Candy Cane Eyes; larry stylinson (boxer!harry) [completed]

7

Louis shouldn't have come. He knew it was a bad idea the moment he sat down in one of the first few rows. It was bad. It shouldn't be his desire to see Harry that draws him back to the warehouse. He's spotted almost immediately, and Harry goes over to the referee before jumping out of the ring and making his way to Louis. That was when Louis speeds out of the building. He pushes and shoves his way through the crowd, breathing out in relief when he's out of the building.

"Mint!" Harry runs after him. His shoes and clothing not fit for the snowfall.

Louis likes to believe he's fast but winter was cruel to his sneakers. He's careful as he treads through the ankle high snow. He walks faster, trying to not slip on the patches of ice. With his slow speed, Harry easily catches up to him. He stands before Louis in his tight white shorts and boxing shoes.

Harry reaches up to hold Louis' face but glove smacks him on the nose. Louis gasps. "Ow!"

"Shit, sorry." He tugs off the thick boxing gloves and fixes the band of his shorts. "You didn't tell me you were coming, I would have gotten you a ticket."

"No. I didn't mean to come." Louis steps away. "I'm going home."

Harry looks a little angry. "Mint, I haven't seen you in so long and you aren't going to talk to me?"

"You didn't call me." Louis feels a cold gust of wind seep through his sweater. "You said you would and you didn't. I know I'm not the most normal person, I'm overly friendly. I know I'm too straightforward but you didn't have to lie, Harry."

"Louis,"

"No, it's whatever now. You never liked me when we first met, I should have seen it coming."

"Mint, stop speaking nonsense—"

Louis doesn't stay to hear the rest. He runs all the way home, only slipping three times before he finds comfort in his dark apartment.

"Louis."

It's just the end of February and Louis knew he should have taken the back entrance. The blue-eyed man frowns, ignoring the owner of the voice.

"Louis." They call again.

Louis spams the button for the elevator.

"Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis—"

"Go away."

"Peppermint." Harry pulls Louis to him, the man spins on his heel and nearly drops both the boxes in his hands.

"Be more delicate with me!"

"What is that?" Harry stares at the two boxes balanced in Louis' hands.

"None of your business." Louis turns, hiding away. Harry made him feel alone like it was all some sick trick from the start to get Louis to finally understand that he didn't like him.

"Mint, I lost my phone on the train," Harry confesses. "Fucking dropped it or left it at my seat because when I got home, I couldn't find it." He says with a deep tone.

Louis keeps his gaze locked on the ground.

"I tried to remember your number, but I forgot the last three digits." Harry tries to make Louis face him and keeps his grip on the man's wrist. "The fourth last one is 8, I couldn't figure out the rest."

"No, it's nine."

"Nine?"

"Yes." Louis finally looks up at him. Harry had a small swelling under his eye and a small cut on his brow, evidence from his job. "The last three numbers are 863."