Eccedentesiast || Larry

28. Nervous

H

Harry's mom makes him go to the supermarket on Sunday. Tomorrow is Labor Day, which means no school and cookouts and maybe some fireworks to end the night. It's the same thing every year. The only difference is that he's buying the food.

Anne lets him take her car. Harry never told her about the party. And so he feels awkward when he sits down in the drivers seat. Ten and two, Harry says to himself as he pulls out of the driveway, counting the seconds until he's on the road and driving. Nobody is really out today—it is 10:30 AM on a church day, anyways. Few people are walking their dogs, the usual busy traffic of Hollywood is still ridiculous, however.

The supermarket, unfortunately for Harry and his bambi-like way of walking, is overly-crowded and people are carelessly throwing red white and blue food and whatnot into their carts. Harry was given a list, a list that consisted of buns, hotdogs (ew), hamburgers (double ew), and a tray of macaroni and cheese. Simple. Apparently people will be bringing other food.

It's when he's squinting at the many different hot dog brands that he hears huffing to the left of him. He glances up to see someone struggling to carry all sorts of items, balancing them with shaky arms and a concentrated face. Harry recognizes the person as the waiter from Rockne's. The waiter brings back memories of Louis, which in the end, makes Harry frown just a bit.

"Need some help?" Harry asks as he approaches the boy.

"No-" he pauses to catch a package of napkins that falls off the top of the pile. "-I've got it."

But then he doesn't have it, because two, three, four more things fall down until the blond groans rather loudly and looks at Harry desperately.

Bending down to collect everything, Harry laughs lightly and shakes his head. He likes the feeling of laughter, hasn't felt it for four or so weeks.

"Thank you," the waiter says, blowing hair out of his eyes. They're blue. Harry doesn't let himself think about who they remind him of. "I'm Niall, by the way."

"Harry," he offers, extending his hand. He retracts it when Niall raises an eyebrow and fiddles with the box of cake mix in his right hand.

"What are you here for?" Niall asks.

"Cookout tomorrow. I'm on supplies duty."

Niall replies with, "same." He shifts awkwardly, not quite sure what to do and/or say.

All of a sudden, Niall's face lights up and he almost fucking jumps. "Hey, how is it going with that Louis guy?"

Oh no. Here comes the lump in his throat. Harry has steeled himself away from anything and everything Louis Tomlinson related, which turned out to be nearly impossible. Like, Christ, the man's got his face on everything; lunch boxes, magazines, candy bars. It's too extensive, really. (A few months ago Harry was fanning himself as he passed the Chips Ahoy cookies with Louis' face on them. Now look at him.)

"That's not- we're not- he's not- it's over," Harry manages to say in what could only be described as a long sigh of words. Niall frowns and glares at the same time.

"Really? Because I've seen like twenty thousand pictures of you two on tumblr..."

Harry knows this. He searched them up. Some are photoshopped, some are real. And, how did they even get that picture of me?, was a question that popped into his mind more than once. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Niall looks at him skeptically and merely holds out his arms, simultaneously dropping everything on the cold tiled floor. Harry cringes.

"C'mon, mate. Bring it in."

Are you kidding me no oh my god please no what leave me alone, runs through Harry's head. But the lonely part of him realises that he needs this hug, so he does just that. It's weird and awkward and he doesn't know where to put his arms, but Niall just squeezes until Harry starts to back away.

They exchange numbers after deciding that maybe hugs aren't their thing and part ways. Harry grabs a random package of hot dogs and heads over to the registers.

-

There's a crisp, white envelope wedged between the storm door and door frame when Harry comes home. Which is odd. Mail is always left in their mailbox.

After further examination, Harry sees that there is no return address, no stamp, nothing. The only indication that it's even for him is the cursive Harry scrawled across the front.

Naturally, Harry just stuffs it in his back pocket (in case his mother decides to be nosey) as he puts away the food he had bought. Anne thanks him with a kiss on the cheek and starts to prepare some weird, red applesauce that has to chill all day and overnight.

Harry opens the letter as soon as he's comfortable, sitting on his bed in sweats and no shirt.

Dear H,...

-

(kind of another cliffhanger oops. but i think we all know who the letter is from i mean come on.

about the possible sequel: writing another book for this would be fun and incredible and exciting. you lot seem to think that, too. the thing is, i have an idea for a sequel, but it'd be better as a one-shot type thing. if i did a sequel, i couldn't end this book how i had originally planned and there would be no epilogue!! sooo, that being said, i do not think there will be a sequel. sorry to disappoint. however. when this book is over... I'M STARTING ANOTHER LARRY FANFICTION! YAY! it isn't spider-man, like i had mentioned in the hint. i've changed it! the fic is titled Looking For Harry. I just published the disclaimer, and the first chapter will be up in a few weeks!

lastly, i will slowly be editing this ((once i finish it)). i don't mean editing like spell check and that kind of thing, i mean rewriting chapters, adding things in, stuff like that. if you want, you can reread it as i go. i might even publish the edited chapters in "Eccedentesiast - revised" ... thoughts?

QOTC: how did you find Eccedentesiast?)