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An inch.
It’s only an inch and yet- “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Louis hisses. He’s tried jumping, wiggling, and even not breathing. He wants to blame the zipper or the button or anything really, anything but his slightly pudgy stomach, but he can’t. It’s a cold, hard truth admitting that he can no longer fit in Zayn’s jeans.
“Did you shrink these?” Louis asks. He doesn’t sound desperate. (Except for how he totally does.)
“No way.” Zayn’s slipping comfortably into his pants; no jumping or wailing involved. Fuck him. “You know Liam does all the laundry.”
“Right.” Louis grimaces. “Liam.”
Zayn wrinkles his nose and flicks Louis on the side of the head. “Don’t say his name like that.”
“Whatever.” Louis huffs. It’s all Liam’s fault anyways. Liam and his stupid health food. Before Liam their apartment had things like macaroni and cheese and coke and cheetos, the staples of a young man’s diet. Now the kitchen is filled with lentils and quinoa and kale (which Louis refuses to accept as a food, it's like chewing on leaves). Who can blame Louis for sneaking take out and candy bars? He’s a growing boy (man? man-boy?); he’s got to eat. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to get all complacent and fat?” Louis complains. “It’s not fair that you get a boyfriend and I get the weight.”
Zayn shrugs, “Liam could train you.”
Louis makes a face, “I’m not enlisting the help of your disgustingly fit personal trainer boyfriend, who, by the way, did this to me in the first place.”
“Liam didn’t do that.” He says, gesturing to the bit of Louis’s stomach peaking out of his unbuttoned jeans. “If anything you should be losing weight, he’s thrown out everything unhealthy in this place.”
“Yea and replaced it with nasty food I don’t eat!”
Zayn rolls his eyes, “Well then come shopping with us. We’re going to the farmers market tomorrow, you can pick food you’ll actually eat.”
“The farmers market?” Louis asks incredulously. “What has Liam done to you?” He demands. “Next you’ll be going to brunch and taking hikes and whatever else it is that 40 year old married people do.”
“Shut up.” Zayn’s blushing but he’s also smiling a bit like the idea isn’t as unappealing as it ought to be. Because gross. They’re 20. “Just come with us. It’ll be fun.”
***
The farmers market is not what Louis would call fun. For starters its fuck all early in the morning. “Why?” Louis whines. “Why would anyone get up this early on the weekend? Or ever for that matter.”
“It’s ten!” Liam sounds baffle. Which he would, considering he regularly gets up before the sun. He’s a terrible, terrible person and Louis doesn’t understand what Zayn sees in him. Well other than the muscles. Because yea. Those are pretty good.
“Lou’s just cranky when he hasn’t had his morning coffee.”
Liam brightens (there really isn’t anything he likes more than solving a problem) and says, “I’ll go get some. There’s a place further down the road.” Zayn waits until Liam’s just out of sight before hastily pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.
“What’re you doing?” It’s not like Louis’s unaware of this particular vice but they’re at a farmers market and something about that makes it feel inappropriate. Not to mention the fact that Zayn’s huffing and puffing like he’s not had a cigarette in weeks.
“Liam can’t know.” Zayn says through a cloud of smoke. “He thinks I’ve quit.”
“He doesn’t.” Louis refuses to believe that because Zayn perpetually smells like smoke and cologne and you’d have to be an idiot not to notice. Except… Liam’s sweet and good-looking and very nice but he’s certainly not that bright. So it’s possible. “You’re fucked up.”
“Yea, yea. Just- fuck,” Zayn’s eyes widen and he’s quickly dropping the cigarette and trying to stomp it out. “He’s coming back. Distract him?”
Louis ought to let him get caught, it’d serve him right, but sometimes he can be a good friend. And also, he needs that coffee stat. “Hey Liam!” Louis wraps an arm around him, steering him away from Zayn. “Thanks.” He says, taking the coffee and gulping down as much as the scalding liquid will allow. “So,” He starts, drawing out the word. “How does this work then?”
Liam’s furrows his furry caterpillar brow, “How does what work? And where’s Zayn?”
“This,” Louis gestures vaguely, “The market.” He purposefully ignores the Zayn bit. He’ll find them when he’s ready.
“Oh well… you just pick your food and then pay. Like the regular market.”
“Right.” Louis says and tries not to roll his eyes. He’s actually not an idiot and it’s a good thing Zayn’s so fond of Liam or Louis might have to punch him for that explanation. “Any recommendations?”
“That lady there has good turnips and potatoes, oh and that guy! His greens are usually quite fresh. If you want fruit though, you got to go to Horan’s. They’ve got the best fruit hands down.”
Louis nods, mostly just pretending to listen. There’s an elderly woman surrounded by baked goods that’s caught his attention. Luckily Zayn appears a moment later and Louis’s free to slip away and pursue that option. Screw fruit, with his coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other Louis’s feeling pretty good. He meanders through the market, not paying much attention. There are tables and baskets full of things (vegetables?) he’s never seen before and has little desire to see again, let alone eat. (Later he gets home to see an array of these items sitting on the kitchen counter. Fuck Liam.)
“Sample?”
Louis’s pulls his eyes away from some strange looking green ball which may or may not be eatable to see a boy holding a pair of tongs, a bit of fruit dangling from the end. “What is it?” Louis asks suspiciously.
“A tangelo.” A what now? It looks a bit like an orange but Louis’s not trusting something he’s never heard of before.
“You made that up.” He accuses.
The boy grins, deep dimples forming and oh. Wow. He’s actually kind of incredibly cute. “Did not. It’s a cross between a tangerine and a pomelo.”
“Pomelo? You made that up too.”
He laughs which Louis really, really likes. He should always laugh. Louis should always be able to make him laugh. “It’s like a grapefruit.”
“Gross.” Is all Louis can say because yuck, grapefruit sucks.
“It’s not!” The boy insists, “Trust me, it’s good. Try it.”
It’s not like Louis can say no to a direct order like that. Especially not when it’s coming from this pretty boy with a big smile and messy curls escaping from his beanie. The fruit is actually… “Really good.”
“Told you.” He smirks. “Niall,” he calls out over his shoulder. “Bring me a couple of tangelos, will you?” Louis watches through squinted eyes as a blonde guy gathers a few misshapen oranges and tosses them to Curls.
“What are you doing?”
Curls just smiles and puts the fruit in a bag. “Here, take them. On the house.”
“I can’t-“
“You can.” He thrusts the bag into his hands. “You’ll be back.” He says confidently.
***
Louis doesn’t want to go back. He’s stubborn and most certainly doesn’t want to prove Curls right. Doesn’t want to admit that he’s shallow enough to start buying fruit because the boy selling it is cute.
But shallow is Louis’s middle name.
“I’m so glad you’re getting excited about healthy food!” Liam says, grinning from ear to ear. They’re at the market again and while Liam’s thrilled, Zayn’s skeptical.
“Yea Lou,” he says slowly, “this is quite the change.”
Louis shrugs noncommittally. “What can I say? I’m all about health.” He scans the market and spots a familiar head of curls. “Well I’m off. Produce to purchase and all.” Zayn starts to say something but Louis ignores him. He’ll deal with the interrogation when they get back to the apartment, right now he’s got a certain fruit peddler to visit.
He’s helping some girl fill her reusable bag with fruit when Louis approaches. The girl reeks of hipster desperation, batting her eyelashes behind thick-rimmed glasses and scuffing her combat boots against the street. Curls is smiling and whatever he’s saying is apparently quite funny. The longer Louis stands there the sillier he feels. “Can I help you mate?” It’s the blonde- Niall.
“Oh um,” Louis’s eyes flicker to Curls and then back to the guy in front of him. “No, it’s okay.”
“Ah,” Niall says knowingly. “Another one of Harry’s suitors? Give him a minute.”
Louis wants to protest. He’s not another one of Harry’s (Harry? Oh god what an awful name for such a pretty little thing) anything and he resents being lumped into any category that includes girls wearing camouflage. Louis’s finally decided this is sufficiently awkward and embarrassing and he’s actually not that desperate so he turns to leave.
“Hey wait!” Harry calls. Louis’s tempted to keep walking but out of the corner of his eye he can see Harry pushing a now disgruntled little hipster toward Niall and it’s more satisfying than it should be. “You came back.” He says, grinning.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Louis replies cheekily. He’s aware he’s coming on strong but Louis never does anything in halves. And well, it’s not like Harry’s complaining.
Harry eyes him up and down real quick and Louis tries not to quiver under his gaze. “Well I’m glad you’re back. I’ve got something for you.”
Louis tries not to feel let down when it turns out to be fruit. Which, right that’s what Harry does, sells fruit. “What is it?” The thing itself is this ominous yellow-green color and sits snugly in Harry’s hand.
“A pomelo.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He pulls out a knife and starts cutting out a bit. (And why that’s suddenly so unbelievably sexy Louis cannot explain.) “You’d never had it before so I thought you might like to try it.” Louis’s the tiniest bit overwhelmed by the fact that Harry remembers what he said that he forgets what Harry compared a pomelo to and takes the fruit easily.
“Ugh!” He gags and spits the barely chewed piece into his hand. “This is awful! Like a fucking-“
“Grapefruit?” Harry supplies, grinning madly. “I told you.”
“Yea, yea.” Louis frowns and tries to discreetly wipe his tongue with the back of his hand. “Well next time I want something sweet, none of this nasty sour shit.”
“Alright,” Harry says. “Challenge accepted. Come back next week and I’ll give you sweet.” He winks and Louis’s insides do their best impression of jello.
Louis can’t have this boy thinking he’s got the upper hand so he throws out a “we’ll see” as he’s walking away. “I’m a very busy man, can’t spend all my weekends at the market.”
But as they both probably could have predicted, when Sunday rolls around Louis finds himself flattening out his shirt and tousling his hair (he may actually die if it goes flat) before making his way over to the fruit stand. Harry’s free this time, rearranging a pile of oranges with his back to Louis. Niall spots him first, “Hey!” He calls out with a nod of recognition. “Haz, your boy’s here.”
Harry lights up when he turns to look over his shoulder. “Hey!” He throws a few more oranges in with the others and motions Louis over. “You know I still don’t know your name.” He says as he wipes his hands on his jeans.
“It’s Louis.” He sounds more breathless than he wants to but… sweet jesus Harry looks good. Tight jeans, collarbones peaking out the top of his shirt, and are those tattoos…? How has Louis never noticed those before? Actually now that he thinks about it he’s not sure he’s ever seen Harry’s bare arms. They’re nice. Like really nice. Like Louis may have to start writing poetry or learn to draw or some shit because he can’t do justice to those arms with the few words he’s got rattling around in his brain. (Mainly those words are yum and more please.)
“Louis? I like it, suits you. I’m Harry.”
Louis manages not to say, “I know.” Because um yea, that would be embarrassing. Instead he just stands there trying not speak since the only thing that’s going to come out of his mouth is a declaration of undying love and well, it may be too early in their relationship for that. Not that they’re in a relationship or anything. Louis doesn’t even know his last name for god’s sake.
If Harry notices Louis’s odd behavior he doesn’t mention it. “Close your eyes.”
Louis shuts his eyes but almost immediately opens one. “Wait why?”
Harry just smiles. “Close your eyes Louis.”
“Okay, okay.” He huffs and squeezes both eyes tightly. There are a few heart pounding moments where Louis stands there like an idiot and prays this isn’t some sick practical joke where Harry’s going to pour pigs blood on him or something. Oh god. What if it is? What if- oh, no. Not a joke. There’s a bit of slimy fruit being pushed past his lips. Harry’s feeding him. No big deal or anything.
“Yummm,” Louis purrs. And not just because the idea of Harry feeding him sends shivers up and down his spine. “That’s really good.” He opens his eyes just as Harry’s about to give him another piece; he hesitates. Louis, feeling emboldened, parts his lips and sucks the slimy, yellow fruit into his mouth.
Which sounded sexier in his head.
Harry snorts and reaches a hand out to wipe the corner of Louis’s mouth where a dribble of juice is leaking out. “You like it then?”
Louis nods and swallows. “What is it?”
“Mango.”
“Mango?” Louis repeats dubiously. “You grow mango?”
Somewhere to his left Niall lets out a laugh. “Harry doesn’t grow anything. He’s just here to look pretty and sell shit.”
“Heyyyy,” Harry pouts. “I help pick things!”
“But mango?” Louis pushes again. “You can grow mango here? Isn’t that a tropical fruit?”
“You never said I had to grow it. Just that it had to be sweet.” Harry’s smirking. Smug little shit.
Louis gapes. “You cheated!”
“It’s not cheating! There weren’t any rules.”
Louis glares but it’s pretty obvious that he’s not really mad.
Fuck. He’s so screwed.
***
“Twice.”
“Yes Zayn just keep talking like I have any idea what you’re going on about.” Louis tells him, rolling his eyes.
Zayn holds up two fingers like that’s going to make any more sense. “Twice.” He repeats. “Twice now you’ve gone to the farmers market and came back empty handed.”
Huh. Louis knew he was forgetting something. “So?” He challenges. “I didn’t see anything I liked.”
Zayn’s hands find their way to his hips and his eyes narrow to slits. “You’re up to something.”
Louis quirks an eyebrow and feigns innocence, “Am I?”
“Don’t play dumb with me Tomlinson. I’ll figure it out, just you wait.”
Louis should know better than to think Zayn makes empty threats. He doesn’t. If he says he’s going to use the last of the hair gel you best believe he’s going to go about sporting a massive quiff that would survive a nuclear fallout. So Louis must have temporarily lost his damn mind when he thought he could keep Harry a secret.
***
“Hey Lou,”
“Hey Niall,” He returns easily. It should be weird but for the first time since he’s started coming Louis feels at ease in the market. Like this could be a thing. Like he could spend every Sunday here being fed fresh fruit by a curly-haired cutie. Speaking of, “Where’s Harry?”
“Just gone to get some coffee. We were up early picking this morning.” Niall’s attention is drawn away by elderly couples who are asking him about the fruit. Apparently it’s organic. Hm. Who knew? (Or cared? Not Louis. He’s not even sure what makes something organic. Isn’t all fruit organic? It’s fruit.)
“Louis! There you are!” He’s expecting Harry but what he sees is a big dopey smile and a buzzcut. Liam’s got one arm wrapped around Zayn’s waist and the other waving frantically in Louis’s direction.
“Oh fuck.” Louis contemplates running but he’s fairly certain nobody would follow and he’s far more concerned about what Zayn will say when he’s not around than what he’s bound to say when he is. Because Zayn is definitely going to say something. “What are you doing here?” Louis hisses.
Zayn fixes him with his best “you better not be talking to me like that” look. “We could ask you the same thing.”
“I- I’m buying fruit!”
Liam practically beams. “I told you Horan’s was the best!”
“What now?” Louis asks, more biting than he means it. But like seriously. That boy should just keep his mouth shut, especially when nobody knows what the fuck he’s talking about. Zayn shoots him a glare and nuzzles Liam’s neck like a crazy possessive cat.
Liam points at Niall and kind of grunts out, “Horan’s.” Louis would commend him on his caveman impression if Zayn didn’t look about ready to pounce. On Louis that is, not Liam. (Though he does look about ready to pounce on Liam as well. Ew.)
Niall, for his part, looks up and grins. “Liam! How you doing?”
“Hey Niall! I’m doing great!” Liam replies and Louis’s stomach drops. Fuck. No. Just no.
“You know Niall?”
“Of course! Been buying produce from his family since we were kids.”
“Yes sir.” Niall agrees. “Back when I was still a brunette and Harry was the shortest kid in our class.” The laugh like old pals and Louis wants to vomit. Because Liam knows Harry. His Harry. Okay not, his, but… almost his? He hopes. Maybe.
“And exactly how do you know Niall?” Zayn looks both suspicious and far too happy for that to be an innocent question.
“Who Louis?” If Niall can sense any tension he’s doing a good job of ignoring it. Possibly he’s thick enough to not notice it though. He is friends with Liam after all. “He’s been coming around for weeks. He and Harry-“
“What about Harry?” asks the boy himself. He beams at Louis who can’t manage more than a grimace because yea, shit is about to hit the fan.
Zayn takes one look between the two of them and crows in delight. “Ha! I fucking knew it!” Everyone’s looking at him like he may be insane except Louis, who knows he’s insane and that whatever is about to happen is going to be horrendously embarrassing for him.
“Zayn-“
“Health food my ass!” He rounds on Harry who flinches and steps back much like one would back away from a wild animal. “It’s you. You’re the reason Lou’s been so keen on-“
“Oh look!” Louis cries in a desperate attempt to divert attention. “Fresh eggs! We definitely need those, right Liam?”
“I- uh,” Liam looks torn between agreeing (they probably do need eggs) and not wanting to get in the middle of it (he does after all have to answer to Zayn in the end). Man, maybe that kid’s smarter than Louis’s been giving him credit for.
“It’s okay Louis,” Zayn says loudly. “He’s very pretty. And tall. You did always have a thing for tall-“ But Louis doesn’t get to hear the rest of what Zayn’s going on about. Because he does what any grown ass man would do when put in this position.
He takes off in a run. Well not so much a run as a very fast walk. Louis doesn’t run.
It’s cowardly, he’s aware. But whatever. It’s either face Harry and admit how much he likes him (which, no thanks. Sticking his heart out there with the possibility of being trampled? Fuck that) or run.
It’s fine. He’ll just never show his face in that market again.
***
Except it’s not really fine.
Because a week later finds Louis holed up in his bed, comforter pulled over his head, wearing yesterday’s sweat pants. Maybe yesterday’s. Possibly Friday’s. Louis’s not sure.
“Louis?”
Louis groans and burrows deeper into his bed.
There’s another tentative knock followed by Liam’s soft, “Louis, can I come in?”
“Fuck. Off.” Louis waits for the sound of fading footsteps but they never come. Instead there’s a bit of hushed whispering shortly followed by Louis’s door flying open. Fuck, didn’t he lock that?!
“Get up.”
“Go away Zayn.”
Zayn huffs and marches over to the bed. “Come on Louis,” He tries to peel back the cover but Louis stubbornly clings. There’s a brief struggle before Zayn throws his hands up in defeat, “Fine! Stay here and wallow!” Zayn’s tone is biting but under the irritation Louis can hear guilt. Good. Serves him right. “We’ll just go to the market and tell Harry you can’t come see him because you’re too busy hiding under your bed.”
“I’m not under the bed…” Louis mumbles.
Zayn growls and storms out of the room, leaving a blinking Liam behind him. “Um, I’ll just…”
“Go!” Louis moans.
“Okay, yea, sorry! Feel better Louis.” Part of Louis wants to yell at Liam, tell him he’s not fucking sick, and the other part wants to beg him to stay and let Louis cry all over his shoulder. (It’s those stupid puppy dog eyes, even Louis can’t resist.) Instead he settles on curling into the fetal position and trying to sleep away his sorrow. “Trying” being the operative word.
He’s in that hazy half-awake/half-asleep state, where he’s not sure if he’s been asleep and if he has he’s not sure how long it’s been, when he hears a knock on his door. “Ughhhh,” Louis resists the urge to throw something at the door. Just barely. “Leave me alone Zayn!”
A deep voice saying, “Not Zayn,” is the last thing Louis expects to hear. Harry doesn’t bother asking to come in; he pushes open the door and marches into the room in all his tall, gangly glory.
“What are you doing here?” Louis squeaks. He’s all too aware that his hair’s a mess and that he probably needs a shower. It’s not the best look for… well anything really but most certainly not for impressing one’s future husband.
“Liam sent me, said he was worried.”
Louis rolls his eyes, “Of course he is.”
Harry frowns. “The better question is what are you doing here?”
“Me? I live here!”
Harry’s frown deepens. “Well yes but I thought… it’s Sunday.”
Louis’s heart beats harder. “It is.” He agrees. It’s apparently not the right answer because Harry just stands there like a sad kitten and stares at him. “I’m sorry?” He tries. He’s not sure why he’s apologizing. Probably so Harry will stop looking like that.
“You should be.” Harry folds his arms over his chest. “Sunday is our day and you were just going to skip it.”
“Our day?” Louis parrots.
“I even brought you something special.”
“You did?” He asks helplessly. God he hopes it’s not obvious how gone he is for this kid. (It is.)
Harry nods and grins playfully, “You could still have it but now it’s going to cost you.”
“You’ve never charged me before.” Louis pouts.
“Yea well you never stood me up before.”
“I didn’t- okay fine.” Louis relents. “Name your price.”
“A date. A proper one with dinner and a movie and maybe even a goodnight kiss.”
Louis’s never been more eager to pay up. “Done.” Harry’s beaming and Louis thinks he may say something stupid so before he can he asks. “Where’s my present?” Harry produces an orange from lord knows where and hands it over. “This is it?”
“Heyyyy,” Harry whines. “I grew that myself.”
And well. There’s nothing Louis can say to that.
Later he tries to eat the orange but it turns out Harry’s better at selling fruit than he is growing it. It’s far too sour and the texture is all wrong. It’s okay though because Harry’s still cute and kind and Louis’s got a date with him. Which is sweeter than any fruit he’s ever tasted.