When We Collide - Harry/Louis - Chapter 7
Title: When We Collide
Pairings: Harry/Louis
Part: Chapter 7 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 || CHAPTER FOUR || CHAPTER FIVE || CHAPTER SIX
Chapter seven
When Harry comes upon the bakery, the first thing he sees through the glass windows is Caroline dancing.
It isn’t the kind of dancing that’s choreographed or has any sort of beat or rhythm to it, and to be honest, Harry’s never seen anything quite like it outside of his television set, but what it lacks in cadence, it more than makes up for in captivation. Balancing a small metal tray filled with tiny pastries in one hand, she glides across the bakery in long, graceful strides, her hair whipping about behind her as she spins and leaps. Her free arm is poised like a swan’s neck in the space beside her, never breaking the position until it’s time to replace the pastries in the ceramic tiers.
Harry inches closer, almost pressing his nose into the window, and focuses on the look of concentration on her face. Despite the gracefulness of her dance, her eyebrows are drawn together, creasing her forehead, and her mouth is a thin red line, taut and unmoving. From the distance, he can just see the tiny beads of sweat collecting along her brow, and he can’t turn away from the pink slowly tinting her cheeks.
After what seems like forever, Caroline finally notices him with a start, and through the walls, Harry hears her squeal, almost dropping the tray when she misses her step and recovering just in time for her free hand to catch the edge of the metal. Harry nearly bumps into the window in surprise before collecting himself and pushing through the door in a hurry, the tinkling of the bell chiming in his ears.
“Are you alright?” Harry says quickly, walking briskly over to her as she places the tray on the table beside her with a hand on her chest.
“I’m-I’m fine,” she replies, straightening out her short floral skirt before brushing the ends of her hair with hooked fingers.
“Are you sure?” Harry asks, guilt washing over him thickly, and she nods and gives a quick smile, her face flushing redder than when she was dancing. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no, it’s alright. It’s my fault for prancing around with the stupid tray in the first place.”
Harry laughs. “I didn’t know you danced. Were you practicing just now?”
Caroline grins and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’d be surprised if you did-we had only met yesterday. But to answer your question: yes, I am taking dance lessons when I’m not working.”
“That’s cool,” Harry says, stuffing his hands in his pockets after failing to find something to keep them occupied. “That was great, what you were doing. Those fancy spins and everything.”
“They’re not really fancy,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her eyes on the floor. “I haven’t been taking the lessons long so my moves are amateur at best.”
“Could have fooled me,” Harry insists with a shrug, and Caroline brings her eyes back to him, light blue glittering in the sunlight. It’s all very true-he doesn’t know much about dancing, but what he does know is that she’s enthralling to watch. Her limbs, long and wispy and tanned golden, move around her like ribbons in the wind, and her feet look like they’re walking on air. “How did you do them again? Like this?”
Harry lifts his foot and tries to spin on one leg, but after a single turn, he loses his balance for a moment and catches himself just in time before colliding with the pastry tiers a few centimeters behind him. Caroline gives a squeal and lunges forward, hands outstretched, ready to catch Harry, but in another second, she drops them next to her and watches instead as he raises himself up back to his full height with an embarrassed grin on his face.
“That went a lot smoother in my mind,” Harry admits with a chuckle, bringing a hand up to scratch his head, and Caroline utters a soft giggle behind her hand. “At least I didn’t crash into the pastries.”
Caroline laughs. “You spun the wrong way, that’s why. Here-”
She takes a step back and Harry’s eyes drop down to her feet, and in one quick motion, she lifts herself up on one foot and spins three times, her skirt fanning out, and Harry takes it upon himself to be decent enough not to shift his eyes farther up her legs. He smiles when she lands back on two feet, and she gives a tiny curtsy before dissolving into a fit of laughter. Harry laughs with her.
“Maybe I can teach you some dance moves in your training,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and making her way behind the register.
“Sounds like a plan,” Harry says, following Caroline and stopping in front of the display case, and at that moment, a voice echoes from the back of the bakery.
“Stop wasting time and get him started on the training.”
The two jump at the suddenness of Jenny’s voice and the next second, they’re grinning at each other, Caroline patting the register and motioning with her head for Harry to come and stand behind her.
::
Louis didn’t know just how much he’s flicked his eyes to the wall clock in the past hour until Niall popped up behind him and gave him a light squeeze on his shoulders.
He nearly jumps out of his skin and takes a step backward to balance himself, but in doing so, he knocks Niall into the back table, sending cups and unopened coffee bags tumbling onto the floor.
“What is the matter with you?” Niall asks, composing himself quickly and surveying the area to see if the disturbance caused a stir. It didn’t. The four patrons are too engrossed in their respective activities to notice what had happened: a man in the far back reading the morning paper and sipping from his coffee; a few tables off, a woman fervently typing on her laptop, the loud tack tack tacks echoing in their ears; and a couple busy feeding each other breakfast at the table closest to the doors.
Louis bends down to pick up the fallen items and replaces the bags on the table, Niall following suit a moment later and throwing the cups into the trash.
“One moment, you’re distracted,” Niall continues as he stands up. “And the next, you’re violent. Jesus, what’s with you today?”
Louis gets to his feet and dusts off his knees, turning to face Niall with a sigh. “I’m not violent, Niall, you just scared the living shit out of me.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have been so scared if you’d been paying attention to me in the first place,” Niall replies, taking out a new stack of cups from the cabinet above the coffee maker. “I’ve called your name about fifty times while your head’s off swimming somewhere else. If you didn’t want to talk, just tell me.”
“I don’t not want to talk,” Louis says with a scoff, spinning back to face the counter and watching people pass by the glass windows. “I was just looking at the time.”
“Yeah, for the twentieth time,” Niall says, the tone of his mimicking the rolling of eyes. “All you need to know is that there’s sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes-”
“I know all that, thank you very much. And I don’t appreciate your tone, Horan.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate you shoving me into the table, Tomlinson,” Niall retorts, a smile creeping on his lips. “Luckily I caught myself or Mike would have thrown a fit and kicked us out for the day.”
Louis laughs. “Well, he loves me, remember? So I don’t really need to worry. You, on the other hand-”
“-will grab you by your pretty little head and drag you out there with me,” Niall finishes, flicking away a lock of Louis’s fringe and jumping backward to avoid Louis’s attempt at a punch to his arm. He always did hate Niall’s dexterity, the way his feet seem to carry him without waiting for the signals sent from his brain, almost cat-like in nature, and he thinks it might be the “Irish blood” in him giving him supernatural powers but it’s probably nothing more than knowing exactly what and when Louis will do something, because with Niall, he’s exactly the same.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry for pushing you into the table,” Louis resigns, placing his palms flat on the countertop and watching Niall slide into the seat opposite him, a wide smile beginning to stretch his face. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You can get me more names,” Niall answers simply, digging out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Louis. Louis slips it off his fingers and opens it fold by fold, mapping out the five names Niall’s managed to get the past few days for the performance later in the evening. He stops on the fourth line, where Harry Styles is scribbled untidily in blue ink, and there’s a sudden pang in his chest that he’s sure Niall saw flash in his eyes, because there he is, snapping his fingers in front of Louis’s face trying to bring him back to reality.
“You’ve got five names already, do you really need more?” Louis asks, not really feeling up to going over to strangers and asking them if they wanted to perform, as well as the possibility of missing Harry when he comes in for lunch. “And it’d be on such short notice if I ask them now, don’t you think? They’d need time to prepare and-”
“Stop making excuses, Lou, and get on with it,” Niall says, waving a hand to shoo Louis away. “The more names I can get, the better. I want to make up for last week and I don’t know, it might make Mike more inclined to give me a raise.”
“Niall, your dad’s a big-shot record producer, you don’t need a raise,” Louis says, folding the paper and sliding it in his back pocket. “I need a raise. I don’t want to impose on you for too long and I’ll need to save up when I look for a new place.”
Niall sighs and points a finger in front of Louis’s face, the tip only a few inches from his nose. “If you say the word ‘imposing’ referring to me one more time, Tommo, I’ll chuck you in the guest room downstairs and have you sleep in the air mattress. Now are you going to get me more names or not?”
Louis laughs and shakes his head, the urge to attempt another punch as strong as the urge to jump from the counter and give him a hug. “Well, I don’t think I’ve much of a choice, have I?”
Niall shakes his head. “No, sir, you don’t. Now, go on. I expect you’ll be back by lunchtime.”
Louis smiles and makes his way to the door, trying to get Niall on the shoulder one more time. Failing once again-and Niall is so like Jess when it comes to leaping and moving out of the way-he pulls on the hem of his shirt, ruffles his hair with a few quick strokes, and turns to Niall one last time. “I’ll make sure to be back by then.”
::
The register rings for the fifth time under Harry’s hands and he’s grinning ear to ear, excitement bubbling out of his chest, as he hands the bag of pastries to the little girl clutching her mother’s hand, looking up at him with big, doll-like eyes. She reaches up and grabs the bag timidly with her free hand, and before they turn to leave, she gives Harry a toothless smile and a small wave as her mother leads her across the bakery.
“The cutest things, aren’t they?” Caroline says dreamily, leaning on the display case with her chin in her hands, and Harry looks at her with a smile.
“This is actually really fun,” Harry admits, turning back to the windows and watching the little girl disappear around the corner. “Did you see her face?”
“I did,” Caroline replies, standing up and stretching her arms in the air. “The best thing about the register is getting to see excited little children eyeing the treats and pulling on their parents’ sleeves when they see something they want. Especially if it’s something you made.”
“Did you make any of them?”
“A few petit fours and some cupcakes,” she says, replacing her elbows on the glass, and Harry shoots her a look at the foreign term. She points to the top ceramic tier on the table closest to them. “The little cakes that look like presents? I made those just before you came in.”
“Oh, those things,” Harry remarked, recognizing the tiny box pastries. “They look really good.”
“Jenny wouldn’t have them any other way,” Caroline says with a chuckle. “She’s very particular about her pastries. Once, I made the batter for cream puff swans too loose, and she told me I have three chances to do it perfectly or I’d get the boot. Got it on my second try and I’d never messed up another recipe of hers since.”
“She’s really strict, isn’t she?”
Caroline shrugs and turns her attention to Jenny’s door. “Yeah, but she means well. She wants everything done a specific way and that’s why her bakery’s lasted this long. She’s really passionate about what she does and she wants her employees to learn how she learned.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Harry says, tapping his fingertips on the glass. Caroline makes a sound and Harry snaps his attention to her, but no words come out. Instead, she holds up a finger and walks out from behind the display case, heading for one of the tiers, and she picks up a pink petit four wrapped with a blue icing ribbon. She drops it in Harry’s hand and fixes her eyes on him, waiting for him to make a move. Harry hesitates for a moment, her attention unnerving him slightly, but in the next second, he’s taking a bite, teeth clamping down on the softest, most pillowy cake he’s ever had.
His expression probably said it all, because once he eats the last of the pastry, Caroline’s face breaks into a wide grin, and Harry tries his best not to smile back with his mouth full.
“That tastes really good,” Harry says after swallowing the rest, and Caroline dips her head in gratitude, face flushing with pink once again. “You’ve got talent.”
“Thanks,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “If we have time, I can teach you how to make some of these things.”
Harry opens his mouth to accept, but his brain catches on the word time and his eyes immediately search for the clock on the wall above the door. Ten past noon. Lunchtime.
Louis.
“Hey, would you mind if I nip over at One Way for a bit?” Harry asks, anxiety filling his bones in a second. “Just going to grab a bite to eat.”
“Oh, the café?” Caroline says, her brows beginning to knit together. “You know there’s a restaurant a just few ways down from here? Bistro Eleanor? Their lunch menu’s phenomenal and the price isn’t too bad.”
Harry doesn’t take a moment to consider this alternative or argue why One Way’s the better choice, taking out his mobile instead and checking his reflection to see if his hair’s become a frizzy mess-well, more than it already is-and he flicks his eyes to Caroline, who’s still looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“I’ve actually told my mate I’ll be over for lunch,” Harry says, eyes drawing an apology and hoping Caroline won’t come up with anything else to say to change his mind. He’s wasted enough time as it is.
“Well, would you mind if I came along?” Caroline asks simply, and Harry only looks at her at first, mind flashing to Louis at once, and she looks back, eyes echoing the same request. It takes him a minute to process what course of action to take, and after realizing he can’t bring himself to decline, he sighs softly and shrugs, stuffing his mobile back in his pocket.
“If you want to walk all the way over there-” Harry begins, but he’s cut off by Caroline grabbing him by the arm and taking him across the bakery, an arm already stretched out in front of her to push the door open.
“Come on, then, I’m starving,” she says excitedly, and the moment they come upon the door, she turns to look over her shoulder and adds, a little louder so Jenny could hear in her office, “Jen, we’ll be right back to grab something to eat, alright?”
“If you’re not back in thirty minutes, you’re both fired,” Jenny calls out from the other side of the office, and Caroline laughs as she drags Harry out into the street, whose eyes are wide in surprise and brain still trying to figure out what’s happening, taking long, ardent strides with her mile-long legs as she makes for One Way.
::
Louis makes it back to One Way with nothing to show for it, and when he drops the paper in front of an expectant Niall with a shake of his head, he sits down in a chair and practically dissolves into the seat in a tired heap, the hunt for more names battering his legs into fatigue.
He walked around the area, running over to the bookstore to pester the patrons with his neon blue pen and scouting the record store for potential performers because it seemed to him like the most logical place to look for a few-or at least one-but the bookstore offered no names other than those plastered on the hardcovers of this week’s new releases and the record store turned out to be as dry and barren as a desert-all there seemed to be were groups of teenaged girls fawning over the newest album of an up-and-coming boy band, nearly kissing the boys gracing the cover in complete and utter adoration, and rockers with their hair spiked to the extreme, studs pressed into every bit of visible skin, and nonchalant, almost stoic attitudes that almost made Louis turn around and walk the other way. He almost tries the shopping mall in the hopes of getting something at the least, but when he looks at his watch as he steps out the record store, he discovers it’s almost noon, and he folds the piece of paper haphazardly and sprints all the way back to the café with a few minutes to spare before the clock hands turned 12:00.
“Nothing?” Niall asks after opening the paper and seeing the names written down, unchanged.
Louis shrugs, shakes his head, and sits himself up properly, taking this time to catch his breath. “I tried. There’s nobody out at this time of day. Has Harry shown up?”
“No, not yet,” Niall answers, scrunching up his face before folding the paper one last time and slipping it in his pocket. “I expect he’ll be here soon, though.”
“Good,” Louis whispers, wiping the cold sweat from his brows and straightening his shirt.
It’s not until ten minutes later that the door opens, and when the tinkling meets his ears, Louis turns his head and sees Harry emerging through the doors. For some reason-though it does happen quite frequently now that he should already know why it happens-his heart starts to race and his face, just starting to recover from the redness brought on by his search, turns a deeper shade, and he’s not sure if his body can keep up with the demand for blood.
Just as Louis is standing up and about to say something to Harry, someone totters behind him-all limbs, long and golden and thin as twigs-and it doesn’t take him long to realize it’s the girl from the bakeshop.
Caroline.
“-couldn’t wait for me, could you?” he hears Caroline continue with a laugh in that shrill voice of hers, and the next second, she’s beside Harry, looping her arm around his as she looks around the café. Louis feels his stomach drop and his hands are cold, and he doesn’t hear what Harry says when they make their way to him.
“You alright mate?” Harry inquires, disentangling himself from Caroline and walking up to Louis. “I said, ‘hello’.”
“What?” Louis asks, taking himself out of his stupor, and Harry watches him with curiosity. “Oh. Hello. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”
Behind Harry, Louis can see Caroline walking around with her head upturned, looking at the pictures on the walls with her arms folded over her chest, and when her eyes land on Niall, who’s busy eating something with his back facing the counter, she smiles and makes her way to him.
“Well, anyway,” Harry says, slipping his hands in his pockets for the hundredth time, “did you want to have lunch?”
Louis manages a grin despite the disappointment filling his veins, and he nods and leads Harry to the table closest to them, sitting opposite each other, Harry’s eyes trying to decipher what expression Louis has on his face, neither saying anything for a while.
::
It was a very awkward lunch.
Not so much as in Harry had nothing to say, didn’t know how to begin a conversation because he did. He tried his best to come up with subjects that all of them could talk about-favorite bands, life in the city-trivial stuff that makes for good discussion over a hot cup of chocolate and a warm croissant steaming under his chin. Caroline had no problem filling in her side; she was practically on the tips of her toes, going on excitedly about college and how her ex-boyfriend dumped her after she dyed her hair jet black. Very soon, it became just her talking, asking Harry questions when he ran out, her chair moving closer and closer to him with every laugh, and he indulged her for a bit before it became burdensome, became something that’s not fun anymore because he’s not laughing and he can see the look on Louis’s face.
Louis gave one-word answers and dismissed a few questions entirely with a shrug, and Harry knew he wasn’t having fun. If he could equate his expression to something, it’d be like when he was younger visiting his grandmother, and how he would be forced to watch knitting programs or the news or something completely out of his interests and he couldn’t say no and walk away because he didn’t want to offend her, so he bites his tongue and watches until he fell asleep.
Harry could tell Louis was just indulging him, taking small bites of his sandwich and taking long sips of coffee from the mug that never seems to empty, eyes never noticing that Caroline was there sitting next to him, and he couldn’t blame him. Caroline wasn’t part of the equation. Louis was not expecting her to come at all.
“So, I, er, I guess I’ll just see you tonight?” Harry says after telling Caroline to go on ahead and he’ll catch up later.
“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Louis says with a nod and leaves it at that. He turns around, makes his way to Niall, who gives Harry a small wave before moving backward to let Louis through. Harry smiles, nods in Louis’s direction, and pushes out of the door, where Caroline’s waiting for him just past the café.
“Ready?” she asks, and Harry only nods, his plan to spend more time with Louis blowing up in his face and he’s not sure what Louis was thinking the entire time. He catches up with her and keeps his hands in his pockets, the space between them enough to accommodate a person, and they start walking down the street with a heaviness pressing down on Harry’s chest.
“So… what’s the deal with Louis anyway?” Caroline asks, turning to Harry a quarter of the way, and a thousand reasons pop in his head, ready to be pushed out of his throat like a machine gun and shower her with explanations of how Louis isn’t usually like that, how he’s usually more lively, grinning from ear to ear and firing off sarcastic remarks to Niall left and right and-
But he only shrugs and keeps his eyes on the sidewalk, taking slow, languid steps to get his mind settled and ready to think of something else.
He doesn’t even know where to begin.
::
“You know, if you act any more excited, I’ll begin to think you’ve been taking something illicit,” Niall says after handing a customer a cup of coffee.
“Shut up, Niall,” Louis retorts irritably, leaning on the back table and tapping his foot on the floor, arms coming up to cross over his chest, not really appreciating Niall’s sarcasm after what just happened.
He knew she had her eyes set on Harry the moment they met, her harpy-like claws with peeling pink polish zeroing in for the kill, flashing her sunburnt legs and fake tanned smiles and singing her shrill banshee song with a flip of her twice-bleached hair burned to a crisp at the ends.
He’s decided did not like Caroline.
“Alright, then, crabby,” Niall says, taking off his apron and hanging it on the wall behind him. “I’m off to take my break. Watch the place while I’m gone.”
“What? Where do you think you’re going?” Louis asks sharply, and Niall grabs his jumper from a drawer.
“Somewhere with a pleasant atmosphere,” Niall says, slipping the jumper on and making for the door. “Maybe I’ll try the bookstore so I won’t have to listen to you whine for the next half hour.”
“I don’t whine.”
But Niall doesn’t hear it because he’s out the door and walking across the street in a moment, and Louis tries his best not to run after him and throw a sandwich at the back of his head. Instead, he sighs and walks over to place his hands on the counter, beginning to count off the hours until he can see Harry again.
::
“-and that’s how you take an order,” Caroline says, clicking the pen and tucking it behind her ear. She waves the order sheet in front of Harry’s face and Harry takes it, reading the scribbles of pastries and their prices. “Got it?”
“I think so,” Harry says, taking a clipboard from the wall and slipping the paper in the clamp. “Where do I find the prices again?”
“At the wall behind you or right underneath the cash register,” Caroline reiterates, taking the laminated slip of paper from under the machine and pushing it back inside. Harry nods and hangs the clipboard back on the hook.
“You’re performing tonight, right?” she asks, leaning on the case cheek in hand, and Harry snaps his head to her, surprised. He tries to remember when he told her about it, but his memory comes up empty.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Harry asks, brows coming together.
“I, er, I was sort of eavesdropping on your interview yesterday,” she admits with a smile. Harry doesn’t know whether to smile back or not. “But I’d love to hear you sing.”
Harry can think of ten perfectly good reasons why he thinks she shouldn’t come at all, and he’s half-tempted to fire them off one by one until he runs out of breath but he can’t bring himself to. She’s been nothing but nice to him and brushing her off and looking the other way seems like a pretty dodgy way of returning the favor. He sighs and gives her a small smile.
“If you want to come, the performances start at eight,” he says, and she jumps up and claps her hands together.
“Great!” she exclaims, turning around just in time to see a customer making her way to a table and inspecting the items on the tiers. She flashes on her strawberry smile and looks at Harry from the corners of her eyes. “I’ll make sure to come after work.”
::
Setting up is probably the hardest thing about the performances.
At the moment, the stage in the back of the café is bare except for the microphone stand and a chair pushed off into the corner, and since it was Niall’s job to get the names, it was up to Louis to do the rest.
It’s not that he doesn’t like doing it-he does, loves to put his flair on the stage, pin things up on the curtains, and, when he’s feeling ambitious, make banners with the performers’ names ready to be hanged and torn off with each number and given as souvenirs, especially for first-timers-and really, the distraction is probably the best thing to have at that moment, set his mind on something else so his brain could breathe, but for some reason, his hands come up blank. His imagination has taken the day off and he’s left looking at the stage with his fingers curled around his waist, trying to map out something to start off with. He even looks at pictures of past performances and writes down a certain aspect from each one, trying to come up with a cohesive concept and making Mike happy.
Crumpling his sixth piece of paper, he groans and buries his face in the notepad.
“How’s it going, Lou?” Niall asks, and Louis lifts his head up and gives it a shake.
“I can’t think of anything, Ni. My brain’s running on empty.”
“Are you hungry? I can whip up something real quick.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just not getting it today, I don’t know why.”
“See, this is why you plan before the event, not during,” Niall says, and Louis shoots him a nasty look before turning back and twirling the pen in his fingers.
“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me something useful, Niall,” Louis says, rolling his eyes, as he draws the basic outline of the stage. “It’s your performance day, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you’re in charge of setting up, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Well, at least you’ve got a bit of time before the show starts, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Louis lets himself breathe and places the notepad on the counter, sweeping over to Niall and burying his face in his shoulder.
“Can I just call it a day and sleep?” Louis asks, voice muffled, and Niall laughs.
“Sure. When you’re done setting up and the performances are over, you can sleep as much as you like.”
Louis laughs and gives Niall a light shove. Just then, the bell rings and Louis turns his head just in time to see someone walking through, and he feels his breath hitch in his throat, eyes landing on brown hair and an a small birthmark splashed on his neck.
It doesn’t take him too long to realize who it is, and by impulse, he turns to Niall, who’s standing stock-still, face pink from laughing a few moments ago now draining of color, blue eyes wide, fixed on Liam Payne, and Louis can feel tension falling over him like a thick liquid he wishes he can scrub off. Niall makes a sound and Louis turns back to Liam, who’s walking across the café with a notebook in one hand and a guitar in the other, a smile stretching his lips when his eyes locate Louis and Niall behind the counter.
Louis doesn’t know what to do.
“Good afternoon, mate,” Liam says excitedly as he sets the notebook on the counter and leans the guitar on the seat next to him, brown eyes moving from Niall to Louis then back again, and Louis clears his throat, scratches an itch on his forearm, and attempts to smile back. It comes off as awkward, like his teeth are too big for his lips, like he’s been injected with botox and he can’t really move the muscles on his face, and Liam’s smile begins to falter, eyebrows stitching together and eager eyes filling with confusion.
“Hello, Liam, long time no see,” Louis manages to get out when it seemed like the silence was stretching on for too long, too uncomfortable, and he taps on Niall’s foot underneath the counter. “What brings you here?”
“I’ve, er… I’ve just come to bring Harry’s notepad and his guitar,” Liam says, his voice tight, deeper than Louis remembers, eyes shifting to Niall in an attempt to get him to look. But Niall’s unresponsive, doesn’t even kick Louis back after tapping him a second time, and he lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders tensing and his eyes narrowing.
“Niall?” Liam says, leaning closer, and the sound gives Niall a start. “Niall, you alright?”
Niall takes a breath, gets himself ready to say something, but he traps it in his chest like closing a gate shut and he shakes his head, taking off his apron and throwing it in the back table.
“I’m-I’m sorry. Excuse me,” he says, voice harried, just a step above a whisper, and he inches past Louis and ignores Liam calling his name, his hand when he reaches out to try to stop him, the look on his face when he turns back to Louis with eyes drowning in surprise and worry and confusion and guilt.
“What did I do?”
← chapter six ♕ chapter seven ♕ chapter eight →
Pairings: Harry/Louis
Part: Chapter 7 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 || CHAPTER FOUR || CHAPTER FIVE || CHAPTER SIX
Chapter seven
When Harry comes upon the bakery, the first thing he sees through the glass windows is Caroline dancing.
It isn’t the kind of dancing that’s choreographed or has any sort of beat or rhythm to it, and to be honest, Harry’s never seen anything quite like it outside of his television set, but what it lacks in cadence, it more than makes up for in captivation. Balancing a small metal tray filled with tiny pastries in one hand, she glides across the bakery in long, graceful strides, her hair whipping about behind her as she spins and leaps. Her free arm is poised like a swan’s neck in the space beside her, never breaking the position until it’s time to replace the pastries in the ceramic tiers.
Harry inches closer, almost pressing his nose into the window, and focuses on the look of concentration on her face. Despite the gracefulness of her dance, her eyebrows are drawn together, creasing her forehead, and her mouth is a thin red line, taut and unmoving. From the distance, he can just see the tiny beads of sweat collecting along her brow, and he can’t turn away from the pink slowly tinting her cheeks.
After what seems like forever, Caroline finally notices him with a start, and through the walls, Harry hears her squeal, almost dropping the tray when she misses her step and recovering just in time for her free hand to catch the edge of the metal. Harry nearly bumps into the window in surprise before collecting himself and pushing through the door in a hurry, the tinkling of the bell chiming in his ears.
“Are you alright?” Harry says quickly, walking briskly over to her as she places the tray on the table beside her with a hand on her chest.
“I’m-I’m fine,” she replies, straightening out her short floral skirt before brushing the ends of her hair with hooked fingers.
“Are you sure?” Harry asks, guilt washing over him thickly, and she nods and gives a quick smile, her face flushing redder than when she was dancing. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no, it’s alright. It’s my fault for prancing around with the stupid tray in the first place.”
Harry laughs. “I didn’t know you danced. Were you practicing just now?”
Caroline grins and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’d be surprised if you did-we had only met yesterday. But to answer your question: yes, I am taking dance lessons when I’m not working.”
“That’s cool,” Harry says, stuffing his hands in his pockets after failing to find something to keep them occupied. “That was great, what you were doing. Those fancy spins and everything.”
“They’re not really fancy,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her eyes on the floor. “I haven’t been taking the lessons long so my moves are amateur at best.”
“Could have fooled me,” Harry insists with a shrug, and Caroline brings her eyes back to him, light blue glittering in the sunlight. It’s all very true-he doesn’t know much about dancing, but what he does know is that she’s enthralling to watch. Her limbs, long and wispy and tanned golden, move around her like ribbons in the wind, and her feet look like they’re walking on air. “How did you do them again? Like this?”
Harry lifts his foot and tries to spin on one leg, but after a single turn, he loses his balance for a moment and catches himself just in time before colliding with the pastry tiers a few centimeters behind him. Caroline gives a squeal and lunges forward, hands outstretched, ready to catch Harry, but in another second, she drops them next to her and watches instead as he raises himself up back to his full height with an embarrassed grin on his face.
“That went a lot smoother in my mind,” Harry admits with a chuckle, bringing a hand up to scratch his head, and Caroline utters a soft giggle behind her hand. “At least I didn’t crash into the pastries.”
Caroline laughs. “You spun the wrong way, that’s why. Here-”
She takes a step back and Harry’s eyes drop down to her feet, and in one quick motion, she lifts herself up on one foot and spins three times, her skirt fanning out, and Harry takes it upon himself to be decent enough not to shift his eyes farther up her legs. He smiles when she lands back on two feet, and she gives a tiny curtsy before dissolving into a fit of laughter. Harry laughs with her.
“Maybe I can teach you some dance moves in your training,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and making her way behind the register.
“Sounds like a plan,” Harry says, following Caroline and stopping in front of the display case, and at that moment, a voice echoes from the back of the bakery.
“Stop wasting time and get him started on the training.”
The two jump at the suddenness of Jenny’s voice and the next second, they’re grinning at each other, Caroline patting the register and motioning with her head for Harry to come and stand behind her.
::
Louis didn’t know just how much he’s flicked his eyes to the wall clock in the past hour until Niall popped up behind him and gave him a light squeeze on his shoulders.
He nearly jumps out of his skin and takes a step backward to balance himself, but in doing so, he knocks Niall into the back table, sending cups and unopened coffee bags tumbling onto the floor.
“What is the matter with you?” Niall asks, composing himself quickly and surveying the area to see if the disturbance caused a stir. It didn’t. The four patrons are too engrossed in their respective activities to notice what had happened: a man in the far back reading the morning paper and sipping from his coffee; a few tables off, a woman fervently typing on her laptop, the loud tack tack tacks echoing in their ears; and a couple busy feeding each other breakfast at the table closest to the doors.
Louis bends down to pick up the fallen items and replaces the bags on the table, Niall following suit a moment later and throwing the cups into the trash.
“One moment, you’re distracted,” Niall continues as he stands up. “And the next, you’re violent. Jesus, what’s with you today?”
Louis gets to his feet and dusts off his knees, turning to face Niall with a sigh. “I’m not violent, Niall, you just scared the living shit out of me.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have been so scared if you’d been paying attention to me in the first place,” Niall replies, taking out a new stack of cups from the cabinet above the coffee maker. “I’ve called your name about fifty times while your head’s off swimming somewhere else. If you didn’t want to talk, just tell me.”
“I don’t not want to talk,” Louis says with a scoff, spinning back to face the counter and watching people pass by the glass windows. “I was just looking at the time.”
“Yeah, for the twentieth time,” Niall says, the tone of his mimicking the rolling of eyes. “All you need to know is that there’s sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes-”
“I know all that, thank you very much. And I don’t appreciate your tone, Horan.”
“Well, I don’t appreciate you shoving me into the table, Tomlinson,” Niall retorts, a smile creeping on his lips. “Luckily I caught myself or Mike would have thrown a fit and kicked us out for the day.”
Louis laughs. “Well, he loves me, remember? So I don’t really need to worry. You, on the other hand-”
“-will grab you by your pretty little head and drag you out there with me,” Niall finishes, flicking away a lock of Louis’s fringe and jumping backward to avoid Louis’s attempt at a punch to his arm. He always did hate Niall’s dexterity, the way his feet seem to carry him without waiting for the signals sent from his brain, almost cat-like in nature, and he thinks it might be the “Irish blood” in him giving him supernatural powers but it’s probably nothing more than knowing exactly what and when Louis will do something, because with Niall, he’s exactly the same.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry for pushing you into the table,” Louis resigns, placing his palms flat on the countertop and watching Niall slide into the seat opposite him, a wide smile beginning to stretch his face. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You can get me more names,” Niall answers simply, digging out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Louis. Louis slips it off his fingers and opens it fold by fold, mapping out the five names Niall’s managed to get the past few days for the performance later in the evening. He stops on the fourth line, where Harry Styles is scribbled untidily in blue ink, and there’s a sudden pang in his chest that he’s sure Niall saw flash in his eyes, because there he is, snapping his fingers in front of Louis’s face trying to bring him back to reality.
“You’ve got five names already, do you really need more?” Louis asks, not really feeling up to going over to strangers and asking them if they wanted to perform, as well as the possibility of missing Harry when he comes in for lunch. “And it’d be on such short notice if I ask them now, don’t you think? They’d need time to prepare and-”
“Stop making excuses, Lou, and get on with it,” Niall says, waving a hand to shoo Louis away. “The more names I can get, the better. I want to make up for last week and I don’t know, it might make Mike more inclined to give me a raise.”
“Niall, your dad’s a big-shot record producer, you don’t need a raise,” Louis says, folding the paper and sliding it in his back pocket. “I need a raise. I don’t want to impose on you for too long and I’ll need to save up when I look for a new place.”
Niall sighs and points a finger in front of Louis’s face, the tip only a few inches from his nose. “If you say the word ‘imposing’ referring to me one more time, Tommo, I’ll chuck you in the guest room downstairs and have you sleep in the air mattress. Now are you going to get me more names or not?”
Louis laughs and shakes his head, the urge to attempt another punch as strong as the urge to jump from the counter and give him a hug. “Well, I don’t think I’ve much of a choice, have I?”
Niall shakes his head. “No, sir, you don’t. Now, go on. I expect you’ll be back by lunchtime.”
Louis smiles and makes his way to the door, trying to get Niall on the shoulder one more time. Failing once again-and Niall is so like Jess when it comes to leaping and moving out of the way-he pulls on the hem of his shirt, ruffles his hair with a few quick strokes, and turns to Niall one last time. “I’ll make sure to be back by then.”
::
The register rings for the fifth time under Harry’s hands and he’s grinning ear to ear, excitement bubbling out of his chest, as he hands the bag of pastries to the little girl clutching her mother’s hand, looking up at him with big, doll-like eyes. She reaches up and grabs the bag timidly with her free hand, and before they turn to leave, she gives Harry a toothless smile and a small wave as her mother leads her across the bakery.
“The cutest things, aren’t they?” Caroline says dreamily, leaning on the display case with her chin in her hands, and Harry looks at her with a smile.
“This is actually really fun,” Harry admits, turning back to the windows and watching the little girl disappear around the corner. “Did you see her face?”
“I did,” Caroline replies, standing up and stretching her arms in the air. “The best thing about the register is getting to see excited little children eyeing the treats and pulling on their parents’ sleeves when they see something they want. Especially if it’s something you made.”
“Did you make any of them?”
“A few petit fours and some cupcakes,” she says, replacing her elbows on the glass, and Harry shoots her a look at the foreign term. She points to the top ceramic tier on the table closest to them. “The little cakes that look like presents? I made those just before you came in.”
“Oh, those things,” Harry remarked, recognizing the tiny box pastries. “They look really good.”
“Jenny wouldn’t have them any other way,” Caroline says with a chuckle. “She’s very particular about her pastries. Once, I made the batter for cream puff swans too loose, and she told me I have three chances to do it perfectly or I’d get the boot. Got it on my second try and I’d never messed up another recipe of hers since.”
“She’s really strict, isn’t she?”
Caroline shrugs and turns her attention to Jenny’s door. “Yeah, but she means well. She wants everything done a specific way and that’s why her bakery’s lasted this long. She’s really passionate about what she does and she wants her employees to learn how she learned.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Harry says, tapping his fingertips on the glass. Caroline makes a sound and Harry snaps his attention to her, but no words come out. Instead, she holds up a finger and walks out from behind the display case, heading for one of the tiers, and she picks up a pink petit four wrapped with a blue icing ribbon. She drops it in Harry’s hand and fixes her eyes on him, waiting for him to make a move. Harry hesitates for a moment, her attention unnerving him slightly, but in the next second, he’s taking a bite, teeth clamping down on the softest, most pillowy cake he’s ever had.
His expression probably said it all, because once he eats the last of the pastry, Caroline’s face breaks into a wide grin, and Harry tries his best not to smile back with his mouth full.
“That tastes really good,” Harry says after swallowing the rest, and Caroline dips her head in gratitude, face flushing with pink once again. “You’ve got talent.”
“Thanks,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “If we have time, I can teach you how to make some of these things.”
Harry opens his mouth to accept, but his brain catches on the word time and his eyes immediately search for the clock on the wall above the door. Ten past noon. Lunchtime.
Louis.
“Hey, would you mind if I nip over at One Way for a bit?” Harry asks, anxiety filling his bones in a second. “Just going to grab a bite to eat.”
“Oh, the café?” Caroline says, her brows beginning to knit together. “You know there’s a restaurant a just few ways down from here? Bistro Eleanor? Their lunch menu’s phenomenal and the price isn’t too bad.”
Harry doesn’t take a moment to consider this alternative or argue why One Way’s the better choice, taking out his mobile instead and checking his reflection to see if his hair’s become a frizzy mess-well, more than it already is-and he flicks his eyes to Caroline, who’s still looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“I’ve actually told my mate I’ll be over for lunch,” Harry says, eyes drawing an apology and hoping Caroline won’t come up with anything else to say to change his mind. He’s wasted enough time as it is.
“Well, would you mind if I came along?” Caroline asks simply, and Harry only looks at her at first, mind flashing to Louis at once, and she looks back, eyes echoing the same request. It takes him a minute to process what course of action to take, and after realizing he can’t bring himself to decline, he sighs softly and shrugs, stuffing his mobile back in his pocket.
“If you want to walk all the way over there-” Harry begins, but he’s cut off by Caroline grabbing him by the arm and taking him across the bakery, an arm already stretched out in front of her to push the door open.
“Come on, then, I’m starving,” she says excitedly, and the moment they come upon the door, she turns to look over her shoulder and adds, a little louder so Jenny could hear in her office, “Jen, we’ll be right back to grab something to eat, alright?”
“If you’re not back in thirty minutes, you’re both fired,” Jenny calls out from the other side of the office, and Caroline laughs as she drags Harry out into the street, whose eyes are wide in surprise and brain still trying to figure out what’s happening, taking long, ardent strides with her mile-long legs as she makes for One Way.
::
Louis makes it back to One Way with nothing to show for it, and when he drops the paper in front of an expectant Niall with a shake of his head, he sits down in a chair and practically dissolves into the seat in a tired heap, the hunt for more names battering his legs into fatigue.
He walked around the area, running over to the bookstore to pester the patrons with his neon blue pen and scouting the record store for potential performers because it seemed to him like the most logical place to look for a few-or at least one-but the bookstore offered no names other than those plastered on the hardcovers of this week’s new releases and the record store turned out to be as dry and barren as a desert-all there seemed to be were groups of teenaged girls fawning over the newest album of an up-and-coming boy band, nearly kissing the boys gracing the cover in complete and utter adoration, and rockers with their hair spiked to the extreme, studs pressed into every bit of visible skin, and nonchalant, almost stoic attitudes that almost made Louis turn around and walk the other way. He almost tries the shopping mall in the hopes of getting something at the least, but when he looks at his watch as he steps out the record store, he discovers it’s almost noon, and he folds the piece of paper haphazardly and sprints all the way back to the café with a few minutes to spare before the clock hands turned 12:00.
“Nothing?” Niall asks after opening the paper and seeing the names written down, unchanged.
Louis shrugs, shakes his head, and sits himself up properly, taking this time to catch his breath. “I tried. There’s nobody out at this time of day. Has Harry shown up?”
“No, not yet,” Niall answers, scrunching up his face before folding the paper one last time and slipping it in his pocket. “I expect he’ll be here soon, though.”
“Good,” Louis whispers, wiping the cold sweat from his brows and straightening his shirt.
It’s not until ten minutes later that the door opens, and when the tinkling meets his ears, Louis turns his head and sees Harry emerging through the doors. For some reason-though it does happen quite frequently now that he should already know why it happens-his heart starts to race and his face, just starting to recover from the redness brought on by his search, turns a deeper shade, and he’s not sure if his body can keep up with the demand for blood.
Just as Louis is standing up and about to say something to Harry, someone totters behind him-all limbs, long and golden and thin as twigs-and it doesn’t take him long to realize it’s the girl from the bakeshop.
Caroline.
“-couldn’t wait for me, could you?” he hears Caroline continue with a laugh in that shrill voice of hers, and the next second, she’s beside Harry, looping her arm around his as she looks around the café. Louis feels his stomach drop and his hands are cold, and he doesn’t hear what Harry says when they make their way to him.
“You alright mate?” Harry inquires, disentangling himself from Caroline and walking up to Louis. “I said, ‘hello’.”
“What?” Louis asks, taking himself out of his stupor, and Harry watches him with curiosity. “Oh. Hello. Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”
Behind Harry, Louis can see Caroline walking around with her head upturned, looking at the pictures on the walls with her arms folded over her chest, and when her eyes land on Niall, who’s busy eating something with his back facing the counter, she smiles and makes her way to him.
“Well, anyway,” Harry says, slipping his hands in his pockets for the hundredth time, “did you want to have lunch?”
Louis manages a grin despite the disappointment filling his veins, and he nods and leads Harry to the table closest to them, sitting opposite each other, Harry’s eyes trying to decipher what expression Louis has on his face, neither saying anything for a while.
::
It was a very awkward lunch.
Not so much as in Harry had nothing to say, didn’t know how to begin a conversation because he did. He tried his best to come up with subjects that all of them could talk about-favorite bands, life in the city-trivial stuff that makes for good discussion over a hot cup of chocolate and a warm croissant steaming under his chin. Caroline had no problem filling in her side; she was practically on the tips of her toes, going on excitedly about college and how her ex-boyfriend dumped her after she dyed her hair jet black. Very soon, it became just her talking, asking Harry questions when he ran out, her chair moving closer and closer to him with every laugh, and he indulged her for a bit before it became burdensome, became something that’s not fun anymore because he’s not laughing and he can see the look on Louis’s face.
Louis gave one-word answers and dismissed a few questions entirely with a shrug, and Harry knew he wasn’t having fun. If he could equate his expression to something, it’d be like when he was younger visiting his grandmother, and how he would be forced to watch knitting programs or the news or something completely out of his interests and he couldn’t say no and walk away because he didn’t want to offend her, so he bites his tongue and watches until he fell asleep.
Harry could tell Louis was just indulging him, taking small bites of his sandwich and taking long sips of coffee from the mug that never seems to empty, eyes never noticing that Caroline was there sitting next to him, and he couldn’t blame him. Caroline wasn’t part of the equation. Louis was not expecting her to come at all.
“So, I, er, I guess I’ll just see you tonight?” Harry says after telling Caroline to go on ahead and he’ll catch up later.
“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Louis says with a nod and leaves it at that. He turns around, makes his way to Niall, who gives Harry a small wave before moving backward to let Louis through. Harry smiles, nods in Louis’s direction, and pushes out of the door, where Caroline’s waiting for him just past the café.
“Ready?” she asks, and Harry only nods, his plan to spend more time with Louis blowing up in his face and he’s not sure what Louis was thinking the entire time. He catches up with her and keeps his hands in his pockets, the space between them enough to accommodate a person, and they start walking down the street with a heaviness pressing down on Harry’s chest.
“So… what’s the deal with Louis anyway?” Caroline asks, turning to Harry a quarter of the way, and a thousand reasons pop in his head, ready to be pushed out of his throat like a machine gun and shower her with explanations of how Louis isn’t usually like that, how he’s usually more lively, grinning from ear to ear and firing off sarcastic remarks to Niall left and right and-
But he only shrugs and keeps his eyes on the sidewalk, taking slow, languid steps to get his mind settled and ready to think of something else.
He doesn’t even know where to begin.
::
“You know, if you act any more excited, I’ll begin to think you’ve been taking something illicit,” Niall says after handing a customer a cup of coffee.
“Shut up, Niall,” Louis retorts irritably, leaning on the back table and tapping his foot on the floor, arms coming up to cross over his chest, not really appreciating Niall’s sarcasm after what just happened.
He knew she had her eyes set on Harry the moment they met, her harpy-like claws with peeling pink polish zeroing in for the kill, flashing her sunburnt legs and fake tanned smiles and singing her shrill banshee song with a flip of her twice-bleached hair burned to a crisp at the ends.
He’s decided did not like Caroline.
“Alright, then, crabby,” Niall says, taking off his apron and hanging it on the wall behind him. “I’m off to take my break. Watch the place while I’m gone.”
“What? Where do you think you’re going?” Louis asks sharply, and Niall grabs his jumper from a drawer.
“Somewhere with a pleasant atmosphere,” Niall says, slipping the jumper on and making for the door. “Maybe I’ll try the bookstore so I won’t have to listen to you whine for the next half hour.”
“I don’t whine.”
But Niall doesn’t hear it because he’s out the door and walking across the street in a moment, and Louis tries his best not to run after him and throw a sandwich at the back of his head. Instead, he sighs and walks over to place his hands on the counter, beginning to count off the hours until he can see Harry again.
::
“-and that’s how you take an order,” Caroline says, clicking the pen and tucking it behind her ear. She waves the order sheet in front of Harry’s face and Harry takes it, reading the scribbles of pastries and their prices. “Got it?”
“I think so,” Harry says, taking a clipboard from the wall and slipping the paper in the clamp. “Where do I find the prices again?”
“At the wall behind you or right underneath the cash register,” Caroline reiterates, taking the laminated slip of paper from under the machine and pushing it back inside. Harry nods and hangs the clipboard back on the hook.
“You’re performing tonight, right?” she asks, leaning on the case cheek in hand, and Harry snaps his head to her, surprised. He tries to remember when he told her about it, but his memory comes up empty.
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Harry asks, brows coming together.
“I, er, I was sort of eavesdropping on your interview yesterday,” she admits with a smile. Harry doesn’t know whether to smile back or not. “But I’d love to hear you sing.”
Harry can think of ten perfectly good reasons why he thinks she shouldn’t come at all, and he’s half-tempted to fire them off one by one until he runs out of breath but he can’t bring himself to. She’s been nothing but nice to him and brushing her off and looking the other way seems like a pretty dodgy way of returning the favor. He sighs and gives her a small smile.
“If you want to come, the performances start at eight,” he says, and she jumps up and claps her hands together.
“Great!” she exclaims, turning around just in time to see a customer making her way to a table and inspecting the items on the tiers. She flashes on her strawberry smile and looks at Harry from the corners of her eyes. “I’ll make sure to come after work.”
::
Setting up is probably the hardest thing about the performances.
At the moment, the stage in the back of the café is bare except for the microphone stand and a chair pushed off into the corner, and since it was Niall’s job to get the names, it was up to Louis to do the rest.
It’s not that he doesn’t like doing it-he does, loves to put his flair on the stage, pin things up on the curtains, and, when he’s feeling ambitious, make banners with the performers’ names ready to be hanged and torn off with each number and given as souvenirs, especially for first-timers-and really, the distraction is probably the best thing to have at that moment, set his mind on something else so his brain could breathe, but for some reason, his hands come up blank. His imagination has taken the day off and he’s left looking at the stage with his fingers curled around his waist, trying to map out something to start off with. He even looks at pictures of past performances and writes down a certain aspect from each one, trying to come up with a cohesive concept and making Mike happy.
Crumpling his sixth piece of paper, he groans and buries his face in the notepad.
“How’s it going, Lou?” Niall asks, and Louis lifts his head up and gives it a shake.
“I can’t think of anything, Ni. My brain’s running on empty.”
“Are you hungry? I can whip up something real quick.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just not getting it today, I don’t know why.”
“See, this is why you plan before the event, not during,” Niall says, and Louis shoots him a nasty look before turning back and twirling the pen in his fingers.
“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me something useful, Niall,” Louis says, rolling his eyes, as he draws the basic outline of the stage. “It’s your performance day, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you’re in charge of setting up, or have you forgotten?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Well, at least you’ve got a bit of time before the show starts, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Louis lets himself breathe and places the notepad on the counter, sweeping over to Niall and burying his face in his shoulder.
“Can I just call it a day and sleep?” Louis asks, voice muffled, and Niall laughs.
“Sure. When you’re done setting up and the performances are over, you can sleep as much as you like.”
Louis laughs and gives Niall a light shove. Just then, the bell rings and Louis turns his head just in time to see someone walking through, and he feels his breath hitch in his throat, eyes landing on brown hair and an a small birthmark splashed on his neck.
It doesn’t take him too long to realize who it is, and by impulse, he turns to Niall, who’s standing stock-still, face pink from laughing a few moments ago now draining of color, blue eyes wide, fixed on Liam Payne, and Louis can feel tension falling over him like a thick liquid he wishes he can scrub off. Niall makes a sound and Louis turns back to Liam, who’s walking across the café with a notebook in one hand and a guitar in the other, a smile stretching his lips when his eyes locate Louis and Niall behind the counter.
Louis doesn’t know what to do.
“Good afternoon, mate,” Liam says excitedly as he sets the notebook on the counter and leans the guitar on the seat next to him, brown eyes moving from Niall to Louis then back again, and Louis clears his throat, scratches an itch on his forearm, and attempts to smile back. It comes off as awkward, like his teeth are too big for his lips, like he’s been injected with botox and he can’t really move the muscles on his face, and Liam’s smile begins to falter, eyebrows stitching together and eager eyes filling with confusion.
“Hello, Liam, long time no see,” Louis manages to get out when it seemed like the silence was stretching on for too long, too uncomfortable, and he taps on Niall’s foot underneath the counter. “What brings you here?”
“I’ve, er… I’ve just come to bring Harry’s notepad and his guitar,” Liam says, his voice tight, deeper than Louis remembers, eyes shifting to Niall in an attempt to get him to look. But Niall’s unresponsive, doesn’t even kick Louis back after tapping him a second time, and he lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders tensing and his eyes narrowing.
“Niall?” Liam says, leaning closer, and the sound gives Niall a start. “Niall, you alright?”
Niall takes a breath, gets himself ready to say something, but he traps it in his chest like closing a gate shut and he shakes his head, taking off his apron and throwing it in the back table.
“I’m-I’m sorry. Excuse me,” he says, voice harried, just a step above a whisper, and he inches past Louis and ignores Liam calling his name, his hand when he reaches out to try to stop him, the look on his face when he turns back to Louis with eyes drowning in surprise and worry and confusion and guilt.
“What did I do?”
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