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"I hate you!" Harry screams from the top of his lungs as the wagon goes down with rattling speed.
Louis laughs, and his stomach flips. An abnormal rush of adrenaline surges through his body. He holds on tightly to the metal stick in front of him. Convincing Harry to go on a rollercoaster was rough. Now that they're on it, Louis regrets his ambitious attitude, not one bit. His cheeks feel warm, and he's feeling so much and yet so less. The cold, wintry air strikes his cheeks blossom red. The wagon goes up slowly. He can see over the festival market. Market stalls and snowy streets smile back at him. The vivid atmosphere mives him back to his childhood. Tugging at his mother's hand excitedly to get to see everything in time. His dad would always get a beer and sit around. Occasionally, he'd roll his eyes or throw a snarky comment when Louis got a little too excited over roasted almonds and ice-skating.
They stopped going when his parents divorced.
The wagon crashes down, screeching loudly. Louis feels Harry's body against his own. He tightens his grip. His organs do a flip flop. The loud, cheery Christmas music rings in his ears. The rusty rollercoaster comes to stop with an agitating final screech.
Two men in blue suits step to each side of the wagon and move the security bracket up. Louis grins at Harry as they stumble out.
"It wasn't too bad, was it?" He asks, making sure to hold Harry a bit. His face is drained of any color, and his pupils are so blown, Louis can barely see any green. His grip falters the second Harry leans over to cough. His whole body shakes with a serious of dry, painful sounding heaves.
"Sorry." Harry apologizes quickly, with his head down. He stabilizes himself with his hands on his knees. "That was something." He chuckles, but it does not sound very convincing.
"Are you alright?" Louis moves his hand timidly onto Harry's back.
Harry nods, holding up a finger to signalise Louis that he needs a minute.
People are passing by. A few men keep looking at them weirdly, Louis wonders why. He's too caught up with Harry to really care, though.
"You sound a bit sick." Louis moves his hand up and down Harry's back in a soothing manner. "Should've said something. I wouldn't have dragged you on the rollercoaster then." He mutters as if blaming Harry gets him anything. A few snowflakes land on Harry's hoodie. They melt into the material. Louis feels his rapid heartbeat where his hand lies.
"It's just a cold." Harry tries to argue, but his words get cut off as another wave of coughing hits him. He breathes out shakily, wiping his mouth.
"That sounds pretty serious, mate." Louis helps him stand straight, "You should drink something. Tea?"
"Oh, I love them, yes!" Louis exclaims happily. He rots through the mass of people. He holds onto Harry's hoodie, dragging him along. He usually doesn't feel any protectiveness over his friends. It's weird that his body reacts with the desire to care for Harry as soon as it hears another cough. He wants to wrap him up in a blanket and feed him soup. Which is strange. He doesn't even like Harry that much. They've done coke together and got drunk a few times, but funnily, he doesn't remember much of it.
Louis spots a small stand with a big sign that reads in big burgundy letters: 'Any's almonds & mulled wine'. Louis smiles, remembering faintly the first time he tried red wine from his sisters glass. It had felt like an accolade. He feels Harry's pinky slip into his palm. He turns his head astonished but finds nothing more than a happy smile on Harry's pale face. On a second glance, he does look unusually drained. Tired, but there's something else behind his dull eyes that Louis can't figure out.
The snow crackles under his feet. The music around him becomes quieter, and the smell of roasted almonds wafts up his nose. The bells are ringing. they must be late because the sky is now a breathtaking orange that will soon turn a noble red.
The old lady, presumably Any, smiles. Her white hair is streaked with darker strands that blow in the wind. Her smile is old and wonderful. The wrinkles in her face radiate a calmness that Louis only knows from his grandmother.
"Darlings!" She greets, her voice filled with joy, "What can I get you?"
Louis beams, "Two mulled wine and one pack roasted almonds, please."
"Of course!" She pours the mulled wine into two plastic cups and stuffs a small dark green paper bag with roasted almonds. "10,80£ please."
Louis pays while Harry grabs their cups. "Have a good day!" Louis says before they head off to a small wooden bench right in front of the ferris wheel. It shines in all kinds of colors while the sun slowly disappears on the horizon in the background. Louis pops a few almonds into his mouth. The sugary taste satisfies him. He leans back. Snowflakes tickles his nose. 'Last Christmas' starts blaring through the speakers. "We should do lentil soup for dinner today."
Harry turns his head, and a smile tugs at his lips, "You want to cook?"
Louis raises an eyebrow, "Do I hear judgment?"
"No, no!" Harry chuckles, "Am I allowed to help?"
Louis shrugs, "Sure." He pops a few more almonds in his mouth and steals a glance at Harry, whose cheeks are a crimson red. His lips are wine stained, and his luscious curls are covered in snowflakes. He looks dreamy in his overly large hoodie.
"I want to go ice skating before we leave." Louis announces, finishing his mulled wine in one long gulp.
"Alright." Harry agrees, putting their empty cups in the trash. He then pauses, and his expression changes drastically. His eyes light up. He kneels down behind the trash bin.
