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Louis looked around as a bell tinkled from somewhere above him, announcing his entrance. He began to peel back all the layers he’d done up to fight off the biting cold, grumbling to himself about how it’s fuckin’ cold out there bloody wind and ice fuck this is London not Antarctica. The heat of the bakery and floating smell of sugar and cinnamon warmed his cheeks and fingertips. Delicate pastries glittering with sweetness caught his eye as he moved toward the display cases and he decided yes, it was a very good idea to duck into this little shop before he froze his ass off.
As he bent down, trying to decide if the few pounds in his pocket would be worth spending on a scone or an apple fritter, he heard someone clear their throat above him. Straightening up, the first thing he saw was curls.
Chocolate brown curls that looked soft and sweet framing the face they belonged to; he wanted to wrap one around his finger and see it bounce back in place.
“Can I get you anything, mate?” The boy’s eyebrows gave a bemused quirk, sitting above eyes green like the mint sprigs Louis had just seen garnishing the cakes below.
Louis grinned. That deep rasp was not what he expected from such a cherubic face, but he found he quite liked it. “Sure, why not? What d’you recommend? Anything spectacular?”
The boy’s plush lips seemed to pull up in spite of himself, a gentle dip showing up in his cheek.
Louis bit his lip.
Well fuck.
“Everything is really good. I mean, I dunno ‘bout spectacular, but I just made some croissants and I’d say they’re pretty good. Never had any complaints, anyway.”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll have that then.” Louis nodded along. He was pretty sure he’d eat whatever the boy offered if it meant he could hear that low rumble wrap around more words.
Curly nodded and headed into the back, returning with a plate. He made to walk to the register and make his way around the counter, towards the tables, but he paused when he saw that Louis had planted himself on a stool up at the counter.
Louis was incredibly pleased when those dimples showed up again.
The pastry looked light and flaky and it was utterly delicious, if his little groan of approval after trying a bite was anything to go by. “Mate, I’d say these qualify as ‘spectacular’. Thanks. Louis, by the way.”
Curly ducked his head but Louis could still make out the shadow of those little indents on his cheeks. He liked them maybe too much.
“Harry.”
“Well, Harry, I find it pretty hard to believe that everything here tastes this amazing,” Louis grinned, quoting Harry from before.
“You don’t trust me?” Harry giggled. Louis wanted to bottle the sound and carry it with him and listen to it on cloudy days and during his lectures and maybe before bed when it gets very cold at night and he could use a little spark of sunshine.
“Not a bit. You look like quite the cheeky one, what with those curls and dimples.” Harry seemed to have completely given up, his smile out in full force, brightening up the little bakery. “In fact, I’m probably gonna have to come back. Gotta try everything once just to be sure you’re not taking the piss. Maybe twice.”
Harry seemed to ponder it for a moment. The tips of his curls were dusted in white flour, a streak of sugary dough brushed high on his cheek. Louis felt something warm and fond glow in his tummy.
“Yeah, okay. I guess I can live with that.” Another dimple winked at him.
Suddenly trekking through snow and sleet to find a seat in this little bakery didn’t seem so bad.