Chapter Text
Harry had never felt so vindicated. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined that he would be so happy to be sworn at.
With a sigh, he turned away from the intercom. On the third ring, he’d decided that—contrary to his usual policy—he would most certainly not be leaving this delivery with the building’s front desk staff. To be honest, he was uncomfortable delivering it to begin with. Niall had offered, but after reading the card that went with the ridiculously large bouquet of roses, Harry had insisted it be him. It felt personal.
Now, five rings later, relief washed over him that he wouldn’t have to deliver it after all. When he’d called to confirm the recipient would be available for the delivery, he’d been met with “Call can not be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.”
“For the last time, go away! This is fucking harassment, you know that? I’m well within my rights to call the cops.”
Harry dashed back to the intercom, but his finger lingered over the button. The occupant sounded… defeated. The firm and confident words had an underlying tremble that shattered Harry’s heart. Pressing down on the button, every word Harry had rehearsed in his head evaporated.
“Uh…” Harry cleared his throat. “I have a delivery for a…” He double-checked the name on the order before continuing. “Louis Tomlinson? I tried the cell number on the order, but it was out of service?”
Niall eyed him curiously when he flopped down on the counter stool with a happy sigh and what was most assuredly a stupid grin on his face. Though it was clear his friend looked and felt like shit, he’d come in to cover the register while Harry ran the delivery. His nose was red and his voice was rough from coughing. Harry promised him homemade chicken soup and movies once he closed the store. He glanced at the clock. It had been almost an hour since the disastrous delivery attempt, but Harry’s stomach was still full of butterflies and his heart raced dangerously in his chest.
“Fuck, Niall. I’m in love.”
Niall’s eyes went wide in surprise. That was fair. It had been a hot minute since Harry had said those words. The last time had resulted in Harry being too embarrassed to set foot in his favorite coffee shop for over a month.
“Which is surprising since he spent five minutes swearing at me.” Niall quirked an eyebrow in confusion.
“He swore at you!? What the fuck, Harry!?” His friend and part-time help made his way up the short set of stairs to the check-out counter from where he’d been tending to the floral displays on the lower level of the shop. Harry waved his hand dismissively.
“Maybe not at me. In my general direction. Does that make sense?” Harry hoped it did. Louis wasn’t a bad person. He was certain of that the moment he opened the door. Louis wasn’t angry. He was hurt. Broken. The sadness in Louis’ silver-blue eyes had devastated him. It was all he could do to keep his retail smile firmly in place. “I… I liked it.”
“Since when do you have a humiliation kink?” Harry knew Niall meant it as a joke, but it was clear he just didn’t get it.
“He was pissed at whoever sent the flowers, not me. I just happened to be there.” God, Harry hoped he was making sense. This time, Niall nodded.
“Wrong place; wrong time.” His friend surveyed his face. “Or right place, wrong time? You look like a lovesick idiot.” A laugh bubbled out of him without his permission.
“Niall, I don’t know what it is about him. I was just drawn to him. Something inside me clicked. I need to see him again. I… I have to see him again.” Niall’s eyes widened and his eyebrows made a valiant attempt to reach his hairline.
“That’s… Wow, Harry.”
“Yeah,” he bobbed his head in agreement. “Wow.”
That opened the floodgates. How long Harry gushed about silver-blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, neither of them knew. It seemed like every time Niall thought Harry’s praises had wound to a natural conclusion, some other attribute leaped to the front of his mind and another tirade of “Harry and the Heartbroken and Also Devastatingly Handsome Customer” began anew.
Niall was happy to know that, yes, Louis had refused the flowers, and, no, he hadn’t read the card. They’d had a long discussion that morning about whether Harry should even deliver it. Despite Niall’s insistence that it needed to be unceremoniously deposited in the shop’s dumpster out back, Harry had settled for gauging Louis’ reaction before handing the card over. Thankfully, he never had to. The flowers had been brought to the children’s hospital where he’d had a blast handing them out to the parents and staff. It had been the perfect way to get closure on the whole situation. The problem was he didn’t want closure.
“Fuck it,” Harry blurted after a momentary pause that followed a recounting of how delicate Louis’ hands were. Niall jumped. “I’m going to go back.”
“Today?!”
Niall had a point. Today might be a bit soon. Louis was probably still a bit raw from their earlier interaction. Not to mention he needed to get Niall home and in bed. Next week would have to suffice.
“You’re right. I’ll give it a week.” Harry agreed. “One week and then I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Niall prompted when Harry trailed off. What would he do? A flower arrangement was certainly off the table—but showing up empty-handed would be weird.
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” Harry frowned. “It’ll come to me. I just… I have to see him again, Niall.”
“Fuck. You really are gone for him, aren’t you?”
He was. He really was.