It's Getting Cold These Days [Larry Stylinson AU]

One

Niall watched him again. He acted like Harry didn't see the glances and frowns and always moved far outside Harry's personal bubble. Despite the pity in his eyes, Harry had grown accustomed to the distance to the point where he found comfort in it. Whether or not Niall was cautious of him or the stench of cigarettes he bore with him, it relaxed him.

Cinnamon and vanilla left traces in the air that hung about even as the door opened. Gravel swam in watery footprints left when costumers entered and when they sat down. Harry had since early forenoon abandoned the counter to mop the floors. The quick task turned everlasting as rush hour had come and new people with new shoes welled in for a coffee.

He switched his grip on the mop. Fresh pools popped up wherever his gaze strayed. Red marks bloomed out over his palm, stinging with each sweep, matching his parched knuckles.

The final pool lay by the feet of a young couple. Before he arrived at the table, they entwined their fingers. They put their hot beverages in danger as they leaned close to each other, lost in wonder, as if this was a love nest and not a workplace.

He dragged himself to the back of the shop. Soft murmuring and clinking cups trickled through gaps in the door. If he stopped listening, the silence of the kitchen embraced him. The loaves had cooled on their trays, as had his tea from this morning. Nick had offered his cuppa when Harry arrived fifteen minutes late with circles like coal under his eyes. Nick always sweetened it too much.

Harry picked the bandana from his back pocket and stepped in front of a tiny mirror in level with his head. Dust had rendered it useless. The upper half still reflected his face. He gathered his hair in a fist, wrapped the fabric around his skull and knotted it. A handful of bangs fell over his eyes.

All seats had emptied when Harry returned. Only the young couple still sipped their coffee. Nick leaned over the counter and gauged them, chin in his palm, head slanted. He perked up when Harry closed the door.

"You fixed your hair," he said.

Harry reached for the mop. Nick's fingers curled around his wrist. Cocoa powder stained his skin.

"Niall took care of that," he said. He cocked his head to the couple. "Want to grab a bagel when those two head out?"

"I won't have room for dinner," Harry said.

"There's also frappe, latte, Irish-"

"Nick."

The door opened behind them. It missed Harry by an inch. A bad dye-job bared itself before them when Niall stuck his head out.

"I'll be on my way," he said. He took Harry's stare for goodbye and left out the back.

Breaking from deep thought, Nick stepped closer and dipped his fingertips into the corners of Harry's mouth. He offered a smile.

"Would it matter that much to just..." He twisted Harry's mouth into a grin without resistance. The wry smile stayed until one of his fingers slipped out. Harry stepped away.

"I'm just tired."

The creases by Nick's mouth smoothened out as he nodded. "Okay."

The evening howled through the café as the door opened. Their heads swerved towards the sound to find a frostbitten man trudging up to the counter. Something warm rushed up Harry's spine. This was comfort.

"Liam. Boyfriend, right?" Nick said.

Harry nodded. "I'm using my break now."

On their way towards the back door, Harry fumbled with a cigarette. Liam lagged behind, grasping his thin shirt. Winter breathed goose bumps on their skin and the heat fell away behind them. Harry shot out a plume of smoke and hummed as. He leaned over the narrow railing. Snow crunched under his elbows.