Chapter Text
❀
The first time they really talked was about a month ago, at the beginning of summer, right after Harry had moved into the flat next to his and brought with him a whirlwind of plants and music and laughter. He had already moved all his boxes into his flat that had been occupying the hallway for a few days, had arranged all his plants in their respective places on the balcony adjacent to Louis’ and had been greeting neighbours left and right, smiling at everyone he met in the hall. But until this particular afternoon, they had only exchanged pleasantries, dutifully wishing each other a good morning when they met at their front doors, as neighbours do - until Harry stumbled into Louis in the grocery store closest to their apartment complex.
Louis had been standing in the produce aisle after stocking up on coffee, debating whether to give the whole cooking thing another go after burning his pasta
again
, when Harry lost his footing and nearly knocked over his cart and everything in it.
“Woah there,” he said, gently grasping his forearms and trying to steady him.
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there”, Harry apologised, just a tad wobbly on his feet. He laughed brightly, introduced himself again, even though they had met already a while ago, had smiled and chatted and charmed him.
It was a quite unexpected change of his afternoon plans, when Harry insisted - as an apology for nearly running him over - that he’d invite Louis over for lunch. Or at least for one of the watermelons they had been standing next to, as a neighbourly apology. According to Harry, it was too “ginormous” for one single person anyway, and what better way to get to know each other than over some watermelon slices?
In the end, that had been how they spent the day, basking in the warmth of the sun beating down on them on Harry’s balcony. Sliced fruit between them, they swapped stories until their voices had gone scratchy.
And now, all these weeks later, they were sitting there again, instead of watermelon two cups of shitty coffee between them. Louis was listening intently to Harry recounting his day, like they always did when one of them had to vent. Which was most days, if Louis was being honest.
Harry was twirling the colourful bracelet he was wearing between his fingers, the one with the tiny strawberries and leaves, seemingly insecure, without any reason to be. To calm him down, Louis reached over and placed his hand carefully on top of his on the table between them, gently stopping his fidgeting. “I’m sorry love. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”
Harry sighed then, deflating. “‘M sorry Lou, I’m sure you don’t want to hear me rant.” Which wasn’t true, because Louis would listen to him rant about anything, although he enjoyed it even more when he was talking about things that make him happy, that he is passionate about.
But Harry changed the subject efficiently, asking Louis about his day. So he told him. And once the sun had set, they moved inside, putting on a record, conversation still flowing easily between them. Just like it did all those weeks ago over some sliced watermelon.
❀
Chats on the balcony became an increasingly regular thing, either each on their own, chatting over the balustrade or more often than not, both of them squeezed onto Harry’s balcony, sharing the tiny patio bench he had stuffed between his dozens of plants. There were flowers and greens, some tomatoes in the corner and a beautiful magnolia, which Louis only knew the name of because Harry had gushed over this particular plant more times than he could count. And even though every crevice of Harry’s balcony was filled with plants and delicate flowers, it was so inviting and warm, as cosy as the small space could be, which is why they mostly met over at his.
Louis’ balcony, on the other hand, had been mostly bare since he had moved in, housing nothing but two patio chairs he sat on when he was having a smoke. Otherwise it was unused and empty. But over the weeks that Harry had been living next to him, it seemed to fill up as well.
First it had been a ceramic ashtray Harry had found over the weekend, when he was rummaging through the kitchenware aisle in an antique store. It had yellow flowers on it and looked so aggressively 70s that Louis could only adore it. Every morning he had to smile a little to himself, when he lit his first cigarette of the day.
Then it had been a tiny table, with a charming mosaic tabletop he claimed to have “just picked up on the way home”, but it fit beautifully with the rickety chairs he had already owned so Louis accepted it after thanking him profusely. When Louis had gone over to Harry’s flat a day later though, there were some colourful tiles on his kitchen counters that resembled the ones on his gifted table a little too closely. And Louis simply didn’t know what to do with that information.
Now it was a beautiful pot of eucalyptus, for him to put on his balcony and make it look less like “a sad excuse of a balcony”, as Harry had called it. Apparently Harry had propagated it himself and it was already quite sizable, fitting beautifully in the corner of the railing.
“It’s easy to take care of, Lou. I swear!” With a smile, he added “Not even you could kill it.” Louis laughed at that, because it had been his first thought as well, how unfit he was to take care of a plant.
“And I promise, you don’t even have to water it! I’ll do it when I’m over.”
How could he ever deny the sweet boy in front of him? He could not. So he smiled and thanked him and squeezed his forearm in gratitude.
❀
They spent more and more time with each other, seeming to have clicked instantly and from then on out they saw each other most days, however briefly. On Sundays they liked to take walks, or visit a museum if Harry liked any of the new exhibits, and sometimes, if they had already seen them, Harry would still browse the museum shops, pointing at all the postcards of paintings and art they’ve seen before. This particular Sunday was a walk in the afternoon kind of Sunday, and while the heat was bordering on unbearable, they found a bench in the shade of the oak trees at the park where it was cool enough to sit and stay for a little bit.
Harry was telling him about a book he was reading, gesturing animatedly about the main couple and how their love story was perfect and why, for the love of god, could they not just talk to each other?
“And don’t get me wrong, I like some third act conflict to make it interesting, but why did it have to be miscommunication?” Louis didn’t have an answer to that question, but he gladly listened, would listen to him all day if he could.
Talking seemed to come easy to them, no matter the topic, conversation just seemed to flow between them and even the occasional silence was savoured by them. The walk back to their flats wasn’t far and they chatted in low voices, both subdued by the heat, but glad for the company. When they were just a few minutes away from home, Harry stopped abruptly in front of a hedge surrounding a private garden.
“Oh look!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at a tiny ladybug on one of the branches next to them. “He’s so pretty!” Louis fit himself next to Harry to look, chin hooked over his shoulder and his hand leaving a light touch to his waist. He’s so pretty indeed .
They watched the little bug saunter around the leaf, going on about his merry way until Harry placed his finger delicately next to it, allowing the bug to slowly climb on it. Something akin to adoration, maybe even awe in his eyes, Harry lifted his hand, inspecting the tiny creature with immense focus. The ladybug seemed to have enough of the inspection, though, and flew in the direction of the sun.
“My mom always used to say, you have to make a wish, if a ladybug is sitting on you and then flies away from you, towards the sun. She said they’re taking your wish with them and gift it to the universe and according to her, only good can come from that.” Harry smiled at him, leaning a little back, into his chest. “So what are you wishing for?” Louis continued.
An exaggerated gasp left Harry’s lips, scandalised by his question. “I can’t tell you that! Then it won’t come true.”
Louis nodded, understanding of course. How could he have even asked such a question? He squeezed Harry’s waist once, trailing his fingers softly over his exposed skin, where shorts met top. “Of course, little bug. Come on, let’s go home.”
❀
Weeks bled into each other and Louis blamed the heat, everything moving slow as molasses, everything becoming hot first and foremost. At this point the weather had gotten uncomfortable, their walks getting later and later in the day to avoid the midday heat, until they eventually had to stop them altogether.
What they did instead was seek out the art gallery that Louis’ friend had suggested, which was air conditioned and served glasses of delicious wine. It was a beautiful space, up a rickety staircase, tucked away in a small alleyway. The walls had been painted so dark, they almost looked black and were adorned with stunningly backlit photographs.
They’d been there before, had seen some other artist’s exhibition a while back, but it paled in comparison to the photographs they were admiring now. A continuous row of gorgeous black and white portraits lined the walls, some of them big enough to reach from floor to ceiling.
“They’re beautiful,” Harry said, twirling in the middle of the room, in a deep red blouse, flowing with his movement, as if trying to see everything at once. For a second and not any longer, at least Louis told himself that, he allowed himself to admire nothing but this beautiful person, spinning in a room full of pictures of beautiful people, and still outshining every single one of them.
They found themselves in front of a photograph of a man with striking features, not quite good looking, but overwhelmingly beautiful in his own way. And while they were admiring the beauty of the inelegance of his face and the unrefined lines of his nose, they stood next to each other, shoulder pressed to shoulder with no need to talk. Louis thought he could do this every day, if Harry’d let him.
“It’s interesting,” Harry whispered. “How we look at these pictures, at these people in it and decide if we like them or not. But the point is not to like, it is to feel.”
When they were walking back Harry asked Louis if he had a favourite one. He did, but he didn’t quite know how to explain why. It had been the portrait of a woman named Alicia, who looked to Louis as if she carried the whole world in her eyes, her gaze so intense, he couldn’t look away.
“It felt devastating to me,” he answered.
In this moment, walking home next to each other, he really wanted to take Harry’s hand, to link them together, but he felt like it wasn’t his place to do so. And even if this whole evening felt very much like a date, it still couldn’t have been, right? Right ?
❀
Over the course of the summer, Thursdays have quickly become something Louis looked forward to every week. It was the day both of them got off work earlier than normal and ever since the time Harry had invited him over for some leftover vegan lasagna, they usually met in Harry’s kitchen on Thursday evenings. Even though the agreement was that Harry would teach Louis how to cook a bit, it always seemed to end with Harry cooking and Louis watching him, sitting at the island.
To make up for it though, Louis started bringing over dessert that he’d pick up on the way home from work. This time it was macarons he had found in a small bakery, because they were one of Harry’s favourites - especially the lemon and pistachio ones. The dimpled smile Harry gave him every time he brought them made the fifteen minute detour worth it, though.
So this Thursday, when he came over, Harry was already in the kitchen, wearing his ridiculous purple apron and as much fun as Louis liked to make of it, secretly he thought it was the cutest thing ever.
“Be careful, please” Louis pleaded as he came up behind Harry who was cutting up tomatoes, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder to watch. Even though he knew Harry loved to cook and was fairly good at it, he was still scared the knife would slip and he’d hurt himself.
Dinner didn’t take long and while Harry told him all about his day, gossiping just a tiny bit about his annoying coworkers and telling him a joke that his sister had sent him, Louis set the tiny table outside on the balcony.
“I miss her,” Harry admitted when they had finished dinner, the conversation returning to his sister. “We promised each other we’d visit, but now it seems impossible. And I miss her so much.”
“Why don’t you visit though?” Louis asked him softly.
“I don’t know. We’re both busy I guess. She’s got her family and stuff and I have work and my plants and who would feed you if I left?” He chuckled, albeit a little sadly.
“I’d manage darling,” Louis promised. “If you can, you should go.” Harry smiled at him, seemingly thinking it over. “I’d even water your plants for you!”
The horrified look on Harry’s face at the mere thought of Louis caring for his plethora of plants made Louis laugh loudly, throwing his head back. Still, Harry thanked him, quite genuinely, and promised Louis he would think about it.
❀
After one of their walks home Harry had circled his wrist and pulled him in the opposite direction of home, not quite wanting to go home yet. They were sitting on a bench, not far from their apartment complex, on the edge of a beautiful park with a rose garden on the southern side. Louis had his head thrown back, both of his arms stretched along the backrest of the bench, gazing into the night sky.
Stars have always fascinated Louis. Not only the science behind them, how they form and sustain themselves and seem to light up the night sky, but also the poetry that accompanies them. The sun, the moon and the stars - always finding their way into Louis’ favourite stories. This particular night the stars were shining bright against the black sky, since the clouds had cleared.
They had been silent for some time, but he felt Harry stealing glances at him.
“What?” he asked, rolling his head in Harry’s direction, not lifting it but gazing at him from below, his cheek resting on his own shoulder.
“You look at the sky as if you’re looking for something more than stars,” Harry answered softly. And wasn’t that right .
Louis was looking for answers to questions he didn’t even know how to ask. Rather than answering, telling Harry about all his thoughts, the longing and yearning inside of him, he smiled.
“There’s this one constellation.” he said instead, evading Harry’s question. “You can see it at the beginning of the year, February mostly”. Harry hummed, encouraging him to keep talking, his eyes leaving Louis’ and returning towards the sky.
“It’s supposed to be a compass to guide men at sea, always pointing in the right direction. It doesn’t even have notable stars in it. It’s very simple, you know. But I always liked it, because even though it’s simple, and not even that bright, I still felt like it would guide me.”
There was no need for Harry to answer, Louis could feel that he was listening intently, holding his breath, silently urging him on to continue. Sharing such thoughts, however simple they may be, felt like baring his soul naked to him, and it felt less scary than Louis would’ve thought.
“That's why I got this.” He stretched his arm out towards Harry, not looking at him, but still very aware of his presence. Harry slid his hand under Louis’ forearm, lifting it slightly. He traced over the ink, the housing and the needle, finally settling onto the delicate lines of the faded word home , pressing down tenderly on the compass.
“What is it called?” he asked gently.
“Pyxis. I’ll show you sometime.”
He whispered, almost inaudible. “I’d like that.”
“Okay.”
❀
On Sunday Louis had been enjoying his first cigarette of the day, his feet propped against the railing of the balcony when Harry greeted him.
“Oh, hi neighbour!” Louis turned towards the voice, a smile already blooming on his lips. Harry was tending to his plants in nothing but a flowy silk robe in the colour of sea glass, swishing around his thighs. The sun had been slowly creeping up the sky and finally formed a halo around Harry, making his skin glow golden in the light. He looked ethereal . Louis had to force himself to look away.
“Good Morning little gardener.” he greeted back, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray Harry had gotten him some time back. “What are you up to this fine Sunday?”
Harry chuckled at that.
“I was thinking of going to the market at the park. Would you, maybe” Louis smiled at him encouragingly, hoping this would take the direction he thought it would. “...want to join me? They’ve got the best strawberries in town and I've been craving some for days.”
“I’d love to, bug. Meet you at your door in five?” Harry shot him a dazzling smile, already turning around to get back into his apartment. Before Louis went inside himself, Harry stuck his head out of the open door and said “Give me ten please, I still have to change”. Louis would give him all the time in the world.
They met a few minutes later at their front doors, locking up simultaneously. Louis had thrown on a baseball cap that he pulled further down once they stepped into the sun, but had he known that Harry had been planning to wear the most sinful shorts and beautiful blouse, he would’ve also considered sunglasses to shield his eyes, that he somehow couldn’t keep off of him.
The market was bustling with energy, people chatting amongst themselves or trying to loudly haggle prices over the counters. While they made their way through the stands, Harry kept pointing out all the things he liked, while Louis made mental notes of them, just in case.
Delicious scents filled the space around them, from freshly baked goods to the soft smell of roses. While strolling leisurely, Harry seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go, so Louis followed him dutifully, hands brushing from time to time.
“There they are!” Harry exclaimed, circling Louis’ wrist and pulling him to a beautiful wooden booth with stands in front, overflowing with strawberries. “The best in town”, Harry promised. The sign of the booth said Betty’s Berries, and the aforementioned Betty welcomed them warmly to her booth.
“A lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” They both nodded, Louis smiling softly at her, while Harry was already perusing all the berries. “What can I get the lovely couple today?” Louis’ smile faltered slightly, quickly correcting her. “We’re…” Before he could even finish his sentence, Harry interrupted him by placing two baskets with strawberries in front of the woman. “We’ll take these two please. I had to drag him all the way down here just for them, but they’re my favourite you know. So what can you do?” He stage-whispered the last part, as if it was a big secret. Betty laughed at that and rang them up. They said their goodbyes, promising Betty they’d be returning in the future.
Strawberries between them, Harry turned towards him. “I want to get some fresh bread from down there. You want some as well or do you want to wait here?” His brows were furrowed, as if to say
You don’t have to
, but his smile still seemed open. Louis had another idea though.
“Go ahead, I’ll browse here for a second. Just come get me when you’re done.”
He simply hoped Harry wouldn’t be disappointed by him not going with, but what he had in mind required Harry to leave him for a few minutes. After he nodded and left, still happy and smiling, Thank God , Louis made his way over to a little booth, tucked behind some bigger ones. He had seen it when they first came into the market, eyes immediately drawn to the bright yellow stall and all the beautiful flowers in front of it.
Once Harry came back to look for him, he was carrying a deliciously smelling packet of bread. “Here you are!” he said. “I got you some as well. So you won’t steal mine.” His lips were curved into a smirk and he looked at Louis intently. Louis smiled back nervously, his hands crossed behind his back.
“What’s with you? Why are you being weird?” Harry inquired.
“I’m not being weird!” Louis pulled one arm from behind his back to hold it up defensively. Harry just furrowed his brows, not believing him a second. God, he loved when he was playful like that.
“Then why do you have your hands behind your back like a grandpa taking a walk?” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he took a step forward, eyes never leaving Louis’. “What do you have to hide, Louuuu?” He looked as if in a moment he would attack Louis with tickles, which he wanted to avoid at all costs, so he admitted defeatedly but still very much smiling: “I got you something as well.”
Harry grinned, dimples on full display as he tried to snake his arms behind Louis to grasp at the surprise in his hands. “You did?” He looked at him with such openness in his eyes, his arms circled around Louis’ middle, that Louis’ heart thudded just a little stronger against his ribcage. He nodded, winding his arm back towards their fronts, presenting Harry with a young strawberry plant.
“I just thought maybe you could put it on your balcony,” Louis still holding the plant in his hands, looking sheepishly into Harry’s eyes. “Harvest your own, if they grow.” A deep red coloured Harry’s cheeks and Louis couldn’t stop himself from thinking how absolutely lovely he looked, standing in the midst of the market, in his pretty top, blushing furiously.
“Lou, that’s so sweet.” He wanted to take Harry into his arms so desperately, to finally wind them around his beautiful hips, right there, in the middle of the market. His fingers were twitching with the need to reach out, but Louis flexed them once, twice, three times and then shook it off - Harry was not his to touch like that . So he smiled softly, casting his eyes downward as if to say you’re welcome .
“Come on bug, let’s get this little guy home. I also heard these were the best strawberries.”
❀