Meeting of fate | Larry Stylinson

6

It's been a week since Harry met and talked to the beautiful, blue-eyed man. The way Louis' eyes sparkled and the crinkles by his eyes when he laughed was an image that has constantly been in the curly-haired man's mind.

He has been debating wherever he should message Louis on twitter or if that's too risky. Maybe he will look clingy.. Louis probably doesn't like him back.

His daughter has been noticing that's something is weird with him as well. She constantly asks if he's okay, making Harry's heart melt. She's so young and still notices that Harry isn't feeling well.

Despite missing the gorgeous man, he has been going to work as normal. It's busy at the restaurant at the moment, which is tiring, but Harry knows it's worth it at the end of the month. He's getting paid double, which is good for the little family.

Staring at the white ceiling from his bed, he remembers that he has a daughter to take care of. He sighs tiredly and gets out of bed, only to find the little girl just outside his door.

Harry smiles at her, his mood immediately better. The curly-haired boy picks the girl up, placing her on his hip. "What are you doing here, baby?"

She smiles cutely at Harry, her dimples just like her fathers. "Waiting for you to wake up, daddy!"

Harry coos. "Aw, that's so sweet!" He gives her forehead two pecks, smiling widely at her giggles. "Frankly, I have been up for thirty minutes. You could have knocked!"

-

After dropping off Sophia at kindergarten, he quickly drives to his work. Arriving at his usual parking spot, he sighs when he sees how many people already are inside. This is going be a long day, Harry thought.

When he walked inside of the full restaurant, he was met by his stressed manager came rushing to him. "Oh my god, finally, Harry! You're very much needed." His forehead was glistening with sweat. "Can you take table nine?"

Harry muttered out a quiet 'yeah' and walked over to table nine. It was an elderly couple, maybe in their late seventies. "Hello and welcome to The Fat Duck', what can I get you this lovely morning?" The couple answered in their posh accent, calling Harry sweetheart, which never failed to make the man blush like madly.

The green-eyed man took their orders and walked back to the kitchen to inform the chef about the order. It was messy, and loads of noise. That's always how it was these busy mornings. Luckily they had thick walls to the kitchen.

With a sigh, Harry sat down on an empty chair. Even though he had been in here for less than fifteen minutes, he can't wait to go home. He's already sweating, and his work clothing is sticking to his body in an uncomfortable way.

People were walking in and out all the time, and the doorbell gave Harry a pounding headache. He just wanted to rip that fucking annoying bell off.

-

Two hours passed by, and Harry took orders. Loads of orders. Some people were quite rude, but Harry is used to it by now. The life of a waitress.

The curly-haired boy has taken two aspirins, but they haven't helped much. The place is quieter now, only the people in the restaurant. Some people are working, while others are chatting up with each other.

Harry looks up when the bell rings and almost chokes on his own saliva. With wide-eyes, he slowly stands up and backs into the staff room. This can't be happening. Not today, when Harry is practically the only staff here. The other two have their lunch break now.

Looking in the mirror, he quickly fixes his fringe and tries to make himself look less tired. He rubs under his eyes, actually believing that his tired eyes will brighten up. Nope, not working.

"Ugh, fuck my life," Harry muttered, looking himself in the mirror one last time. With a deep sigh, he opens the door and tells himself that he can do this.

Putting on a smile on his face, he walks over to the table where Louis and another lad can get today. The men don't notice him, so he clears his throat. "Hello, welcome to 'The Fat Duck', what can I get you, two gentlemen, today?" Harry's proud of himself for not stuttering.

The curly-haired boy doesn't know where to look. He doesn't want to stare at Louis, but he feels awkward looking at the clearly fake blonde.

Louis smiles, and those god damn eyes look at him. "Oh, hello gorgeous."

The fake blonde cackles loudly, clapping at his knee. "Louis, what the fuck?!" He looks between the two, and his smile slowly fades. "You two know each other?" His accent is thick, thicker than Louis'.

Louis shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. "Not really, do we, love?" Harry's eyes widen, and his cheeks redden.

"Um, no. Not really." He says, his voice cracking a little. The embarrassed man clears his throat, gathering himself together. "Now, what can I get you two today?"

"Well, me and my mate here, Niall, would love some of your pancakes," Louis spoke, looking directly at Harry. He leans closer to Harry, gesturing for him to bend down. "And then, I'd like your number."