Animal

Chapter 11

I envy people that know love. They have someone who takes them as they are.

*NARRATOR'S POV*

"You are the worst person to shop with, Harold." Louis supplies as the first thing said between them in the frozen pizza and pie isle.

Harry doesn't respond, save for a small shrug, and continues to push the plastic trolley cart whilst tapping away on his phone. He never once raised his head to make conversation when Louis tried to, and it was long past annoying.

Louis would like some sign of interest or at the very least, gumsion in Harry's movements. The trolley was half full and every item it housed belonged to the least concerned half of this pairing.

"Harry!"

Louis didn't like bringing attention to himself but that anxious part of him smothered those tendencies in favour of making Harry listen to him.

Said man glances up with a slightly annoyed frown creased between his eyebrows. Louis couldn't care less about his irritation when there was his own to work on. Harry's head hangs between his pectorals again, shutting Louis out.

Having had enough of this offence, Louis decides on drastic measures. He grabs Harry's phone from under his nose and locks it with a swift press.

"What the fuck?" Harry straightens his back and glowers at Louis.

"I'd like your undivided attention please."

"Give it back, Louis." There were no endearments, no heartfelt breath lingering between Harry's cloaked eyes and that always scared Louis a little bit more each time.

"So you can ignore me for the rest of the day?"

Harry scowls at him, eyes narrowed and he steps around the trolley to lean over Louis. There was always the unfortunate height difference that left Harry at a good few inches prouder than Louis.

"Let's get something straight, princess."

Harry disregards the people shopping for family dinners in this isle, and pushes Louis against a freezer until his shoulder blades press painfully against the frozen glass. Any harder and Harry's iPhone's screen will crack under the pressure between Louis' fingers.

"You never get to tell me what to do." Harry placed a hand on either side of Louis' face and crowded his space to levels of suffocation. "You will listen to me because I am after your best interests, but I don't take orders from anyone."

"I don't know what you see this relationship as, Harry." Louis keeps a soft, gentle tone as Harry had. "But it's a mutual one. If you want me to respect you, I want respect too."

There was a sudden, deep noise from Harry's chest. It made Louis bite his lip hard to keep from screwing his eyes shut. If Louis studied Harry's array of emotions ducking behind the sharp thorns of the sensationally dark cloud over the foresty green, he'd pick up on one prominent emotion.

Discomfort.

To many it was a passing word for adjectival purposes. To Harry it was bigger because all this, all these new aspects that just wouldn't curve when it told him to, was forcing him into a new state of mind. Something akin to insanity.

Harry, not knowing how else to react, pushes off the fridge and takes the phone from Louis. He makes it the subject of their dilemma in his mind, so there isn't any other issues that would call for a shrink on the surface.

He just doesn't like people touching his things. Yes, that would work.

In the process of uncurling Louis' fingers - ones more fragile than his own - he cracks the knuckles that Louis never does on his own. It hurts but Harry refuses to let up, throw in the towel in this argument because Louis' being dramatic.
He retrieves his phone and storms off, shoving the trolley away and into an already rickety shelf for good measure.