The Epiphany of Us (Larry AU)

Chapter Two

(Harry's house in the media)

~H~

An angel birthed in the midst of Sun and Moon was what he is; with his eyes as blue as the enchanted ocean and skin as clear as snow.

Harry couldn't help comparing the boy sitting in the backseat to those lines. His heart had stopped for a moment when he laid them on the boy, a beauty in himself. It confused him to no end why such a reaction stirred inside him. Louis had quite a mouth on him, and his attitude pretty much made it clear that he despised Harry. Still, the man couldn't stop thinking of him; his electric blue eyes which could penetrate one's soul, his lithe body which moved with grace.

He took a deep breath and rested his head on the seat, humming lightly along the stereo. Although, he didn't get a word of Italian, the music grew on him.

"Will you stop that?" Louis' voice was bored and frustrated.

"You have to be specific with what you mean by that?" He replied with a flick of his hand, seeming unfazed. It was entertaining to indulge in things that irked the boy.

"By that, I mean your voice - the humming and speaking, both."

"Louis, be nice," Eliott scolded, looking at him through mirror.

"But his accent is fake. It's not even the actual Yank, what's with that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, he knew his accent was funny. "I lived in London for fifteen years before moving to America with my grandfather. I am sorry if my mixed accent annoys you," he spoke dismissively.

That made the boy satisfied it seemed as he didn't say another word for rest of the drive while Harry and Eliott caught up on other things.

"Still writing?"

"Mhm, it's what keeps my mind from drifting to things I should not think about."

"You know it is not your fault, any of it."

"Yeah but," Harry sighed and shook his head, he knew he shouldn't blame himself but he has no one left of his kin, "First mum and dad, and now grandad. How can I not blame myself?"

"It will go away with time, Harold. I am glad you are using other means of outlet."

"Thanks. This is way better than getting drunk out of my wits, and it is all because of you."

"Never thank me, Harry. I saw your potential and I didn't want it to be a waste."

They arrived to the village in the later hours of the evening; Eliott insisting him to dine with them for the night as it was late to start cooking. Harry appreciated it since he was tired from the journey as well.

He had heard a lot about Johannah from Eliott and the woman was just as he described; beautiful and charming- her motherly voice swarming him completely and rising the nostalgia of his deceased mother.

They sat around the dinner table, unfortunately, or rather fortunately, he sat opposite to Louis and the boy was glaring daggers at him. He tilted his head in amusement and watched the boy roll his eyes before looking down at his meal.

"Louis, you will help Harry with setting up his place, won't you?" Johannah spoke to his son and Harry tried to contain his amusement at the way Louis' eyes widened.

"Me?! Why me? I am pretty sure the moving guys will help him."

"Well, you see, I was supposed to be here two days ago but my flight got cancelled, so those guys just shifted the things inside but they are not arranged, I am sure. But it's alright if you don't want to, there is no pressure," Harry shrugged off, he did want Louis to help him, not for the sake of actual help but just to know the intriguing boy more.

"Whose fault is it then?" Louis mumbled under his breath but everyone heard it, he sighed when his mother gave him a look and caved. "Alright, I'll help you, but not tonight, I already wasted my whole morning on you."

"You should stay the night, Harold," Eliott suggested after they were done with the meal and were having a cigar back at the porch. Johannah was inside and Louis had went off to his room as soon as the plates were removed. "You can have the guest room. Your house still needs cleaning and arranging."

"You have already helped me a lot, I can't ask for more, Eliott."

"I insist, and it's no trouble."

"But-"

"Na-ah, I am not hearing a word. You are staying here tonight and tomorrow Louis will help you settle into your new house."

Harry huffed his gratitude, "Thanks, Eliott, really. I would have been lost if it weren't for you."

"I am always ready to help you, Harold."

-

His temporary stay was supposed to be in the room upstairs, but the problem was that there were two rooms and Harry didn't know which one was supposed to be his. Like any normal person, Harry knocked on the first door and when there was no reply for half a minute, he guessed it was empty and turned the knob to enter.

To his utter surprise, Louis was laying on his front on the mattress with his feet swinging in the air, a book laying open under him; but what fixed his gaze was the smooth, naked skin of the boy, a blank canvas presented to him.

Louis was wearing shorts, of course, but Harry couldn't decide if he was thankful or not. He shook his thoughts away when Louis screamed bloody murder.

"What in the living hell is wrong with you?! What are you doing in my room? Don't you know how to knock? Are you that dumb?..." the boy rambled on and Harry waited for him to finish before speaking.

"I did knock but there was no answer, so I helped myself in since your father asked me to stay the night. So, technically it's your fault you didn't hear the knock."

Louis was now clutching the book to his chest and covering himself with the sheets.

"Well, now you know this is my room, so better get going," he stressed his words and gestured to the door with a pretentious smile.

Harry was about to exit before he turned and gestured to the book in Louis' hands, "Your choice in literature is not rich, I see." He shut the door behind himself when he heard a horrified gasp.

He had definitely recognised the novella; his first work ever; and to say that he despised it was an understatement. He hated everything he had written. Period. It wasn't healthy to hate his own work, he was aware of that, but he never understood how people fell in love with his words. He failed to write a big drama, couldn't keep the protagonists separated for too long, and yet his audience loved his works- loved him; the unknown face of Edward H.

But despite all that, this particular time he felt pride in knowing that someone loved his work. Within the short exchange inside the room, he had noticed how Louis had the whole set of his writings. And maybe it was the boy that made his self-hatred lessen a tad bit that night.

For past one month he was lacking the inspiration for his next book, but that day he found his muse in the form of a Golden Boy.

-

This was what went through Harry's head when he met Louis. So now you know that Harry lost his family, but the question is, how? Also, he despises his own work (I hope most of you connected that Harry is Edward H.), and has self-loathing issues. What do you think about that?

In the next chapter we will again be in Louis' head.

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Much love.