The Larry Book [ completed ]

Suivre Mon Coeur, Ma Voix (Follow My Heart, My Voice)

By : writtensoul ( ao3 )

Summary:

Louis is french and adorable and Harry works at a cafe and he thinks he's going to marry Louis.

"Harry, come on man. You're not gonna get anywhere with all the moping you're doing."

Niall sweeps a hand through his annoyingly blonde-turning-brunette hair and doesn't even try to remove the huge grin he's wearing.

"And you're not going anywhere with that fucking camera phone in my face, mate," Harry sighs and, once again, pushes the offending machine away.

But Niall doesn't let up. The camera is shoved right back into his face, and so just to humor him, Harry glares up at the thing and lets Niall take a photo.

It's probably a horrible picture; him leaning on the counter with a furrow in his brow and a slight scowl on his lips, but at least Niall finally puts the camera away and pats harry on the shoulder.

"Cheer up, eh? I know you're lonely and uh- I mean, just. I can set you up with my mate Zayn if you want-"

"That tan guy who's obsessed with his quiff? Thanks, but no thanks."

Harry, although he's in a shite mood, gives Niall a sad but appreciative smile and strings his apron around his waist. It's 10AM, after all, people will start to stream in soon.

The place he works is nice enough. Not completely dingy. The walls are a sort of off-white colour and the tables customers sit at are big and round, save for the single-person tables. A few people are regular customers because Southside Restaurant and Cafe is, obviously, also a cafe. There's coffee and bagels and all that.

A little jingle comes from the front door and when Harry turns his head to see the person, he's absolutely shocked. A man, probably in his twenties or something, walks in with a phone held loosely up to his ear. His coat is snug around his hourglass figure and a maroon beanie is all askew atop his head of feathery caramel hair. He's like nothing harry has ever seen before. He's an angel, honestly.

As the boy walks closer with his eyes glued to the ground, Harry hears not english, but rapid french falling out of his mouth. And that makes Harry feel hot in the cheeks and uncomfortable in his jeans.

"Je dois y aller maintenant, pour le dejeuner. Au revoir," he mutters and finally his eyes snap up. And really, it's kind of like one of those stupid love at first sight things. Well, perhaps not love, but.

"Bonjour- err, hello," he says and Harry sort of just stares some more.

All of a sudden, Niall exits out of the kitchen speaking fast and full of energy.

"Hello! How are you? Can I get you a seat?"

Harry freezes up and gives Niall a 'what the fuck' look.

"Niall."

"Our special today is-"

"Niall."

"What?" Niall growls and crosses his arms.

"I'll take this one?" Harry mumbles quietly and the french boy titters quietly into his gloved palm.

"Oh. Oh. Okay, sure thing Hazza!" Niall catches on then, making a scene with that giant wink of his.

Once the Irishman walks away, Harry does his best to calm down and steps a bit closer to the man.

"So, you want a seat obviously? I'm Harry, and I'll be your server today," he smiles and gets him seated by the window- his favorite spot, personally.