Promise

Promise to love me

"Ow, motherf-" Harry withdrew his hand from the shabbily pitched picnic table displaying umpteen things which are all on sale today. He studied the shallow wound on his thumb before holding it to his lips and licking off the faint crimson droplet.

To his left a mother was assuring her twin girls that they'd be able to play with their new dolls after they've eaten their dinner. The children of this house-owner were jumping in their treehouse meters above Harry's head until he moved away. Harry wonders if Louis will find a toy that's mesmerising enough for Harry to play parent as well.

Louis wanted to be here and of course that meant Harry would willingly accompany his boy even if the words yard sale made his skin crawl. Harry is not a firm admirer of second-hand objects waltzing into his home with their countless diseases and in their decrepit conditions. Somehow, his new housemate managed to make purchasing used belongings sound tolerable. 'They have souls, Harry. It's like they have their own stories to tell and I wanna hear 'em so go put on some pants.'

They were here because Louis has just moved his boxes into Harry's house – their home now – so he decided to celebrate via taking a trip to a garage sale down the street. Louis was thrilled to be part of the suburbs and not the rank, noisy city whilst it lay only a few minutes away by car.

Presently Harry has to put up with being surrounded by junk while Louis retrieved random items of his fancy. First was an oil painting of a puppy litter which Harry instantly refused; the face painting set that followed made Harry's life flash before his eyes. That which they agreed on seemed to just be two first edition novels by authors neither had heard of and a set of sketching pencils. Harry had a penchant for art – both viewing and conjuring – so Louis encouraged him not to shy away from a canvas.

Louis had gotten the man running this fiasco to ring up his choices and stood bargaining with him for twenty minutes while Harry monitored them. It was almost shocking to see Louis pretend to cry when his companion would not budge, then walk away with a proud grin after winning.

"Must you reign terror everywhere, kitten?" Harry welcomed his boy back with an arm winding around Louis' waist, lowering his lips to kiss Louis' forehead.

Louis was remorseless. "He asked for thirty bucks when this is only worth twelve at most."

"Alright, love. Ready to go?" Harry looked at his bulkier than life wristwatch for the time. The sunset was already beginning to fan out in glimmering satin threads of flared orange and magenta.

Surprisingly, it was not Louis who stopped them when they were close to the sidewalk again. Harry had stopped something even with the rapidly dimming sunlight and flickering streetlights jarring his vision. It lay on a plastic lawn chair in dusty neglect, the brand label from having peeled off with age and use. He tugged a confused Louis along to closer examine the object.

"A projector?" Louis sneezed when a gust of wind got under his shirt, a grimace forming on his face as if he could lash out at the weather itself.

Harry saw that the slightly scratched but still functional projector device was going for fifty bucks and stood in consideration of how desperately he wanted it. He has always thought a projector's purpose was coveted and much more thrilling than an ordinary television.

"Might be cool." Harry offers a meaningless shrug while he turns over the contraption to check its finer details. "Don't you think?"

Louis knows he dragged Harry all the way here practically as an unnecessary fieldtrip to bide time during their afternoon together, so he will be the last one who tears the man away when he's found something of preference.