R O O M 1 9 7 // Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson Edition

Sixteen

~Friday 6th January 2017~

09:01 am

It's a cold winter morning, and Eminem's 'The Real Slim Shady' vibrates through the walls of Harry's apartment building, as he stands on the sidewalk, waiting for Harrison's car to arrive. He glances down at the watch on his wrist, as the music thumps, his head throbbing along with it, his headache getting worse by the second. The loud music is a common occurrence from his young neighbours inside Apartment 3C, but still, Harry looks up at their window and prays that the noise will stop soon.
He peeks at his watch again, it's straps just a little too tight on his wrist, and sighs, rubbing his temples. The street of his apartment building is bare, with only a few cars passing by, no sign of Harrison. He waits and he waits, shifting his weight back and forth between his two feet, and nursing his numbing headache. He checks his phone for any sign of a response from Milo, but once again he finds his inbox blank of any new messages from him or Gemma.
When the hands of his watch read nine thirty-two, he grows tired of waiting and decides to walk to The Magnolia instead, his hands deep inside his pockets, his borrowed beanie tight around his ears as he braves the harsh winds.

Twenty-six long minutes later, Harry arrives in the lobby of the hotel, shaking his head rapidly, as if to shake away the cold that lingers on his red skin. The ache in his temples still remains, but he pushes it aside, removing his beanie from his messy hair, and walking into the elevator, along with three other guests, who are also shivering from the cold.

Both Mr Tomlinson and his wife are awake and dressed by the time Harry reaches their door, as Mrs Tomlinson - or 'E' as Louis has called her once or twice - opens the door slowly, flashing a sickly-sweet smile and letting him in. Louis is already tapping away at the keyboard of his laptop, head buried in paperwork. The room is wildly quiet, as Harry moves across the room in silence, reaching for the supply cupboard. Mrs Tomlinson drifts back into the bedroom and sits upon the bed, a pile of magazines at her feet. She reaches for one, already open, and begins to flip through the glossy pages.

Louis is cold and dismissive when he finally gives Harry his tasks for the day, refusing to look the young man in the eye. Instead of calling him out on it, Harry ignores his hard tone and gets on with the job. He decides against asking why Harrison didn't pick him this morning, realising it will only lead to an argument. An argument he's not ready for.
Only five minutes into his first round of cleaning the kitchen surfaces, Harry cannot handle the deafening silence, and turns on the radio, letting it quietly hum in the background as he continues working, despite the growing ache in his head.
All three people inside Room 197 remain silent for the next few hours, shuffling around the room, navigating around each other and avoiding any sense of communication. It's only when the digital clock beside Louis strikes 17:00, that he speaks, the first of the three to talk in hours.

"E, darling, I think it's time you better start getting ready." He announces to the room, not looking up from the bright white screen of his laptop, still typing away quickly. From the bathroom, Harry watches as Mrs Tomlinson removes herself from the bed and approaches her husband, sliding her hands down his shoulders and onto his chest from behind him. Harry wipes away at the bathroom mirror, turning his attention away from the couple.
"I'll be back in two hours." Mrs Tomlinson says, pressing her lips to the top of her husband's head. "I expect you to be ready by then." She adds, humour in her tone, as she reaches down to collect her makeup bags and the ball gown she purchased yesterday. Harry - having completed his cleaning of the bathroom - moves into the main area of the room, as Mrs Tomlinson sets her eyes upon him, locking him in a gaze. "I expect both of you to be ready." She says, wagging her finger at Harry, as she walks to the door, a small smile upon her crimson lips.
The door clicks behind her and Louis lets out a long sigh.