Summary:
Louis moves in next door and the second Harry sees him he wants him in his bed. When it's raining and Louis is locked out Harry invites him in.
***
The first time Harry sees Louis it’s when the Tomlinson’s are moving in next door.
Louis has arms stacked full of boxes so high he can’t see where he’s walking. Consequentially he walks through the wrong gate and up the path leading to the house Harry and Liam share, which Harry is currently on the way down.
Harry quirks an eyebrow at the boxes with legs, leather jacket slung over his shoulder and phone in his hand. He reaches out and pushes gently until the boy holding them has to turn to the side to see what’s holding him up.
What Harry hadn’t been expecting was a boy who looks young, younger than him with his hip cocked to the side and a frown plastered to his delicate features. He’s so small and dainty, tiny hands, tiny feet, tiny ankles and tiny wrists that Harry wants to wrap his fingers around. He tries to stop the image of those tiny wrists pinned down by one of his hands because god, this boy could be fifteen for all he knows.
“Wrong gate.” Harry says, smiling lazily as the tiny boy blushes.
“Oh shit. Sorry, couldn’t see over these boxes.”
Harry laughs, deep and low, hiding the fact he’s melting from that accent deep inside.
“Are you even old enough to be swearing kid?”
“Hey!” Louis frowns, adjusting the boxes in his arms. “M’not a kid. M’seventeen.”
Harry raises his eyebrows because wow okay, so at least it’s not illegal for him to be thinking about pinning this tiny guy to his bed.
“Still two years younger than me so I can call you a kid. C’mon let me help. Don’t want you to trip over that damn drain and go flying because you can’t see.” Harry says, pointing to the drain cover that sticks out of the pavement at the end of the path.
“Yeah, okay, thanks.”
Harry takes the top two boxes off the stack precariously balanced in Louis’ arms, nudging him with his hip to get him to go back down the path.
“I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”
“Louis Tomlinson.” Harry cocks his head.
“Is that spelt like Lou-ee or Lewis?”
“L-o-u-i-s.”
“Then I’m totally calling you Lewis.” Harry smirks, jutting his chin up.
Louis arches an eyebrow.
“Okay then Harold.”
“Harry is not short for Harold!”
Harry’s eyes narrow and Louis laughs triumphantly, quickly reaching for the boxes Harry was holding and darting inside his house, yelling “See you later Harold!” over his shoulder.
Harry shakes his head and heads for Zayn’s house, completely ignoring the fact that, in that single minute, Louis had succeeded in making Harry want to completely wreck him.
The second time Harry sees Louis he’s sitting on his window ledge, long fingers curled around the edge of the window frame for security as he smokes. Liam yelled at Harry last time he caught him smoking in his room (“Harry can you not. No amount of febreeze will get the smell out!”) and Zayn had laughed and called Liam a mother hen.
Harry frowns as he watches Louis stumble up the path to his house and he thinks maybe he’s drunk until he Louis stops mid-step to wipe furiously at his eyes, nearly falling and grabbing onto the fence for support.
