The chafing of wool gliding against the skin of Louis' fingers is all that sounds in the dim lit bedroom. The wool will occasionally squeak when a tight stitch opens for a new row, Louis' breathing going in time with his quick hand of wrapping the wool around the hook and bringing it in on itself time and time again.
There's patches of squares already scattered along his bed in different colours from red to black. Clifford is laying on a few, eyeing Louis suspiciously as if any moment he will snap.
Maybe he will. Maybe he won't, Louis isn't so sure.
He rubs his nose a little with the back of his head, trying to chase out the thoughts as best as possible with the activity at hand.
So far, the thoughts are only midway in his mind, it's as though there's a wall barricading them to go any further as long as he has the key which is the hook in his hand. Though his heart is in a steady rhythm, the nerves curl and flick within like a candle flame dancing in the wind.
His hands are a little frantic and he swears to himself when he loses a stitch but is quick to shove the hook back through it before he nestles into the row forever.
He's so caught up in crocheting and trying with all his might to not let the thoughts creep closer, that he doesn't hear someone ascending the stairs until the knock of the door quite literally makes him jolt, heart twisting.
He doesn't snap his head up though, just mumbles quietly to himself about how he has to finish this row. Just has to get it done.
Peter's brows crease, concern washing over him as he watches his boy pull wool to and fro, almost rocking back and forth from where he sits hunched over in his bed.
"What's wrong?" Peter asks sternly yet gently, as if Louis was a puppy he's needing to train but doesn't want it to get upset.
Louis shakes his head. "Gotta, gotta get this row done, Dad." He doesn't realise there's tears sheering his vision until they begin to blur his vision and cluster in his eyelashes.
Peter treds carefully into the room and lowers himself on the side of the bed.
Louis knows that Peter knows that when he's in this state, it's because something is bothering him. And with each day nearing and nearing to that one dreadful date, he can't get his head out of the shadows.
Peter lays a hand on Louis' shoulder and Louis stops his hands at the top of his pink row.
"Lad, I don't know what's going on in that big mind of yours, but I can promise you that what ever is bothering you, isn't worth fighting over. Let it go," Peter gives, stroking Louis' hair back kindly.
Louis doesn't let himself relax into the touch though, he doesn't deserve to be comforted, that's what his brain tells him anyway.
His lip begins to tremble and his sucks it between his teeth to try and stop it. "I can never forgive myself, Dad," he whispers, not trusting his voice to go any louder.
Peter squeezes his shoulder reassuringly and shakes his head. "It was never your fault to begin with, son," Peter begins and just hearing the word son causes a tear to slip down Louis' warm cheek.
He doesn't deserve to be called a son, not when there's others that deserve to be called that but never do anymore.
"You need to stop beating yourself up over it. I thought we stopped this," his dad sounds slightly angry, but Louis doesn't know if he's angry at him or himself.
"I c-can't! I've tried, Dad, but every year I'm reminded and it all comes flooding back. And how can you possibly say it wasn't my fault when Mum and Lottie have never forgiven me? If it wasn't my fault they wouldn't have blamed me either," Louis snaps back, fingers shaking now that it is almost impossible to start a new row so he drops everything all together.
Sometimes he gets these urges to jump out the window and hope the fall is big enough, but he is always quick to click back into the right mindset and tell himself that that is insane.
Right now is one of those times and he shivers at the thought of his body broken in the gravel below, just thinking of the way his body would thump and shift all the stones away with a crunch is enough to make him feel nauseous.
He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.
Peter kisses Louis' temple. "Your mother just needs some time to realise that it wasn't your fault, Louis. And if she never does, you still have me, yeah? I will always love you, because you're the boy I've always wanted to have. You're funny, kind, strong and brave and nothing you do will ever change that."
Louis should feel comforted by those words. But the statement of you're the boy I've always wanted to have brings a sour taste onto his tongue.
He can't let these thoughts win over. He won't. He shan't.
"Maybe getting out the house will help, hm? I came up here to get you to go food shopping as we're missing a few bits. Ask Harry if he needs anything from the shop before you go, he's probably running low on a few things as well," Peter murmers, giving Louis a light squeeze in a way of a hug.
Ah.
Yeah.
Harry.
Louis almost forgot he was here. After a few days ago where he never showed up at the pool, he hasn't seen Harry since. He doesn't even know if he's still here he's that quiet. Maybe he fled as soon as he realised Louis wouldn't give him any sort of peace or space as he kept following him around like a sheep to its shepherd.
So Louis has taken extra precautions not to disturb the boy. He takes a different route to take Clifford for a walk, going through the woods at the back of the meadows instead of the ones near the stables. He's completely avoided the pool as well, though he wishes he could've gone for a dip a few times, he instead just takes a few more cold showers during the day to stop his balls from chafing.
It's a delightful image, really.
Louis heaves a sigh and nods, wiping his drying eyes. "Alright. What is it you need?"
Peter pats Louis' thigh and stands. "I've got a list in the kitchen for you. Add whatever Harry wants onto it. It isn't too long, but Mabel was going to make some Jamaican style chicken or something so needs a few spices.
Louis begins to get up then, Clifford crawling into his space and licking his bare back. Louis grimaces at the feeling and pushes the pup away before rubbing his belly and blowing raspberries into his fur.
It brings a small smile onto Louis' face which he is thankful for.
He quickly puts on a band tee, the top reaching just above the hems of his white shorts. He skips down the stairs with Clifford deciding to go along after him, before spotting the back door open and charging out to most likely go and find Jamie.
Louis shoves his sliders on, grabs the shopping list from the kitchen and walks over toward the cottage.
He doesn't know why he feels nervous. It's just asking Harry if he's running low on anything. It's not like he's asking for a whole fucking life story.
But the way that he's been deliberately avoiding Harry the past few days because Harry clearly deliberately stood him up, so to speak, when they were meant to go to the pool, he just feels as though there will be some awkwardness there.
Maybe Harry will slam the door on his face and tell him to fuck off, he doesn't know.
He takes in a deep breath, shaking the thoughts from his mind, flicking his fringe back into place and knocks lightly on the door.
He doesn't know if he's knocked loud enough so he does it again but this time with the lion knocker, and slightly louder.
The door swings open after a moment, an apple poised toward Harry's wet lips from the juice already settled there from the fruit.
Louis instantly licks his lips.
Harry's hair is in a small clip atop his head, the beads on the clip glinting in the sunlight. He's wearing his casual attire of a random tshirt with a cartoon on the front—this time a frog with a leaf as an umbrella— and his swimming shorts.
Louis rubs the back of his neck. "Um... hi."
This is the part he knows Harry will grimace at him, slam the door in his face and flip him off through the dining room window that overlooks the courtyard.
"Hey," Harry replies, smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Huh. Or maybe not.
"So, Dad has asked me to go food shopping. Want to know if you've got any requests on some stuff you're running low on. Like do you need any more eggs? Or milk?" Louis replies, not being able to give the lad direct eye contact or he may just drop to his knees and plead for the boy to not ignore him anymore.
The crunch of the apple is loud around them. Harry slaps his lips in thought, pursing them. "Er, well, I think I've finished the loaf. There's also only half a carton of oat milk left which I do prefer to dairy," he says around his piece of apple before he swallows it. "Could probably do with some more fruit, actually."
Louis nods, grabbing the pen he wedged behind his ear before leaving the house and starts scribbling away at the paper against the bobbly pink chipping wall of the cottage. He can barely make out the letters what with how scrappy it looks and the way the dips in the brick makes his lines wonky.
It'll have to do. He nods once. "Thanks, have a good day."
He turns and steps off the step to the front door, feeling around his shorts for his car keys.
"Louis," Harry's voice travels into his ears and tickles his ear drums. He just wants to wake up with a voice like that beside him every day.
Louis looks over his shoulder. "Yeah, Curly?" he ponders.
Harry blushes at the nickname and bites his bottom lip for a moment. "Can I come with you?"
Louis quirks a brow. "Oh... sure."
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?
Why does he want to go with when he's been fucking avoiding Louis?
Louis doesn't want to question it, not right now. He's got Harry back to his side, even if it is only for today.
He walks around the cottage, Harry stepping foot beside him once he shoves his shoes on, still munching away at the apple.
The automatic door to the garages on the slope beside the orchard opens slowly and Louis' car sits there idle, waiting.
He unlocks the door and clambers in, Harry following suit in the passenger side straight after.
"What can I do with this core?" Harry asks, holding the browning core up by the stalk whilst his other hand fumbles with the seat belt.
Louis wounds his window down and tosses it out into the trees beside them as he reverses out the garage.
"That's littering," Harry says with a pout.
Louis shakes his head. "Not when it's going to be the squirrels' next meal it won't be."
Harry frowns for a moment before it drops. It's a little adorable, really, endearing, the way he does it. It made him look like a frog and now he realises why Fizzy sometimes refers to him as frogrry.
Louis is quick to change the playlist once they're up the driveway and the gates are beginning to open. He can't for the life of him allow Harry to hear his own voice coming from a playlist Louis made. It'll be very fucking awkward.
So he changes it to his 70s and 80s playlist, the first song coming on is The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.
Harry's eyes light up when he hears the first chords and begins tapping his hands to the beat on his knees, his foot thumping to the rhythm as well.
He looks like an overgrown child and Louis just wants to squeeze him.
"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise," Harry sings along and Louis might combust with how heavenly he sounds.
This is Harry's raw voice, no editing, no background choruses, no crowds screaming over him. It's just him and the sound of the song quietly tickling through the stereo behind him.
Louis might cry. It's beautiful, he's sure he just entered heaven.
When the chorus comes, Louis cannot contain himself anymore, there's only so much humming you can do before your voice wants to break free, even if you cannot sing.
"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again," he sings along, Harry doing the background parts of you don't love me now, still hear you saying.
"You have a good voice," Harry compliments out of the blue when the instrumental solo comes on.
Louis feels his cheeks flush and he bites his lip. He changes gear, indicates with his index finger of the hand that stays on the wheel, turning the wheel with the one hand then changes gear again when he speeds up.
He sees Harry staring and it makes him creep further with pink.
"Thanks," he bumbles, eyes squinting now that the sun is directly in his face. He fumbles around in the glove compartment before clicking his fingers. "Do us a favour, lad, and see if my sunglasses are in there."
Harry rifles through old wrappers and pieces of paper before he comes across a glasses box, opening it up to reveal the Ray Ban's. He pops them on Louis' face, the arm stabbing Louis in the ear so he adjusts them on his nose.
"Thanks," Louis mumbles, checking the mirror behind him before he pulls out into the road.
Harry grabs his own sunglasses that were hanging from his top, placing them on his face.
"Loving the frog attire, by the way," Louis says, tease in his tone. "Now I realise why my sister calls you frogrry."
And why did his mouth decide to let that slip up?
Harry's gone quiet and Louis is too scared to look at him.
"Sorry," Louis quickly bumbles. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Shit," he whispers under his breath. "You probably think it's so weird that my sisters are fans of yours and here I am just driving us to fucking ASDA as if there's not a care in the world."
Louis dares to take a peep at Harry. He doesn't expect to see the small bitten smile on his face or the way he gazes up at Louis where his head is lowered, cheeks rosy.
"It's okay," Harry quietly answers back. "I don't mind, I'm used to it. One of my friends from back home, David, his sister is a huge fan of mine, so is Gemma's Goddaughter."
Louis quirks a brow. "Does that ever seem strange to you? That people you know adore you as a fan of your music?"
Harry shrugs a shoulder, begins playing with his fingers like a nervous tick. "Not really. It kind of boosts my ego a little, to be honest."
"A narcissist," Louis jokes and Harry chuckles through his nose.
"Yeah, I guess I am," he replies.
"Gotta keep an eye on you then, Harold. Don't want your head exploding with how big it'll get," Louis coax on and Harry shoves his palm into the side of Louis' face to jokingly push him away.
Louis is beaming. He can't help it. He's missed this type of relationship with a person. None of his friends back home talk to him, he quite literally only has his dog. He doesn't know if he should consider Jamie and Mabel as friends, because they're more like family than anything else. And it's different with them, for some reason.
This is new. And it's nice. Louis has missed this. He's been alone for far too long. Tom hasn't been since last year, so this type of bantering and playfulness has been long overdue.
It's good to have it with someone new.
They enter the shops once Louis parks and the air con is welcome as it brings goosebumps up the arms. Louis goes to the trolley bay, grabbing one and slamming the seat down, pointing into it.
"Go on then, Harry," he coos mockingly.
Harry quirks a plucked brow. "What?"
Louis motions to the seat. "You wanted to come just to go in the seat, right?"
Harry giggles and shoves Louis with his arm on Louis' bicep. "Shut up," he bumbles but the grin never leaves.
Louis sighs. "Suit yourself." He begins pushing the trolley up toward the escalators where the aisles are.
He catches movement beside him and watches as Harry fumbles with a hoodie to put on.
"What are you doing?" Louis questions.
"I don't want to get spotted," Harry replies quietly back, getting his arm stuck in the hood.
Louis shakes his head. "H, you're going to bring more attention on yourself wearing a thick hoodie in this heat. Just keep your sunglasses on, no one will bat an eye, I don't think many people will care, besides why would The Harry Styles be in a random grocery shop in Surrey instead of hitting the seas in LA?"
Harry huffs, tossing the hoodie into the trolley. "Fine," he drags out the word, and the pair step off the escalator once it reaches the top.
They go to the fruit and veg aisle first, Louis tossing random bits and pieces from the list into the trolley with a clang. Harry adds a random fruit here and there that he wants and they both stroll over to the next aisle, conversing every now and again about random shit.
Louis guides them down the book aisle, gazing over at all the spines and covers to see if any suit him. There's a comic that everyone online is blabbing about, which makes him not want to read it even if it is about gay love.
"What books are you into?" Harry asks.
Louis thumbs his chin in thought. "I haven't really got a set preference. I like a bit of teen fic, bit of drama, sometimes philosophical. It depends on my mood."
Harry hums. "Have you ever read Watermelon Sugar? Or A Course Of Love?"
Louis shakes his head. "Never heard of them."
Harry gives him a weak smile. "I'll lend you them sometime. They're really good. A Course Of Love really opened up my eyes about true relationships and what it's like being with the one."
Louis tilts his head. "Has any of the girls you've been with, seem to be the one for you?" he ponders casually.
The drop in Harry's face, the way his turned up lips droop, and his eyes sink, makes Louis know that he's said the wrong thing.
He wants to eat the words back up but they're already out swimming around.
"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't of asked that, it's not my place," Louis rambles, wishing he'd have a bit more of a filter.
His heart is rabbiting with the way Harry looks so hurt. He doesn't know what he's actually done to make him look that hurt, but it causes his heart to sting.
The clouded shadows start rolling in and now isn't the fucking time.
"It's okay," Harry says, probably noticing the panic on Louis' face. "But for future reference, not everything on the Internet is true, alright? Don't always read shit from The Daily Mail and think it's fact, because majority of the time, it isn't." With that, he turns on his heel and disappears down toward the alcohol aisle.
Louis stands there dumbfounded. His hands are shaking a little, and he wants to crawl into bed and just crochet his problems away, or else those dark thoughts nagging at his mind can turn into actions that are a lot worse than threading wool together to make pieces of art.
He lays his hand on his stomach, fingers spread and deeply inhales, before exhaling slowly through his mouth. He counts to ten in his mind, before grabbing the trolley and pushing it to wherever Harry has ended up at.
He spots Harry thumbing over a vodka bottle with a pride flag painted in the inside.
"Hm, gay vodka," Louis states, making Harry jump.
Harry looks to him, before looking back at the bottle. "Straight," he bumbles.
Louis shakes his head. "No, gay! Pride flag says it all, deary."
Harry's lip quirks, left dimple denting his cheek. "Maybe it's an ally."
Louis scoffs. "How dare it be just an ally. I bet it has secrets, it's probably a gay undercover, but the pride flag throws people off it because it surely cannot be true," he says. He's talking more for himself.
He's the one that had a pride flag in his room back in his Donny house. His parents thought it was just a statement of peace, not a statement of truth.
Harry plucks up the (gay) vodka and places it delicately into the bottom of the trolley. He grabs a few mixers and cocktails, Louis grabbing a case of beer and another bottle of whiskey for his dad.
Their shopping is done by the time they finish in the alcohol aisle, already retrieving bits for tonight.
Harry goes to grab his bits and pop them on the conveyer belt of the tills. He grabs a divider and Louis frowns at him.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Paying?" Harry replies questioningly.
Louis tosses the divider away. "Darling, your food and shit is covered in the cost of your stay. You're not buying anything."
Harry huffs. "Fine." He crosses his arms.
When Louis goes to pay with the card his dad owns for this sort of stuff, the card reader reads DECLINED.
Louis furrows his brows and takes out his wallet, grabbing his savings account. This is so embarrassing, especially as Harry is watching this.
"Used the wrong card," Louis lies smoothly, flashing the new card to the elderly lady behind the tills.
She smiles weakly at him and let's him try again. He mentally crosses his fingers and toes, and his receipt gets printed out. He releases a breath subtly.
"Thanks, love, have a good day," he says kindly to the lady, trudging out the shops and back toward the car.
"What did I tell you?" Louis says after slamming his door shut behind him, buckling in. "No one even batted an eye your way."
"'M pretty sure those girls down the ice cream aisle were eyeing me," Harry replies lowly.
Louis grins at him, nose scrunching up. "Na, love, they were looking at me and how sexy I look in my Queen tee."
Harry snorts. "Maybe they were," he gives with a small smile.
Louis' tummy errupts with butterflies.
Was he agreeing with that?
Louis is a little soft after that. But the niggling question stays and itches his skin.
He sighs, he wants to know, has to.
"Harry," he begins a little weary.
Harry hums to show he's listening.
"Why didn't you come to the pool after we made the trampoline?" he asks.
Harry stiffens in his seat.
Mayday, mayday, rewind rewind!
"Um..." he scratches his nose. "I fell asleep."
He's lying. Louis can tell, he can tell a liar from miles away. But he doesn't question it any further, doesn't want to push Harry.
Louis nods. "Okay. I thought you were annoyed at me for being there or something. If I do annoy you, and you want to be left alone, feel free to tell me to simply fuck off."
Harry shakes his head. "I'll never tell you to fuck off, Louis."
Louis grins a little more at that and he wants to squeal into a pillow right about now.
A/N- YOOOO
CHAPTER WHATEVER
hope you're enjoying this fic so farrrr.
Lemme just say that Louis' past is fucked up woopsies so enjoy that when you find out why.
Had another scene idea in mind for waaaaay down the line which'll fuck him up 🤪 I love drama me does.
Any whooo
Why do you think Harry never went to the pool that one day?
Vote and comment and I'll see you in the next update
Stay Safe xxooxxoxo