505 || l.s. short story

3

"Come on in!" Patrick said as he opened the door and allowed for Louis to step inside. Harry gasped at the sight and tried to hide his blushing face.

"We drinking tonight?" Louis asked as he removed his shoes.

'His voice' Harry thought to himself, 'it's so spellbinding.'

"Of course. Hope you don't mind," Patrick said as they walked to the living room. "My friend Harry is going to join us."

Louis finally took notice of the nervous man sat on the couch. It was him. The man that bumped into him, the man he couldn't stop thinking about. His bouncy curls, forest green eyes that hid behind his framed glasses, the way his yellow, floral blazer was unique but seemed to fit him perfectly as if it was made for him. He was now sat in front of him and he'd finally get the chance to say something to the charming man.

"Hi." Harry said softly and stood up. He walked towards Louis to shake his hand and nearly tripped over his feet.

"Oops." Louis whispered back as he caught him and quickly let go. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry love. That was all on me. I'm sorry, didn't mean to fall for you."

Louis opened his mouth and closed it, chuckling lightly at what the man had said.

"Uhm— fall on you. Almost fall on you." Harry rubbed his hands on his pants nervously and held out his hand again in an attempt to actually shake Louis' hand this time.

"Nice to meet you, Harry." Louis said with a warm smile as he stretched out his hand to shake Harry's. Harry felt like his knees were going to give out and he'd drop to the floor at any moment. Shaking Louis' hand was such a perfect place to start whatever it was that is to come.

"The pleasure is all mine Louis." Harry said as they let go of their hands and Patrick gestured for them to take a seat.

"Shall we start drinking?"

"Definitely." Louis spoke up and sat next to Harry. "What'll it be tonight?"

"Do you have scotch?" Harry asked while he pulled out a small pen and notebook from his pocket.

"Always do. What's that for?" Patrick pointed at the notebook and went to grab some scotch and rum.

"I get inspiration to write when I'm slightly drunk." Harry opened his notebook to a blank page and set it aside.

"You write?" Louis asked in a curious tone.

Harry thought his voice was melodious and rich. He could listen to it all day, Louis could speak about the most random of topics and he'd be happy to hear about it.

"I've been writing since I was a child. Would you like to hear something?" When it came to writing, Harry was never ashamed or embarrassed because he felt that this was what he was made to do.

"I'd love to. I love poems but I'm shit at writing." Louis admitted as he shifted towards Harry, waiting for him to begin.