No Strings Attached

Chapter Eleven

It had taken some time before Louis willed himself to face the world again, but Zayn eventually called him with another prospect the following week. Naturally, he had his reservations after the first time around, but his best mate insisted that he had found someone well worth Louis’ time and attention. His name was Charlie and he was a bartender at Zayn’s favorite bar. Though that wasn’t exactly what Louis had in mind, he couldn’t afford to be picky and decided to go for it – again. 

Going for it ended up becoming a smart decision because Charlie was a wonderful date, the kind that Louis had secretly imagined during some of his low points. He was loud in a comparable sense to Louis’ own loudness; he had an impeccable sense of humor capable of appreciating Louis’ off-color jokes while also making him buckle over in laughter; and he was just generally very charming and easy to be around. And though they’d only had two dates, Louis found himself looking forward to their next one. 

He was applying a second layer of deodorant when he heard a knock at the door. 

“Coming!” It was probably Zayn, showing up earlier than he needed to be. That was a change. He tripped on practically every toy and shoe that littered the path to the front door, silently cursing himself though thankful that Charlie hadn’t yet expressed a desire to see his flat. When another knock sounded, he bellowed, “Oi! Hold up! I’m almost – ” 

It was like the wind had been knocked from him as he stumbled backward, in shock from the green-eyed figure standing in his doorway. 

He looked older, if that made sense. And taller. Much taller than Louis remembered him. It was like he had stretched out over the course of his voyages, his torso longer and his arms hanging like noodles at his sides. The bag slung over his shoulder looked rather disproportionate to his body. His hair was shaggier and wavier than it was curly, and his features had grown more defined, as if days of recording and nights of sleeplessness had chiseled him into maturity. But none of that really seemed to matter when his face lit up with the same, lilting grin that often touched his dreams, with rose-tinged cheeks and dimples that devastated Louis’ consciousness. 

Harry. 

“Hey there,” the younger boy said in a low voice that rumbled through Louis’ bones and into his core. 

He wanted to reply, wanted to say something, but found that his throat caught and all he could really pay attention to was how his jeans clung to the contours of his legs and the way that his white shirt was just thin enough that you could see his skin through it, tanner and sun-kissed from days undoubtedly spent in the Californian sun. 

“You look nice,” Harry said when Louis’ silence lasted a little too awkwardly for him to maintain. Raising a brow, he added, “Are you going somewhere?” 

But all Louis could say after clearing his throat was, “You’re here.” But it sounded more like a question than anything else. 

Harry offered another small smile, shrugging. “Yeah, I am. Sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, but, you know, surprise and all…I thought it’d be fun.” His voice grew quieter with each word. 

“What – how?” Louis still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Harry was standing on his front step after a nearly three-month absence. 

“We’ve finished recording most of the album. We’re back home for the rest.” 

That was as much as Louis needed to hear at the moment, so he stepped aside and let Harry wander into the flat that seemed so strangely empty without him for the past few months. As soon as he stepped through the doorway, Rosie’s head perked up from her drawings, tilting to the side almost like she couldn’t quite trust the person that had just walked through.