AU where Harry truly believes in Destiny and Louis just happens to cross his path at the right moment. Featuring a world with the size of a stamp, Liam as the best friend ever, Niall as a social butterfly who knows everyone and Zayn who always knows...
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It's raining. It's raining so hard that the denim jacket Louis is holding over his head doesn't prevent him from getting soaked in the short distance between the flat and his car. Now that he's reached the porch, Louis is pretty sure that he won't drown in a puddle, at last. The real point is that, at the moment, sadly, that's the only certainty he has.
Niall's party ended about three hours ago, but Louis is convinced there's still someone who's wandering around Ashton's house, or who wants to take a nap before going home and therefore nestled on the various sofas available. He wonders if Liam and Zayn are still there, but probably not; the last time Louis saw them, they were crouched on the steps that lead to the garden, engrossed in a deep conversation. As for Niall, he returned to the party an hour after the... thing happened, and Louis didn't have a chance to talk to him. No, he actually had several, but every time he met his gaze across the room, he saw only sadness and sorrow. After a while, Louis decided that he couldn't take it anymore and went out in the garden to get some fresh air. Not that it helped that much and, after having spent at least an hour staring at random happy people, he decided that he could no longer bear it. To be honest, he should have left the party right after Harry because, well, Louis' presence there doesn't make any sense now, not with his bad mood.
With one last look at the house, he could swear he met Gemma's gaze across the garden. Louis held her stare for a few seconds, but she looked too much like Harry, so he simply turned on his heels and left.
Focusing back on the present, Louis sighs and stares insistently at the Styles-Horan's doorbell without seeing it for real. Should he ring it? Doorbells are made to be rung, right? But there are doorbells, like that, which are a little bit scary. Not that Louis is scared, come on, he's... A little agitated, perhaps? Maybe he just has some palpitation, uhm. Well, fuck, Louis is scared to death.
So , Louis thinks closing his eyes, you are a man. A man with balls. Ring the fucking bell or... or... or.
Louis does. There's a small part of him that hopes Harry is not at home, and even Niall. The other part – even smaller, though – hopes he is, because he wants to talk to him. He wants to make everything clear, wants to know what happened last night because he just can't think straight. He needs help, needs Harry to be with him at this time.
Several minutes pass, and Louis is still outside the door. He runs a hand over his forehead, getting rid of some residual raindrops falling from his hair. Then he rubs his eyes a little, undecided whether to wait for someone to open the door or not even though it's pretty clear nobody's home. Or maybe Harry saw him through the curtain and decided to leave him out there. No, Harry would never do that. Maybe. Louis doesn't have any clue, at the moment.
He turns around, a bit puzzled, when he sees him. Harry .
Harry is... Harry is staring at him, probably he was staring at his back before Louis turned around, and he keeps looking at him even now. There are many things that strike Louis in that moment, like Harry's shorts and basketball jersey completely wet. As the rest of him, because yes, Harry is soaking wet from head to toe. And, seriously, what the actual fuck?
