COLOR || Larry Stylinson

Red

Today is Louis's date with Harry, and he may or may not be flipping the fuck out.

(Fine. He is. But what the hell does anyone expect from him?)

He's shivering and yelling and throwing things at Beau, who was innocently scratching at Louis's brand new shoes. Note the sarcasm.

"Holy shit, Beau, what do I do?" Louis panics, picking Beau up and shaking her frantically. Beau yowls and sinks her teeth into Louis's fingers, and he immediately drops her and cusses in Spanish (the only time the Spanish channel has been useful: teaching Louis foreign swear words.)

Louis has decided to take Harry to a small, cute drive-in in the hardly-ever-busy part of Manchester. And then, he's going to drive Harry to a hill that he discovered one time while drunk (hah) that is surrounded by seclusion and is perfectly private.

It's going to be perfect, it's going to be fun, it's going to be nice.

And Louis has never been more nervous in his life.

First, he woke up at 8 AM and washed himself twice - you can never be sure - and then demanded for Beau to tell him which ensemble suited him best. (It wouldn't really matter, since Harry wouldn't be able to see him and therefore wouldn't care, but it's the thought that counts.) Beau had just mewed snobbily and sauntered away, so Louis decided on the black jacket, black trousers, and maroon button-up shirt.

Then he drove all the way over to the hill. Just to make sure it was still there.

And then he lazed around the rest of the day eating Lean Cuisines in his boxers (he didn't want to spill on his clothes - now that would be a tragedy) watching reruns of Friends, waiting for Harry to text him or call him or something.

Just as Goggle Box started (and damn it. That show is Louis's favorite.), he got a ring on his mobile, and when he saw who it was he forgot about Goggle Box entirely.

"Hello?" Louis said eagerly, and Harry's smooth, honey-drip voice replied.

"Lou Will. Today is our date, yes?"

"Yes."

"... when were you planning on picking me up? It's nearly seven-thirty now, innit?"

Louis quickly glanced at his watch and groaned. "Oh my god, I haven't been keeping track of the time! The drive-closes soon!"

Harry giggles. "Drive-in?"

"Oh, be quiet, Curly. I'll come pick you up, yeah? Where do you live?"

Harry clearly states his address and Louis scribbles it down. "Fair warning," Harry says warily. "I still live with me mum. She'll probably coddle you to death."

Louis grins. "I can't wait."

***

About 10 minutes later, when Louis's suit is on and his hair is decent enough (it was one of those bad hair days - oh well, it's not like Harry would care), he gives Beau some cat food, and hops into his car. Harry's house is about five minutes away from his own flat, which Louis is glad for.

When he gets there and knocks on the door, it immediately swings open and Louis is greeted by a pretty, aging-in-a-good-way woman who looks like Harry in too many ways.

"Oh, you must be Louis!" she grins, sliding over and gesturing inside. "Come in, come in, he'll be so excited to see you."

Louis smiles and tips his head at her, gasping when he's inside and he lays eyes on Harry.

He looks beautiful. Well. More beautiful than usual. He has on a sleek, slim black suit with an arguably tacky yet still endearing heart shirt on underneath the jacket. His hair is slicked up, his walking stick by his side, and his eyes look even more like they come from something celestial.