The one where Harry picks up Louis' fallen glasses and Louis makes Harry cry.
Harry and Louis met long before either of them were ready. Louis was still bossy, used to being the oldest and in charge, and he hadn’t learned how to balance power and kindness, quiet yet. Harry was still emotionally clingy (though, really, he didn’t grow out of that completely) and too sensitive – not really ready for friends, quite.
They were in a play area at a McDonald’s, their mums both on the other side of the plexiglass, not knowing each other and not really paying much attention as they ate while their sons played.
Louis was the king of the play area, ordering all the other kids around and getting mad at the few who just said, “No” to him. He started stomping, and when that didn’t make the kids listen, he started jumping up and down and yelling at them. His glasses fell off his face, and he couldn’t find them as they bounced off. “Nobody step on my glasses!” he shrieked, knowing his mum would be cross if they broke.
He dropped to his hands and knees and started patting around, and someone came up to him and tugged on his shirt. “What?” he snapped.
“Here’s your glasses,” the blurry blob said, holding a hand out, and Louis snatched them up and put them on, not remembering to say ‘thank you’.
Once his glasses were on, Louis realized he was looking at a little boy, a bit younger than him, with bright eyes like the grass and white skin and stupid hair. “You have stupid hair,” he said, and the little boy’s shy smile slid off his face and he started to cry.
Louis felt bad and started flapping his hands about, patting the boy and saying, “No, I’m sorry – don’t cry!” When it didn’t work, and the little boy kept crying, Louis got frustrated and hit his arm and shouted, “Stop crying!”
It worked, if nothing else it was a shock to the little boy, who hiccupped and rubbed at his eyes, still sniffling a little bit as he looked at Louis.
“Your hair isn’t stupid,” Louis muttered sullenly. He lifted his hand to the little boy’s hair – the boy flinched only a little, but then closed his eyes when Louis started petting it. “What’s your name?” Louis asked, having never seen the boy before.
“’M Harry,” he said shyly, opening his giant eyes to look up at Louis. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Louis Tomlinson,” Louis said, proud he knew his second name. When Harry didn’t seem impressed, Louis scoffed and said, “That’s my second name – Tomlinson. I bet you’re still too little to know your second name, aren’t you? You’re just a baby.”
Harry bit his lip and defended, “I’m not a baby! I’m three!”
Louis rolled his eyes, seeing all the other children around them still playing, oblivious to them. “Yeah, but do you know your second name?”
Harry nodded. “Yes! It’s Styles. But my mummy’s is Cox. But my sister’s is Styles, too.”
Louis snorted. “You can’t have a different name than your mummy, stupid.” Harry started looking distressed. Louis didn’t want him to cry, so he folded his arms and said, “Prove it.”
Harry looked defiant and went to go get his shoes back on. Louis made fun of him for it, but Harry just said, “Mummy doesn’t want me walking on the dirty floor. Get yours on, too. I’ll take you to my mummy so she can tell you.”
Louis rolled his eyes again, but thought of what his own mum would say if she saw him out of the play area without shoes on, and he hastily sat down on the bench and took his shoes out of the cubbyhole.
