Harry watched the man's expressions as he spoke and couldn't help but bite back a smile at the offer. He thought maybe a part of him was hoping for those words, but he decided he'd think about the reason why another time. He did his best to shrug casually and respond. "Guess it works for now," he stepped inside after the man and kicked off his shoes. He took a moment to glance at the room around him and everything was just so Louis. A shadow box of old ballet shoes that looked to be child's size, displayed against the wall with dried flowers and a note. He figured it must have been from his first recital or rehearsal. The rest of the room was delicately decorated and the light was dimmed once Louis flipped the switch. "Much prettier than my own place," he commented, before heading further inside and sitting down on the couch. Compared to his home, the overflowing ashtray on the small coffee table and the blinds always closed without curtains, accompanied by the fridge full of only protein shakes and booze, paled in comparison. He was starting to realize just how compassionate of a person Louis is; saving objects from so long ago and having them framed up on his wall probably to look at each day for motivation as to why he continued to chase his dreams into adulthood. He wondered what kind of hardships he had to face as a male when he was just budding into the industry, and if his family was supportive or not. He wondered if he was tormented in school, or denied memberships at studios until he found the one he was at now. He was caught up in his thoughts, even as he pulled his shirt off and laid back on the sofa, getting comfortable now, it was all he could think of.
Louis let out a soft laugh at Harry's words, shaking his head to himself. "You're welcome to lay on the doorstep if you prefer." He teased, stepping out of the doorway to let Harry inside. He was happy that the man agreed without putting up a fight. He shut and locked the door behind Harry, setting his bag down and kicking his shoes off while Harry took the opportunity to look around. He smiled shyly at the compliment, shrugging it off. "I'm sure your place is lovely." He murmured, quickly getting his bag ready for the morning since he figured he wouldn't have much time to do it tomorrow. Once he was finished he turned back to face Harry, raising an eyebrow curiously as he saw him laying back on the sofa already. "C'mon, up you get. You're the guest, there's no way you're taking the couch." He told him stubbornly, a wide smile on his face. It wasn't too often Louis ever had overnight visitors, but he certainly wouldn't subject any of them to sleep on his sofa. He offered a hand to help Harry up, showing him that it wasn't going to be up for debate. He led Harry to his bedroom as soon as he was back on his feet, briefly wondering what he was getting himself into. "Should be plenty of room for us to share, yeah? If you prefer though, I'll crash on the floor or the sofa, it's no big deal." He murmured with a soft smile, walking over to his closet and pulling out some pyjamas for him to wear. "Are you alright in what you've got on? I can try and find something for you to put on." He offered, pulling his shirt off and changing into an oversized tee from the closet. "Just make yourself comfortable, if there's anything you need to be afraid to let me know." He added with a soft hum, running a hand through his hair.
Harry scrunched his eyebrows together at the command, and rolled his eyes as he was offered his hand. After a moment of thinking about whether he wanted to argue or not, he smiled small and took the hand. They headed off to the room and laughed a bit when Louis offered to take the floor or couch. "You're crazy if you think you'd have to sleep on the bloody floor in your own room," he fell back on the back. "I don't bite- at least when I'm not conscious," he added on. Harry took a quick glance at Louis' wardrobe, and doubted anything would fit him properly. He pointed out a light pink leotard. "Yeah, lemme have that one," he joked with a small laugh, before sitting up to take his shirt off. He then stood for a moment, slipping out of his jeans to leave him in boxer briefs and got under the sheets. He figured there wasn't much of a difference to this compared to Louis' seeing him change before, or fight shirtless in his basketball shorts. Once Louis joined, the room was silent for a few minutes, each of them laying awkwardly at each side of the bed, space between them. Harry started glancing around at the room, and saw a music box adorned with a vintage painting of a ballerina. He turned suddenly, looking over at Louis. "So why ballet?" He scooted over closer. "You're strong Louis- much stronger than you realize. Why dancing?" He realized after his spoke maybe the physical strength came from years of dancing; and he'd be lying if the sport didn't suit him in every way possible in the first place.
Louis was relieved as Harry didn't put up a fight and instead took his hand, following him all the way to the bedroom. He rolled his eyes playfully as Harry called him crazy, shrugging his shoulders. "The floors not that bad." He insisted, blushing lightly at the comment that followed and distracting himself in the closet instead to hide it. He glanced over at Harry to see what he was pointing at, letting out a soft laugh. "Yeah, would love to see you in that one." He played along, shaking his head to himself as he made his way back over to the bed. He flicked the light off before taking his side of the bed, making sure to leave plenty of room between them. He let his eyes flutter shut in the silence, assuming they were both headed off to bed until Harry scooted closer and spoke up again. He opened his eyes and shifted onto his side, letting out a quiet laugh at Harry's question. "'S the only thing I'm good at." He murmured, shrugging his shoulders. "My mum originally had me in footie and my sister in dance but from her very first recital, I was hooked. Begged her to sign me up for dance and dropped footie right afterwards, been that way ever since." He explained to Harry, reaching out to give him a little nudge. "Why boxing?" He asked in return, settling comfortably against the mattress now that it was his turn to listen.
Harry nodded at his words, listening intently and nodding here and there to make sure Louis knew he was paying attention. He thought about the question that came next, and turned onto his back again, his arms resting behind his head now as he let out a long sigh. He could either be truthful here, lie entirely, or only tell the truth without the details. He decided on the last bit. "Dunno, really. Anger issues growing up, I guess. Been hit in the head a time or two, couldn't tell you when I started," he cleared his throat and there was a notable shift in the energy between them, and he turned to the opposite side, instinctively ready to shut him out for the rest of the night just because that's more than he's ever talked about the reason why he gets such a kick out of pummeling people every day. He sighed again, before swiftly turning back around and facing him again. "Thank you for going with me," his tone was agitated, but it was a facade. He knew deep down that today was the first day in years he had fun doing anything outside of the ring- and shockingly it seemed all that it took was Louis. "And for letting me crash here... again," he laughed a bit, reaching out to punch his shoulder. Eventually their voices grew quieter and quieter until they were both eventually drifting off to sleep. Harry slept hard, not tossing and turning like he did in his own bed. He was only half awake when he felt the warmth of another person's back tucked neatly into his torso. He hummed softly, tightening his grip around their waist, his head nudging up against the nape of their neck, and that's when Louis' feathery hair tickled the tip of his nose, causing it to scrunch up. It took him a few more seconds to shoot his eyes open, realizing who it was. He quickly scooted away, going as far as pushing the blanket off of himself and laying awkwardly flat at the other side of the bed again. He glanced over at Louis, before sitting up. "Gotta go," he said, his voice unenthusiastic. He skipped back into his jeans, but couldn't find his shirt so he decided to leave without it. It didn't take long for Louis to try to stop him, but he wouldn't even look back at the man as he fished out his crumpled back of smokes from his pocket. "I'll walk it, don't worry," and with that he started heading out of the flat.
Louis bit his bottom lip as he heard Harry's long sigh, wondering if he'd made a mistake asking the question. He'd only asked to be playful and hopefully learn a bit more about Harry, but he was learning that it didn't exactly seem like a topic Harry wanted to discuss. Maybe one day he'd be close enough to find out why, but he wasn't so sure of it. "That's fair enough." He whispered to Harry. "I think it's pretty impressive, for the record." He added with a shrug of his shoulders. He swallowed thickly as Harry turned away from him, thoughts running wild until Harry turned to face him again. He put on a small smile even if it would go unnoticed in the dark, laughing softly at the punch to his shoulder. "It's fine, H. No need to thank me." He reassured, making some more whispered conversation but the two decided to call it a night. It was no surprise the two ended up pressed together in their sleep, despite their attempts at lying as far as they could get before drifting off. Louis didn't have time to even realize what had happened, Harry already back to the other side of the bed when he woke up. He rubbed a hand over his face, waking himself enough so he could get up and take Harry home. Or at least that's what he thought he plan was. Harry left in a hurry without his shirt, leaving Louis standing there quite stunned and trying to piece together what just happened. He let out a soft sigh as he found Harry's shirt, folding it neatly and adding it into his dance bag. Harry's strange behaviour was still on his mind as he showered and got ready for the day, shaking it off as the ballet studio came into view. He wasn't going to let Harry be a distraction to him again, heading straight into the building without looking to see if Harry had made it or if his car had been fixed and parked across the road from him. Over the next few days, he tried to get the shirt back to Harry but it was starting to seem more of a challenge than he'd anticipated. They didn't seem to cross paths nearly as much as they had previously, Louis was starting to wonder if Harry had been avoiding him. After a particularly stressful rehearsal one afternoon, Louis had decided to treat himself to a smoothie, but just to his luck he'd ended up with half the smoothie down his top and no change of clothes in his bag. "Fuck." He muttered under his breath, a little pout on his lips as he looked at spot on his t-shirt. He opened his bag and it was then he saw Harry's shirt still folded neatly where it had been since the day he left it, shrugging his shoulders to himself before changing into it. It'd be fine, he could bring it home to wash it and return it to its spot in his bag in case he ever ran into Harry. He tried his best to ignore how much it smelt like Harry, sipping on what was left of his smoothie and carrying on with his afternoon.
Harry spent the next few days going out of his way to avoid Louis, using the back exit of his studio on his way out until making sure Louis' car was gone before sliding into his own and driving home each day after finishing his lessons. He was short with his teammates, even more insufferable than usual. His strikes seemed to harbor more of an angry temperament compared to his usual sparring techniques. He was relentless, a few times having to be told over and over that the match had already ended. Harry wasn't the best at dealing with his emotions; especially the kinds of emotions that he couldn't ever seem to understand for the majority of his life now. All through middle school, he was bullied for appearing to be lanky and small, leading him to bulk up around the first year of high school. He spent those four years training every night and every morning, crafting a make shift punching bag out of multiple sandbags and a thick blanket sewed up together which he hung from the ceiling in his parent's garage. Eventually, his parents grew fed up with Harry's behavior, trying for months to get him to stick with a therapist and medication. He didn't want to stay on track with those things, more often than not trading showing up to appointments with training instead. By the time he graduated, he had become strong enough that he wasn't messed with anymore- but this also caused him to push away the little friends that he did had, snapping at them over small things that he would perceive to be insulting, or overreacting when they would bring up the fact he's practicing a little too much and missing out on things. The day after graduation, his parents sat him down and not only revealed to him that they had been divorced for the past year and a half, but also that he was faced with having to find a place for his own. Hearing his own mother tell him that he was just too much flipped a switch in his brain for years to come, affecting him even in adulthood. He swore to himself he'd never become close to another person; in fear that he'd simply just be too much. Fast forward to present day, he sat alone in the middle of his ring, his legs crisscrossed as he held a cigarette between his fingers that was burning on its own for a few minutes, the length of it taken up by ash now. He was staring off blankly, all of his memories flooding his head. He knew it was wrong to shut Louis out, especially now that they were only just becoming closer, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He knew that even if things worked out, he'd eventually hurt the boy down the line with his emotional tendencies. He felt his eyes welling up, but still, he stared blankly at the rubber lines around the ring that were blurring slightly. He allowed himself to take one breath, swiping his eyes before the tears had a chance to trickle down his cheeks. He stood, popping out of the ring and disposing of his cigarette as he made it outside. He blared his music, driving off in the direction of his home, when he saw Louis standing outside of the local smoothie. While he at first immediately glanced away and sunk down in his seat a bit, he did a double take and noticed Louis was wearing his shirt. He backed up, parking in the lot and rolling his window down. "Is that my shirt, Tomlinson?" His words were accusatory, his expression angry.
Louis looked up as he heard the car backing up, eyebrows furrowed as the window rolled down and he was met with Harry's familiar face. Now he wanted to show up. He was ready to mutter a brief apology and ignore the fact it was Harry's own fault for being so hard to reach but as soon as Harry's accusation came out, all that went out the window. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any of Harry's antics today. "Yeah, seemed like you weren't ever going to claim it so I've taken it as my own." He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. "Nice to see you're actually alive, disappeared off the face of the earth as far as I'm concerned." He added, shaking his head to himself as he stared back at Harry's angry face. He couldn't believe Harry was going to be mad over it, especially after knowing Louis had tried to give it back the moment it was left behind and has carried it on him ever since. He supposed he should've been it coming, Harry was unpredictable after all, but he thought the two had overcome it by now.
Harry rolled his eyes at the response, sighing exasperatedly and dropping his face into his hands for a moment. He turned his glance back at Louis and scoffed. "So just because someone forgets a shirt, you play dress up with it?" He parked his car and swung his door open, stepping over to approach him now. "That's my shirt. Wearing my clothes once for practice was enough," he reached over and plucked the material. "Isn't your color anyways- lacks any pink or bows," he flicked his cigarette out and used the tip of his shoe to snuff it out against the concrete. "I work right across from you, could've just dropped it off. You wouldn't like it very much if I held your tutu hostage," he felt anger building up in his core, but in the back of his mind he didn't necessarily hate the way his collarbones peeked out at the top, and it wouldn't be the worse thing in the world if he returned it unwashed. He wouldn't be caught admitting that, ever. He glanced around, spotting a few people watching now. "Why would you care where I've been off to? I'm not someone who needs to be worried about," his stomach jumped. "I won't make you take it off in front of everyone. But you should return it by tonight," he used two fingers to jab into his shoulder, making him rock on his feet slightly. "My cars still not running the best. Show up to mine- and if I forgot anything else, don't let me see you prancing around out and about in it." He started to turn away, ready to head for his car. He would deal with Louis later.