The Tiny Little Bungalow

Chapter 26

He sleeps at Nancy's that night. The following day, he gets a text from his lab-partner, begging him not to skip out on their presentation. Nancy's mum, the angel that she is, irons his uniform for him and drives him to school. He doesn't have any classes with Harry and he skillfully avoids the cafeteria during breaks, hanging out in the smoker's shed with Joseph and Ali instead. They tell him off for falling off the smoker's wagon, but they don't seem too upset about the extra company; the majority of the blokes who hang in the smoker's shed are either too stoned to hold a decent conversation or too 'cool' to try.

After school, Louis wanders aimlessly around town for a couple of hours. It feels sort of stupid, but he supposes the general idea is that the later he gets home, the less time he'll have alone in the house with Harry. Sure, Gemma could be home, but he wouldn't bank on it because she seems to have more or less moved in with the boyfriend at this point.

So, if Louis stays out of the house until he's sure Anne or his dad are home from work, he'll at least have someone else to use as a conversation-shield, lest Harry should try to talk to him.

At 6 PM, Louis gives in and goes home. It isn't raining yet, but the charcoal clouds in the horizon tell him it wont stay that way for long.

The first thing he sees as he steps inside the house, is Harry. Of course.

He's coming through from the kitchen, balancing three bowls of crisps in two hands. He's wearing the red cotton tracksuit Louis got him for his birthday and a pair of Louis' white sports socks; he can tell, because they're too small and there's a hole at the left big toe. He looks so soft and snuggly that Louis just wants to drop everything and bury his face in his broad chest.

But, something stops him. Maybe the nauseating pit in his stomach that's been there since he saw Harry with her. "Hey," he mutters, passing Harry to take off his shoes in the corner of the room and not have to face him.

"Hey," Harry says, and there's something hesitant about it, like he already knows something's wrong. Whether he could see it on Louis' face the second he walked in or he just knows, in general, Louis isn't sure.

A moment passes. Louis doesn't think he's ever concentrated this hard on taking off his shoes, eyes stitched to the dirty-white laces, feet working purposely slow to kill time. Harry wont leave. He wont move. He just stands there, behind Louis, still like a statue, but so alive Louis can physically feel his gaze boring into the back of his head.

"Uhm," Harry mutters, after what feels like years of silence, "some of the lads are upstairs. They're, uhm, in your room, but- I can tell'em to leave. Or go into my room or-"

"No. No no, it's-" a relief, really. Anything's better than this, all one with Harry, too self-aware for silence, too hurt for banter, too scared for talking. "It's fine."

Louis turns, pushing his fringe into place by the back of his wrist and nodding at the floor.

"Okay," Harry says, voice calm and soft and nervous at the same time. He's looking at Louis, right at his face, would be looking him in the eye if Louis weren't staring at his feet.

"Okay." Louis bites his lip. This is too bad. This is so terrible. "Well, what are we standing here for, we should go up and-"

"I bought scones." Louis' head snaps up, because for a second, he's too concerned with not understanding what Harry said to remember that the last thing he wants right now is to look him in the eye. When he does, it's too late. Harry smiles at him, sweet and open and... sorry. "I bought scones," he says, "they're upstairs, in my bag. I bought some for you, I- didn't know whether you'd come home or you'd go to a friends or- but, I - I haven't eaten any. I haven't touched them." A slither of something impish comes over his expression. "Scout's honor," he adds, the side of that big red mouth quirking upwards.