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Louis runs down the packed hallway and looks around- where the fuck was gate E2? And was he running in circles or something?
He groans and turns around, suddenly seeing Gate E2 on a big sign right in front of him. Oh. He hands a woman in a blue skirt and bright red lipstick his ticket and then boards the plane. Seat 18B, his ticket says.
He walks past all the chairs, before finally finding someone sitting in his seat. And really, if he wasn't so tired he would have been more polite, but fuck politeness, because Louis had to wake up at 3 o'clock this morning and didn't even have time to have some tea, so he says, “Um, hello? You're sitting in my seat, mate,” and glares at the mop of brown curls that are reading a book.
The boy looks up and Louis blinks. Oh.
He was beautiful, to say the least. Bright green eyes enlightened his face, framed by brown, silky curls. Some tattoo's were peaking out of the bottom of his right sleeve, and Louis had never really been attracted to tattoo's, but. Well. Shit.
The boy takes his earphones out and looks up at Louis with big, earnest eyes. “M'sorry, what did you just say?”
“I, uh. I think you're sitting in, uh, my seat? Possibly?” Louis says, his voice higher than he would've wanted. The boy frown and looks at his ticket.
“I'm seat 18A.”
“Yeah, that's the seat next to the one you're sitting in right now,” Louis explains. The boy makes an 'o' with his mouth and quickly picks up his things, moving them over a bit and sitting in the next chair.
“Sorry mate. Bit stressed, is all. First time flying on my own,” the boy rambles, shaking his curls out of his eyes. Louis smiles and sits down next to him.
“It's fine, don't worry,” he says. He extends his hand. “I'm Louis Tomlinson.”
“Harry. Harry Styles. Nice to meet you,” Harry says, grinning, a dimple revealing itself and making Louis think, my god, dimples as well?!
They fall into a comfortable silence as Louis shrugs off his coat and watches two women arguing about something four seats further. He then gets a text and grabs his phone out of his pocket.
From: Zaynie
heyyy have a safe flight lou, everything go fine so far?
He smiles and sends a text back.
yeah, was nearly too late and couldn't find the gate, but im fine now. plus im sitting next to this guy with curly hair and hes wellll fit x
“I wouldn't say I'm well fit, but, yeah, thanks,” Harry murmurs from next to him, eyes trained on his book and a cheeky smirk gracing his lips. Louis blushes bright red and quickly throws his phone back into his bag.
After another ten minutes the plane starts taking off and Louis closes his eyes. He's always loved the feeling of taking off, ever since he was a little kid.
“So, why are you going to Paris?” Harry asks. Louis looks at him and smiles.
“I just needed a break, really. Might go and visit some far relatives while I'm there.”
“What, d'you have a stressful life or something?” Harry raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah. I have to get up at ten o'clock every day to feed my cat and then go and work in that god damned coffee shop till five – I still don't know why those kids love making pictures of their cups all the time – and then come home and listen to Zayn moaning about how Liam will never love him and that he's going to die alone with thirty cats,” Louis tells him. Harry just stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth.
“Sounds interesting,” Harry grins, closing his book and putting it in his bag.
“Yeah. You could say I have a pretty busy life, you know?” Louis smirks. “How bout you?”
“Um, I'm on my way to Paris to get a train from there to some little village in the south of France because my friend was able to book a couple of gigs for us there? So like. Yeah..,” Harry trails off.
“You're in a band?” Louis asks. Harry nods. “What's it called?”
“Uh, it doesn't really have a name yet. We're.. We're like. Working on it. But Niall says it's about the music anyway, yeah?” Harry grins and Louis chuckles.
“Yeah. So do you play an instrument?”
“Oh, no, Niall and Josh play the guitar but I just sing,” the curly haired boy says slowly, and Louis hopes he'll hear Harry sing one day.
“That's really cool. I wish I had done something productive with my life when I was your age, which is..?”
“19.”
“Exactly. I'm 21 and still look forward to coming home on Saturday nights so I can watch Doctor Who with my cat and have some tea,” he says. Harry chuckles and turns in his seat slightly so he can face Louis better.
They start chatting about things from Harry’s band, to Louis' cat, to college - “Hated it. I was the only gay guy in the village,” Louis says, and Harry full on laughs, clapping his hands once and nearly screaming, “Oh my God, Louis, you sound just like that guy from Little Britain!” - until Harry casually pulls up the armrest and shifts closer to Louis, resting his head on Louis' shoulder.
This should be weird, Louis thinks. They only met an hour ago. This should definitely not feel this right.
“So tell my about Zayn,” Harry says softly, interrupting Louis' thoughts.
“Um. Well. Zayn's a dick, but I love him. Like, we were in school together when we were about 10, and he was all quiet and I was basically the opposite, and we just became friends? I don't really know how it happened. But now we live in an apartment in London, and I'm just really happy I have him, you know?” he says, and Harry nods. “And he's head over heels for one of our friends, Liam, and Liam loves him as well but they're both way too daft to notice.”
Harry chuckles and asks if he has a picture of them. Louis picks up his phone and scrolls through his pictures quickly, hoping Harry doesn't notice al the embarrassing selfies he makes when he's bored. He shows Harry a picture of him, Zayn and Liam from about four months ago, at Louis' birthday party.
“We were already quite drunk there, as you can notice by my lovely little drunk finger-pointing in every picture, but yeah, that's them,” Louis says as he shows him a few pictures of that night. Harry smiles.
“They seem lovely,” he says. Louis just smiles at him and puts his phone away again.
“So tell me more about Niall and your band and stuff,” he says, resting his head on top of Harry’s.
“Hmm. He's hilarious. He's got a really strong, Irish accent and occasionally orders pizza at 4 in the morning but he's a great laugh. And he's a bloody good guitarist as well. Met him in a music shop about two years ago. I was looking at Justin Bieber's new album – don't laugh, I was only looking, I swear – and he came over and said, “love that guy, he's brilliant,” and we just hit it off. He's got connections with everyone, all across the world as well, which is well weird as he's only ever been in Ireland and England.” Harry frowns slightly. Louis laughs.
“Picture?”
Harry takes out his phone and shows Louis his background, a picture of himself and Niall on stage. Louis tries to ignore the fact that Harry’s all sweaty and hot and actually just looking really fucking good, and looks at the blonde boy next to him with a guitar and a big smile.
“He looks like a really fun guy,” Louis says honestly, and Harry smiles, nodding. They look through Harry’s pictures for a bit before they're somehow making pictures together, making goofy faces and looking like real twats.
“Oh, oh, duckface!” Harry yells loudly, pouting his lips, and Louis does the same before bursting into a fit of giggles.
“You have to send these to me,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes and clutching his belly. Some of the other passengers look back and glare at them, but Louis just ignores them.
“Sure, what's your e-mail address?” Harry asks. Louis looks down and murmurs something. “What's that, Louis? I didn't quite understand you..”
“[email protected],” he murmurs louder this time. Harry stares at him in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Don't laugh, okay. Lottie made it for me,” Louis grumbles. Harry just snorts and saves it in his phone, promising to send the pictures to him soon.
They chat for another while, and suddenly the pilot's voice is coming through the speakers, saying they'll be landing any minute now.
“Oh,” Harry whispers, frowning slightly. They both stay silent as the aeroplane descends into Paris. They both put their stuff back into their bags and grab their coats. When they're finally allowed out, the two boys walk around the airport, trying to read the sings and find the luggage belt.
“What the fuck even is a valise?” Harry murmurs, and Louis laughs at the terrible French accent.
“I think it's luggage or something. Let's just go this way,” Louis says, pointing straight ahead of them. Luckily Louis' right, and after a few minutes they've found their suitcases and are walking outside.
They both stand there for a minute, looking at France – I'm in France. Woah, Louis thinks – and ignoring the fact they have to say goodbye. Louis calls a taxi and then turns to Harry.
“Harry-”
“Louis-” they both say at the same time. The two boys laugh and Harry says, “you first.”
“Um, Harry, I know this is probably really weird, but like, I really enjoyed talking to you and stuff? So I was thinking maybe when you come back to England we could do something some time..?” Louis asks, biting his bottom lip. Harry’s face lights up and he throws his arms around Louis' neck.
“I was thinking the exact same thing,” he whispers into Louis' neck. Louis smiles and hugs him.
“Good. Would've been really awkward if you weren't,” Louis murmurs, and Harry laughs and pulls away. He gives Louis his number and Louis gives Harry his, and then Louis' taxi is there.
“I'm going back to England in a week,” Louis tells him. Harry nods slowly.
“Three weeks for me. I'll call you or something when I get back, alright?” he says. Louis nods and says goodbye again before turning around and walking to his taxi, when something grabs his wrist and spins him around.
He looks up and finds Harry’s green eyes boring into his from only an inch away. Louis feels his hot breath on his lips and can practically hear his own heart beating against his chest. He leans forward slowly and lets his lips touch the younger boy's. Harry’s hands come up and sit on his waist, tugging him forward just a little more so they're chest to chest.
It's a sweet, chaste kiss, and when Harry leans back and smiles at him, Louis can't contain the grin that spills onto his face.
“How romantic and movie-like of you, Styles,” he utters, fixing his fringe. Harry chuckles.
“I've seen enough romantic comedies to know how to win a guy's heart,” he jokes, winking cheekily, and Louis laughs, until his taxi man honks and screams some French words at him. Louis looks back and nods, holding up one finger. He turns back to Harry and stands on his tiptoes to give him a quick peck.
“I'll see you in three weeks, love. Don't go seducing any French guys with moustaches while you're here, okay?” Louis says teasingly, and Harry chuckles.
“Wouldn't even dare to, Lou. Now come on, get into your taxi. That man looks like he's going to hit you with a baguette or something,” Harry tells him, slapping Louis' arse as Louis turns around.
Louis gets into the cab and puts on his best French accent to try and apologise to the chauffeur and tell him where he's going to.
“Uh.. la.. je go to une hotel.. uh..”
“You want to go to a hotel?” the man asks. Louis nods and the man tells him he'll drive him to the nearest hotel, afterwards murmuring something that sounds a lot like “imbécile”
Louis looks back and waves at Harry, until the car drives around the corner. Suddenly he feels his phone buzz against his leg and pulls his out, his face lighting up when he sees who it's from.
From: Harry Styles
just so you know, you're welllll fit as well xxx