WRONG NUMBER - LARRY AU

> forty-two <

i'm doing the fully written-out parts in lowercase as well because i feel like it fits the style of the story better. i hope that's okay!

let's go! :)

***

as he steps through the doorjamb, a glaze of sunlight skims over the left-hand side of louis' frame and casts a shadow over the other. not that it actually matters but, he isn't really dressed for the occasion; he's sporting a ratty t-shirt and grey joggers, his hands gently pocketed and left eye squinted as he starts sauntering in the direction of harry's rug.

and, oh.

once he's ten feet away, he ceases on the spot. a small, self-moving smile curls upon his lips. then a little chuckle slips out, and harry's close-mouthed grin evolves into a toothy one. he's sitting cross-legged on the checkered fabric in the grass, clad in a flower-patterned button-up and a pair of fitted black pants. he's curly-headed. beautifully so. in fact, he looks fucking idyllic, like a landscape, stunning regardless of the season.

cautiously, louis steps forward halfway.

"you, uh..." he continues to squint his eye from the sun, "are you a hired actor or summat?" he jokes, and then he hears the boy laugh for the first time. which, yeah. that's beautiful. "no, i really think you are. where's harry? is he hiding in a bush?"

the curly-headed one smirks, his lips askew. "in a shrub, you mean?"

"okay," louis says, his heart galloping a little. "not an actor."

harry peers at him, his cheeks bright and dimpled. "you're uh," he gives him a once-over, "wow."

louis bites back a smile and bounces briefly on his toes. "i'm wow?"

a small sigh puffs from the boy's lungs. "i took two hours take make myself look like this, and you took two minutes to walk out looking entirely breathtaking." he tweaks a brow. "a bit unfair, innit?"

"two hours? how early did you get up today? it's like...ten."

"half six," harry states proudly, then squints an eye like louis. "got up, took a shower, got on the train, slept a little, took a cab here." he sighs a little blissfully and fiddles with a crease in his trousers. louis is still not used to that voice. it's so deep. so obscurely sexy. he snaps himself out of a trance, and harry continues, all oblivious, "i figured i had to start making the choices i think you would do, if i really wanted to solve all of this. maybe it's dumb," a mellifluous laugh sips through his sentence, "but it's all i came up with."

there's a bit of heat in louis' cheeks, his foot sole stroking to and fro in the grass. "i like it. 's quite symbolic after what happened, i think."

"can you come sit down so i can apologise properly?"

louis smiles, sauntering forward. "i don't need more apologies."

"sit down anyway," harry croons.

"are we really having a picnic?" he steps onto the rug in his slides, then adds, "or did you just bring this for the esthetic effect?"

harry laughs gently. "i brought cookies. if that makes it a picnic."

one leg crossing over the other, louis drops down in front of harry. "i suppose maybe it does," he says.

they're close. nearly touching feet. most nights, louis has laid awake wondering what this exact moment would be like, and now it's here. it's here and it's odd. first and foremost, harry looks like something out of a catalog. his eyes are even more vibrantly green than the fucking grass. and the trees. he's also much softer, in a way. he looks huggable and provocative all at once.