Songs For How You Taste | l.s.
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Ever since Harry stumbled into Rough Patch, Louis couldn't get him out of his head, whether it's teasing him about his music taste, or trying to see the blush that creeps over his face, or making the dimple in his cheek make an appearance.
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"I work at a record store, love. Music is literally my job, I have taste."
"I dj and host at a radio station, love." Harry retorted, mocking Louis' accent as best he could. But he didn't do a very good job of it. "Music is literally my job."
"That's a good thing then, you've got a face for radio." Louis' voice was dripping in sarcasm, a smirk plastered on the shorter boy's face.
Harry's eyebrows knit together, glaring down at the boy. "Are you calling me ugly?"
Harry rolled his eyes and started to walk out of the store. "Wait," Louis called. Harry stopped on his heels, expecting an apology. "What radio station do you work for?" He asked instead.
"What's it matter, since I've got no taste?"
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Or the one where Harry works at a radio station and Louis works at a record store so they bicker over music. It's teasing and it's cute.
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The playlist for this fic is in my bio
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#16 in larrystylinson
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