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**
that morning, harry styles woke up like the grouchy old man he is (he’s only 23, technically, but). it’s Christmas eve, he thinks unhappily, eyeing at the white-covered streets, a deep frown etched into his face. he wasn’t ugly, far from it, with the brightest pair of green eyes the colour of pine trees, a curly mess of a head and a cherubic face that people have never thought was a day older than twenty. but bitter he was, about christmas, because he was alone and he was cold and he hated snow. it made him anxious. people have commented that he reminds them of the grinch.
he trudged towards his closet and pulled out a pair of black sweats and a black pullover and coat and slipped on his black boots before snatching a yoghurt bar and left his dingy apartment. the brittle winter wind snapped at his face, his cheeks already tinged pink from the cold. at least the snow wasn’t too bad, he thinks. but then again it might mean no work. harry sighed.
the door jingled a bit when harry opened it, his heavy boots casting a growing puddle of damp on the carpet as the snow melted. he spots his friend niall already talking to a customer about a box of chocolates and the blond boy shot him a withering glare at his tardiness. harry just shrugged.
harry had applied for the job a year ago, a souvenir shop, could you believe it. it was surprising even to him. but he had needed the money and the shop was owned by one of his friend’s friend so. he met niall, an irish lad, who looks far too cheerful and happy that harry had felt mildly sick about when the boy introduced himself to harry. but he was nice, and didn’t give harry shit, or call him a grinch, so harry doesn’t mind. he likes niall.
**
the ribbon he was tying kept fraying and so he tossed the bloody thing aside, and harry groaned. fuck christmas and fuck wrapping presents. he wanted to go home so he could listen to his pretentious indie shit and drink tea in cute tea cups with the saucers and everything, and definitely not watch the christmas specials on the television.
“someone’s got their knickers in a twist,” he heard a voice squeak from his right.
harry turned around but he couldn’t see anyone.
“over your shoulder, curly.”
harry almost knocked down an entire tower of empty boxes behind him when he sees the thing, the mini pixie-looking thing perched on a snow globe, looking a bit like peter pan, wearing sort of a toga made out of leaves and grinning down at a horrified harry. because this couldn’t be happening, right? tiny creatures with the prettiest blue eyes and perfect hair only exist in fairy tales. he must be dreaming. harry rubbed at his eyes, once, twice, but the thing was still smiling at harry, his eyes twinkling amusedly at the boy before him.
“has nobody ever told you that it’s rude to stare?” the thing – harry decided to name it Tiny – said. “and stop looking at me like I’m vile. I mean I’m small but I’m not vile.”
“fuck,” harry breathed.
Tiny raised his eyebrow at harry’s reply. “such eloquence, mr styles.”
“h-how did you know my name?”
“you have a nametag and I’m not blind.”
harry simply stared.
“are you always this creepy or shall I go?”
“what are you?” harry asked tentatively, slowly sitting up from his position. “I mean you’re obviously not human.”
“I’m louis,” Tiny replied sweetly. harry wanted to cry. this was all getting very, very absurd and Tiny – no, louis, he corrected himself – was the prettiest thing harry has ever seen in his life.
“am I dreaming?” he wondered, mostly to himself.
Louis hopped off the shelf and landed on a box, now eye-level to harry and harry scooted back a bit, still very much new to whatever the hell was going on.
“oh, I hope not,” louis mused, his dainty lips pulled downwards as he contemplated the possibility. “I wouldn’t want to just be a piece of imagination. I’d rather I was a proper real being. yup, pretty sure I’m real.”
“okay,” harry dragged the word out, not knowing what to say. on one hand he was still utterly freaked out but on the other, he was genuinely curious about louis. so he asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since. “why are you here?”
louis shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. one day I was just, you know, chilling and just minding my own business when heard a voice – your voice, now that I realised. it wasn’t spoken out loud, it was more of a thought. you were cold and you missed your family and you felt lonely. and then I find myself here.”
“you can hear my thoughts?”
“sometimes,” louis shrugged again. he was fiddling with his thumbs, and harry wanted to sweep the fringe off his tiny forehead. he couldn’t have been any bigger than the size of his hand. “I know you hate christmas but I can hear your uncertainty, harry.”
“I’m not uncertain.” he says, but he was looking away from louis, his hands working up a new ribbon.
“c’mon, let’s go.”
harry looked up from the half-knot he had successfully tied. “what?”
“let’s go,” louis repeated, walking over to harry, pulling at the sleeve of his pullover. he didn’t get very far. the small boy wrinkled his nose at his failed attempt and harry couldn’t help but smile. he quickly covered up his amusement with a frown and grumbled something about telling niall first. louis simply let himself into harry’s warm coat pocket.
**
“it’s so cold,” louis whispered into harry’s ear. he was sitting on harry’s shoulder, because harry had gotten annoyed at louis complaining that his pocket was full of sweet wrappers he hadn’t bothered to throw.
“yeah well if you had stayed in my pocket you wouldn’t have had to experience the snow.”
“no need to get snarky.”
harry sighed. they turned around the corner and entered the park, which was pretty much devoid of people since it’s winter and it’s very, very near nightfall. the sky casted a deep pink and scarlet, the colours intermingling with each other, much like harry’s and louis’ breathing, slow and steady and synchronous.
louis was singing a christmas carol, his voice light and soft and tinkling, and harry didn’t feel the anger he usually feels when he hears the song. maybe he was just tired, he tried to reason with himself. it was definitely nothing to do with louis. right?
“let’s sit by the chair overlooking the city, harry,” louis said softly. harry walked over to a bench and sat down, louis still perched on his shoulder. he felt a small pressure on his ear, where louis leaned into his hair, tugging softly at the curls above his ear.
“what are you thinking?” harry found himself asking.
louis hummed. “’s pretty out, don’t you think?”
harry gave a half smile in agreement. it was. the city spread out below them like a painted canvas, or a HD photograph, harry couldn’t pick. but it was pretty. he could make out the dark sky, hovering above the bright city lights, the shadows casting over the looming concrete buildings. it seemed busy down there, but up here, everything was peaceful and calm and quiet. the snow had subsided which meant that it was still cold, but it was nice. harry thinks he might get used to this. he couldn’t remember when he last did something like this.
“why’d you bring me out here?” harry questioned after a while.
“you seem sad,” louis says. he was still playing with harry’s curls, his hand touching harry’s cheek once in a while. “and I want to distract you.”
“thank you,” harry replied quietly.
they stayed like that for an hour or so, until louis sighed against harry’s cheek. “c’mon haz let’s go and visit the lights.”
“the lights?” harry asked, because what does that even mean?
“the christmas tree at the central area in town, silly!”
“you know I hate christmas.”
louis pouted. his lips were pink and soft and he was pouting and harry could feel his insides turning into mush. “fine. but only for a couple minutes. I need to drown myself in alcohol and wake up when christmas is over.”
**
"harry, it's snowing!" was what louis had yelled into his ear as soon as the first drops of snow fell gently around them.
"you sound like you've never seen snow before."
"i haven't, i think. i'm not too sure. harry, look, it's so pretty."
harry watched louis, the blue-eyed boy staring around him in wonder. it was honestly so endearing harry wanted to keep louis forever. he looked even prettier like this, the snow landing on his eyelashes, his smile so wide and happy. harry continued to walk, and louis continued to marvel at the melting stars cascading around him.
the christmas tree was fucking huge. it loomed over harry, tinsel gleaming against the lights and the baubles shining bright and merry. the tree was wrapped in white and red and green, and louis was oohing and aahing over it. harry was just making sure no one here would recognise him. because he had a mini human on his shoulders and people would probably think he was talking to himself. but everyone was busy minding their own business so harry didn’t really care that much.
“why don’t you have this in your house? ‘s pretty,” louis quipped. he was looking at harry with earnest eyes. “ooh can we get a small one? please harry please please.”
“no, lou,” harry groaned. “we’re not celebrating christmas.”
and then louis was hopping off his shoulder and jumping onto the tree. and harry didn’t want to lose him. not that he was fond of the creature, but louis might get eaten by a dog. or something.
“louis,” he desperately whispered into the leaves. “louis come on, you might get hurt in there. louis it’s getting late, can we go now please?”
and he hears a tinkle on his left so he looked up. he sees louis hanging on a mistletoe, grinning at him, the mischievous glint back in his crystal blue eyes. “look harry we’re standing under a mistletoe.”
“louis, for the love of god please get back down.”
“no.”
“louis.”
“no.”
“fine, we’ll buy a bloody tree.”
“really?”
“no.”
“harry,” louis whined.
“fine. can you just get back here, louis, please.”
louis chuckled gleefully before sliding off a branch and into harry’s beanie with an oomph. “can we get some tinsel too?”
**
initially, harry had thought that he would spend his christmas eve alone, bitter, and drowning in blankets and whiskey. but tonight, he was watching a beautiful tiny creature prancing around a small potted christmas tree, throwing bits of tinsel and ribbon around it, humming “all I want for christmas is you.”
“there,” louis finally looked up from where he was tying a ribbon on a branch, glancing at harry, who was looking at him fondly. the fire was crackling, and it cast a soft glow on louis’ skin, making him look warm and tan and just lovely. harry thinks he might be going out of his mind.
“it looks fine,” he huffed, but the frown couldn’t stay for too long. louis was on his chest, his fingers pulling harry’s lips upwards into a smile. and harry couldn’t breathe. because he has a pretty creature on his chest but he couldn’t do anything. and it was driving him mad.
"just 'fine?'" louis pouted.
harry laughed, and it felt good. laughing, that is. "I mean, it is pretty pathetic for a tree, but it looks fine."
"hey don't be mean, it looks pretty. see the tinsel and the ribbons?"
and then he was giggling because louis was tickling him, and harry really couldn't stop giggling.
"okay, okay, i was joking. it's the prettiest thing i've seen. besides you."
and louis had smiled and leaned forward, pressing a soft peck onto harry’s lips. it was soft, a gentle caress, but harry felt like his heart had exploded into smithereens. heat bloomed across his face, and harry couldn’t help but stare into louis’ eyes. they shone, as if they were happy, and harry’s heart gripped tightly because obviously he was going to wake up from this weird dream he has and louis will be gone. forever.
he hears the big ben chime, and he knows it just hit midnight. and looking at the boy playing with the hem of his collar, harry couldn’t have felt happier than he did since the past couple years. so he put down the wine bottle he had been drinking ever since they got back.
“merry christmas, lou.” and then he fell asleep.
**
harry woke up, not very surprised to find himself nursing a slight hangover, his limbs too hot against the duvet of his single bed. he was on his bed. not on the couch. of course. it was all a dream. harry knew that, but he still disappointed. he looked sadly out the window, at the snow, at the sunless skies, because once again he was alone. and cold. he wanted to cry.
but then there was a loud thud in the hall and harry’s eyebrows furrowed. shit. must be a bird that has flown in when harry forgot to close his windows. he put on his robe and walked into the hall, shivering slightly as he approached the open windows. he managed to close them all, but his eyes dropped to the small christmas tree standing limply in the middle of the hall.
he choked back a sob because he misses louis. he misses how the boy had made him feel as if he was the happiest person in the world. he made him feel as if he was a person. he made him feel at home. but he looked at the tree and there was nothing underneath it, and all harry wants for christmas, he realised, is louis.
“harry?” a voice whispered from behind him.
the voice was as if it was from a dream, where it involved a boy with too bright eyes, a soft, lilting voice, and an annoyingly giggly presence. and the said boy was standing in front of him, his eyes wide and disbelieving. because he was as big as a human being, albeit shorter than harry, but a human being nonetheless. his fringe was still the same, messy sweep of fringe and fluffy, his cheekbones sharp and his lips as pink as sunset. harry was blinded.
“louis.”
“merry christmas, harry.”