nothing // larry stylinson au

Chapter Four

People are fascinating, Louis has found. Some are more fascinating than others. Take Harry, for example. When Louis looks at him, all he can do is wonder. Not only does he speculate about where he came from or about the marks on his arms, but also the teenager's past. Anyone who has a panic attack like he did or is as ignorant about the world around them like he is must have an intricate and possibly even a dark past. Of course he could be wrong - he considers this - but nine out of ten times, that is the case. Louis knows from personal experience. Maybe his past isn't as gloomy or as scarring as Harry's own, but he remembers the panic attack and the long nights.

What Louis doesn't understand is why he struggles as much as he does. He doesn't want to push Harry to say anything he feels uneasy talking about (he has made that clear to him) yet he is eager to know everything there is to know about him. Harry is staying in their house and one day could be considered family. If he is going to stay in his house, it'd only be right if he knew more about him.

Eleanor, on the other hand, Louis can read like a book. It's been that way since the day he met her. She came from a middle class family, never hid any crucial secrets from him, and was a simple girl, supporting him in all he did...

Except when it comes to his music. Louis can't get over the fact that Eleanor isn't the girl she once was - the girl he fell in love with. Now she definitely wasn't, being disgruntled by the arrival of Harry. It's true what they say; people change. Since him being booked to play at the biggest club in town (which occurred two months prior and he never got booked there again), this has been the most exciting thing that has happened to Louis. Even so, Eleanor is acting as if the younger boy is a criminal.

Harry is anything, but a criminal - as far as Louis knew. But if so, he would be the sweetest, most compassionate criminal in the world. The way Harry elegantly took the ham and cheese sandwich in his hands said it all. Like if he holds it too roughly it would crumble to pieces is how he hold it. Large, yet gentle as a newborn baby are his hands. Louis watches them often as he often watches Harry.

Fascinating. That is the perfect word to describe the innocent teenage boy. Not only is it in the way he moves, but in the way he sees the world. Harry knows very little of the world. All he recalls of it is what he knew as a child. Perhaps if almost everyone saw the world now as they saw it as a kid, the world would be a more serene, beautiful place.

"It isn't that special of a meal, but we don't have much food at the moment," apologizes Louis as they sit at the kitchen table, eating their sandwiches and conversing quietly. Eleanor is in the other room, getting herself ready to leave to go help out the neighbors who need assistance picking up debris from the storm. "I'm sure you don't mind."

Quickly Harry shook his head. "I don't mind at all," he spoke with his mouth full of food. "I have it a lot."

Louis smiles endearingly at the boy with the not-so-polite table manners. To most people the sight would be gross - mashed up, slimy food visible as a person talks. This is Harry, though, and for some odd reason, it almost seems as if he doesn't know any better. Little does Louis know, Harry actually doesn't know any better. Nobody taught him any different - not that he can gather, that is.

Continuously chuckling at him, Louis holds out a white paper napkin. He doesn't take it, however. Harry goggles at the squared paper in Louis' small hand almost as if it was an object you'd find on an exotic island. Louis only watches as Harry stares at it. The blue eyes man is so baffled by the green eyed boy's bewilderness enough that he wiped the mayonnaise off the top of his lip for him.

"Like a paper wash rag..." Harry whispers to himself, hoping it'd only be for his ears to hear. The fact that he doesn't know what a simple napkin is causes even more befuddlement for the man. "Where is your wife?"