I stood in the kitchen, warming up a good portion of the casserole in the microwave.
Harry followed me. Probably to avoid the uncomfortable situation of being questioned over everything by my sister.
He stood in the doorway, seemingly unsure of himself.
"C'mere." I told him, while placing the hot plate on the kitchen table, not without burning my fingers, then I placed the cutlery next to it.
Harry nodded and sat down carefully, like if he was scared to destroy something. His insecure behaviour made me smile.
I finally sat down across from him with a coffee cup that I sipped on thoughtfully.
He sat bolt upright on the chair, holding the cutlery elegantly in fragile fingers. The bites that he meticulously pushed onto his fork with the knife were small and he chewed slowly with his mouth closed.
He had manners that I had never dared dreaming of. This boy fascinated me through and through.
I couldn't take my eyes off his shapely jaw.
"So, Lou... What are we gonna do with the rest of today?" Harry asked while glancing at the kitchen clock, when he finished his meal.
I shrugged with my shoulders, pretending to think about his question intensely. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, tomorrow was a regular school day again.
"How long are you allowed to stay here? Is there a time you have to be back home?" I asked, because obviously this was a point to be considered in the further planning.
"Open end." He grinned at my confusion.
"So, your parents don't care?"
"My mom is working in nightshifts; my dad does not live with us and Gemma is happy to have alone-time."
"Are you gonna stay the night?" I asked and couldn't suppress the hopeful subtone in my voice. Maybe I was a bit too straight forward, but the only thing he did was letting out a raspy giggle.
"If you want me to." He replied and caused a comfortable warmth spread in my body. Probably I blushed, too.
"Whatever, let's decide that spontaneously." He continued and thus suppressed my answer.
I just nodded, wordless.
"What about apple pie?" He asked out of no conversation.
I frowned. "What?"
"You asked me whether I'd bake you an apple pie, remember? I looked out of the window, when I was in your room. There's even an apple tree in your garden." He said enthusiastically with sparkling emerald green eyes.
"We can do that, if you really want... But actually, it was a joke when I asked you and... I'm a lousy baker."
"No matter, it's gonna be fun, I swear." He said with a sassy smirk on his lips.
I got a ladder and Harry inspected the apple tree in the meantime.
It was raining. Actually, you didn't feel any drops, just spray.
It was this drizzle that went through all the clothes, which is why I would have liked to keep the harvest as short as possible.
Harry seemed not to care. His hair was already sticking in wet strands on his forehead, but he was insanely calm.
"Well, I guess, if we place the ladder here, we are going to get the best fruit. Look, they are red and ripe, probably the juiciest." He suspected. Professionally, just if he hadn't done anything else in his life, then reaping freaking apples.
"You think so?" I asked, just to say anything, because I felt a little useless.
"Yeah."
He was really passionate about his apple-suspicion.
Half an hour later, we carried a heavy basket back into the house.
I didn't even know our tree had so many fruits. When my mom was still here, she used to make a big amount of applesauce every year.
But now, normally no one cared about the apples. -They fell off and rotted in the grass.
"Will you help me?" Harry asked and tore me from my memories, they threatened to boil up again and put me out of action for some time.
"Sure, what can I do?" I asked, secretly thankful.
"You can peel the apples and slice them into thin pieces. Like..." he paused for a moment to think. "Maybe one centimetre. I am going to prepare the dough in the meantime."
It took me years to peel and slice. I hated any kind of kitchen action and in this moment, I remembered again, why it was how it was.
"What are you doing Lou?" Harry asked, arms crossed in front of his chest and looking amused at my clumsy fingers.
"Shut up, I told you I'm not good at baking and stuff." I insulted, with a pouty expression.
"Yeah, you did...But right now, you aren't even baking, just cutting some fookin' fruit."
"Stop judging me, help instead." I said, leaving no room for excuses, because he was already ready with the dough, it even was rolled out on a baking tray.
"Give it to me Loubear, I'll show you how to do it."
His voice was deep. Unexpected deep.
His long fingers reached for the knife in my hand, softly touching me. It was more of a caress.
In shock I turned my head to him. A dirty smile disappeared into goofy laughter at my sight.
Oh wow, Louis.
I still held the knife with clinging fingers. Harry shook his head and loosened them, one by one, from the wooden handle.
I watched him prepare all the remaining apples in no time. Then he meticulously placed the slices on the prepared cake base and preheated the oven.
"I'm not gay." I whispered after minutes of silence.
The curly headed turned around, watching me for a second.
"Sure."
He paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow at my statement.
"Would be bad too... I mean, that would affect your manhood quite a bit, wouldn't it?" There was a thick, hurt undertone in his voice.
I immediately regretted my words.
"I didn't mean... Harry, it's okay to be but..."
He shook his head and went on with his work. I felt bad, especially after he pushed the tray into the oven, turned around and visibly forced a light-hearted smile.
He was torturing himself pretending everything was okay.
I wanted to talk, started to speak and was immediately interrupted.
"It now has to bake for fifty-five minutes."
I nodded, because what else was I supposed to comment on that?
We started to clean up the kitchen.
Neither of us wanted to start saying anything, but the unspoken words lay like a heavy veil in the air between us.
"Haz? Are you mad at me?" I asked, voice shaking.
"No, it's okay, Lou. i got it and it's okay. You are straight. Let's finish the subject."
I should have been more than satisfied with this statement. But I wasn't. It didn't feel right. Nothing at all felt right. I didn't know myself. I didn't know anything.
"What is it, Louis?" Harry asked sceptically after watching me with my damned confusion.
His grin was real again when he softly nudged my nose with his finger and left a fingerprint with flour.
"Everything's OK." I replied with a look at the clock.
"The cake is ready at nine, do I look like I'm eating cake so late?" I nagged.
Harry cocked his head, took a step towards me and poked me in the stomach to confirm his following statement himself in advance.
"You can allow yourself that."
"How kind."
"Always." He made a neat bow.
I avoided looking at him, because I probably would have laughed out really loud. I threw a gaze out of the kitchen window instead. It was already dark outside. Suddenly an idea crossed my mind.
I carefully grabbed his hand and wordlessly pulled him behind me, up the stairs.
"Louis, stop it, what are you doing?" He asked in absolute surprise.