There, under the convivial ambiance of the tree, had sat a boy no younger than eleven presumably. Louis was able to make out the boy's silhouette since he was standing just a few meters away from the tree, and with just a few steps closer, he was able to see the face of the boy. He had a wild mop of curls framing his cherubic face, and from what Louis could make out, the boy was lacing a flower crown together with the utmost look of concentration painting his flushed face. Louis wasn't able to get a look of his eyes as Anne— the Luna of the Styles pack— was calling the boy with an indistinct shout of 'Harry'.
"Are you okay?"
The warm touch of Harry's palm against his forearm snapped him out of his reverie, the curly-headed boy was now much closer than before. A look of pure concern coating his tired features, which had Louis wondering just how tired this boy was. Harry's concern was tactile, the delicate palm touching his forearm was enough proof for him to know that the boy truly cared for him.
"Don't touch me." The words that left his mouth were undoubtedly hostile, the truth evident enough in the way Harry flinched discernibly before the boy recoiled his hand away, and took a few steps back. "S-Sorry." Harry apologized, blinking rapidly as his eyes fleeted across the kitchen, no doubt to avoid his penetrating gaze. "Your rut?" The boy questioned after a while, shuffling the weight of his body between his feet as he risked a glance at the blue-eyed man. "It hasn't fully kicked in," Louis responded back, clenching his eyes shut as a heat of wave jolted his insides. Spoke too soon.
"Don't come upstairs for a few days, a-alright?" Louis muttered through a clenched jaw, clamping his eyes shut as if it would boost his self-control and somehow lessen the thick scent of the Omega which was saturating his insides. "I-I, wher—"
"Sleep in the guest room downstairs, but do not come upstairs, alright? And that's an order, Harry."
The green-eyed boy found himself grinning despite all the odds, because why would he not? Louis had called him by his name for the first time. After shooting the grinning boy a weird look, the blue-eyed man dashed up the stairs.
♚
Louis' rut lasted four days. Perhaps, it was one of the after-rut symptoms that were making Louis act less ignorant of his surroundings— Harry wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, he was definitely liking the sudden whiplash-giving change. For instance, Louis actually started putting his mug and plate in the sink after breakfast, he also started putting his used clothes in the laundry hamper, and the most shocking of them all: Louis had brought two boxes of Curiously Cinnamon one night after coming home from work. Though the casual conversations that Harry had hoped would accompany the nice subtle gestures were not present yet, the green-eyed boy was definitely not complaining.
His routine was something that had not changed (save for the few dishes he would not have to wash, or the discarded sweaters or joggers he would not have to pick up). He would wake up at seven in the morning, admire the celestial beauty he called his alpha, and then get on with the whole caboodle of cleaning himself thoroughly. He'd make breakfast; Louis did not act as picky as he used to be, the blue-eyed man ate everything Harry made without any complaints, and even went so far as to mumble out a quiet 'thank you' after each meal.
With Louis gone for almost the whole day, Harry found himself giving more time to his knitting work. Knitting was something that had always piqued his interest as a young child, and telling his mother about the same had gone as smooth as a ride on a sunny day in Florida. She had immediately enrolled him in a knitting program made especially for lonely omega widows, and albeit of feeling totally out of the place, Harry had focused more on the art itself, instead of thinking about how he was the only teenager present in a class full of depressed fifty-year-olds. The green-eyed boy had also started planting different sorts of flowers in the vast lawn, ranging from something so simple as roses to something so complicated as orchids.
Even though Louis never once mentioned anything about how they were supposed to bond during his rut, Harry was liking the way things were. Still not getting his first heat was a sore topic he had pushed to the back of his mind; however, the old classic technique did not work at all. The thought plagued his mind day and night, consuming his whole until he was forced to do something that would distract him from the measly thought. That something always ended up being knitting sweaters— which may or may not have ended up being Louis' precise size, not precise, per se, but the size Louis liked to wear: a large.
He had woven three ½ sweaters in the past two weeks after Louis' rut, not at all ashamed of the fact that he was making sweaters for someone, who surely wouldn't even glance at the thing he had worked on with utmost love and determination. The first one he had sewn was a soft grey in color, the perfect shade of the outer ring of Louis' eyes whenever he was aroused. The second one was a typical black one he had made after much pondering, considering Louis' likes. The third one was a bright yellow in color, two black stripes wreathing around the wrist area of the sleeves, and Harry could obviously not forget the way he had gone on and stitched an embarrassing 'Sunshine' in the middle of the sweater in a cursive font. It was the most embarrassing one he had ever made; however, he could still not get the image of Louis swamping in the bright sweater, radiating sunshine with his mere presence.
So, sue him for sewing sweaters for his husband.
"Harold?"
"Yes?"
"You know, you are turning into a proper grandma with all this knitting," Louis commented good-naturedly, amusement written all over his tranquil features as he sprawled himself on the large couch. "All that is remaining is you baking pies after pies." After noting the straight and almost apologetic look plastered on the omega's face, Louis honked out a genuine laugh.
"You actually baked pie for tonight's dinner?" The blue-eyed man questioned incredulously, an eyebrow quirked in sheer disbelief.
"I was craving apple pies! And besides, there is nothing wrong with sewing sweaters, it actually saves you money. Fewer winter clothes to shop for!" Harry exclaimed with a faux excited expression painting his features, a convincing smile stretched across his lips.
"Well, then I hope you know my size."
The smile that Harry gave in return was blinding.
Bright enough to put the stars to shame.
And sweet enough to put any dessert to shame.
"I do, don't you worry!"
♚
Your thoughts so far?
are yall still liking this? or should i stop embarrassing myself lmao (my self-esteem isnt the great today sorry)
bye. hope yall are having a great day/night, if not, feel free to pm me
BINABASA MO ANG
Lilac || l.s. ✔︎
Fanfiction[unedited] [finished] Harry was told what was expected from him. He was betrothed to the heir of the Tomlinson pack even before he was born. Surrounded and raised by biddable omegas, whose only purpose in life was to serve their alphas, he became on...
Chapter eight
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