Fluffy Larry Oneshots

the body keeps score

As per tradition, here is the story for Louis' birthday! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you, my wonderful readers and I hope you love this as much as I love you all. An extra sprinkling of luck for all GCSE '23 candidates like myself, we got this! 

The image in the mirror was something Louis wishes he could permanently erase from his memory or maybe go blind so he didn't have to look at it. A scar runs from his cheekbone down to his jaw at precisely a 36-degree angle, he would know. After all, he'd taken a protractor to it one fine afternoon when life seemed to be a burden too harsh, too heavy to carry. And gosh how he tries to love his appearance, his dull blue eyes and sunken cheeks, tired skin and hair that had lost its lustre. He tried, he really did but his day job didn't require him to do so and that was a relief. Working at a library didn't require him to look cheery, it needed him to organise books in their assigned shelves. 

He has a date tonight. This guy from the cafe near the library, Henry. He is good-looking, like someone you'd expect to act in a Hallmark movie. Louis finds him reasonably attractive and the fact that he has an adorable dog is simply a big bonus. It's his first date since the accident three years ago that took away more than he would like to admit and he feels he is ready to put away his past right where it belongs, behind him.

When he reaches the cafe, however, his heart falls as he reads the text that appeared on his phone screen with a ping. It's Henry.

 "Hey, Louis, I'm really sorry for this. I got roped into babysitting my neighbour's daughter and I can't possibly leave her here or bring her to our date. Could we please reschedule? I really really like you and your baby blue eyes, and I don't wanna throw away a chance with you xx" 

And how could Louis get mad at that? Henry's a goddamn angel and Louis is beyond lucky that he even likes him. Heaving out a sigh, he walks into the cafe alone, shoving his hands inside his pockets. 

"Can I have an English Breakfast tea, a splash of milk and no sugar, and a slice of pie please?" he asks, eyeing the options in the glass cases.

"Will that be to go or will you have it here?" 

"I'll have it here, thanks." He smiles, walking over to an empty booth.

Louis stares distantly at the door as if thinking hard enough will make Henry magically appear. The only reason he agreed to even go out with Henry was that he had this profound sense of emptiness gnawing at his chest like it would swallow him whole one day if he did not find a way to fill that void somehow. It was like he was missing a deeply integral organ of his, the way his heart yearned for it. What was that or rather who was that was completely unbeknownst to Louis. He had tried casual sex but the feeling of being so intimate with someone felt so wholly wrong to him that he gave up. Classifying himself as a demisexual, he thought maybe he would find it better with someone he deeply admired. 

He still remembers the day he woke up at the hospital after the accident, the doctor asking all sorts of questions he could hazily answer and some he could not. They chalked it up to the trauma to his brain making him lose approximately six years of recent memory. Well, he can remember certain smells and tastes but that is where the recollection stops. He wished he could remember but this gives him a certain freedom. He likes to imagine he had a beautiful life before all this, he had a boyfriend or maybe even a fiance who loved him to the ends of his earth, and they had a dog together and shared a gorgeous flat together but dreamed to move towards the countryside to raise a family together. At least that way he could find relief in imagining that he had it all at one point. 

The pie smells like sweet afternoons with lavender skies but Louis only picks at it, his appetite long gone. He watches the door to the cafe open and a guy walks in. The space is sparsely populated at the moment, most people are busy with last-minute Christmas shopping. The man seems to either work in finance or some other corporate job, something Louis would call soul-less but he is above that now. He has chocolate-coloured curls and a pouty expression, maybe he is cold. He walks past his table to go to the counter and Louis freezes. The scent of his cologne. It's so familiar, so known to him and so very personal. It smells like it is what Louis misses so deeply. He gets up hazardously quickly and paces towards the man.