C H A P T E R    N I N E

Lads and Louis

❄●❄

                  HARRY SPOTTED OLIVIA in the back of the restaurant wiping down table eleven. They hadn't really ever properly interacted, but Ella had warned him of all the employees who would give him the most trouble and Olivia wasn't one of them. He proceeded with less caution than he'd had when he tried talking to Amanda, a woman in her late thirties who usually worked in the kitchen as a cook but has been demoted to dishes after burning one too many steaks.

                  For the record, Harry had been successful with Amanda. It took a little longer than he expected to convince her, but after he bought her a drink at the hotel bar, she agreed to join the holiday celebrations.

                  Olivia was around Ella's age, only a few years older than Harry. They didn't work together often, so Harry figured he might as well talk to her about it now while he had her in sight rather than wait for the next time they were put on the schedule together. There were still a couple months until Christmas, but the sooner a decent-sized group of employees was on board with the festivities, the sooner Harry could organize practices.

                  Oh yeah. He made a mental note to discuss a practice schedule with Ella. She never said that the employees did that in the past, but Harry figured it'd be a good idea. He could teach them how to harmonize and their caroling would be best caroling this hotel has seen in years. And hotel guests would feel more inclined to listen and enjoy what they were hearing if it sounded like the carol singers knew what they were doing. It was basically a science, and Harry was an expert.

                  As Olivia brought her dirty rag to the wash bucket on her bus cart, Harry approached her with his friendliest smile. She looked up at him with surprise.

                  "Hi," he greeted her. "I know I've been working here for a while, but I don't think we've ever really met. I'm Harry."

                  She dried one of her hands on her black jeans and reached for his with a half-smile. "Olivia."

                  "Did you want some help with that? I've got mean bussing abilities. It's like I was born to do it."

                  Olivia pressed her lips together as if she was unsure whether she was allowed to laugh at him or not, but Harry didn't wait for her to respond in any way. He took the rag from her, wrung it out, and then finished wiping down the table while she pulled out enough table settings from the bottom shelf of the bus cart.

                   "So," Harry continued while they worked together. "Have you heard about that employee Christmas thing?" It was hard to hold back his enthusiasm for the event, Harry found, whenever starting this conversation. But he learned that coming on too strong about these kinds of things, especially when it was only October, turned most humans off quickly.

                  Olivia handed him a stack of napkins to start laying out beside each setting. She followed behind them as he rounded the table, setting out the silverware. "I've heard something about it. I think they did the same thing last year." She shrugged. "It was a bust, I heard."

                  "You didn't participate?"

                  She made a face that answered Harry's question. "Eh. I don't really get into the whole Christmas thing, you know? Too busy for it. Too broke for it," she laughed. Harry didn't hear any actual humor in it, so he assumed Olivia didn't think it was funny either. "Why, do you plan on doing it this year?"

                  With the silverware laid out, all that was left were the plates, which Olivia was already handing to him. He admired their work, taking his time so that he could think about his response. After the plates were out and the table was finished, he started walking with Olivia back into the kitchen.

                  "Yeah, I think I'm going to. I guess I do get into the whole Christmas thing."

                  Olivia started laughing, so Harry joined her, figuring it was a good sign. "They were good times, I'll give you that. My family used to do the craziest things on Christmas Eve." She sighed fondly, her expression suddenly making her look a couple years younger like she was trying to go back in time. "If only adulthood had never happened, eh?"

                  "The real world came knocking," Harry nodded.

                  "Exactly. Anyway, it was nice to finally meet you, Harry. Thanks for," she gestured over her shoulder, "helping with that table. I've got to run an errand for the chef. I'll see you around?"

                  "It was really nice to meet you too, Olivia," Harry told her. As she started to back away, though, he quickly blurted, "Hey, what if I made you a deal that you simply won't be able to refuse. Would you join the employee carol singers with me then?"

                  This seemed to throw her off for a moment, but she paused. "Um. I guess it depends on this supposedly irresistible deal."

                  Harry's lips twitched in amusement, but he continued. "I'll make sure you have a Christmas just like, if not better than, the Christmases you used to have. No charge."

                  Olivia didn't believe him. He could see that right away, and he supposed he was being sort of blunt and maybe even a little odd, but he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to want to fix this kind of problem whenever a human faced it, and here was his chance. He wouldn't let the Elder Elves be totally right about humans if he could help it even a little bit.

                  "That does sound pretty irresistible," Olivia said, humoring him. "But I don't know. Sounds too good to be true."

                  "It's pretty amazing," Harry agreed, going along with it. It was okay if she didn't see how serious he was being. She'd see when the time came. "I'd take the deal if I were you, but what do I know?"

                  "I suppose I've got nothing better to do Christmas Eve."

                  Harry hoped the grin that spread on his face wasn't too unwarranted. "That's the spirit."

                  Olivia returned his smile and rolled her eyes, beginning to back away again. "Goodbye, Harry."

                  "See you soon."

❄●❄

                  LOUIS WASN'T AT Gibson's when Harry got there after his shift. This was just as well, because Harry was feeling creative and he couldn't really write poems about his favorite human when his favorite human was with him. No one had to tell Harry that that would be a little awkward.

                  Molly wasn't working, and Harry didn't know this barista, so he simply ordered his peppermint hot cocoa and a muffin and went to sit in his booth by the window without making small talk. He pulled the pen he carried with him now out of his pocket and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser and let his memory work some magic.

                  After he finished a poem that he already felt was one of his best, he had a thought. He returned to the counter, searching his pockets until he found the rest of his tips from earlier. The barista smiled at him. "Hi again," Harry said. "Um. There's going to be a man here soon who's here almost everyday around this time. I don't actually know what he orders, but I'd like to pay for him, so uh, here. If there's any change, just keep it."

                   "I think I know exactly who you're talking about, sir," the barista nodded. "Consider it done."

                  "Thanks so much."

                  When Harry returned to his booth, he exhaled a shaky breath, suddenly feeling nervous. Should have he bought Louis' drink? Was that weird? They were only introduced yesterday, and while things had gone pretty well...he didn't know. Chewing on his lip, he decided to distract himself from thinking about it by getting back to his writing, but it was harder than it was a few minutes ago.

                  Half an hour later, when the little bells rang out above the door, Harry was too distracted by one of his less impressive poems to look up. It hadn't been Louis the last ten times, so he figured he'd take a break giving himself whiplash until the next time the bells jingled. But of course, when a familiar high-pitched voice with a thick Yorkshire accent could be heard near the front counter, Harry mentally beat himself up over missing another opportunity to see Louis fix his hair after the London breeze had it all messed up.

                  Louis wasn't up there for long waiting for his drink, and once he had it, he glanced over his shoulder to catch Harry staring at him. Blushing, Harry dropped his gaze to the napkin in front of him, feeling those nerves return.

                  "Hey, poet," Louis called to him. Harry looked up again. "C'mere. I want to show you something. Bring your napkins."

                  While Harry stuffed his used napkins into his jacket pockets and got up to follow Louis back to that little black sofa in Louis' corner, Harry remembered that the man in question has already read some of Harry's poems and that meant he might want to read more of them. How would Harry keep them from him? He didn't want to disappoint Louis, but God, he couldn't have him reading these things. Louis would never speak to him again. It'd freak him out for sure.

                  Louis had his bag in his lap when Harry sat down beside him in the same spot as last night. Louis was rummaging around, either unable to find whatever he wanted to show Harry or stalling.

                  "Thanks for paying for my drink, by the way," Louis said then. "I'll get you next time. Ah, here we go." He pulled out a brown leather journal with a huff and let his bag slide off his lap and onto the floor. "Now you can stop using up all their napkins. I mean, they don't charge you for them but that's probably because they expect you to use, like, three at most, honestly."

                  Harry knew he was teasing him, but as he took the journal he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed about it. He supposed Louis was right. "You didn't have to get me this, I..."

                  "Don't worry, I've had it for years. It's just been lying around back in me flat gathering dust so I figured I'd hand it over to someone who'll put it to good use. Think I got it from me nan on my twenty-first birthday or something like that."

                  Unsure of what to say, Harry opened it to find that a couple pages look like they've been torn out. "Are you sure you don't use it?"

                  Louis finished sipping his tea before responding. "I used it the first day or two that I had it, but I've always been one for just plain old notebooks myself." He shrugged. "Ripped out those pages that I'd written nonsense on, but for the most part it's totally unused. Enjoy."

                  "Thank you. Um, what kind of nonsense did you write? Are you secretly a poet as well?"

                  Louis tipped his head back with a wide grin. Harry admired the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and was almost so distracted by the sight that he nearly missed Louis' answer.

                  "Definitely not a poet. I guess I write music occasionally," he said shyly, or at least a lot less confidently than he usually sounds when he's telling Harry things. "I'm in a band with some lads. We're still sort of just trying to get an album out, but we've all got other jobs and it's probably not a very serious thing."

                  "Hm," Harry nodded. "I think songwriting is a lot like poetry."

                  "Maybe. I don't know. It's sort of embarrassing telling people about it, because they always ask about what we've put out and where we perform, and it's like...we're not actually there yet. Feels like we're wasting our time lately, to be honest."

                  It was hard to always focus on what Louis was saying; Harry often found himself getting distracted by all of the details of his face that he couldn't ever see from his booth across the room. Also, for someone Harry just met, Louis sure talked a lot. Not that he minded. He was glad Louis had things to say, because that meant they wouldn't fall into awkward silences, and maybe Louis would let him continue to sit there with him on the black sofa.

                  But Harry also felt that, since they were practically strangers, Louis must find it a lot easier to open up to him about certain things that he probably wasn't telling his sister or his friends. Like now. And he sounded bothered enough that Harry made sure Louis knew he was listening.

                  "Do you like working with those guys?" Harry asked, crossing his ankles and leaning back. He folded his arms across his chest. "And being in the band?"

                  "I mean, it's a nice distraction. I love teaching," he said quickly. "Really. But yeah, I guess the point of starting the band was to have a life outside of our jobs, and that's still what it is. It helps."

                  "So you like doing it?"

                  Louis sighed, glancing down at his lap. His eyelashes were so long. "Yeah. I just wish we were getting somewhere with it, I guess."

                  Harry nodded slowly, thinking through his response before he voiced it. "You should stick with it then. You're a poet." Louis's smile returned, and he rolled his eyes at that. Harry grinned. "Poets can't go very long without being inspired. And if you don't do anything with that inspiration, then..." Where was I going with this again? "Then...you're boring."

                  Louis laughed, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet of the diner. He threw his head back again like he'd done before, the crinkles by his eyes returning. Harry couldn't help himself; he pulled out his pen and flipped through the journal to the first empty page.

                  When Louis' breathing slowed and he finished giggling, he noticed that Harry was scribbling into his old journal. "What are you doing?"

                  Harry smiled down at what he was writing. "I was inspired."

❄●❄

                  THE ONE WHO answered the door didn't notice Harry right away. He reprimanded Louis for being late and didn't realize Harry was behind him until they were both halfway inside the flat.

                  "Oh," the man said. "Hello. Louis -- ?"

                  "Oh, this is Harry," Louis said, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over his friend's shoulder. Then he turned to Harry, adjusting the bottom of his jumper over his dainty waist. "H, this is Liam. He's a twat, don't worry about being nice to him."

                  With wide eyes, Harry froze in the doorway at Louis' use of the word twat. Had he really just called his friend that? How was Harry supposed to respond now? But thankfully, Liam ignored his short friend, who'd disappeared into what looked like a kitchen, and held a hand out for Harry to shake.

                  "Hi, Harry. Sorry, I had no idea that Lou was bringing a friend. I'll take your coat if you want?"

                  He didn't want to be impolite, and frankly, he was grateful to finally be rid of that thing, so he took off his own jacket and handed it over. "I'm sorry for barging in like this. I thought Louis would have let you know, but it was last minute, I guess."

                   "Yeah, he does that sometimes. Everyone else in the kitchen," Liam said as he turned down a hallway and left Harry there by the door. "Help yourself!"

                  Before Harry had to worry about awkwardly joining a group of guys he mostly didn't know, Louis returned with two glass bottles. He handed Harry one of them.

                  "I pair up with Liam most often when we get together like this. We work really well together," Louis told him, and then after a second, he added with a mischievous smile, "even though he's a twat."

                  "I can't believe you call him that to his face," Harry couldn't help admitting.

                  Louis chuckled and took a sip from his beer. "I've called him worse. Come on."

                  They went into the kitchen where two more guys were leaning against the counters, both with their own beers in their hands. Harry's never been much for casual drinking, but he was pretty positive that there wasn't a high percentage of alcohol in these, so he'd finish this one and be done.

                  The blonde guy noticed Harry first. "Bring a chaperone to make sure you didn't get lost on your way here, Lou?"

                  "Ha ha ha ha," Louis said with zero humor. "Honestly, you should have gone into comedy instead of music, Nialler. I think we finally found where all your talent's been hiding."

                  The guy beside Nialler snickered into his bottle.

                  "Anyway," Louis continued, clearing his throat. "Boys, this is Harry. Harry, that's Niall – also a twat – and that's Zayn. He's okay."

                  "Aw, thanks, boo."

                  Louis wrinkled his nose. "I take it back."

                  Although the way they all spoke to and about each other was alarming at first, Harry was starting to realize that it was really just friendly banter between mates. He didn't necessarily understand it, but he tried to not let it startle him every time it seemed like it was becoming vicious.

                  Liam joined them from wherever he'd taken Harry's and Louis' coats. "Okay. Before I forget, we've got another slot at the studio on Sunday. Can you all make it? I've got to let Richie know by tomorrow morning if it won't work for us."

                  "What time?" Niall asked.

                  "Noon. We'll have three hours."

                  Louis frowned. "That's it?"

                  Liam hunched his shoulders, his lips pressing into a thin line before saying, "It's the best he could do. They're booked pretty solidly from now until the holidays are over. Richie can only get us in if there are cancellations."

                  Harry watched Louis' gaze drop to his feet.

                  "Then we better take it," Zayn spoke up. "Even if one or two of us can't swing it, getting anything recorded at this point will help."

                  "That's what I was thinking," Liam nodded. "Okay. Good. I'll let him know. Oh, I also ordered takeout, so that'll be here in a bit. Remember the song we were working on last night?" Everyone started to follow Liam into a different room as he spoke. "I was thinking about that bridge, Niall, where you played that one tune..."

                  Harry stopped paying attention to that conversation when Louis snorted beside him. He looked down to see what was going on.

                  "You're about to sit through a shit show, just so you know," Louis said, shaking his head slowly. "We never get anything done."

                     With a smile, Harry shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "You were kind enough to invite me. How could I say no?"

                   "Like a normal person. 'Sorry, I've got literally anything else I'd rather be doing.' Like that."

                   It was hard to stifle his giggle, but Harry tried anyway. "I really didn't have anything else to do anyway. Besides, maybe I'll be helpful.  We can let Liam work with the others tonight." He hoped Louis wouldn't notice that he was starting to blush. "Us poets should stick together."

                  Louis raised a brow, pursed his lips like he was considering it, and then shrugged and lifted his beer. "You know, I don't see how you could possibly be wrong, so cheers to that."

                  As they sat away from the others in a far corner of the room, Harry tried to ignore the warm feeling spreading through him but eventually gave up and welcomed it. He watched Louis flip through his own notebook for something he'd apparently started working on the other day, and Harry decided that he really liked Louis a lot. He didn't know much about him yet, but he was excited to learn more.

                  He could see the two of them still sitting together at Gibson's in December as Christmas drew nearer and nearer. Louis'd be wearing a different holiday jumper every night, and on weekends they'd maybe go out and see the lights and decorations that people had put up outside their houses. Maybe they'd go ice skating somewhere. Harry hoped it wouldn't be too weird to exchange gifts already this year. Three months was enough time to have known someone for that kind of thing, right? He thought so.

                  Yeah. Harry was excited to keep learning about Louis. Hopefully they were on the same page.