Tempest || l.s. ✓

Chapter 2

Harry took his time looking around the living room. It was incredibly cosy, with the roaring fire and walls lined with bookshelves. The ceilings were fairly low, oak beams hanging even lower, and on the floor sat a vintage rug, upon which an old coffee table sat. All in all, the room was wonderful and he couldn't wait to see the rest of the house properly.

He took a book, beginning to flick through but not really paying attention as he readjusted so his foot was under him.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt, casserole is almost ready." Louis popped his head around the corner, "I've put the drinks I have on the table, do you wanna get yourself a drink?"

"Okay." He nodded, "um, where's the dining room again?"

"Across the hall." Louis smiled before heading back to the kitchen.

Harry placed the book back on the shelf, trudging into the dining room. The dining room was also incredibly cosy. The table was long and wooden, several chairs sat around with cute little cushions on them. A single taper candle and a vase through of roses sat in the centre of the table, a few bottles of drinks spread out.

Harry took a wine glass, pouring himself some red wine along with a glass of water. He stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, not sure where Louis usually sat.

"Alright? You gonna stand up and eat?" Louis laughed.

"I didn't know where you usually sat." Harry shrugged, talking quietly as a light blush dusted his face.

"Oh, it's alright. You can sit wherever you want."

"I don't want to take your seat."

"Alright," Louis smiled, tilting his head, "I sit at the end usually."

"Okay." Harry sat a seat down from Louis, thanking Louis as he placed the bowl down in front of him.

"So, Harry, how old are you?" Louis started as he sat in his seat.

"Um, I'm 27."

"I'm 29." Louis grinned, "oh my god I feel old."

"You're only two years older than me." Harry gave him a small smile.

"Still, I'm almost 30. Anyway, I dunno if you're planning to eat here most days or not but if there's anything you want, just let me know that morning and I can go to the shops and get the stuff."

"Okay." Harry looked down at his bowl, beginning to eat the casserole and avoiding eye contact with Louis. As nice as Louis seemed, he didn't want to get close to anyone. Not that he was very good at talking to people anyway.

He hadn't really had many people in his life for a while. He'd fallen out with his parents a couple of years ago, and he'd never really had any really close friends. He knew people thought he was weird, most people had avoided him back home- except Niall and Liam. But he hadn't talked to the two in a while, they seemed to have drifted and Harry was too scared to message them.

"So, you got anyone back home?" Louis asked, almost as if he was reading Harry's mind.

"No, no. People didn't really approve of my...well, choices back home. Small town so news travels fast and all that."

"Your choices?" Louis tilted his head.

"My preference in who I date."

Louis bent down, looking under the table.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked.

"To see if you've cuffed your trousers."

A small smile quirked on Harry's face, "yeah, I'm gay."

"Oh, me too." Louis gave him a thumbs up. "It's alright, I know it's a small town here too and news travels incredibly fast, but the people here don't really care. They're all supportive except for Mr French. He's not french by the way, so I don't recommend talking to him just to hear the French accent because it doesn't exist and he'll be rude."

"What does he look like so I know who to avoid?"

"Grey hair, wrinkles, glasses."

"So every old man ever?"

"Bit plump, always has the same jacket on. It's ugly, you won't miss him. And he'll probably say some rude remark before you even notice him. Ignore it."

"It's alright. I don't expect it'll be anything I've not heard before." Harry shrugged, "it'll be okay."

Louis just frowned slightly before changing the subject, "is the casserole okay? I'm not the best chef, which is weird when you own an inn, but the food's not awful. I don't think anyway."

"No, it's good. Really good." Harry nodded.

"Thank god." Louis sighed in relief, "wouldn't wanna scare you off already."

"It's alright. I'm not going to be going anywhere else. It's nice here."

"Thanks." Louis grinned, he was always happy when someone complimented his house. He had spent a lot of time decorating it after his parents had passed it on to him. "What do you do for work then?"

"I actually don't have a job anymore." Harry admitted, "I used to run a bakery but I gave it to someone else."

"How come?"

"Needed to get away." Harry answered simply, and the frown returned to Louis's face. "Um, is there a cut off with hot water or anything? Just wanna make sure I don't leave it cold." He asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, um, no there's not. You're welcome to spend as much time as you want in the shower."

Harry nodded, shifting his gaze to the window. He watched as the rain pattered down rhythmically against the glass, pace increasing occasionally when the wind picked up.

"It's 'orrible weather out there, innit?" Louis glanced at the window.

He just shrugged, "I like it."

Louis noticed they had both finished their meal so stood up, taking the bowls. "Right, so breakfast is serve yourself. If you feel like you might want a proper cooked breakfast or anything, let me know the night before." Louis spoke, "right, I think that's all. You're free to do whatever."

"Thank you for dinner. It was lovely." Harry offered a polite smile before leaving the room and making his way up to his room.

Harry closed the door behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at his suitcases. He supposed he ought to unpack, but he really couldn't bring himself to be arsed. So instead he stood up again, taking a sketchbook from the front pocket of his bag and pulling a chair up to the window.

He sat with his knees drawn up, resting the book against the bottom of his thighs as he looked out the window. He began to sketch the view, which wasn't much due to the fog, but this weather always made him want to do something creative.

He sat there for a while, just sketching before placing the book and pencil on the desk, trudging into the bathroom.

He hated this part of the day. The part when he had to look at himself in the mirror, the part where he had to get ready for bed. By this point he just wanted to be asleep. He wanted to escape from the real world for a while.

After a quick, but surprisingly nice, shower, he pulled on a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms along with an oversized hoodie before settling down in the bed. He pulled the crisp, white duvet up to his chest, staring at the wall for a while before shuffling down further and lying on his side.

Some nights, Harry was terrified of the dark. Others, he sought comfort in it. Today was a night where he felt quite at ease, the idea of being in a completely new place, far away from his home town, was soothing to him.

And so he drifted off to sleep in the unfamiliar bedroom, with the duvet pulled up to his chin and his arms wrapped around himself.