flower crowns // l.s.

✿4✿

Harry trusted Louis greatly to do just swell on this tattoo, especially since Louis drew out the tattoo, added a wicked looking font and bottle to it, but Harry was still nervous. Why? Because Louis' distracted. Apparently, he's great at multitasking and can talk to this pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes while doing the tattoo. Harry didn't know this girl, hasn't seen her before, and is incredibly saddened by the fact that they could be dating. They get along so well, both of them seeming to have the exact same sense of humor (Harry's discovered that their sense of humor isn't exactly appropriate), and she's really pretty.

"Dude, no, like, the guy was like—" She laughed, snorted, hunched over and nearly spilt her drink as she told this story.

Harry was listening intently, trying to ignore the pain the needle's inflicting onto him.

"Like, like, like—that's all I ever hear from you, Madeline," Louis mumbled, pulling the needle away, only to place it back and resume on the tattoo.

"Well, maybe if you'd shut up for once, I'd be able to finish one stinkin' story I tell, you heifer."

"Did she just call you a cow?" Harry asked, but none of them were listening to the confused boy.

"And don't say Madeline, it's Mads—"

"That's because she's insane," Louis noted to Harry quietly.

"Stop whispering about me. I know I'm beautiful, but c'mon," she proceeded to make her sarcasm even better by flipping her hair off her shoulder.

"Ow," Harry muttered, scrunching his face up in pain but refusing to cry. He can't cry—that would just be so humiliating.

"My beauty hurts him."

"Almost done now, Harry."

"Harry. That's your name." She grabbed her chair that she'd been sitting in and pulled it closer to the dentist-like chair Harry was sprawled out on, placing it closer to his to talk to him. "Your eyes are so green, wow. Got a girlfriend? Bet you do—"

"And even if he doesn't, I'm sure he still wouldn't be interested in you," Louis interrupted.

She gave him the finger absentmindedly, a mocking smile on her lips, and continued, "She treatin' ya nice?"

"Mads, you're very nice and pretty—" Louis snorts, "but, actually, I'm not . . . um, well . . . attracted to the opposite sex. But you're wonderful, really. I'm sure you have guys flocking to you and stuff. And I'd give you some beautiful sunflowers because you remind me of them, but I don't have anything with me and I'm not working today, so I'm sorry."

It's awfully quiet after that, the tattooing coming to a stop, all eyes on Harry, and he felt too uncomfortable even breathing, so he didn't. He came out at sixteen, has been out for a while, so telling someone that he's gay has never really been a problem. But the thing is, he doesn't know if Louis' like him. He could be straight for all Harry knows and that's sort of eating him alive. Harry's always hated turning down girls that are nice and cute, just because he's so nice and hates to see people upset, but Madeline didn't react that way. She scoffed and crossed her arms, eyes gluing to her shoes, and the one to break the silence was Louis and his loud laughter. For the first time, Harry didn't like the idea of his laughter coming after he said that. It's truly very rude.

But then, Madeline muttered, "every time," which had Louis laughing even more.

"This always happens to you, oh my God," Louis laughed, eyes watering from just how funny this situation is. Harry's offended.

"I know, first you then him. God. Why do all pretty guys have to be gay? Why can't one, really nice and genuine guy, be straight? This just isn't fair at all."

"Sorry," Harry quietly said, eyes falling down to the trousers he's wearing.

"Louis, you offended him. Cheer him up. Look at him. Wow, he kinda looks mad now, I think I should stop talking."

"M'not mad."

"You're upsetting the guy, Madeline. Jesus, now you've got him mad."

"M'not mad."

"Hey, you don't have any room to talk. You probably make him mad all the time; I know you make me mad nearly every time I see you. I hate you, Louis, I really do."

"M'not mad, guys."

"Remember that one time you tried to kiss me? Wasn't so mad at me then, were you?"

"Really? You're going to bring that up? I didn't know you were gay, cut me some slack here!"

"God, I remember it so vividly. 'Kiss me, Louis, I love you. I have sexual fantasies of you all the time and I dream of running away together to the Bahamas and starting a family where I can—'"

"I never once said that, you stupid idiot."

"Guys! I'm not mad!" Harry shouted, trying to get their attention. Now he's offended and upset and just wants to get this all over with. "Are you almost done, Louis?" He tiredly asked, turning his head to face him. Louis' eyebrow were raised, gloves off and stuff put away. Louis nodded slowly, wrapped Harry up with a confused expression, and gave him a slight wave as a signal that he was officially done. "Thank you," Harry sighed out, now upset at himself for reacting that way. He didn't even get the chance to see the now finished tattoo.

"Pay at the front desk," Louis instructed.

Harry got up with a frown and nodded, giving a forced smile to the both of them, a thank you to Louis, and then he was out of there, paying the needed money on his way out. He didn't mean to react that way, he was just fed up with being ignored and it seemed like they were making fun of him. But the good news is that Louis is gay and Harry might have a chance with him. Once his coat was on and he exited the shop, he felt someone grab the back of his collar and tug at it, making him clumsily stumble backwards and grunt, turning around quickly to see who made him almost fall back. It was Madeline.

"Hey, man," she nodded, a piece of gum in her mouth. She didn't have a coat on and she had the sleeves of her shirt pushed up, revealing her tattoos. It's beginning to rain and it's actually fairly cold right now. If he knew it was going to rain he would've brought an umbrella.

"Hello, Madeline. Did you need something?"

"Yeah, your number."

Harry shifted his weight onto his left foot and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I know, you like guys. God, don't look at me like that. There's gonna be a surprise party for Louis because he didn't get fired for a full six months here. That's celebratory enough, right? I want you there because you seem to like him and might be a good influence on him. So, yeah. Give me your number and I'll try to not flirt with you too much because damn," she quickly said, eyes trailing up and down Harry's body.

Harry giggled and shook his head, cheeks flushing as he grabbed her phone to put in his number. As he typed his name, he added the little pink flower emoji beside it and handed it back with a grin. He wants to see Louis out of the tattoo shop and at a party. How did she know he liked Louis? Was it that obvious? Yeah, he got flustered and pink-cheeked around him, yeah he made his palms sweat, and yeah, he wondered what it felt like to be held by Louis, but surely it wasn't that obvious.

Harry waited for Mads to text him once he got home. Liam and Niall had ordered pizza and curled up together to watch Die Hard. Harry didn't like that movie, so he ate half a slice of pizza and went into his room, got underneath the covers until you could only see him from his nose up, and clutched his phone tightly. Maybe Harry could ask Louis for his number sometime soon. Even if Louis doesn't like Harry, he'd be more than happy to just be friends. Friends with Louis seems interesting and fun, really. Maybe he could kiss him here and there—out of simple friendship, of course—hug him, touch him all over like his stomach. His stomach seems cute. Louis really is cute and Harry wants to hold him so close until he can't breathe. It's then he realizes that being friends with Louis would never work out and that it would hurt so much if he couldn't hold him and kiss him and sit back and watch someone better than Harry—smarter than Harry—love Louis. Harry's scared and dropped out of college and wants Louis so much that it physically hurts him right now. He doesn't know what to do, so he just falls asleep with his phone in his hand, still expecting that text.