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It’s Sunday and he’s mostly spent the day at home taking a shower so long and hot that it makes him feel brand new. Drying off and working lotion into the skin of his legs, up the backs of his thighs and over his stomach. The kind that makes him feel soft skinned and cared for. Knowing that anyone that gets close enough to put their mouth on his skin will smell it, fresh and sweet.
He sits in front of the mirror and gets dressed up for no real reason, just because he likes how he feels in nice clothes. It’s still April, not summer yet, so even though it’s been nice out all day its getting a bit colder as the sun gets lower. He puts a coat on before he leaves the flat. It’s a Gucci coat that cost an entire two months pay checks and it’s two years old but he’s going to wear it until it’s rags because he certainly can’t afford another one, doesn’t even know what possessed him to buy this one in the first place except it’s beautiful and he wanted it so badly. He’s wearing a Gucci coat and silk slippers and a cute necklace even though he’s just going to the chippy. Sometimes you just have to get dressed up and go nowhere.
Coming out of the chippy he walks back down to the road towards his house and he sees Louis on the opposite side. He’s on the street outside his house, talking to someone that might be one of his sisters. The front door to his house and the garden gate are open behind him and he's leaning against the railings, scuffing his trainers against the pavement. The sleeves of his jumper hang down past his wrists, his fingers peeking out from the cuffs.
“Oi Harold, get any for me?” comes a shout across the road, and Harry smiles a bit because he knew it was coming.
“You can get your own!” He shouts back, shoving another warm, sauce covered chip into his mouth.
“Sharing is caring and all that!”
“Maybe I don’t care!” Harry shouts without turning around.
“That’s such a lie!”
He rolls his eyes and smiles a bit and walks on, because yeah maybe he does care a bit, but not enough to share his chips.
It’s hard to ignore Louis is the thing. Harry has lived on this street for almost a year now and Louis is one of the few people on the street he actually knows. He lives at number 23, on the opposite side and about 12 houses further up the row from Harry.
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When Harry first moved here he went down to the pub a few times by himself, vaguely thinking he could meet people before he realised that was a really weird old-man thing to do. No one under the age of fifty chats to strangers in the pub.
It kind of worked though because Louis was pulling pints behind the bar and even though Harry only went a handful of times Louis somehow remembered his name and recognises him whenever they pass each other out and about, which ends up being quite a lot.
It’s not a big town and Louis has a lot of family so Harry always sees them at the shops or filling up at the petrol station or hanging around at the play-park behind the school. They all look like each other, all have the same expressive hand gestures and loud laughs. If Louis is there he always says hi and asks how things are going, or at the very least gives him a smile and a wave.
Harry likes the attention, likes the casual friendliness between them. Making friends is usually a lot of effort and awkwardness and uncertainty but Louis and him are easy. He isn’t sure they’re fully friends, but they’re something.
Harry lives in a terrace house that has been split into two flats, he has the upper flat and his neighbours live below. They have separate front doors, the neighbour’s is on street level, but you have to go up five or six steps to get to Harry’s.
When he wakes up early enough he’s started to take a cup of tea and sit out on the steps and wait for the street to wake up. He’s never felt anything better than that 7am calm, especially now it’s getting in to summer and the sky is already bright and the air warm when he gets up.
With the days long and warm he spends most of his mornings outside on the steps, housecoat over his pajamas, cup of tea forgotten at his elbow. He watches the postman, wearing his red t-shirt and brown shorts going from door to door, pushing his cart down the street on the way. Sometimes he takes his journal out and writes, but mostly he just sits.
Some mornings when he’s sitting out he sees Louis going for a run. Daz-white trainers hitting the dirty concrete as he jogs past. T-shirt stained with sweat on his way back.
It’s June when Louis comes out his house in shorts and a t-shirt, baseball cap shielding his eyes from the sun. Instead of heading right down the street he crosses over the empty road at a jog and comes to a stop at Harry’s front gate. It barely comes up to waist height. He leans his hands on it looking up at Harry who is sitting at the top of the steps in his housecoat, bare feet poking out of his pajama bottoms, a cup next to his foot holding the last unwanted dregs of tea.
“Nice day”
Harry squints up at the sun. “Yeah, looks nice.”
There’s a smile playing on Louis’ face.
“Want to come for a run?”
Harry plucks at his housecoat.
“Not really dressed for it to be honest.”
“I’m not in a rush.” Louis says with the same easy friendliness he always does.
Harry catches his bottom lip in his teeth, thinks. “Thanks but,” he watches Louis raise an eyebrow, “maybe another time.”
Louis looks away, eyes hidden under the cap, and peers down the quiet street before looking back up at him, half smiling.
“Okay, another time then.”
Harry nods, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of his housecoat.
“Okay,” Louis pushes off the gate and runs a hand over his face.
“See you later Harry”
“See you” Harry replies but it’s quiet and Louis doesn’t hear it because he’s already a few houses down, running out of Harry’s line of sight.
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Harry is really dumb. Louis is super nice and lovely and he seems wonderful but Harry is convinced that if they actually start spending time together then all of that is going to turn out to be a fantasy. Or even worse, Louis really is going to be wonderful but once he gets to know Harry and the appeal of getting to know his quirky neighbour is satisfied he’ll go back to his own life and forget about him. And Harry really doesn’t want that.
Harry knows he’s a bit odd, that he doesn’t exactly blend in to a crowd, especially in a town like this. That’s probably why Louis is so interested, he wants to find out what Harry is about. The loud clothes and bright jewellery probably give the impression he is much more interesting than he actually is. Artsy, that's what Louis calls him. The type of person that lives a big colourful life, like a musician or an artist of some kind or a model. Harry complains when he calls him that. He doesn’t actually have any of the wild stories or invites to cool parties that Louis probably thinks he does.
On the other hand Harry is weak, especially when Louis smiles at him, and so every time Louis stops in front of his house and asks him to come for a run he feels a little more tempted to say yes. Louis for his part doesn’t seem bothered that Harry never says yes. As June melts into July it all starts to feel like some kind of game between the two of them. Just another layer to their weird unexplained friendliness .
He’s been working hard to meet a deadline for the last few days. He hates deadlines, isn’t good at them and doesn’t do his best work when he’s up against them but sometimes they can’t be avoided. So it means working late every day and not having any time to actually sit down and relax. It means he hasn’t seen Louis all week and maybe it’s ridiculous that this is making him grumpy but it is.
After six endless days he finally has everything he needs to do done and submits it right on the deadline. He has to actually go into the city for once to do it. By the time he gets there, has the meeting and gets back home he’s sticky with sweat and feeling drained and it’s been way too many hours since breakfast.
He drags himself to Tesco anyway because he needs food to eat. He’s paused in the doorway letting the aircon cool the sweat off his face when someone walks directly into his back.
“Shit-sorry-Harry-hi” comes pretty much all at once as they put themselves to rights. Louis has a grey hoodie matching his joggers half zipped up over his bare chest, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hiya. Sorry, stupid place to stand.” Harry says and makes a face. He moves further into the shop Louis comes with him, following him into the fruit & veg aisle.
“God it’s sweltering out there. Fancy going to sit on the green for a bit? Loads of people are up there I think.”
“Yes.” He says without thinking about it and surprises them both.
Louis rolls with it pretty smoothly and continues on like they’ve ever actually gotten past this point in the conversation before.
“Okay great, lets get some drinks out the fridge” He leads the way to the drinks chiller at the back, already mostly empty because everyone else has already had the same idea, and pulls a 4-pack of cider out for Harry’s approval.
On the way to the check out a bag of crisps and a tub of fresh cut fruit get added to the pile and then they’re paid and on their way.
They walk a couple of streets down and then cut across the road to the entrance to the green. It is unexpectedly teeming with people. Barbecue smoke floats on the hazy summer air and music plays indistinctly from speakers somewhere.
They walk up the hill a little until they find a spot of grass identical to all of the other grass nearby that is nevertheless deemed by silent agreement the most sit-worthy patch.
Dropping down onto the grass Louis pulls the snacks and drinks out of his backpack and breaks a can off the ring to hand to Harry.
Harry pops the cider open and stretches his legs out in front of him. Cream coloured linen trousers are definitely not what you should roll around in grass wearing but…Harry doesn’t actually care. And it’s not like he’s going to be rolling around in the grass. They’re just sitting on it.
The cider is cold and sweet and settles a very subtle blur-filter over everything as he drinks.
“I’ve never seen it this busy” he muses squinting into the sun, belatedly remembering to move his sunglasses off his head and onto his face.
Louis is lying next to him, feet pointing down the gentle slope of the grass, hoodie lying in a pile next to his bag. Harry is absolutely fine. The cider can crumples a little in his hand and he loosens his grip.
“Well it’s Saturday innit? It’s always busy like this on a Saturday.”
“Is it Saturday?”
Louis lifts his head up a little to look at him, eyes wide with pure amusement.
“Have you actually lost track of what day of the week it is?”
“Guess so.” He smiles a little in embarrassment, combing his fingers through the grass. “I’ve been busy on a project.”
Louis laughs, high and bright. “You’re so artsy, of course you don’t know what day of the week it is!” Harry rolls his eyes and gives him a smack on the arm and they tussle a little until Louis yells “Oi, enough of that now!”
They pull back in time to avoid a cider disaster and settle back into the grass. Harry feels a little bit giddy with how normal it feels. Like they hang out every day.
When they’ve finished off a can each Louis pulls himself upright and rummages around for their snacks, opening up the crisps along the back of the packet for sharing and tipping some of the fruit onto the lid for Harry to pick at.
They watch a game of Frisbee going on nearby as they munch quietly.
Harry is sorting through the fruit looking for the best grape when Louis grabs his hand and pulls it towards him.
“Let me see all these then.”
Flattening out his fingers he let’s Louis have a look at his rings. He wishes he hadn’t picked off so much of the nail polish, or maybe picked it all off so it didn’t look so ragged.
Louis’ thumb runs over his knuckles as he studies each of the rings and asks Harry to tell him what they are about.
“What do you mean?” Harry says when he asks.
“Well, you’ve got to wear them for a reason.”
“I like them.”
“Yeah? What do you like about this one?” He touches a chunky gold ring with a red stone set into it.
“It matches my outfit, it goes with the shirt.” He touches the hem of his shirt, red with gold flowers.
“What about this one” He moves on to the next.
“I’ve had it a really long time, I’d feel weird without it.”
“What about these two?” It’s the H and the S.
“They’re my initials...”
The side of Louis’ mouth curves up and he twists his lips against it.
Harry throws a slice of apple at him. “Don’t laugh!”
Louis ducks the hostile fruit and squeezes Harry’s hand where he’s holding it. “Alright calm down! I didn’t even say owt! Just…your initials? Really?” He’s looking between Harry and his hand, eyes bright and lips pursed.
Harry pulls his hand away, ignoring Louis’ delighted burst of laughter.
“Your own initials, that’s so pretentious!”
“M’not pretentious!”
He affects a pout for dramatic effect but Louis must think he’s actually gone and offended him because he suddenly fumbles to apologise.
“Sorry! Harry, no sorry you’re not. It’s just a bit of banter. Your rings are all very nice. They suit you.” His smile is still wide with laughter but his eyes are kind and sincere.
Harry rolls his eyes but he’s not actually offended and maybe a little pleased by the attention.
“So what do you do?”
“Hm?”
“You’ve told me you aren’t an artist but you’ve never told me what it is that you do.”
“I’m a songwriter mostly. I um, I write songs and sell them to people I guess.”
“Do you think I’ve ever heard any of your songs?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know what kind of music you listen to.” Louis raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t my songs anyway, I just write them.”
He’s smiling, clearly cottoning on to the fact that Harry isn’t going to offer up any of the song titles for him to google.
“Okay, fine, keep some of your secrets for a little while longer.”
He lays back down, an arm over his eyes to shade them from the sun. One of his hands reaches out blindly for Harry and pulls him down until they are both on their backs in the grass.
They lay like that for an hour, the air stays warm but the sun starts to slouch behind the tops of the trees. People around them start to fold up their blankets and the crowd in the park thins out as daylight begins to fade.
Louis is half snoozing in the grass, tan darkening across his chest and arms. Harry sits up, groggy with the heat and alcohol, and works his fingers through his hair to get out the grass he thinks is probably there.
“Fancy getting a curry in this week?”
Harry looks down at Louis, thankful for the sunglasses. He would …really like to get dinner with Louis. On the couch in front of the TV. God.
“Em, yeah? When?”
“Wednesday? If that works for you, I’ve got the day off then.”
“Yeah, lets do that.”
“Yeah? Awesome. Okay I’ll get the curries and bring them round to yours then.”
Eventually they pick up their things, Louis swinging his hoodie over his shoulder instead of putting it on because of course. It’s a slow walk through the park and back down to their street, arms and shoulders brushing, enjoying the last of the sun as the clouds start to burn orange.
They reach Harry’s house first and they both stop at the garden gate. Louis has his hands in his pockets, his rucksack sitting at his feet.
“So I’ll see you on Wednesday yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry fidgets with one of his rings, twisting it around his finger, “see you Wednesday.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow and Tuesday, to remind you what day it is. So you don’t forget when it’s Wednesday and stand me up.”
Harry flips him off. “Shut up no you won’t.”
Louis laughs. “Yeah, course I will.”
“I won’t forget.”
“You might. It’s well hard remembering what day of the week it is.”
“Not gonna forget.” It’s mumbled a little because Louis has taken him by the arm and pulled him in close with a quiet “c’mere”.
Harry turns his face in close, feels the drag of stubble against his skin. “C’mere” Louis says again and between one breath and the next they’re kissing, mouths catching hungrily in short sweet passes. It’s over in under a minute and Harry is left aching for it, shivers all up his arms and the back of his neck. They are still right there on the street he knows but he can’t help press his face into Louis’ neck, breathing him in. Louis’ arm around his waist gives him a squeeze. Before his bravery runs out Harry ducks down and drops a kiss onto his bare shoulder.
“Okay,” Louis lets out a breath and moves back a step, belatedly realising he’s still holding on to Harry. Then they’re laughing and some of the tension is broken and they can let go of each other. Louis picks his bag up and shoulders it and Harry unlatches the gate and lets it swing open.
“Right, see you on Wednesday.”
There’s a little private smile in the corner of his mouth that Harry thinks might just be for him. He smiles back.
“See you then.”