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She & Him - Into The Sun
She & Him - Sweet Darlin'
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It's early in the morning, the sun is just above the treeline. The rays cast on the stone exterior of the Tomlinson villa. Louis flips the page, the humid summer air fills his lungs. He reads as his bare feet carry him around the open field. He basks in the sweet silence, the lovely wisps of Greece and the words of Sylvia Plath. Clad in a pair of cream shorts, his tummy poking through his silk barely-buttoned shirt. He wanders, flipping pages, stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow.

After spending his first year of university with a loud roommate, he was in dire need of a vacation. Nothing was more perfect than his family's summer home in a little rural area of Greece. It was on a hill, offering a fabulous view of the morning and setting sun. It had two floors, and separate bedrooms for Louis and his sister. Within a large gated property, the villa had plenty of space for lounging, whether indoors or by the pool. Louis' favourite part was the beach was just down the road and sometimes, if he got there early enough, he could watch the sunrise.

With this much space came plenty of maintenance work. It wasn't long until his father hired someone to mow the lawn, tend to the gardens and the pool. That person turned out to be a polite gentleman named Mr. Andrea. He was in his early sixties and only worked for the Tomlinson's for five years before the labour became too much for him. Then, Louis' father hired a new maintenance worker.

There was a man, a shirtless man with his grubby hands in Louis' mother's garden. The white sunshine was beating down on his already tanned back and the distance did little to hide the muscle under his flesh.

"Dad, who's that?" Louis asks, eyes glued on the stranger. The man was clad in a loose pair of blue jeans and knees deep in dirt, wearing gardening gloves, plucking weeds.

"He is Mr. Andrea's replacement," his father answers curtly while taking out everyone's bags. "Hard labour wasn't fit for an older fella,"

As his father's voice fades, Louis finds himself lost in the masterpiece of a man. From his spot by the car, still frozen, the stranger's hair was brown with the smallest bit of blond by his ears as a red bandana held back his locks. Louis gulps, catching a glimpse of the ink on his toned, very toned torso and sculpted arms.

Louis first saw Harry a year prior when he was only a fresh graduate from high school. Back then, Louis was nineteen and Harry was twenty-six. Louis only saw the back of him, but that was enough to have his daydreams go wild.

And now, although it seemed impossible, the half-Italian and half-Greek man had gotten even more handsome. A little taller and his body more rugged and fit. His chest cruelly stretched the fabric of his shirts, Louis has been caught staring at Harry's pecs more times than he can count. His arms, Louis has watched slack-jawed as Harry carried gardening equipment, furniture and propane tanks. He was kind too, he'd help Louis' mother bring in groceries and repair anything in the house. He was a prince if anything, the man from those fairytales with chiselled features and a heart of gold.

His smile, Louis was lost for it. His pink lips stretch into a charming grin that no one was immune to, worst of all, he had dimples. Louis loved dimples. The only problem was the handful of times Louis has spoken to Harry. It was always swift greetings with the limited chance of it becoming a conversation. A "Good-morning," followed by a "How are you?" was just as far as Louis has gotten.

Louis was mature, he was studying philosophy at university. He knows his way around the kitchen and how to do his taxes. He was a man, a grown man, but with Harry who wasn't that much older, Louis just felt like a boy.

Giallo!; larry stylinson [completed] (bottom!louis)Where stories live. Discover now