Henry and Lewis

1K 24 22
                                    

It's Tuesday. Louis loves Tuesdays. In his humble opinion, all the other days don't hold a candle to his beloved Tuesday's. To most people, it's just another day to get past on the way to a more exciting day like a Friday which will kick off their weekend, or a lazy Sunday that they can spend wrapped up in bed binging on some Netflix series. Nope. Not him.

All week he waits patiently, eagerly even, for it to tick around, busying himself with writing mind-numbingly boring statistical analysis research papers or articles on the political landscape for whatever journal or publication or production company has engaged his specialist skills.

But Tuesday is his day. He gets to write what he wants. Drabbles or ficlets for whatever universe has piqued his interest sufficiently for him to delve into and immerse himself completely.

It's like a breath of fresh air for his brain. A respite from the mundane and boring political landscape he usually operates in.

Louis pops the collar of his coat, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and hikes up his backpack as he crosses the road. It's quiet, the bustle of the morning work-day rush having died down, making way for the stroller brigade and grey-rinse-set to take over the little village square. The sandwich board outside his destination beckons him in with the promise of baked goods - lemon poppyseed muffins today, apparently - and specialty teas to wash them down.

The bell chimes above the door as Louis steps over the threshold, the warmth of the air and calm ambience washing over him with a familiarity he looks forward to each week. He wanders over to his armchair against the window, a little round table with a sugar bowl, a jar of teaspoons, and a small white porcelain vase with a single daffodil set out neatly to one side leaving just enough room for his tea cup and laptop.

He takes off his coat and lays it over the back of the chair, plonking himself down on the comfortable wingback, one of many scattered around the room. The furnishings are a hotchpotch of different styles and fabrics but somehow they all combine to create a perfect patchwork of relaxed ease. He takes out his laptop and opens it on the table, pulling his phone from his pocket and firing up his hotspot while he waits for the connection to sync.

It's five to eleven and Louis casually glances up to the door just as the bell chimes, right on cue as always. Louis smiles and watches as Harry walks in, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck and ruffling his mop of unruly curls. Louis sighs and tracks his movements, long legs that go on for days, clad in tight black jeans that are ripped artfully at the knees. He's wearing his three-quarter length woollen coat today, a black T-shirt revealed as he shucks off the coat on his way behind the counter.

"Hey Mildred, busy morning?" Louis hears Harry ask by way of a greeting, leaning in to place a kiss on the older woman's cheek.

"Morning, love. Not too bad, usual crowd," Mildred says as she wipes down the tray of the coffee machine. "Got a parents group coming in for lunch soon."

"Ooohhh babies! Yes please." Harry claps his hands together happily and it makes Louis smile. He's such a lovely dork.

"I'm gonna go and get that sorted if you're right to take over here?"

Harry pulls his hair up into a tiny top notch and even though it isn't really long enough, it looks adorable. "Sounds good."

Mildred leans in and whispers something to Harry and he glances up towards Louis. Louis looks away, cheeks heating up instantly, but not before he catches a glimpse of Harry's fond smile.

They've never really talked is the thing. Just the usual pleasantries when Louis gets his tea and food. But this man is truly something else. Louis thinks about him a lot. More than would be considered healthy if he's being honest. He loves watching him interact with the customers, his friendly and flirtatious nature is infectious and he reels in everyone around him effortlessly, Louis included.

From The Heart (Larry Stylinson)Where stories live. Discover now