Angel

soixante dix

Tiresome, dreadful, mundane...

Even those words were not suitable enough to describe the awfully uneventful day that Harry had.

From the moment that he had entered the office, everything had evidently gone to, fucking shit, if Harry could articulate.

Nothing seemed to be going his way, and the man couldn't even begin to care if he were being rather egoistic when conveying his emotions. Nor, did he want to acknowledge the actuality of it all, which was that most of his pent up vexation that progressed over the two weeks after returning home from their trip, had unavoidably been plausible when leading up to this current day.

The initial days following the return to their humble abode had been ace. Better than the couple could have imagined, considering the strenuous work schedule that had given them only a brief amount of time to adjust to. Regardless, the two still made sure to take time out for each other; managing their schedules and guaranteeing to spend time together before their occupations had to confiscate their attention, unfortunately.

Until things had taken a turn for the worse.

Harry' 'grow some balls and buy an engagement ring' plan had not turned out the way he expected it to. His optimism on finding the perfect ring for Louis was ceasing at a rapid pace. It wasn't like he had wanted to flat out give up on his one and only dream to suck up the courage to ask his love to be his forever, but fuck sake, he could have never thought that finding a ring would be such a painful task to complete. Let alone, that the poor man would become clammy and anxious mess whenever he walked into a different jeweler.

And, when he alas thought that he had found the right ring, his request to purchase was repudiated by the clerk, who had given him an apologetic inform of, "Sorry, mate, this one's actually on hold for another customer". Increasing the pessimistic heartache that Harry endured.

He sat in his car for the next hour, fingers gripping the wheel and forehead resting against his pale knuckles, as he battled with himself for not knowing whether the situation was enough to get emotional over or not.

He just wanted to fucking propose to his baby.

And, for the first time without Louis needing to be there to assure him that it was okay to cry, Harry chose to be vulnerable.

For the rest of that week, it had almost been intuitive that the small, metaphorical rain cloud that casted over Harry' head would never evaporate.

Louis wasn't able to comprehend what could have made his boyfriend so upset. Of course, Harry wasn't going to tell him and he damn sure wasn't going to lie to him anymore, either. So, Harry had continued to dismiss Louis' worried requests for any sort of answer, but what the man didn't know was that his silence was only hurting Louis. For the duration of Harry' passive aggressive behavior from his short-termed depression, Louis had only grew more concerned which ended up leading them into a trivial conflict.

"I had a rough couple of days, Louis! Why can't you just believe me?"

"Because, you're lying to me! I can see right through you, do you seriously think that I'm that gullible?!"

"No, baby, why would I think that?!"

"Maybe, because you're lying straight to my face!"