C H A P T E R    T W E L V E

Distractions and Discoveries

❄●❄

                  BLESS LOTTIE, HONESTLY. Louis had completely forgotten about all the homework he would have to grade this weekend, and sure there was still tomorrow, but he sort of had plans. Hopefully.

                  "So I think he'll be sticking around for a bit. He's useful, anyway," Louis was explaining, taking a second to push his glasses up. The buggers were driving him nuts.

                  Lottie frowned. "That's not the only reason you're keeping him around, right?"

                  "What? No. No, I... I'm keeping him around because he wants to be around." Dammit, Louis thought, as he made a correction that didn't need to be made. He began to fix his mistake.

                  "I mean, do you want him around? I like Harry; I hope you aren't using him." She'd stopped checking her papers; Louis had given her the homework for his math class because it was the most straightforward and easy to correct. Instead of doing that, though, she was watching Louis, expectant.

                  He was becoming flustered very quickly. "No! I'm not using him – of course I'm not using him. I like him. I mean... I like having him around as much as he wants to be around. If he wants to hang, I'll hang, you know? If he wants to join the lads and I every night, then he's more than welcome, and I'm – we're – glad to have him. That's what I meant."

                  This seemed to be enough to appease her for now. She went back to her work and Louis went back to his, grateful for the passing of the moment. But after a few minutes of silence, Lottie tilted her head thoughtfully and said, "He's sweet."

                  And, well, Louis couldn't really argue. He'd fondly try to, though. "He's a cheeky bastard, is what he is."

                  "You should invite him over for dinner tonight. You know, as a thanks for last night."

                  "Offered already. He said last night was a thanks for putting him up."

                  Lottie hummed in response. Then she added, "He is a cheeky bastard, isn't he?"

                  Yes. He really is. Without realizing it, Louis' smile continued to grow as he finished correcting the paper he had been on for the last ten minutes. He'd assigned his kids a short book report on How to Kill a Mockingbird, mostly just to see where they were at in the grammar area, but now that was definitely all he could focus on. Originally, he had planned to pay attention to the actual reports of the book as well, but now that they were talking about Harry, Louis found that his attention was almost completely averted; what was left was only enough to catch minor grammatical errors. His kids would be getting off easy with these grades.

                  After a moment, he figured he should try to steer their conversation in a different direction before Lottie starts talking about things that he isn't ready to confront yet. "Do you kiss Mum with that mouth? My poor virgin ears."

                  Lottie sat up straight in her chair at that, setting down her pen abruptly. "Oh, that reminds me. Mum's bringing the twins to visit sometime next month. She told me which weekend, but I've forgotten."

                  Louis' brow furrowed. "What for?"

"To babysit. It's Leah's birthday weekend, whenever that is, so their crew is going to spend it out at Leah's husband's family cabin or something like that."

                  Leah. Louis wasn't sure of the last time he saw his mum's old friend, but it was so long that he couldn't properly picture exactly what she looked like in his head. He did know her by name, though, especially when Lottie mentioned the crew. Along with Jay and Leah, the crew was now made up of a bunch of women Jay's age that she's been friends with for years, ever since Louis could remember.

                  He couldn't remember, however, if Leah was the only member of the crew he disliked or not. It didn't really matter, he supposed. But why did Phoebe and Daisy need babysitters? Sure, they might not be able to spend an entire weekend alone, but Fizzy will be them... Wait. "Oh, Doris and Ernie? I thought you meant the other twins, which...threw me off. Sorry."

                  Lottie nodded. "Yeah. So we'll have them for a weekend I guess."

                  Fizzy will be able to take care of the older twins for a weekend, but she most definitely couldn't be left in charge of the baby twins as well. Louis still wasn't sure how their mum does it, let alone his sixteen-year-old sister. He stared at the next paper waiting to be corrected, his mind elsewhere, several months back to the last time he got to see Doris and Ernie. It had only been for a couple hours, and he's pretty sure he'd been too distracted and out of it to properly pay attention. "I haven't seen much of them since they were born, to be honest."

                  Lottie pressed her lips together at that and went back to work correcting her assignments too. After a moment, she said quietly, "I know."

                  "It'll be nice, having them here. I'll get back to Mum about it."

                  "Yeah, she wanted you to call her at some point."

                  The air felt heavy all of a sudden, and Louis sort of hated himself. "I'll definitely do that."

                  Lottie was oblivious. "Good, good."

                  Which reminded him. "Are we? Good, I mean."

                  She hadn't been expecting this question, and frankly, Louis wasn't sure if he was going to bring up their little dispute at all after last night. Everything had gone so well once he got back from walking Harry home, and that curly-haired, dimpled, idiot poet was right about all of it. Lottie stopped ignoring him, and although they both went to bed pretty early, they'd done so on great terms.

                  But Louis figured that what must be getting to him now is the fact that they never actually talked about it. They never addressed anything, and if he knew anything about growing up with his sisters, it's that Lottie might seem fine now but she'll be letting her anger stew until an unprecedented time in the future – probably when Louis needed it least. And then she'd bring it back up and it will have been so long that Louis won't even remember what he'd done, and it'll be fifty shades of awful.

                  After several seconds of Lottie clearly not knowing how to respond to his question, he continued. "I'll be honest with you. I was having a shit day, and I really didn't want to be around anyone. It wasn't personal, it wasn't... You did nothing wrong. In fact, I should have told you I was dropping off the grid for a bit and that I'd be home late. That was on hundred percent my bad, and I'm sorry. But I wish you wouldn't be angry at me for needing the space." He shrugged. "Sometimes people just need a second to breathe."

                  Finally, Lottie shook her head and waved him off. "I'm not angry that you needed a minute, Lou. You do you, and all that. I'm sure the last person you want to tell your problems to is your baby sister, and if you didn't tell your best friend about it either I've no doubt you think it's something you have to face on your own. I don't agree, but it's not my place to tell you you're wrong there."

                  Wait, wait, wait. What is she implying? "I mean..."

                  But she went on. "I was only upset because I know you walk everywhere rather than take public transportation like a normal person. Thought something might have happened to you, and I vowed that if I found you before a serial killer did I'd murder you myself." After that threat, she smiled and blinked at him.

                  Though Louis was still sort of ruffled about her whole "something you have to face on your own" thing, he decided not to pursue it. Now was not the time for that conversation. "That's...understandable. Like I said. And I really am sorry about it."

                  Lottie pointed the end of her pen at him. "Next time you do that, I'll have Mum on your tail so quickly you'll never leave the flat again."

                  Really, Louis couldn't believe how well this had just gone. He was almost reeling. Part of him wanted to reach across the table and press the back of his hand against her forehead to make sure she wasn't getting sick or something. "I don't doubt it, and I don't blame you. So don't worry – it won't happen again. If I ever decide to disappear again, you'll be the first to know."

                  "I don't have to be the first."

                  "What?"

                  "Well, you could tell anyone. Anyone that I can easily get ahold of. Whoever is most convenient for you to tell. Whatever."

                  At this point, Louis was lost. "...All right, then."

                  She apparently decided to change the subject, then. "Hey, since Harry turned us down, can I invite Tommy for dinner?"

                  And Louis was internally cringing already. "Ah...I might need to warm up to him a little more before we get to the dinner phase. I fear it wouldn't go over very well just yet."

                  Lottie's lit expression became a glare almost instantly. "You're the worst."

                  Louis grinned. "I disagree."

                  With a sigh, she pushed her chair back and stood, leaving her brother to do his work alone. With her back to him, she said, "You'd be the only one."

                  Good, maybe I'll be able to focus on my shit now, Louis thought, dropping his gaze back to the paper he still hasn't started checking. "Wrong."

                  "Harry doesn't count," Lottie called from the living room sofa.

                  Louis was grateful that his sister could no longer see the way his face began to warm at the casual way she implied that Harry thought highly of him. "I was going to say Zayn or Liam, but actually Harry probably likes me more than they do, so he definitely counts."

                  "What about Niall?"

                  At that, though, Louis snorted. "Niall hates me more than you do."

                  "Ah."

❄●❄

                  LOUIS HAD JOINED Lottie in the living room eventually, and unsurprisingly they'd wound up popping in Grease again. It was getting late; they were both probably going to fall asleep before the film finished, especially because they'd taken to snuggling.

                  That was actually all on Lottie, but Louis really didn't mind much. He'd been sitting on the far left side of the sofa, one arm resting along the back of it, as he waited for her to find the remote. Once everything was set for their little movie date, she'd jokingly climbed up next to him and nestled her back into the crook beneath his arm, waiting for him to push her away like he always did when they were younger. Only, he didn't, because Louis was too grateful and shocked and in awe that his sister could possibly like him enough – even after being angry at him for a couple days – to want to sit with him like this.

                  Over halfway through the movie, they were still sitting that way, half asleep with dreary smiles on their faces. Louis had taken to occasionally playing with Lottie's hair, but he was too tired for that now. He actually thought that Lottie might have fallen asleep, but then she spoke.

                  "Louis."

                  "Hm?"

                   "What do you think you want for Christmas this year?"

                   Goddamn. "To not have to think about Christmas in bloody October."

                   "Lou, 'm being serious. I want to get a head start on Christmas shopping so that I'm not stuck doing it last minute again."

                  Why this? Why now? It's been such a good night. For the life of him, Louis couldn't figure out how it was possible to have to suffer through Christmas-related anything so early. Already last month he was hearing all sorts of familiar holiday tunes in places he frequents – Gibson's, the market, the pubs. Why on earth is fate so relentless this year? Of all years?

                  There was no way he was talking about this right now. This night would not end on a sour note, and he would not lose sleep over it again. No sir, no way. "I've got a better idea. Let's think about what we want to be for Halloween. That's only three weeks away. I'm thinking..."

                  "Louis – "

                  "We could match the way we haven't since you were four. I know – let's be a prince and a princess. Simple enough."

                   Lottie craned her neck to frown at him.

                  "I'm not being a princess."

                  "Who said you'd get to be the princess? I figured I'd do that, what with my voluptuous figure and all, and you'd – "

                  "Louis, be serious! Just give me a list of things you like or something. I don't really care; I just need some ideas."

                  With his free hand that wasn't tangled in Lottie's hair, he ran his fingers along his brow, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to keep his cool. When he opened them, it was just in time to see Sandy cheering Danny on from afar, sitting sadly by herself away from the main action. So naturally, Louis' brain started rewiring itself.

                  "I've got it! Shit, no, listen – this is actually a really good idea. Okay, ready to hear it? Are you listening?"

                  He couldn't see her face, but from the way she deadpanned a nice "Damn you," he assumed he had her attention.

                  "Danny and Sandy. We've got to be Danny and Sandy, Lot. Tell me that isn't brilliant. C'mon. Tell me."

                  He truly was excited about this plan. It was just a bonus that it was also a nice aversion to the original topic, which he has officially prohibited from continuing. But also, Louis hasn't dressed up as Danny Zuko since he was in school. Not even Uni. Before then. He couldn't believe how long it's been. And how perfect? It was his and Lottie's favorite movie, and they were living together now, so why not? Their mum would love it.

                  "Okay, fine. Fine. Sure. We can be Danny and Sandy. Whatever. Now will you give me some gift ideas? Please?"

                  Well, so much for that. Louis groaned, tipping his head back, feeling his mind begin to wander already. "I don't want anything. Honest. Please, just...don't worry about it, okay? Save what little money you have or use it on the girls and Ernie. Whatever. But I don't need anything." He had to keep reminding himself not to snap, because he knew she didn't mean any harm.

                  Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain, because she was definitely still annoyed. Under her breath, she muttered, "You need to get laid, is what you need."

                  Louis almost choked. "Did you just say what I think you said? Please tell me you didn't. Please tell me my baby sister did not just angrily mumble that I, her respectable big brother, need to get..." Purposely, he audibly gulped for affect. "...laid."

                  Lottie's only response was to shrug and say, "Well, I'm not wrong."

                  "Oh, God. We are not talking about this."

                  "We're both adults here. And I like to consider us relatively close – don't you? So we could talk about it..." She was defensive, her voice raising an octave as she tried to convince her brother to let her help him. But he proceeded to wallow in despair, self-pity, and humiliation, and he was positive she was enjoying it. "When was the last time?"

                  God save me. Send an angel. Jesus take the wheel. Anything. "Nope. Discussion has ended. Wow, look at the time; this is usually when I launch myself out my bedroom window, so if you'll excuse me – "

                  At this point, Lottie pulled herself off of him and turned so that she could face him, folding her legs beneath her on the sofa. "Stop being a drama queen. I'm serious! Brother, sister therapy time. I'm trying to help you."

                  Louis winced. "By making me want to bludgeon myself in the chest with the nearest pointy object?"

                  "Louis! Just answer the question. Have you...you know...since you-know-who?"

                  Wow. She has somehow managed to make it even worse. How much further can she go? If I wasn't so certain that I wouldn't get any sleep tonight now, I'd be impressed. "No."

                  She gestured to him. "Well, found your problem."

                  Louis was so uncomfortable that he wanted to shed his skin and pluck out his own eyelashes, and no one should ever feel that way. "That's not even -- ! I'm not...ugh. No. I don't have any problems due to my current lack of a sex life, okay? That's not a thing. I'm not bothered by that. I do not feel the need to quench any X-rated urges, so stop that train before it takes off."

                  Lottie rolled her eyes. "Look. I'm your sister and I love you, and because of that I feel the need to make sure that you know that you have been irritable as hell for a really long time. I just figured it might be because it's been a while."

                  Desperate for this to end, Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "No. I'm fine."

                  He didn't even feel bad when she turned away from him and sunk into the cushions, dejected and muttering, "Then act like it."

                  Because if anything, he was too busy trying not to let that tight, horrible feeling in his chest overwhelm him again like it did the night he went off on his own. He didn't want Lottie to see it then, and he didn't want her to see it now, so he hoped she'd finally let it go. Small, he quietly admitted, "I'm trying."

                  Luckily, she didn't continue. Louis spent the next five or so minutes trying really hard to get back into the movie, trying to empty his head and slow his racing heart. At the very least, he wished that if it was going to race that it would do it less painfully. The first time this happened, he thought he was having a heart attack, which was a terrifying moment. He quit smoking cold turkey after that, but there was nothing else he could quit this time. He just had to deal with it, ride it out.

                  Every Christmas takes its toll on him a little more than the last one, but none of them will ever be as bad as this year will be. He already knew that. More than anything, all he really wanted for Christmas was for someone to just fucking cancel it already. Celebrate Jesus' birthday in July or something and just let the winter festivities die. He was more than done with this holiday.

                  On the telly, Danny was noticing Sandy finally in her new get-up. Louis peeked over at Lottie to see if she was actually very angry with him again, but her face had softened. And suddenly, she was hopping to her feet in time to do the cigarette scene along with Olivia Newton-John.

                  After stomping out the fake cigarette, Lottie echoed, "Tell me about it...stud." And then she lifted a brow and stared at Louis, waiting.

                  Well, he thought, fuck if I'm going to sit this one out just because of a little chest pain. He got to his feet as well, rolling his shoulders and neck in an effort to shake everything off. Then he cleared his throat, mentally apologizing to all of their neighbors. "I've got chills! They're multiplying. And I'm losing control. 'Cause the power you're supplying... It's electrifying!"

                  Lottie laughed aloud as Louis really got into it, and eventually he joined her, though they both continued to attempt to perform the song and its iconic choreography to the best of their overtired, slightly hysterical abilities. And by the time it was over, he might not have been able to get rid of the clamp in his chest, but at least it was dulled.

                  For now, that is.

❄●❄

                  AT NINE O'CLOCK sharp, Louis stood in the lobby of the hotel he'd dropped Harry off at the other night. It was an interesting place; he hadn't known it existed until the other night. Everyone was really friendly, almost to the point that Louis was becoming antsy. He wasn't used to saying hello to fifteen strangers in a two-minute period.

                  Harry's jacket – the one that smelled like fresh linens with a hint of something sweeter, something Louis couldn't quite put his finger on – was almost as necessary in here as it had been outside. He couldn't believe how cold they kept the place.

                  Finally, from the back of a large group of people exiting the elevator that Louis's been watching since he'd gotten there strolled a disgruntled Harry. Louis's face lit up in pleasant surprise at the sight – his hair was messier than usual, half parted down the middle, half sticking up in odd directions; instead of his usual dark skinny jeans and patterned top, he was wearing gray sweats tucked into black Nike socks and a plain white T-shirt with one sleeve rolled, though Louis suspected this wasn't on purpose. If he had to guess, Harry probably just rolled out of bed.

                  When the younger boy spotted Louis on a lounge chair in front of the front desk, his eyes widened and he stumbled a bit, slipping his socked feet across the marble floor. After he'd regained his balance, he ran a hand through his hair and pulled it to the side it's usually on, and Louis was positive his cheeks were turning a faint pink.

                  "Hi," he said, clearing his throat and folding his arms across his chest. And as if standing there made him feel more awkward, he quickly lowered himself into the lounge chair beside Louis'. "What are you doing here? Why'd you tell the desk your name was Michael Carrington?"

                  Amused at Harry's lack of Grease trivia, he lifted a shoulder into a casual shrug. "Wanted to surprise you. Are you busy today?"

                  Stifling a yawn, Harry shook his head. "'S my first day off in over a week."

                  "Perfect. Would you mind some company?"

                  His answering smile was so peaceful that Louis wished he'd gotten at least half the sleep that it looked like Harry got. And if he didn't get much, then God bless his genetics. "I'd love some, thanks."

                  Louis felt some nerves ease away, though he hadn't been aware that he was feeling nervous about this. He and Harry were friends, so it wasn't weird to show up unannounced and ask to hang out, right? Right. Not a single thing about that was weird.

                  "Great. Whatever you want to do, I'm up for. Just say the word. Words. However many it takes to tell me." God, how awkward.

                  But Harry let out a quiet giggle. "Um. Well, I think... Want to get lunch and then do nothing?"

                  "Nothing at all? On your day off?"

                  He nodded drowsily, but when he responded his voice had changed, like he was speaking to a group of successful businessmen and he was trying to fit in. "I can't think of anything better to do than to spend the day doing nothing with you."

                  Rolling his eyes into next week, Louis couldn't help chuckling. "Yikes."

                  Harry was laughing at himself already too, clearly proud. But despite how cheesy and humiliating the little rhyme was, Louis' face was burning and the nerves in his stomach had returned. These were unfamiliar nerves, though, ones Louis hasn't had to deal with for a long time. He was almost so surprised to feel them that he forced himself to laugh a little bit longer than was probably necessary just so that Harry wouldn't be able to notice anything was off about him.

                  "I thought it was pretty good," Harry shrugged, oblivious, his eyes still glinting with mischief. "Some of my best work."

                  "Don't ever admit that out loud unless you aren't hoping for a career in poetry someday," Louis told him.

                  He made a face in response and then nodded toward the elevator. "Want to come up? I've got to change, obviously, and do something with this situation." He picked up a strand of his hair and then dropped it, shaking his head slowly like he was disappointed in himself for his bedhead.

                  If Louis was being honest, he's been thinking about what Harry's hotel room must look like ever since the night he walked him home and it was brought up. He's never known anyone who's actually lived in a hotel, couldn't imagine how much that must cost. And now that he might get to see the room, he was surprised to find that he was more excited to get another insight on Harry than just to find out what it looked like. What kind of homey knick knacks does he have sitting about, up on shelves or on tables or counters? Will there be pictures of his family? Does he have family? Where does he keep his napkin poems from before Louis gave him the journal?

                  Louis stood, his hands in Harry's jacket pockets. "Yeah, sure."

                  When Harry stood as well, he seemed to wobble on his feet for a second. He smiled at Louis, eyes hooded, when he caught him watching, and then he led the way to the elevator, droopy and drowsy and cute in ways that Louis really wasn't expecting. No one was this adorable in the morning right after waking up. No one. Not Louis, not Lottie, not anyone that Louis knew. Except for, apparently, Harry.

                  They rode up to the tenth floor in mostly silence. The elevator stopped a couple times to pick up and drop off more people, so the pair kept to the back corner where they were out of the way. Harry leaned against the back wall, and by the time they reached their stop, he'd ended up sliding toward Louis enough that their shoulders were pressed together and Louis wondered, if he took a step away, would Harry have lost his balance and fallen without the support?

                  "I'm at the end of the hall," Harry told him as they began their trek. "Longest hall ever."

                  It was pretty long, but in two short minutes, Louis waited patiently as Harry opened the door to his room – 52J.

                  It was sort of like a mini apartment. All of the main rooms were there and separated by little doorways – a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, a bedroom. But then at the same time, it still looked like a hotel. Louis wondered if this felt like a home to Harry, wondered how long he's been living here, but decided not to ask any of those questions just yet. Instead, he continued to admire and examine, even after Harry excused himself to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

                  Louis didn't sit down to wait. He meandered into the kitchen, pausing for just a second to pick up a picture frame on the telly stand, but the photograph inside was definitely just a generic filler photo that came with the frame. Though this intrigued and confused him, he set it down and kept going.

                  In the kitchen, a bowl of fruit sat on a tiny island, and beside the fridge on the counter was a pile of opened envelopes. And Louis knew it was wrong to snoop, but he couldn't help it when he realized that they all looked like Christmas cards. The colors of the envelopes themselves ranged from regular white to shimmering gold to pastel greens and reds. What on earth, Louis thought. Were they all Christmas cards?

                  The sound of Harry's bedroom door opening and closing helped him to move on from the pile, but there was no way he was going to be able to avoid asking about them at some point today. Maybe he'd wait until an opportunity that wouldn't make him look like a nosy freak.

                 "Couldn't wait for the date?" Harry teased upon seeing Louis in his kitchen. But he quickly realized what he'd said and reworded it. "Ah, I mean, you know...wherever we're going for breakfast?"

                  "Right," Louis said. "No. I mean, yes, I can wait. I was just..." Really, what was he doing? How did he explain that he was trying to spot any personal touches throughout the hotel room to learn more about Harry but came up not only short, but probably three steps back from where he started? "Just looking around, I suppose."

                  Though Harry was still wearing that white T-shirt, he'd swapped his sweats for skinny jeans. But for the first time since Louis has known him they were blue instead of black. He immediately began to wonder why Harry didn't wear them more often.

                  "Ah. Well, should we go? I was thinking we could also look for some films to rent maybe. Then just veg out all night, maybe do some writing if we get bored of films," Harry was saying, gesturing with his hands as if he wasn't getting his point across properly enough. "And if we get really bored, we could bake."

                  Louis liked that Harry was speaking as if they were about to spend not just a few hours together, but the entire day and well into the night. It made him realize they were going to have to make a pit stop at his flat after breakfast so that he could change into his own pair of sweats or something, because there was no way he'd be able to handle jeans for more than one film. All of this wasn't part of his original plan, but he liked this new one much better.

                  "I think all of those are fabulous ideas, and I hope we get to do all of them," Louis said, following Harry out into his living room. "I can't bake to save my life, but I'd love to watch you do it."

                  Harry glanced at him over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows, amused. "Yeah?"

                  The thing was, Louis was pretty sure Harry was expecting him to take it back and say something else or to stutter over an explanation like he's been doing every single time he says something mildly suggestive, but he made a conscious decision this time to not. Instead of dropping off the radar today like he could have done – especially since Lottie was spending the entire day with Tommy and his family – he figured he'd try something new this time. Thinking about Harry generally gave him nice feelings, so maybe being around him would be even more beneficial. For health reasons, of course. Mental health, not physical. Definitely not physical.

                  And anyway, in a way, he sort of was still dropping off the radar, falling off the grid. Nobody knew he was here today; nobody knew what he was doing at all or who he was with. He could do whatever he wanted and say whatever he wanted with Harry and it wouldn't matter because this was off the grid, off the radar, out of reach of a decent signal – no one had to know. Just like when he was alone and he disappeared, no one knew anything about that either.

                  So instead of clarifying what he'd meant, he went along with it. "I'm hoping you've got a cute little apron, though, otherwise it might not be as worth it."

                  Harry pursed his lips, eyes becoming unfocused as he thought it over. "You know, I don't think I have one. But I should. Wow. Never thought of this."

                  Louis shook his head in mock disappointment. "Can't believe you. I won't enjoy it nearly as much now."

                  With a pout that somehow made his green eyes larger, Harry tilted his head. "Aw. How can I redeem myself?"

                  "It's going to be tough. I'll have to let you know when the time comes, Harold."

                  Harry sighed, sitting himself down on his sofa to pull his boots on. After he finished with the first one, he looked up and raised a brow at Louis while he unzipped the second boot. "Are you really cold right now, or do you just enjoy my scent that much?"

                  Oh, yeah. "Probably the second one. I was freezing in the lobby, but it's alright in here." He shrugged. "Much better than down there."

                  A toothy grin had spread on Harry's face the second Louis unabashedly made the confession. "What do I smell like? You have to tell me this time."

                  "Says who?"

                  "Me. Please. I'll tell you what you smell like."

                  Louis' brow furrowed. "But how would you know?"

                  Harry finished with his boots and stood, once again towering over his smaller friend enough that Louis should probably be intimidated, but it was impossible to feel that way for some reason. "I think I remember it from that night I was drunk and you had to drag me around all over the place."

                  Louis's lips twitched. "You think?"

                "Well, I'm not sure if I'm right. Everything else is a bit hazy, but that one detail seemed pretty clear. Here, let me check."

                  Without any other warning, Harry leaned forward. Louis froze when he could feel warm, slow exhales on the side of his neck; Harry's hair was brushing the side of his face, and without even trying to, Louis got a whiff of it. It smelled similarly to Harry's jacket but was primarily that sweet scent that he had been unable to name before. Even though it was stronger in Harry's hair, Louis still couldn't name it. And then Harry backed away, a different sort of smile on his face than the one that was there before.

                  "Yeah," he said, his voice suddenly lower. "Definitely got that right."

                  "So? What's the verdict?" Louis asked, desperately curious.

                  "I don't know how or why," Harry began, closing his eyes as if he was reliving the last thirty seconds again before continuing, "but you smell like peppermint. There's more to it, but the peppermint overwhelms the rest, and... It's really nice."

                  Despite his better wishes, Louis' cheeks began to feel hot. "Peppermint," he repeated. "That's odd. I don't think I wear anything with that specific scent. At least not on purpose."

                  "I love peppermint," Harry stated. "Can't deny it."

                  Louis wasn't sure what to say to that. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to his feet, unable to continue meeting Harry's surprisingly intense, searching gaze. Also he was positive that he was blushing, which made it awkward. "You smell clean. Like not fresh laundry clean, but more like you're an earth child who showers under a waterfall and climbs a mountain to air dry your hair and prances around a field of flowers singing with the birds."

                  This seemed to cool the moment enough that Louis was able to look back up and grin while Harry tipped his head back and let out a bark of laughter.

                  "There's also an extra scent in there; I think it might be your shampoo or hair product or something. It's very sweet, but I can't place it," Louis continued. "So, there. Live up to your expectations?"

                  At this point, Harry was just standing there and beaming and looking like sunshine in human form, and Louis was so glad he'd decided to spend his day in his new friend's presence. "You always exceed them, Cheekbones."

                 "Cheekbones. I think you called me that when you were pissed. Why...?"

                  To Louis' surprise, Harry lifted a hand and lightly touched the skin beneath Louis' eyes on both sides of his face – one little poke and then another – before letting his hand fall back to his side. "I like these. That's what I called you in my head when I didn't know your name yet."

                  "You thought about me enough to need a nickname for me before we met?"

                  Suddenly shy, which wildly contrasted his bold moves and statements thus far today, Harry looked away and half-heartedly shrugged, a small smile on his face. "You read the poems," he reminded Louis.

                  And Louis remembered. 'Your edges are fire, your curves a tidal wave...' He'd read that one in particular many times. 'I'm oxygen and expensive parchment, and you're going to ruin me.'

                  Oh.