haven ☞ l.s

0.6

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Harry leaves the bedroom first, because Louis insists on taking his morning pee before he can properly wake up. That would be just fine, if it weren't for the fact that Harry and Eleanor are strangers, and they'll be left alone together before they've even been introduced. And Harry still has hickies on his neck—or love bites, as Louis calls them.

He counts every footstep before he's standing on the cold tile in the kitchen, seeing a thin girl with her back to him, scooping eggs onto a plate. She's wearing a stylish leather vest with a flowy white tee underneath, and a pair of patterned pants so cute that Harry blurts out, "Oh, where did you get those pants from?"

Eleanor yelps, the pan clattering on the counter as she whirls around. "Who are you?"

"Sorry!" Harry cries, rushing over to the pan so he can save the eggs from burning while sitting on the hot stove. "I'm—I'm Harry, I didn't mean to—"

She ignores him, getting a new spatula from the drawer so she can scoop the eggs back onto the pan. In all Harry's bumbling, he only managed to knock a few pieces onto the floor rather than save anything. When all the food is safely back in its rightful location and the burner is turned off, Eleanor sets it down and turns to face him. "Who are you?"

"Harry," he answers slowly, unsure if she heard him or not. "Styles."

"Right, of course, whatever. I mean what are you doing in Louis' apartment? And—Oh my god," she suddenly gasps, dashing forward to examine Harry's neck. Though he's embarrassed, he appreciates that she's not invading his space by touching him. She raises her voice, "Louis, have you brought someone home ?"

Her accent is strong, almost stronger than Louis'. Harry knows nothing about what accents come out of which places in the UK, but she sounds a bit posh, he thinks.

The words catch up with him, and Harry feels a pleased smile stretch over his lips. Clearly, Louis doesn't bring many people home.

"Eleanor, my love," Louis announces as he makes his dramatic entrance. "Oh how I've missed you, and all your loud yelling at 7 am."

Eleanor reaches forward and pinches Louis' nipple through his shirt. "Shut up and give me a hug, loser," she says, yanking him forward by the shirt collar. He complies, wrapping his arms around her tightly and letting her burrow her head into his shoulder like a tiny animal. She's quite cute, Harry thinks. "Missed you."

"Missed you too, El," Louis laughs, kissing her cheek and then pulling away a bit. He looks at Harry, who is awkwardly kicking a bit of egg around on the floor, and says, "This is Harry. Don't be mean to him."

Eleanor scoffs. "'M not mean. You know who's mean, though? I went to go pick out flower arrangements, and this lady goes to me an' says, 'You shouldn't pick yellow flowers, they look awful with your skin tone.' Like, who says that? So rude. I called the manager and complained, so surely she's getting a talking to."

"Ellie, you know you look good in any color," Louis grins, his sharp little teeth digging into his lip as he ruffles Eleanor's perfectly styled hair. When she threatens to knock his teeth out, Louis' smile only grows. "Anyways, why have you woken me and Harry up at such an ungodly hour? On a Saturday?"

"Hey, watch it! I made breakfast!"

She gestures at the mess on the counter and floor, rolling her eyes. "Or I did, until Lover Boy came in and scared the shit out of me."

Harry frowns, trying to apologize but not exactly knowing what to say. And Eleanor never told him where she got her pants from, either. "I'm sorry," he says. "Uh, I'm Harry, by the way."