The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 40

"Bitch!" Louis exclaimed as Harry snatched the last onion-ring out of the take-out box and ate it without a shred of remorse, staring Louis right in the eyes, a wide shit-eating grin on his face. "Have you no shame?"

"Fuck, that's the best onion-ring I've ever tasted in my entire life."

"You don't love me."

"Louis, man, I'm telling you, it's like an explosion of flavor in my mouth - shit, I think that's the best bloody onion-ring ever made by man."

Louis punched him in the shoulder, then moved to get up and get something to drink, but Harry was quick to throw an arm around him and pull him back in.

"Noo, don't be bitter with me, little grape," he said, rubbing his knuckle on Louis' head, "I'm only teasing."

Louis wrestled out of his arms, giving him another weak slap. "Shut up."

"Oi," Harry muttered, pushing his big face into Louis', "you can have the onion-ring if you want. Just take it - here, take it out of my mouth."

Louis shoved his head away, laughing, "you are so disgusting."

Harry shrugged a shoulder, swallowing down the best onion-ring ever made by man, and grinned, "what, birds do it all the time."

"What?"

"Get food and feed their babies out of their mouths."

"I'm not a bird," Louis pointed out, flicking a crumb of fried bread off the side of Harry's mouth, before realizing that he'd just set himself up for a horrible retort, "- don't say it," he hissed, "don't fuckin' say it."

Harry smiled widely. "Hey, I'm not saying anything, boo."

"Boo," Louis snorted, "we've got to make a list soon or we're steering ourselves right into another break-up."

"What, a list of terms of endearment to never use?"

Louis opened his mouth to say yes, but then decided to leave it, considering the fact that that list would only end up as 'The list of terms of endearment to always use'.

"Hey," Harry said, ruffling Louis' hair and pulling him in for a peck, "I'm sorry I tried to feed you like a bird. If you're not a bird, I'm not a-"

"Don't, Harry, I'm serious, I will-"

"Bird," Harry finished, looking much too satisfied with himself, "if you're not a bird, I'm not a bird."

Louis pushed him off and scrambled to get out of bed. "I'm getting a coke. Want?"

"Hm. Thanks, darling."

"I'm not your darling."

"What, 'darling's off the table now too? You're not leaving me much to work with here, mate."

Louis sighed, throwing a tired grin over his shoulder. "'Darling's fine, but I'm not your darling anymore because you just quoted The Notebook at me and that's a deal-breaker. We're done. It's over."

"Fuck off," Harry laughed, kicking out at him, "go get me my fuckin' coke, then. Oh, and could you also make me a sandwich while you're at it, beautiful?"

Louis flipped him off over the shoulder.

He made his way toward the kitchen, but was stopped half-way by the sound of a loud vibration against the floor. He looked to the dining-table where Harry's phone still lied, in exactly the same spot as it had three days ago. It was funny, he thought; how people were so vehement in the belief that phones were the number one killer of close social relationships and yet that little vibrating piece of plastic had saved Louis' relationship.