Cranberry Juice |l.s.|

Cranberry Juice

It's Christmas Eve and as Louis walks down the street to the shops, he sees families through windows. Some are gathered around the tree, hanging ornaments. Others are eating around the dining table, having a roast and mashed potatoes, and whatever else they prepared. It doesn't make him feel any better about missing out on spending the holidays with his family. Actually, this is probably the most depressing and lonely birthday he's had yet, and he once had a birthday party no one showed up to.

It's hard to think too deeply about that at the moment because he's fighting against the cold. He's never been one for snow, despite his love for a white Christmas, and the snow is hitting his face harshly. He should have taken the subway on a night this cold, but he doesn't have any spare change, and he's not in the mood to deal with the sterile lighting and the unsettling crowds. He can't seem to get to the shops fast enough, even with his north face coat and his favorite beanie. Once he's inside, he lets out a breath of relief at the warmth, his tensed shoulders dropping and his hands falling to his sides rather than remaining buried in his pockets. He doesn't bother grabbing a basket, heading for the one thing he faced the winter for. He thinks about his family, probably having bought one too many bottles of the cranberry juice he doesn't seem to have yet. He was always untimely, getting things done last minute.

Once he reaches the juice aisle, he feels another wave of relief flood his body, seeing one last bottle on the shelf. He hurries over, reaching for it, but clearly not seeing the other hand reach until the juice is gone from his line of vision. His gaze instantly lifts to the owner of the hand, his eyes meeting a shade of green he never thought he'd see again. Eyebrows raised, smirking lips, dimples more prominent than ever, in all his glory, stands Harry Styles, with Louis' cranberry juice in his hands.

"You look as shocked as I feel. Trust me, I didn't plan this," Harry says. Louis swallows, noticing his voice has grown an octave or two deeper since the last time they'd spoken. His hair is also grown out, which suits him better than Louis could have ever guessed.

"Good to see you too," Louis scoffs, eying the man up and down. He stops at the bottom of the long coat when he sees glittering gold boots. He raises his eyebrows in question, looking back up. "Chelsea boots, really?"

"You're just a delight to be around, aren't you?" Harry replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"As if you'd know," Louis frowns. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a home to get back to." He tries grabbing for the drink in Harry's hand, only for Harry to move his hand so that it's higher in the air.

"Nice try, tiny," Harry laughs cockily. God, the ego he has makes Louis nauseous. When he opens his mouth to reply, they both turn at the sound of a child's voice.

"Dad!" Louis sees the spitting image of Harry running up to them, and it all clicks. He can practically feel the color draining from his face. "I got the carrots for the reindeer! Did you get Santa's juice?" The kid stops when he sees Louis, his head tilting in surprise. "Oh, hey Mr. Louis. What are you doing with my dad? Shouldn't you be over the ocean?"

"Hey Emerson," Louis smiles. "We just happened to bump into each other, and I couldn't get a plane ticket in time for Christmas."

"I'm sorry, do you two already know each other?" Harry asks, an edge to his voice that Louis quite frankly doesn't appreciate.

"Mr. Louis is my tutor," Emerson explains. Louis turns to Harry, smiling weakly. Harry just returns a tight-lipped smile, though his eyes show complete and utter annoyance. Louis can understand that feeling very well at the moment. Regardless, he feels himself deflate. He knows what he has to do, and as painful as it is, he'd be incredibly selfish if he were to take the drink from this father and child on Christmas Eve.