Enter the Rose Garden

one

He sighs when it takes longer than usual to unlock the door, his hands shaking just a little too much. It opens eventually, and he might forget to lock it behind him but that thought slips out of his head almost as soon as it comes, his mind hazy from the effects of his suppressed heat, his body confused by the medication.

The last of the lasagna in the freezer is gone, which really sucks, because it means he has to make dinner, and he is definitely not in the right mindset to make dinner at the current moment. Maybe he should just make a sandwich, or order takeout? Even that seems like too much work. To give himself more time to decide, he heads to the bathroom to take a shower instead.

Living in a shitty apartment with poor heating and bad water pressure really makes for a disappointing shower. He turns the water as hot as it will go and even then it just turns a lukewarm, leaving him with his arms wrapped around himself, shivering. It would be nice to have a hot shower to relieve some of the tension in his muscles, which are sore for god knows what reason, though it's something that always happens around his heat, suppressed or not. But the water never warms up and he never stops shivering, so he ends it after he washes himself and wraps up in a towel, thinking he should probably invest in one of those fuzzy bathrobes to keep himself warm. That's a good idea for his birthday gift idea list, now that he thinks about it.

As soon as he steps into the hallway he thinks his apartment smells better than usual, and he breathes in deeply. Yeah, he's definitely hallucinating. Maybe he should just go to sleep instead of worrying about dinner?

But no, there's definitely something there. Or, well, some one . He inhales deeply and realizes the scent is familiar and comforting. Like walking into a bakery, that's what it smells like, and oh, Louis knows that scent.

He must really be hallucinating, but just to be sure, he walks down the hallway and into the living room, greeted with the sight of Harry sitting on his couch.

Literally, what the fuck?

"How'd you get in?"

"Oh, hey Lou," Harry smiles, his gaze switching from the TV to where Louis is wrapped in a towel, dripping water onto the wood floor. The smile dissipates quickly, turning into a concerned frown, his brows pulling together. "You left the door unlocked. I really wish- You can't keep forgetting, it's dangerous. Anyone could just walk right in!"

Clearly this has happened before. It seems like everytime Harry visits he reprimands Louis for not locking the door. "Yeah, a strange alpha could just walk right in, steal my sugar snap peas and watch Law and Order on my TV," Louis says dryly, wrapping his arms tighter around himself to keep the towel up. Hyper-aware of his bare skin on display, and his utter nakedness beneath the towel, he shifts on his feet and wonders what the alpha a few feet away from him is thinking.

Harry looks down at the half-eaten sugar snap pea in his hand and then back to Louis. "I'm being serious, Lou."

"Yeah, me too." That's a lie, though, he's definitely joking. "How'd you get past Bueler, by the way?" Bueler is the nosey but fabulous man who works in the lobby of the apartment building. He never lets a stranger upstairs without grilling them first.

"He thinks I'm your boyfriend."

Louis gapes. This is the first he's heard of this. It explains how Harry's gotten up to his apartment before without Louis having to go down to the lobby to save him from Bueler's interrogation. "And you haven't corrected him?"

Harry shrugs.

"Whatever," Louis scoffs.

"Look, seriously though, please don't forget to lock your door. I'm mean it, Louis."