"Now you'll find out why Miss Sherwood always shows up for breakfast, Harry. It's not love. It's my coffee machine."
Harry's eyes were trained on him. He watched him. Studied him. The hair on his long bony fingers as he used the espresso machine. The rings clanked together when those fingers pulled down on the portafilter.
On his middle finger was a red signet ring, almost identical to the one Mr Tomlinson had worn. The only difference was that Louis' was far more decorative and detailed.
Wrapped around his pinkie sat a broad gold ring carrying a rectangular green rock. In spite of its large size, the ring glistened delicately in the sun.
Louis' hands looked a lot like Harry's own, thought Harry.
The three of them were out on the terrace, it was a sunny morning and they were eating a luscious Italian breakfast consisting of buttery croissants and creamy cups of cappuccinos.
Louis was wearing a cream billowy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his sun kissed forearms, sunglasses and white airy pants.
Marge grinned, explaining between bites, "It's the one thing Louis can't do on his own; make his own coffee. Ever since Emerlinda showed him how to make his own coffee, he's been feeling like quite the grown up."
"Shut up, I bought the coffee machine."
"Oh, darling, is that for me?" she asked as Louis carried the espresso to the table.
"No, it's for Harry because he didn't complain." He placed the cup down in front of Harry.
"That ring is superb," Harry remarked and motioned to Louis' right pinky.
Louis looked down at it, chuckled, and gave Marge a knowing glance over his sunglasses.
The woman gasped in delight, "Ah, Harry, I love you! See?" She turned to her fiancé who was poking her cheek provokingly.
"I had to promise, capital P, never to take off the ring," Louis told Harry, strolling back to the coffee maker. "Otherwise I'd give it to you."
"Isn't it so great? I found it in Naples," Marge continued. "I had to bargain for it for about two weeks!"
Harry nodded. "It is, it's beautiful. I have to get a birthday present for Frances, so perhaps you could help me."
The statement felt almost true when the words rolled out of his mouth so smoothly.
"Who's Frances?" Marge inquired.
"My fiancée," Harry lied, bringing his cup up to meet his lips.
Louis cleared his throat and took off his shades, surprised for some reason. "Engaged?"
Harry smiled broadly.
"You're a dark horse, Styles. Who is she?"
"Your parents met her," Harry simply said. He nipped at his coffee. It was strong and dark and he felt the warmth all the way down.
"Oh, God," Louis groaned, grimacing. "I can just imagine. If only Louis would settle down. Doesn't every parent deserve a grandchild?
Never! I swear on your ring, Marge. I'm never going back."
~*~
Later that day, Louis promised Harry a boat ride on the Bird, and so he found himself clinging to the bottom of the sailboat as they sailed off the coast of Mongibello. The sun was hovering just above the golden waves, getting ready to set.
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The Talented Harry Styles | L.S
Fanfiction"I suppose... I always thought that it was better, to be a fake somebody... than a real nobody." Orphaned and raised by his cruel Aunt Dottie, life wasn't always as smooth as Harry Styles would've liked it to be. He always felt like a nobody; a mere...
