Someone you won't talk about (l.s)

Sunday

Despite Niall's persistence last night, they don't risk incarceration to see Pompeii. They wait in a line that's too long and pay for their tickets—walking lazily around the old fixtures in the scalding sun.

"We paid $50 to see this?" Niall scoffs, running his fingers over the cakey medium of the building.

"Niall, it's an ancient city—it's been preserved for thousands of years. Do you not find that at least a little interesting?" Liam says, his boots scuffing along the ground—his face is hard pressed like it always is when he tries to act serious.

"I guess so." Niall shrugs. "Just don't see what the big fuss is about really." Louis hears Harry huff out a laugh and shake his head—he doesn't blame him really because even he found it ridiculous that Niall so often lacked the ability to appreciate the beauty in things. Either that or he was too thick headed to understand them. Harry wasn't like that, Louis thought. Harry could find the beauty in a blade of grass—he had the ability to take the most mundane things and give them life beyond their structure. Harry was the type of person to press flowers in his favorite books and buy old paintings from consignment shops—his flat was always decorated in fallen treasures. Louis hoped he hadn't lost that part of himself.

"Come look at this." Harry says to him, lightly pulling his arm in the other direction. He turns his head before following, watching as Niall and Liam continue forward—bickering about the fallen structures.

Harry leads him down a few steps until they come into a small cave like corridor amidst the ruins. The imprints of past carvings sink themselves into the corners and along the expanse of the wall. A few old specs of color in the clay can be scene in what looks like an old painting that once adorned the wall. Though it's faded and overtaken by nature—the patterns are still barely visible.

"It's so pretty here." Louis whispers, running his finger tips lightly across the wall.

"Beautiful." Harry says, his eyes burning into the side of Louis' face as he says it. "I wanted to show you before Niall ruined it with his distaste." Harry air quotes the last part and chuckles.

"Well, not everyone is as worldly traveled and cultured as you, love." Louis mocks—the roll of Harrys eyes reminding him of the banter they used to so frequently have during their days in the band. In some ways they've fallen so easily into their rhythm again—as if it was too natural to be avoided.

"I wouldn't go that far." Harry hums, tracing a finger over the old paint chips.

"C'mon." Louis walks closer to where the sun is peaking through the opening. Letting it wash over his face in a familiar sort of heat. The kind of warmth he always loved feeling—cause the sun always made him feel like home. "You're telling me you didn't learn all about every culture on your big solo world tour?" He mocks but there's a gentle undertone to ensure Harry that he's not making fun of him.

"Didn't do much exploring, honestly." He says. "It's not much fun when you're by yourself."

"What about your band?" Louis peeks through the entry way as Harry comes closer, fiddling with the bottom hem of Louis' shirt.

"They're lovely...but it's not the same, yah know?" He shrugs.

"Hard to compete with our chaotic asses." Louis chuckles.

"Exactly." Harry looks down at the floor, a small smile peeking through his lips. "I really missed everyone." He whispers. "Missed you."

"Well you certainly had a funny way of showing it." Louis huffs air out of his nose and Harrys smile disappears as his eyes move up to meet Louis'. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean—."