Harry put on a pair of skinny jeans and a warm flannel. He tugged on his black boots, gently closing the door behind him. He sat on his porch chairs, waiting for Louis who would hopefully be coming soon. He knew he was being irrational, but he was still nervous after what happened last time.
This morning, Harry had woken up with a body next to him. For a second, he was terrified. He panicked, hoping it was a dream. He wondered if it was regret he was feeling.
But then, seconds later, his fear faded. He had broken into a huge smile. Something snapped inside him and he realized that it was ridiculous. It wasn't some rash decision that would lead to regret. It was Louis. It was comfort. It was home.
His cheeks started hurting before he realized that he was smiling. He really hoped that no one was looking at him right now because he would look like some creepy smiling person.
He looked up at the street to make sure no one had seen his smiling, but the street wasn't empty. Louis was walking up to his house, looking flawless like always. The boy was dressed in an oversized burgundy knit hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans. His hair was tousled and messy as usual, just like Harry like it. He wore sneakers on his feet, showing off his ankles. Harry loved ankles.
Harry walked down to his driveway and gave the boy a hug. "Hey, baby."
He saw Louis' cheeks flush red before he shyly smiled.
"Are we walking?" Louis asked.
"Well, do you have your licence?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Good point."
Harry didn't have his licence either to be fair. He never bothered to get it for a few reasons. He felt the need to get one since he lived so close to everything. Also, he was just too lazy to get it. It required too much work, even if it was just a written test.
"It's close, trust me," Harry smiled, grabbing Louis' hand and pulling him down the street.
They walked for a few minutes, saying nothing. Harry took the time to look around at his surroundings. The trees at this point were almost bare. The last few leaves were clinging to the branches for dear life, but they'll all eventually fall. If not by the wind, then the snow will eventually weigh them down enough so that they'll have no choice but to drop.
Harry focused on the big things like the trees and weather outside. Eventually, his mind wandered to the little things. Like every breath he took, or the way that Louis' hand felt in his. Warm mostly, but also familiar. Like it was moulded to his. Even if they've been together for months now, the touch still gave him butterflies. He was still nervous if his hand was too cold, or too sweaty.
In some way, Harry viewed that as a good thing. The relationship wasn't getting old, boring, or mundane. With Jaqueline, even though it wasn't really a real relationship, his heart didn't speed up anymore after the first few texts. Now, when he hears the custom text tone he set for Louis, it pounds in his chest. He still gets excited to read ever character crafted by Louis' fingers, even if it's been thousands of texts.
Harry stopped them in front of a small restaurant, isolated across the street from a larger plaza. Everyone knew about this plaza. The kids from school, including Harry, used to come here all the time after middle school. It was the spot to be. Even now, Harry saw middle schoolers, who looked so small now, walking in and out of the stores.
Even with the number of times that everyone had come here, ninety-nine percent of them wouldn't know about the little Italian restaurant across the street. It was a small place, barely the size of a standard classroom at school. The two-person tables were set up in rows, paired with red and white checkered tablecloths. The walls were lined with black and white photos of previous owners, probably a family business.
Harry and Louis walked inside, greeted by a smiling hostess. She was a sweet-looking middle-aged woman. Her brown hair was pinned up. "Just you too?"
"Yes," Harry smiled at her. She took two menus off the front table, leading the pair to a table near the back. The restaurant was mostly filled with old married couples, ranting about their day, their kids, and basically everything else.
They sat down across from each other, making eye contact briefly, then giggling like little kids. The lady brought them water, then walked back to the front.
"A date huh?" Louis shook his head and smiled. "It's hard to believe."
"Well Louis, I believe it. You are very charming. The dating type." Harry stated matter-of-factly.
"Yea, sure," Louis chuckled.
They looked down at their menus, and Harry knew he had made the right decision by picking this restaurant. Every option sounded mouth watering. He decided on the Penne Alla Vodka. His favourite pasta was no doubt penne. It always had been and it always will be.
He folded his menu back up, then put it down. He looked straight across at Louis, who was still choosing.
Harry faked a cough, muttering, "slowpoke," to tease the boy.
"Hey, leave me alone," Louis pouted. "I'm indecisive."
"Here," Harry cleared the salt and pepper to the side of the table and grabbed his own menu. "Put your menu down."
Louis put the open menu down on the small table.
"Now close your eyes." Harry smiled.
Louis closed his eyes.
"Now put your finger down."
"But I can't see," exclaimed Louis.
"That's kind of the point."
Louis dropped his finger, landing on a space between two sections. He facepalmed, raising an eyebrow at Harry.
"Do it again," Harry chuckled.
This time, Louis' finger landed on Lasagna A Forno. He nodded, satisfied with the option.
They both put their menus at the edge of the table and sat in silence. Harry looked over at the older couple beside them. They looked to be in their eighties. The woman ranted on about someone called 'Linda' at her knitting club. The man smiled and nodded along. He probably wasn't listening, but he still looked at her with something in his eyes. Harry could tell that he really adored her.
"Do you think we will ever end up like them?" Louis spoke quietly. He was obviously looking at the same couple.
"Like, both of us together, or in general?" Harry bit his lip.
"Both really."
"I hope so." Harry averted his gaze. He felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment, even if she was just talking in a restaurant.
He took a sip of water. Someone came, a different woman, with their food.
It was steamy and melty, cheese piled high on top. It wasn't a picture perfect plate of pasta, far from it. Sauce covered the sides of the plate, and the generous portion was heaped onto the plate. It looked like an Italian grandma piled the cheese on top.
Harry loved it. He had always had a soft spot for things feeling like home. He was always sceptical of anything that felt too manufactured, fake.
He could tell Louis felt the same way when his plate was put in front of him and he smiled ear to ear, eyes sparkling at Harry.
"How is it?" Harry asked after watching Louis take his first bite.
"It's good," Louis practically moaned. "Very good."
Harry took a bite of his own pasta. Of course, it was perfect. The perfect mix of flavours and a chewy pasta.
"Wanna try some of mine?" Louis wiggled his eyebrows, holding a fork full of lasagna in Harry's direction. Harry didn't bother answering. Instead, he leaned forward and ate the pasta off the fork. He giggled at himself, swallowing the lasagna. The action was so lovey-dovey, it felt ridiculous.
Harry did the same for Louis, stabbing some of the penne, and offering it to Lou. The boy bit the fork, almost sending it out of Harry's hand. They both giggled again.
Usually, Harry wasn't one to be loud at public places. He tried to fit in as much as possible, and make himself the least noticeable one there. With Louis, it was different. He didn't mind that they were giggling like crazy people. He didn't care that he was showing off their real, gay love. Being with Louis made a bubble around them that made Harry feel safe.
"You sure you don't want any more of this?" Louis asked, motioning at his lasagna.
"I'm okay, love," Harry replied with a mouthful of food. "I have to be loyal to my penne."
"Alright then," Louis reached over to the side of the table and grabbed the pepper shaker. He violently shook it on his lasagna, covering the disk in a storm of black flakes. He inspected it, then shook more pepper onto the pasta.
"That cannot be good," Harry stated, mouth slightly agape.
"It is," Louis happily put more food into his mouth.
Harry stole a piece of lasagna from the side of Louis' plate and put it in his mouth. At first, he only tasted the delicious pasta. Then, the pepper hit him like a train. He coughed, but that just got more pepper into his system. It was not a pleasant experience, in fact, it kind of felt like his lungs were on fire.
He reached for his glass of water, coughing again before chugging it. The water really didn't help. His body seemed to be trying to cough while he was drinking. At least he didn't feel like he was on fire anymore. Now he just like he was drowning.
His lungs calmed down after what felt like a million years. Harry couldn't see himself, but he would imagine that he was bright red.
"Ah, fuck. That was terrible." Harry cursed loudly, ignoring the older women behind him who were glaring.
Louis laughed and continued to eat his deadly pasta. It really wasn't fair that Louis wasn't dying right now.
"You kind of look like a tomato," Louis smiled at him. "Very fitting for this environment. Very cute."
Harry felt his cheeks heat up more, in a blush. He hoped it wasn't noticeable under the layers of red he already was.
"A natural tomato Harry in his natural habitat. Very rare indeed." Louis teased.
"Louu!" Harry whined, embarrassed. He pouted and continued to eat his penne, which was slightly cold, but still delicious.
"You want some pepper with that?" Louis waved the pepper shaker in front of Harry's face.
"You're so mean," Harry pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, continuing his dramatic pout.
"Sorry," Louis put the pepper shaker down. "But you look cute when you're sad."
"Okay, but not as cute as sad Louis."
"Must be why I'm so cute all the time."
Harry frowned. "Awe Louis, don't be sad."
"Never when I'm with you," Louis whispered.
Harry liked that. That actually made him unbelievably happy. The fact that he could make Louis happy. He didn't even need a reason to be happy. Just the fact that he could make Louis happy was reason enough.
Harry finished his food. He glanced at Louis, who was reading an old newspaper on the wall. Harry kicked Louis' foot lightly.
Louis didn't react, so Harry did the sensible thing. He kicked Louis harder.
"Oh Harry, I was trying to save you from me, Louis Tomlinson, the master of footsies," Louis smirked, hitting Harry's foot.
Harry kicked back but just hit the air.
"Did you know that the Dutch call this 'foot fucking'?" Harry raised his eyes suggestively at Louis.
"I feel like that means something different here," Louis trailed off.
"It definately does."
They went back and forth a couple times before Harry accidentally kneed the side of the table. He looked up to see the hostess standing nest to the table with the bill. Harry gave Louis a look. The other boy was trying to hold back his laughter, Harry could tell.
"Together or seperate?"
"Together," Harry responded before Louis got a chance to speak.
Harry payed for the both of them (not without many protests from Louis of course), and the two of them walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand.
Continue?