In Dreams

Chapter 1

"Oh. You're a person."

The raspy, high-pitched voice made Harry freeze in place, his body bent over and his fingertips brushing thin paper. He looked up and blinked across the hall, sleep dust still lingering in the corners of his eyes.

He studied the short, crumpled man slouching against the doorframe opposite his flat. His tight, black skinnies sagged off his round arse, a slate grey long-sleeved tee clinging to his lean torso. He wasn't even wearing shoes or socks on his pudgy feet, scuffed black Vans dangling from dirty shoelaces tied around the strap of his band button-covered rucksack.

In the split second of study, Harry tried to remember if he'd pulled pants on before opening the door that morning to retrieve his newspaper. A cool breeze confirmed that, luckily, he had pulled on plaid pajama bottoms and a baggy Rolling Stones t-shirt, his nipples prickling against the thin material.

"Yes," he rasped, his voice heavy. "I'm a person." He stood up straight, his right hand pushing his long waves off his face. "I'm a Harry."

Small lips quirked upwards, sleepy eyes crinkling at the edges.

"I'm a Louis."

"Nice to meet you, a Louis."

Louis' smile grew, his arms crossing over his chest. His rucksack strap sagged off his shoulder.

"Just Louis is fine."

Harry tapped his newspaper against his opposite palm.

"Just Louis then," Harry said, Louis' rapid-fire chuckle bouncing around the empty hallway. "Well," Harry jutted his head back into his flat, the warmth of bed beckoning him, "I'll see you around, Just Louis."

"Yeah, definitely." Louis made no move to leave, his tongue toying with the simple silver hoop pierced through the left side of his bottom lip. "Sorry if I startled you, by the way. Totally didn't mean to."

"It's fine."

"I didn't realize anyone had moved in across the hall." His mouth twitched into a smirk. "You're a quiet neighbor."

"Yeah, I, erm...Sorry." Harry squeezed the rolled newspaper between his hands. "I'm not much of a morning person on weekends. Usually I'm a lot more polite. I'm kind of out of it right now."

"Same, except," Louis rubbed his hand over his face, stubble scratching under his palm, "it's every day that I'm not a morning person, not exclusively weekends. Working nights was the only option. I'm gonna sleep for, like," he yawned and stretched his arms up, "twelve hours straight."

"You're getting in now?"

"Yep. I own the tattoo shop down the block and we're open crazy hours on weekends. Tattoo Zou, if you've seen it."

Harry tried to remember what anything looked like besides the inside of his bare flat and the direct path to work. He drew a blank.

"Oh, yeah?" he murmured.

"Mmhmm."

Harry leaned his shoulder against his doorframe, doing another quick glance over Louis.

"Not many tattoos for a professional."

Louis quirked an eyebrow as he tongued his lip ring, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. It revealed a multitude of ink, mostly black outlines, but some pieces coloured in with red, his tattoos varying from detailed, shaded birds to the simplest of stick figures. The slivers of his bare, un-inked skin were lightly tanned, his muscles wiry.

"Ah," Harry said, nodding, studying a skull and bones on Louis' delicate wrist. "Cool."

"Any ink for you?"