By Now

Sadness. Grief. Miserable.

All of those could be used to describe how Harry felt. Ever since Harry had admitted to Louis that he had cheated on him. He can still feel the pain from when Lou had slapped him and said to leave, as if it was yesterday even though it had been 3 weeks ago. He had been absolutely wasted when it happened. He could barely even remember it.

But now he would always have a reminder of his drunken mistake. Because, of fucking course, she got pregnant. Harry had always had shitluck.

He considers it a miracle that he had happened to stumble into that coffee bar when Louis had been working. He had been hungover and ordered the biggest coffee he could possibly get, but Lou had instead given him orange juice and one of the delicious pastries.

He remembers the stupid, cheesy pick-up lines he had used to get Louis' attention.

****

1 years before

"Fucking shit." I half moaned half said, as I clutched my head. I will never get drunk again.

Liar. You always say that. But you always do it again. You're going to turn out like him.

I shook my head. I hated being hungover. Because that was when I was honest with myself. At least in my head.

As I stumbled my way up to counter, I saw him. He was absolutely stunning in every way. He had a white button up shirt, black pants, and a black apron tied at his waist. He was operating the coffee machines like he was born to do it. He wasn't even looking, like he knew it by heart. After he had given the customer in front of me their drink, he turned to me;

"What can I get you?"

"You're number would be excellent." I cringed inwardly, not my best pick up line.

Clearly he thought the same because he said dryly, "I've never heard that one before."

I cleared my throat awkwardly, "A coffee will be fine. Thank you."

"What size?"

"The largest possible." He nodded and turned around. I went to go find a table and almost tripped on my way there. I didn't turn around because I could hear him laughing at me. Damn it. Why couldn't I be sober right now? Now he's going to think I'm an alcoholic.

That's because you are though, aren't you.

When I sat down in one of the less populated corners, I finally took in my surroundings. The walls were a grey - white color with black trimming. The tables were made of dark brown wood with matching chairs. In one of the opposite corners there were four black leather chairs with a coffee table in between them.

"Here you go." My head snapped to look at the cute barista. Then I glanced down at what he had placed in front of me.

"I'm not gonna tell you how to do your job but... this doesn't look like a coffee. I didn't think you'd bring it to me."

"That's because it isn't. As you can see its a strawberry pastry and orange juice to help with your hangover. And we don't usually but I forgot to get your name and I couldn't very well call out, 'Guy who's hungover and using cheesy pickup lines' now could I?"

"I'm Harry. Could I get your name or can I just call you mine." He rolled his eyes and pointed to his nametag.

Louis. Cute. Kinda like him.

"What's next? Do you like coffee because I like you a latte? Puh-lease. I've heard them all before." He said sassily.

"Sassy much?"

"Honey, you couldn't handle my sass if you tried."

"I may not be able to handle your sass but I'd like to handle your ass." Louis blushed as I winked.

"Not even in your dreams." He called over his shoulder as he walked around, hips swinging. And I of course looked at his ass. I mean dammnn son.

As I drank the orange juice and ate the pastry I realized Louis had been right. It really did help with my hangover better than the coffee would have. As I got up to pay I grabbed a napkin and jotted down my number. As I handed over the money to Louis, I also gave him the napkin.

***

Little did I know that our life was going to be amazing... up until it wasn't. But then again, I should know that I always fuck things up, or at least by now I should.