Write me a song || larry

3

The next time Harry comes in he's sad to see a woman at the counter and not Louis. It's been a little over two weeks since Harry's been here last because he's been busy with interviews and recording. He needs to write more for his new album, which is why he has his journal tucked safely under his arm.

"Hi, what can I get you?" the woman asks politely. Harry smiles at her, but it doesn't meet his eyes. You'd think he'd appreciate the warm welcome, but he was hoping for Louis' snarky comment once he set his eyes on him.

"Just a coffee," he tells her. He gives her exact change and then leaves a decent sized tip on the counter. She slides him his coffee and also some cream and sugar packets. He plans on leaving considering Louis isn't here, but then the back door opens revealing him.

His hair is down today, glasses perched on his nose. He looks sexy oddly enough. There's small stubble on his face and his uniform hugs his curves perfectly like it always does. He's covered in some sort of pastry batter and his mouth his set in an irritated line.

"Your new mixer is shit. Look what it did, mom!" Louis shrieks. Harry places his cup to his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

"Louis... Oh honey," his mother chuckles. She moves forward and wipes some batter off his cheek, making the boy scowl.

"Work upfront and watch your mouth in front of customers," she tells him. Louis furrows his brow and turns to finally spot Harry.

"Oh. It's you," he says in a bored tone. Harry just chuckles and waves, finally taking a seat. Louis' mom leaves outback and Louis grabs a cloth, cleaning himself up. Harry watches him with intent. He should be focusing on writing a song, but something about Louis is far more interesting.

"Take a picture it lasts longer," Louis grumbles as he repeatedly scrubs at his shirt. Harry looks down at his book quickly after Louis mentions him staring.

"Studying?" Louis asks when he finally places the cloth down. Harry shakes his head, but looks up at him again. Louis still thinks he's a regular guy and Harry is starting to like it. While he likes all the free stuff and the compliments and money, he's also liking just talking to someone.

"Writing a song," Harry tells him. Louis laughs, placing his head on the counter so his laughs are muffled.

"What's so funny?" Harry asks. Louis looks up, his cheeks flushed.

"You. You walk in here with your dark sunglasses, fedora and your prissy attitude. Now I find out you write songs. You're like some corny, hipster book character," Louis chuckles. Harry finds himself smiling and he shrugs.

"Is that bad?" Harry asks with a raised brow. Louis makes a humming noise and jumps up on the counter, his back leaning against the food display case.

"I don't really know. You see, the first day it was a total problem, but now you seem like less of an ass," Louis admits. Harry's eyes scan Louis' petit frame sitting on the counter, fully facing him. He can't seem to take his eyes off him and Louis doesn't seem to mind his attention.

"I'm not an ass," Harry tells him. He's not. He can act the part of the spoiled rich kid, but that's not really him. At least it wasn't him. He's not sure who he is anymore.

"You can sure seem like one. That's okay, because I seem like one too," Louis tells him carelessly. Harry just nods his head at Louis' statement which makes the other boy laugh. He really likes Louis' laugh and without thinking he scribbles that down in his notebook.

"So, let me guess, Mr. Hipster, you have a cat," Louis speaks again. Harry gives him a lopsided grin and nods his head.

"A Persian cat?" Louis questions. Harry shakes his head.

"A Siamese?" Louis asks again and again Harry shakes his head. Louis just looks at him, waiting for him to tell him the answer.

"She's hairless," Harry tells him slowly. Louis' eyes light up and he leans forward, a large smile on his face.

"No fucking way. Let me see!" Louis squeals with excitement and god he's so cute. Harry slips his phone out of his tight jeans and then pulls up pictures of his cat.

"Holy shit, it's so ugly. What's her name?" Louis asks, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Pebbles, but I call her Pebs," Harry explains. Louis looks up at him and Harry just wants to reach out and touch him.

"Cute. Is she what you write songs about?" Louis asks with a teasing tone. Harry snorts and shakes his head, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

"No. I can't even think of an idea for a song," Harry complains. Louis opens his mouth to answer, bus his mother walks back out, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Louis Tomlinson, how many times have I told you not to sit on the counter?" she scolds. Louis slides off quickly and is already apologizing.

"Just clean up where your butt was. I need to pick up Charlotte so you're here alone. Cookies are out back cooling, put them in the display in ten minutes," she instructs him.

"Okay, mom," Louis says. She kisses his forehead quick before she rushes out of the shop. Louis grabs a spray cleaner and a cloth, quickly cleaning up the counter.

Harry watches him with fascination. He has a cute little nose and long eyelashes that are so dark and just pretty. His eyebrows are curved which is such a contrast to Harry's bushy, straight ones. His skin appears so soft and his lips so kissable. Harry really needs to stop because he's only met this boy a few times and he's already wanting to kiss him. It's just a harmless crush though. It's just harmless.

Louis puts away his stuff and sighs tiredly from where he now leans on the counter. He covers his mouth with his small hands as he yawns and then he looks at Harry, his blue eyes meeting Harry's green.

"Sorry, we were talking about your song, yeah?" Louis asks. Harry gives him a small nod and he notices how Louis bites his bottom lip in thought, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

"You need a muse, Mr. Styles," Louis tells him. There's a phone ringing and Louis groans putting up a finger. He grabs a telephone on a wall and starts to talk about the cafe. Harry watches him as he sways his hips and talks with his hands, even though the person through the phone can't see him. His hand picks up his pen and starts to write down little notes.

Harry has found his muse.