, taking both his cup and the carton of milk to the other side of the island in the middle of their kitchen and sitting on the bar stool. Louis slid the plate with two pieces of toast across the counter to him before stuffing two more slices of bread in the toaster.
"We’re running low on food," he said casually, cracking eggs into a bowl. "I was going to run down to TESCO’s after breakfast. Do you need anything specific?"
He whisked the eggs quickly and added some herbs and spices from the rack, along with a handful of cheese, before pouring the mixture into the sizzling pan.
"I’ll go with you," Harry replied, spreading a bit of jam on the top of his toast. "You never get what I actually want anyway, I always end up having to do it myself."
Louis scowled and prodded the hardening eggs.
"You’re the one who can never make up your mind," he snapped. Harry didn’t answer, merely staring down at his toast with a tiny smile, so tiny in fact, that Louis wondered if it was actually a smile at all, or if he was merely imagining things.
He twisted the knob of the oven off, extinguishing the flame, and picked up the pan by it’s handle. The egg slid easily onto Harry’s plate as the second round of toast popped up.
The boys ate in silence, staring at their food with apparent interest. Louis glanced up across the island at his roommate, catching a flash of green before ducking his head down again and shovelling a few more bites in his mouth. Harry finished first, slipping off the stool and carrying his dishes to the sink.
"Give me five minutes," he said before leaving the room. Louis wasn’t far behind him, rinsing his plate of the clinging egg chunks and loading everything in the dishwasher. He finished just as the younger boy returned, shaking his curly hair. "Come on, Tomlinson."
