When We Collide - Harry/Louis - Chapter 3
Title: When We Collide
Pairings: Harry/Louis
Part: Chapter 3 of ?
Genre: AU, Romance
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Louis live parallel lives where nothing much happens, but when the lines begin to intersect, they find themselves in situations bigger than either of them have ever bargained for.
♔ PROLOGUE || CHAPTER ONE || CHAPTER TWO
Chapter three
It takes Niall a split second to tear his eyes away from the owner of the voice and step casually over to the counter with a towel in hand, and he begins to wipe the surface as he dips his head as close as he can to Harry, who's still very much surprised and confused about what just happened with Louis.
“Don't look back and pretend you're talking to me,” Niall whispers, the sense of urgency in his voice unsettling. The smiling, friendly face has broken into harsh features in such a small amount of time that Harry can feel his heart starting to race, and his palms are sweating. He doesn't quite know how to react, and for a fraction of a moment, he almost turns his head just to see what all the fuss was about, but the look on Niall's eyes, calm and soothing one minute and steel-cold the next, tells him it's better to listen instead.
“So-so how often do you, erm, do you have performances?” Harry inquires, his voice noticeably shaky, and he clears his throat to try to get himself together. He’s not sure if he’s asked the question before, but right now, he’s grasping for anything to start a conversation. Niall flips the towel, folding it neatly and tucking it under the counter, and he turns back to Harry with a smile. There it is again, the swift change of expression that seems to come naturally to Niall, and Harry tries to mimic him, tries to shape his face into a smile, but it feels crooked and forced and he stops and takes a bite of his sandwich again.
“Every week if we’re lucky,” Niall says, and he pulls at the hem of his shirt under his white work apron before opening his mouth to add, “Once we had to cancel because we didn’t have anybody signed up.”
Harry nods and snakes his hand over to his cup, and it’s then that he sees a shadow fall over him, and he immediately searches for Niall’s eyes. He sees a trace of fear flash across them, and Harry tries to contain himself from turning around. Just who was this guy?
“Where is he?”
Harry hears the man right behind him and his skin prickles. The voice was quiet-demure, even, but Niall’s face makes it seem otherwise, as if the man had slammed his hands on the counter and started yelling.
“What do you want?” Niall says, his voice sharp, eyes burning holes. The man repeats himself. Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he grips his cup tight, and he chances a sideways glance at the man now standing beside him. He’s the same as Harry’s build, with dark skin and black hair, with features that can cleave diamonds in half. He’s bundled up in multiple layers of clothing, with at least two jackets and a scarf, and his hands are shoved in his pockets. There’s a name tag clipped on his jacket pocket, and Harry can make out ZAYN in bold red ink from the distance. He might have been crying not too long ago, Harry thinks, because he can see a ring of redness around his bloodshot eyes, and he looks away almost immediately, focusing his eyes on the blackboard menu.
“I’m not looking for trouble, Niall, I just want to know where he is,” Zayn finally says after waiting for Niall to answer. “He left this morning, clothes packed, drawers open, and he hasn’t-he hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
Harry’s confused. Zayn’s voice is harmless at best, but the way Niall’s standing-rigid with his fists balled up, ready to fight-tells him that there’s more to him underneath the layers of clothes and teary eyes.
“He’s not here, he didn’t show up for work today,” Niall replies, turning around and grabbing an empty coffee pot, and he slides it under the coffee machine. He presses a button and keeps his back to them.
“Just tell me where he is, then,” Zayn persists, his voice getting louder, and Harry can feel his desperation. Zayn pulls his hands from his pockets and places them firmly on the countertop. Niall gives a shrug and stays turned around.
“I don’t know where he is,” Niall finally says, fingers tapping on the back table. “But if he left, he had a good reason to. Just leave him alone.”
Harry doesn’t know what to do and he feels uncomfortable sitting there, listening to the exchange without the slightest idea of what’s happening. His eyes fall on the spot under the counter where Louis has disappeared, and he wonders how he’s feeling.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn says sharply, and Harry’s unnerved at how quickly his tone has changed. “What did he tell you?” Niall turns back around and looks at Zayn intensely, hands gripping the edge of the table.
“I’m not blind, Zayn,” Niall snaps, and Harry watches as he pulls his fingers off and walks forward, eyes focused on Zayn. “You’d have to be a complete idiot not to know what’s going on when Louis comes crying to me with fucking bruises on his face. And it’s not just once, Zayn, this happened hundreds of times! Why would you do that to him?”
Before Harry can stop it, his head completely turns to Zayn, whose eyes are wide and mouth slightly open in surprise.
“It’s none of your business what goes on between us, Horan-”
“When he tells me he’s fucking scared of what you’ll do next, it is my fucking business!” Niall cuts in severely, jabbing a finger to Zayn’s chest, eyes blazing with fury. Harry notices the café has become quiet, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that everyone’s looking at them. Niall retracts his hand adds in a softer tone, “And as I’ve told you before, I haven’t seen him.”
It happens in one quick motion and Niall lets out a pained grunt as Zayn grabs him by the collar, pulling him close to his face. Harry’s stomach drops and without warning, he shoots up from his seat. He meets Niall’s eyes for a moment and he’s not sure what to do.
“I don’t believe you,” Zayn says viciously, and the fear creeps back into Niall’s eyes.
Harry’s had enough.
“Come on, man, let up, he said he doesn’t know where he is,” Harry says, gripping Zayn’s wrist tightly and trying to pry him off Niall’s shirt. Zayn’s hand refuses to move and he snaps his head to Harry. Harry’s pulse is quickening and he can feel the adrenaline coursing its way through his body.
“Who the fuck are you?” Zayn spits out, letting go of Niall’s collar and jerking his hand away from Harry’s, easily breaking his grip. From the corner of Harry’s eyes, he can see Niall rubbing his neck, catching his breath. Zayn turns his body to Harry and steps forward, eyeing him like a shark. Despite the hammering in his chest, Harry stands his ground, and he stands to his full height, hoping it would give him some semblance of an edge.
“Look, he’s clearly not here so why don’t you just leave him alone, okay? And sign yourself up for an anger management program while you’re at it.”
It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, and it takes him a second to work out exactly what he had said and where it came from. A look of incredulity splashes across Zayn’s face and Harry doesn’t have time to prepare himself as Zayn gives him a forceful shove on the chest. Harry staggers backward, knocking over a chair behind him, and he catches himself before he can crash on the table. He hears gasping around him as he regains his posture, but he can’t see anything but the look on Zayn’s face.
“And who the fuck do you think you are?” Zayn hisses, and Harry’s heart is palpitating wildly, ready to burst through his chest, sending shocks through his entire body until he can feel himself shaking. He’s never been in a fight before and he’s getting drunk on adrenaline, and his mind blanks out when he lunges forward, pushing Zayn to the floor. There’s screaming and the tinkling of bells as Harry gives blow after blow to any part of Zayn’s body he can reach, and both men are writhing on the floor, every inch of skin burning with pain. Harry ignores the sharp sting on his abdomen when Zayn gives him a forceful kick and keeps on punching and elbowing, determined to cause as much pain as possible.
“Harry, stop-Zayn! Mike! Mike!” Harry hears Niall screaming, and he feels hands gripping his arms, tearing him away from Zayn, who’s still kicking and cursing. Zayn pushes himself up, grabs Harry’s shoulders, and throws him back on the ground along with Niall, who’s still screaming for Mike. Zayn shoulders Niall to the side and raises his fist, ready to land a blow on Harry’s face, and Harry shuts his eyes, bracing himself for the impact, but it never comes. He’s confused and he opens them back up, and he sees a man holding Zayn by the wrist, pulling him off and tugging him to his feet.
Niall, who must have screamed his throat hoarse, helps Harry get to his feet and tells the man, who he assumes is Mike, to “get that fucker out of here.” His voice is cracked and breathy, but it doesn’t diminish the severity and Harry feels his skin crawl at how much Niall has changed in the past few minutes. But when he looks down on his hands, red and aching just like the time he punched a wall when he and his best friend got into an argument a few years back, he realizes that when one’s thrown into this kind of situation, it’s either fight or flight, and it surprises him just how much fight he had in him.
Mike, a tall, burly man easily over six feet with hands that can cover Harry’s face completely, clamps his hands around Zayn’s arms from behind, and Zayn grunts and huffs and tries to shake him off, but it’s no competition. Mike spins him around and gives him a little push to get him walking, and halfway across the café, he turns his head and looks at Niall over his shoulder.
“Tell-tell Louis I’m sorry!” he pleads, his tone back to how it was when he first came in, desperation clinging to every word. Harry feels Niall support him as he makes his way back to his seat, and it isn’t until then that Niall decides to turn his attention to Zayn, already a few steps from the door.
“Just leave us alone, Zayn,” Niall says, his voice soft and resigned, no trace of anger anywhere. Disappointment, maybe, but not anger. “Look how much damage you’ve caused. I don’t want to see you anywhere near him or us again, or I will call the police.”
Zayn’s face breaks at this more than all the punches Harry threw at him combined, and he doesn’t have a chance to say anything because Mike’s pushing him out the door and into the street, and when the door closes, Harry can hear Mike’s muffled screaming. Zayn’s looking down on the pavement and rubbing his jaw.
“Fuck!” Harry hears Niall scream, tearing his gaze from the door to see him scrambling over the counter and reaching for something. At first, he doesn’t know what’s going on, just like everything else in the last half hour, but then he feels it running down his lips and dripping from his chin. He looks down and sees the front of his shirt stained with blood, and he quickly brings up a sleeve to attempt to block the flow.
::
When Louis sees Niall’s hand emerging from the counter, he pushes the boxes out of the way and crawls out of his hiding space in one swift motion.
“Here get-get me a towel or something,” Niall says, his voice breathy and broken at parts. Louis nods and flings open a drawer, and he digs under the pizza box for a clean towel. He wets it slightly and hands it over to Niall, who snatches it from his hand and turns to Harry sitting back in his seat. Louis’s eyes follow Niall until they land on Harry, and it feels like as if a sledgehammer has struck him in the stomach at the sight of him.
He can already see bruises forming on Harry’s face, little pockmarks of sickening purple, and it takes him back to the night before, looking at himself on the bathroom mirror. He closes his eyes and turns away.
“Louis, get over here and help Harry, I want to talk to Mike,” Niall says urgently, and Louis jumps into action, and he runs around the counter and grabs the towel Niall’s offering. Niall turns around and makes his way to Mike outside, and when Louis looks up for a second, he can’t see Zayn. He sighs in relief when he realizes he’s left.
He turns back to Harry and he sees his green eyes flash across his own for a moment, and he feels a jolt run down his spine. His pulse begins to quicken.
“I’m sorry, I, er, I don’t really know what to say,” Louis tells him, his mind shutting off completely and he’s just sitting there next to Harry with a towel in his hand while Harry dabs at his nose with his sleeve. Noticing this, he slowly tugs at the bottom of Harry’s sleeve, and his stomach drops at how bloodied his face is, how broken, and at that moment, he wishes he had just stood up and talked to Zayn before all of this could happen.
But he can’t see him again. It’s too soon.
He brings the towel to Harry’s face and starts to wipe the blood off, and he sees Harry wincing in pain.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry finally says, and Louis stops for a moment, startled. “It’s not your fault.” Louis can see a smile stretching from beneath the towel and he begins to feel nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes his knees weak and makes his breath come out ragged and shaky. His heart starts to rampage and he searches for Harry’s eyes.
“I-I apologize on Zayn’s behalf,” Louis mutters before he can stop himself, and he sees Harry’s eyebrows knitting together. Louis looks away and resumes wiping. “I mean, look at you, your clothes are ruined and your nose is running like a broken faucet. I’m-I’m really sorry you had to be here when this happened. I’m so sorry.”
Harry gives a laugh and shakes his head, and Louis snaps his attention back to him.
“You don’t have to apologize for him,” he says, and Louis clings to his words with wide eyes. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Louis shifts in his seat and raises a hand to touch the bruises along Harry’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. Harry grimaces at the touch but he doesn’t make a move to turn away, and Louis traces a circle over each mark until he touches the rough coating of dried blood and Harry’s growing stubble. He shivers at the feeling and he closes his eyes.
“He did this to me, you know, and you’ve probably already seen it because, let’s be honest, these glasses don’t really hide much of anything,” Louis says, pulling his hand back and replacing it with the towel, and with is free hand, he slides off Niall’s sunglasses. He places it gently on the countertop and turns his head a quarter of the way, just enough so Harry can see the bruise completely.
Harry’s eyes widen and Louis drops his head with a laugh.
“This one’s from last night after he came home drunk. Again. I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, and I just remember thinking, ‘I don’t deserve this’. So I packed my things and left. I couldn’t stay there. Not for another day. I mean, if this happens because of something so insignificant, I’m afraid of what he’ll do if something big does happen.” Louis meets Harry’s eyes again and he can feel Harry’s hand moving over to cover his, and he grips the towel tight when he feels their skins touch.
Out of instinct, Louis slides his hand off and lets Harry catch the towel, and he rests his hands on his lap, eyes tracing the pattern on the floor. What is he doing? He’s barely met Harry and now he’s touching his face, holding his hand. It doesn’t seem right. He looks back at Harry and all of a sudden, he feels guilty and embarrassed and confused. Guilty because he feels responsible for everything-the bruises, the cuts, the blood, embarrassed because the entire time he’s known Harry, all he’s done is make a fool of himself, and confused because he can’t stop thinking about Harry’s smile and why does he keep smiling and making me feel this way?
“It’s the best thing you could have done,” Harry says, picking up where Louis left off, and he flips the towel over and starts to wipe the blood from his neck.
“Well, it’s over now, and I’m going to try my best to keep him out of my life from now on.”
Harry smiles again and Louis can feel the edges of his lips stretching upwards, and soon enough, he’s smiling too.
“You can always get a restraining order, you know,” Harry suggests with a grin, and Louis is surprised at the laugh that makes its way out of his throat.
::
Harry watches the blood mixing with the water pooling in the sink as it goes down the drain, and he sighs and turns his attention back to his nose.
It’s stopped bleeding for a while but it’s still raw, still stings, and he scoops up a bit of water and rubs the underside gently, thinking of happy thoughts to distract from the pain. It doesn’t really work, but at least his face is clean-well, as clean as it can be despite all the cuts and bruises that have already started to appear. He inches closer to the mirror and looks at his reflection.
Why did he do it? He knows it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but really, he could have just as easily ignored it. He didn’t have to run headfirst into the situation like some dim-witted brute that solves his problems with his fists. He’s usually calm and collected and, all things considered, a pacifist. But for some reason, the moment Zayn took Niall by the collar, he couldn’t hold himself back. The odd thing about all this was how determined he was to help, considering he’s just met them a little over an hour ago.
And then there’s Louis.
He brings his fingers to the area where Louis touched his face, and he feels his heart, slowed down now that everything’s settled and orderly, speeding back up. His face starts to burn and he can feel something running down from his nose, and he groans when he sees lines of red trailing over and around his mouth.
“Shit.”
He sighs and brings more water to his face.
Harry pulls off his shirt and inspects the stains at the front-there’s a big blotch right at the center surrounded by coin-sized marks, and he runs it under the tap and tries to rub it out with soap from the dispenser. It works for the most part, the angry, bright red mellowing out into a more pinkish tone, but still not completely gone. He tries a few more times and all he manages to do is soften the color, and he gives up, the stain already set, and drops the shirt into the sink, letting the running water rush against the fabric.
He wrings the shirt as dry as he can and slips it on before washing his face one last time and pushing out the door.
The first thing his eyes land on is Louis sitting at the counter, tracing his finger around the rim of his mug, and then Niall taking the order of a woman with a smile. The chairs are back in their place and the blood he left on the floor is gone, and he smiles when he sees Louis turn his head at his direction.
He makes his way to Louis, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way his shirt’s sticking to his chest, and he sits himself back on his seat, where another sandwich has surprisingly appeared on the napkin next to a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
“Thought you could use something to eat,” Louis says after taking a sip as Harry makes himself comfortable in the chair.
“Thanks,” he replies, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. Louis sets the mug down and watches him, and his eyes land on the stain. Harry turns his body and hunches over the counter so Louis can’t see.
“Fuck, look at your shirt, it’s ruined,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head with a laugh.
“It’s just a shirt, Louis, don’t worry about it,” Harry assures him, taking a sip of the chocolate. “And I quite like it, actually. Very retro.”
Louis utters a giggle and Harry grins.
“And your face. How the hell are you supposed to perform with marks on your face?”
Harry shrugs and watches the woman thank Niall for the coffee and make her way out the door.
“I’m a fast healer. No need to worry.”
“It’s in two days.”
“I’ll try extra hard.”
Before he can help it, Louis starts laughing, and he can feel his own laughter bubbling in his throat, and soon enough, they’re both cackling and howling and Harry’s slamming the side of his fist on the countertop and he’s not even sure why they’re laughing but he knows they need it, and he watches Louis through teary eyes as he rubs his eyes with his palms, getting out the last bit of laughter trapped in his chest.
“What’s so funny?” Niall asks as he sweeps over to them, and Louis shakes his head and sniffs and laughs some more.
::
“I still feel bad about all this, Harry,” Louis admits, lifting his mug. Niall refills his coffee and turns back to the pizza he’s working on, and Louis can’t help but smile. He goes back to Harry. “You’re just a guy who got caught in the middle. I mean, you don’t even know who Zayn is and now you’re all cut up and bruised and your shirt’s ruined and you wouldn’t stop bleeding and-”
Harry shakes his head and Louis stops.
“It’s fine, Louis, really,” Harry says, and before Louis can say anything else, he adds, “It was a lot of fun. Well, you know, minus the whole getting beat-up part, but getting lost and finding a gig and, hell, getting in a fight my first day here’s pretty damn exciting. Most fun I had in a long time, I promise you.”
Louis is grinning and Harry turns back to his chocolate.
“At least let me take you home.”
Harry looks up from his cup and slowly puts it back on the counter. Louis looks at him earnestly.
“No, I can’t-I can’t do that to you. I mean, after everything that happened to you, you know, last night and, shit, just now, you don’t-you don’t need any more excitement.”
Louis’s heart drops but he persists.
“No, really, I don’t mind, and it’s the least I can do so please.”
Harry shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but Louis clasps his hands together and says please a million times, and the next second, Harry’s laughing. He keeps his hands together.
“I’ve got a moped and it’s really, really fun to ride, and here-”
Louis hops from his seat and scrambles under the counter to pull out his helmet. He looks at it, then at Harry’s head, and he raises an eyebrow.
“I think your head can fit in here,” he says, turning the helmet around and lifts it in the air until it looks like it’s sitting on top of Harry’s head. Harry laughs.
“Yeah, maybe if I squeeze hard enough, it’ll slide right in and stay there.”
It’s Louis’s turn to laugh and they’re both laughing again, Harry almost choking when he takes a bite of his sandwich.
“You know, Niall’s deathly scared of mopeds, so I haven’t had the opportunity to ride with someone in a while,” Louis says, walking over to his seat, and Niall spins around when he hears his name.
“It’s actually any two-wheeled vehicles,” he corrects to Harry after giving Louis a slap on the back, and Harry grins. “I don’t trust them. I mean, have you ever considered how scary it is that it can stand without any support? I’d rather take my chances walking, thank you very much.”
The three boys laugh and Niall goes back to work, and Louis offers Harry the helmet with a smile.
“What do you say?”
Harry looks at the helmet, then at Louis, then back at the helmet again, and he grips the edge and takes it off Louis’s fingers. They look at each other and Louis feels his face beginning to heat up, and he swears he can see Harry starting to blush.
“Why not?”
← chapter two ♕ chapter three ♕ chapter four →
Pairings: Harry/Louis
Part: Chapter 3 of ?
Genre: AU, Romance
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Louis live parallel lives where nothing much happens, but when the lines begin to intersect, they find themselves in situations bigger than either of them have ever bargained for.
♔ PROLOGUE || CHAPTER ONE || CHAPTER TWO
Chapter three
It takes Niall a split second to tear his eyes away from the owner of the voice and step casually over to the counter with a towel in hand, and he begins to wipe the surface as he dips his head as close as he can to Harry, who's still very much surprised and confused about what just happened with Louis.
“Don't look back and pretend you're talking to me,” Niall whispers, the sense of urgency in his voice unsettling. The smiling, friendly face has broken into harsh features in such a small amount of time that Harry can feel his heart starting to race, and his palms are sweating. He doesn't quite know how to react, and for a fraction of a moment, he almost turns his head just to see what all the fuss was about, but the look on Niall's eyes, calm and soothing one minute and steel-cold the next, tells him it's better to listen instead.
“So-so how often do you, erm, do you have performances?” Harry inquires, his voice noticeably shaky, and he clears his throat to try to get himself together. He’s not sure if he’s asked the question before, but right now, he’s grasping for anything to start a conversation. Niall flips the towel, folding it neatly and tucking it under the counter, and he turns back to Harry with a smile. There it is again, the swift change of expression that seems to come naturally to Niall, and Harry tries to mimic him, tries to shape his face into a smile, but it feels crooked and forced and he stops and takes a bite of his sandwich again.
“Every week if we’re lucky,” Niall says, and he pulls at the hem of his shirt under his white work apron before opening his mouth to add, “Once we had to cancel because we didn’t have anybody signed up.”
Harry nods and snakes his hand over to his cup, and it’s then that he sees a shadow fall over him, and he immediately searches for Niall’s eyes. He sees a trace of fear flash across them, and Harry tries to contain himself from turning around. Just who was this guy?
“Where is he?”
Harry hears the man right behind him and his skin prickles. The voice was quiet-demure, even, but Niall’s face makes it seem otherwise, as if the man had slammed his hands on the counter and started yelling.
“What do you want?” Niall says, his voice sharp, eyes burning holes. The man repeats himself. Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he grips his cup tight, and he chances a sideways glance at the man now standing beside him. He’s the same as Harry’s build, with dark skin and black hair, with features that can cleave diamonds in half. He’s bundled up in multiple layers of clothing, with at least two jackets and a scarf, and his hands are shoved in his pockets. There’s a name tag clipped on his jacket pocket, and Harry can make out ZAYN in bold red ink from the distance. He might have been crying not too long ago, Harry thinks, because he can see a ring of redness around his bloodshot eyes, and he looks away almost immediately, focusing his eyes on the blackboard menu.
“I’m not looking for trouble, Niall, I just want to know where he is,” Zayn finally says after waiting for Niall to answer. “He left this morning, clothes packed, drawers open, and he hasn’t-he hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
Harry’s confused. Zayn’s voice is harmless at best, but the way Niall’s standing-rigid with his fists balled up, ready to fight-tells him that there’s more to him underneath the layers of clothes and teary eyes.
“He’s not here, he didn’t show up for work today,” Niall replies, turning around and grabbing an empty coffee pot, and he slides it under the coffee machine. He presses a button and keeps his back to them.
“Just tell me where he is, then,” Zayn persists, his voice getting louder, and Harry can feel his desperation. Zayn pulls his hands from his pockets and places them firmly on the countertop. Niall gives a shrug and stays turned around.
“I don’t know where he is,” Niall finally says, fingers tapping on the back table. “But if he left, he had a good reason to. Just leave him alone.”
Harry doesn’t know what to do and he feels uncomfortable sitting there, listening to the exchange without the slightest idea of what’s happening. His eyes fall on the spot under the counter where Louis has disappeared, and he wonders how he’s feeling.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn says sharply, and Harry’s unnerved at how quickly his tone has changed. “What did he tell you?” Niall turns back around and looks at Zayn intensely, hands gripping the edge of the table.
“I’m not blind, Zayn,” Niall snaps, and Harry watches as he pulls his fingers off and walks forward, eyes focused on Zayn. “You’d have to be a complete idiot not to know what’s going on when Louis comes crying to me with fucking bruises on his face. And it’s not just once, Zayn, this happened hundreds of times! Why would you do that to him?”
Before Harry can stop it, his head completely turns to Zayn, whose eyes are wide and mouth slightly open in surprise.
“It’s none of your business what goes on between us, Horan-”
“When he tells me he’s fucking scared of what you’ll do next, it is my fucking business!” Niall cuts in severely, jabbing a finger to Zayn’s chest, eyes blazing with fury. Harry notices the café has become quiet, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that everyone’s looking at them. Niall retracts his hand adds in a softer tone, “And as I’ve told you before, I haven’t seen him.”
It happens in one quick motion and Niall lets out a pained grunt as Zayn grabs him by the collar, pulling him close to his face. Harry’s stomach drops and without warning, he shoots up from his seat. He meets Niall’s eyes for a moment and he’s not sure what to do.
“I don’t believe you,” Zayn says viciously, and the fear creeps back into Niall’s eyes.
Harry’s had enough.
“Come on, man, let up, he said he doesn’t know where he is,” Harry says, gripping Zayn’s wrist tightly and trying to pry him off Niall’s shirt. Zayn’s hand refuses to move and he snaps his head to Harry. Harry’s pulse is quickening and he can feel the adrenaline coursing its way through his body.
“Who the fuck are you?” Zayn spits out, letting go of Niall’s collar and jerking his hand away from Harry’s, easily breaking his grip. From the corner of Harry’s eyes, he can see Niall rubbing his neck, catching his breath. Zayn turns his body to Harry and steps forward, eyeing him like a shark. Despite the hammering in his chest, Harry stands his ground, and he stands to his full height, hoping it would give him some semblance of an edge.
“Look, he’s clearly not here so why don’t you just leave him alone, okay? And sign yourself up for an anger management program while you’re at it.”
It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, and it takes him a second to work out exactly what he had said and where it came from. A look of incredulity splashes across Zayn’s face and Harry doesn’t have time to prepare himself as Zayn gives him a forceful shove on the chest. Harry staggers backward, knocking over a chair behind him, and he catches himself before he can crash on the table. He hears gasping around him as he regains his posture, but he can’t see anything but the look on Zayn’s face.
“And who the fuck do you think you are?” Zayn hisses, and Harry’s heart is palpitating wildly, ready to burst through his chest, sending shocks through his entire body until he can feel himself shaking. He’s never been in a fight before and he’s getting drunk on adrenaline, and his mind blanks out when he lunges forward, pushing Zayn to the floor. There’s screaming and the tinkling of bells as Harry gives blow after blow to any part of Zayn’s body he can reach, and both men are writhing on the floor, every inch of skin burning with pain. Harry ignores the sharp sting on his abdomen when Zayn gives him a forceful kick and keeps on punching and elbowing, determined to cause as much pain as possible.
“Harry, stop-Zayn! Mike! Mike!” Harry hears Niall screaming, and he feels hands gripping his arms, tearing him away from Zayn, who’s still kicking and cursing. Zayn pushes himself up, grabs Harry’s shoulders, and throws him back on the ground along with Niall, who’s still screaming for Mike. Zayn shoulders Niall to the side and raises his fist, ready to land a blow on Harry’s face, and Harry shuts his eyes, bracing himself for the impact, but it never comes. He’s confused and he opens them back up, and he sees a man holding Zayn by the wrist, pulling him off and tugging him to his feet.
Niall, who must have screamed his throat hoarse, helps Harry get to his feet and tells the man, who he assumes is Mike, to “get that fucker out of here.” His voice is cracked and breathy, but it doesn’t diminish the severity and Harry feels his skin crawl at how much Niall has changed in the past few minutes. But when he looks down on his hands, red and aching just like the time he punched a wall when he and his best friend got into an argument a few years back, he realizes that when one’s thrown into this kind of situation, it’s either fight or flight, and it surprises him just how much fight he had in him.
Mike, a tall, burly man easily over six feet with hands that can cover Harry’s face completely, clamps his hands around Zayn’s arms from behind, and Zayn grunts and huffs and tries to shake him off, but it’s no competition. Mike spins him around and gives him a little push to get him walking, and halfway across the café, he turns his head and looks at Niall over his shoulder.
“Tell-tell Louis I’m sorry!” he pleads, his tone back to how it was when he first came in, desperation clinging to every word. Harry feels Niall support him as he makes his way back to his seat, and it isn’t until then that Niall decides to turn his attention to Zayn, already a few steps from the door.
“Just leave us alone, Zayn,” Niall says, his voice soft and resigned, no trace of anger anywhere. Disappointment, maybe, but not anger. “Look how much damage you’ve caused. I don’t want to see you anywhere near him or us again, or I will call the police.”
Zayn’s face breaks at this more than all the punches Harry threw at him combined, and he doesn’t have a chance to say anything because Mike’s pushing him out the door and into the street, and when the door closes, Harry can hear Mike’s muffled screaming. Zayn’s looking down on the pavement and rubbing his jaw.
“Fuck!” Harry hears Niall scream, tearing his gaze from the door to see him scrambling over the counter and reaching for something. At first, he doesn’t know what’s going on, just like everything else in the last half hour, but then he feels it running down his lips and dripping from his chin. He looks down and sees the front of his shirt stained with blood, and he quickly brings up a sleeve to attempt to block the flow.
::
When Louis sees Niall’s hand emerging from the counter, he pushes the boxes out of the way and crawls out of his hiding space in one swift motion.
“Here get-get me a towel or something,” Niall says, his voice breathy and broken at parts. Louis nods and flings open a drawer, and he digs under the pizza box for a clean towel. He wets it slightly and hands it over to Niall, who snatches it from his hand and turns to Harry sitting back in his seat. Louis’s eyes follow Niall until they land on Harry, and it feels like as if a sledgehammer has struck him in the stomach at the sight of him.
He can already see bruises forming on Harry’s face, little pockmarks of sickening purple, and it takes him back to the night before, looking at himself on the bathroom mirror. He closes his eyes and turns away.
“Louis, get over here and help Harry, I want to talk to Mike,” Niall says urgently, and Louis jumps into action, and he runs around the counter and grabs the towel Niall’s offering. Niall turns around and makes his way to Mike outside, and when Louis looks up for a second, he can’t see Zayn. He sighs in relief when he realizes he’s left.
He turns back to Harry and he sees his green eyes flash across his own for a moment, and he feels a jolt run down his spine. His pulse begins to quicken.
“I’m sorry, I, er, I don’t really know what to say,” Louis tells him, his mind shutting off completely and he’s just sitting there next to Harry with a towel in his hand while Harry dabs at his nose with his sleeve. Noticing this, he slowly tugs at the bottom of Harry’s sleeve, and his stomach drops at how bloodied his face is, how broken, and at that moment, he wishes he had just stood up and talked to Zayn before all of this could happen.
But he can’t see him again. It’s too soon.
He brings the towel to Harry’s face and starts to wipe the blood off, and he sees Harry wincing in pain.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry finally says, and Louis stops for a moment, startled. “It’s not your fault.” Louis can see a smile stretching from beneath the towel and he begins to feel nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes his knees weak and makes his breath come out ragged and shaky. His heart starts to rampage and he searches for Harry’s eyes.
“I-I apologize on Zayn’s behalf,” Louis mutters before he can stop himself, and he sees Harry’s eyebrows knitting together. Louis looks away and resumes wiping. “I mean, look at you, your clothes are ruined and your nose is running like a broken faucet. I’m-I’m really sorry you had to be here when this happened. I’m so sorry.”
Harry gives a laugh and shakes his head, and Louis snaps his attention back to him.
“You don’t have to apologize for him,” he says, and Louis clings to his words with wide eyes. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Louis shifts in his seat and raises a hand to touch the bruises along Harry’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. Harry grimaces at the touch but he doesn’t make a move to turn away, and Louis traces a circle over each mark until he touches the rough coating of dried blood and Harry’s growing stubble. He shivers at the feeling and he closes his eyes.
“He did this to me, you know, and you’ve probably already seen it because, let’s be honest, these glasses don’t really hide much of anything,” Louis says, pulling his hand back and replacing it with the towel, and with is free hand, he slides off Niall’s sunglasses. He places it gently on the countertop and turns his head a quarter of the way, just enough so Harry can see the bruise completely.
Harry’s eyes widen and Louis drops his head with a laugh.
“This one’s from last night after he came home drunk. Again. I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, and I just remember thinking, ‘I don’t deserve this’. So I packed my things and left. I couldn’t stay there. Not for another day. I mean, if this happens because of something so insignificant, I’m afraid of what he’ll do if something big does happen.” Louis meets Harry’s eyes again and he can feel Harry’s hand moving over to cover his, and he grips the towel tight when he feels their skins touch.
Out of instinct, Louis slides his hand off and lets Harry catch the towel, and he rests his hands on his lap, eyes tracing the pattern on the floor. What is he doing? He’s barely met Harry and now he’s touching his face, holding his hand. It doesn’t seem right. He looks back at Harry and all of a sudden, he feels guilty and embarrassed and confused. Guilty because he feels responsible for everything-the bruises, the cuts, the blood, embarrassed because the entire time he’s known Harry, all he’s done is make a fool of himself, and confused because he can’t stop thinking about Harry’s smile and why does he keep smiling and making me feel this way?
“It’s the best thing you could have done,” Harry says, picking up where Louis left off, and he flips the towel over and starts to wipe the blood from his neck.
“Well, it’s over now, and I’m going to try my best to keep him out of my life from now on.”
Harry smiles again and Louis can feel the edges of his lips stretching upwards, and soon enough, he’s smiling too.
“You can always get a restraining order, you know,” Harry suggests with a grin, and Louis is surprised at the laugh that makes its way out of his throat.
::
Harry watches the blood mixing with the water pooling in the sink as it goes down the drain, and he sighs and turns his attention back to his nose.
It’s stopped bleeding for a while but it’s still raw, still stings, and he scoops up a bit of water and rubs the underside gently, thinking of happy thoughts to distract from the pain. It doesn’t really work, but at least his face is clean-well, as clean as it can be despite all the cuts and bruises that have already started to appear. He inches closer to the mirror and looks at his reflection.
Why did he do it? He knows it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but really, he could have just as easily ignored it. He didn’t have to run headfirst into the situation like some dim-witted brute that solves his problems with his fists. He’s usually calm and collected and, all things considered, a pacifist. But for some reason, the moment Zayn took Niall by the collar, he couldn’t hold himself back. The odd thing about all this was how determined he was to help, considering he’s just met them a little over an hour ago.
And then there’s Louis.
He brings his fingers to the area where Louis touched his face, and he feels his heart, slowed down now that everything’s settled and orderly, speeding back up. His face starts to burn and he can feel something running down from his nose, and he groans when he sees lines of red trailing over and around his mouth.
“Shit.”
He sighs and brings more water to his face.
Harry pulls off his shirt and inspects the stains at the front-there’s a big blotch right at the center surrounded by coin-sized marks, and he runs it under the tap and tries to rub it out with soap from the dispenser. It works for the most part, the angry, bright red mellowing out into a more pinkish tone, but still not completely gone. He tries a few more times and all he manages to do is soften the color, and he gives up, the stain already set, and drops the shirt into the sink, letting the running water rush against the fabric.
He wrings the shirt as dry as he can and slips it on before washing his face one last time and pushing out the door.
The first thing his eyes land on is Louis sitting at the counter, tracing his finger around the rim of his mug, and then Niall taking the order of a woman with a smile. The chairs are back in their place and the blood he left on the floor is gone, and he smiles when he sees Louis turn his head at his direction.
He makes his way to Louis, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way his shirt’s sticking to his chest, and he sits himself back on his seat, where another sandwich has surprisingly appeared on the napkin next to a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
“Thought you could use something to eat,” Louis says after taking a sip as Harry makes himself comfortable in the chair.
“Thanks,” he replies, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. Louis sets the mug down and watches him, and his eyes land on the stain. Harry turns his body and hunches over the counter so Louis can’t see.
“Fuck, look at your shirt, it’s ruined,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head with a laugh.
“It’s just a shirt, Louis, don’t worry about it,” Harry assures him, taking a sip of the chocolate. “And I quite like it, actually. Very retro.”
Louis utters a giggle and Harry grins.
“And your face. How the hell are you supposed to perform with marks on your face?”
Harry shrugs and watches the woman thank Niall for the coffee and make her way out the door.
“I’m a fast healer. No need to worry.”
“It’s in two days.”
“I’ll try extra hard.”
Before he can help it, Louis starts laughing, and he can feel his own laughter bubbling in his throat, and soon enough, they’re both cackling and howling and Harry’s slamming the side of his fist on the countertop and he’s not even sure why they’re laughing but he knows they need it, and he watches Louis through teary eyes as he rubs his eyes with his palms, getting out the last bit of laughter trapped in his chest.
“What’s so funny?” Niall asks as he sweeps over to them, and Louis shakes his head and sniffs and laughs some more.
::
“I still feel bad about all this, Harry,” Louis admits, lifting his mug. Niall refills his coffee and turns back to the pizza he’s working on, and Louis can’t help but smile. He goes back to Harry. “You’re just a guy who got caught in the middle. I mean, you don’t even know who Zayn is and now you’re all cut up and bruised and your shirt’s ruined and you wouldn’t stop bleeding and-”
Harry shakes his head and Louis stops.
“It’s fine, Louis, really,” Harry says, and before Louis can say anything else, he adds, “It was a lot of fun. Well, you know, minus the whole getting beat-up part, but getting lost and finding a gig and, hell, getting in a fight my first day here’s pretty damn exciting. Most fun I had in a long time, I promise you.”
Louis is grinning and Harry turns back to his chocolate.
“At least let me take you home.”
Harry looks up from his cup and slowly puts it back on the counter. Louis looks at him earnestly.
“No, I can’t-I can’t do that to you. I mean, after everything that happened to you, you know, last night and, shit, just now, you don’t-you don’t need any more excitement.”
Louis’s heart drops but he persists.
“No, really, I don’t mind, and it’s the least I can do so please.”
Harry shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but Louis clasps his hands together and says please a million times, and the next second, Harry’s laughing. He keeps his hands together.
“I’ve got a moped and it’s really, really fun to ride, and here-”
Louis hops from his seat and scrambles under the counter to pull out his helmet. He looks at it, then at Harry’s head, and he raises an eyebrow.
“I think your head can fit in here,” he says, turning the helmet around and lifts it in the air until it looks like it’s sitting on top of Harry’s head. Harry laughs.
“Yeah, maybe if I squeeze hard enough, it’ll slide right in and stay there.”
It’s Louis’s turn to laugh and they’re both laughing again, Harry almost choking when he takes a bite of his sandwich.
“You know, Niall’s deathly scared of mopeds, so I haven’t had the opportunity to ride with someone in a while,” Louis says, walking over to his seat, and Niall spins around when he hears his name.
“It’s actually any two-wheeled vehicles,” he corrects to Harry after giving Louis a slap on the back, and Harry grins. “I don’t trust them. I mean, have you ever considered how scary it is that it can stand without any support? I’d rather take my chances walking, thank you very much.”
The three boys laugh and Niall goes back to work, and Louis offers Harry the helmet with a smile.
“What do you say?”
Harry looks at the helmet, then at Louis, then back at the helmet again, and he grips the edge and takes it off Louis’s fingers. They look at each other and Louis feels his face beginning to heat up, and he swears he can see Harry starting to blush.
“Why not?”
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