baby look what you've done to me

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156806?view_adult=true

~✰~

Louis trudges the last of his boxes up the stairs during what should be his dinnertime; his stomach gives an empty growl at the thought of his cereal packed away in one of the dozens of cardboard moving boxes outside his door. Pizza tonight it is, he thinks. Knowing him, he won't be done packing until he's ready to move again.

His plan for moving in was very strategic -- pile all of his boxes into the building's elevator instead of carrying them himself, keeping the doors open every time they threatened to close by shouldering them back. His plans were thwarted, however, when he got into the building and discovered the "Out of Order: Maintenance Expected Next Week" sign taped to the outside of the chrome doors. The twinges of discomfort in his back and the dull ache in his legs are about as promising as the mildly friendly but mostly wary smiles he receives from his new neighbors on the way up. Each had greeted him but went about their way, not even feigning an offer to help.

He grunts as he leans against his door and pulls his keys from his pocket, hoping that his little flat winds up better than his day has gone so far. He'd been in a rush to leave his old flat after his prick of a roommate had stopped paying rent and expected Louis to pick up the slack; he'd helped him out for a month before the lease went up while the other man did nothing but lounge around the flat and eat Louis' food. It was then that he decided to make his first move into adulthood and move into his own space, declining the offer to sign the lease for another year.

It's a bit exciting, if he's honest, living fully on his own for the first time. He'd been in such a hurry to find a new place, however, that he'd agreed on renting his new flat without so much as a tour. His landlord Martha very kindly supplied him with pictures, informing him which pieces of furniture came with the flat and what he needed to bring. It was a bit of a risky move, one his mother scolded him harshly for, but Louis had to take the chance -- the flat was reasonably priced and in a nice neighborhood. What more could he ask for?

The pictures had been lovely as well, taken while the previous tenant still lived there. It looked homelike and comfortable, just what Louis wanted.

He swings the door open and steps inside, flicking the corridor light on as he kicks his shoes off to the side. The first thing he notices is the smell, a comforting mix of vanilla and cinnamon, one that Louis isn't sure the origin of -- either a natural smell brought about by months of baking or an artificial smell brought about by months of burning pungent candles. Regardless, Louis likes it.

The place is perfectly clean and Louis silently thanks the previous owner for not leaving it in awful condition. In fact, the floors appear freshly waxed and the carpets recently vacuumed. (He makes a mental note to buy himself a vacuum cleaner.)

He spends awhile just walking around the flat, giving himself the tour he should have probably taken before he signed the lease. He checks every nook and cranny for evidence of the previous tenant, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile when he finds random odds and ends. There's a small bottle of honeysuckle shower gel tucked in the cabinet underneath the sink that Louis sniffs appreciatively and places in the nook of his shower. The bed is stripped of course, but the worse-for-wear nightstand at the side houses a few pastel-colored pressed flowers. In one of the kitchen drawers he finds a lone bandaid adorned with pictures of smiling kittens. He chuckles to himself, wondering just who in the hell lived here before him.

He tucks the bandaid away, deciding it's a good beginning for his bits and bobs drawer, and walks back towards the door to the flat to start moving his boxes in.

It's in the middle of unpacking three days later that his mum calls. Louis groans and rolls around in his spot on the floor, trying to stumble into sitting position. He gives up and lies back down amongst the clutter of pizza boxes and trash and answers the call.

larry smutOn viuen les histories. Descobreix ara