Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

14.

Chapter Fourteen:

Louis had ended up making a solemn promise that their next ‘date’ would not involve water of any kind, and it was a promise he had resolved to keep. Which was why, repeating the promise in Harry’s ear to reassure him, he guided him onto the roof via the skylight on the top floor, giving him a leg up and then pulling up a chair to scramble up himself.

It had taken a lot of flirting and begging to persuade one of the plainer waitresses to tell him where the staff staircase was which would take them to the top floor (most people would have targeted the pretty waitresses, but the thing about flirting with pretty girls is that they tend to figure out what you’re up to and keep quiet, whereas the plainer ones are flattered by the attention and far easier to get information out of). It had taken a lot more work than that to get one of them to give him a key to said staircase, but seeing Harry’s hair flutter in the breeze as he stood on the edge of the rooftop and stared down over the sprawling hotel ground below, watching his excited expression as he looked down upon it all…it made all of Louis’ efforts worth it.

He didn’t turn around as Louis approached. His attentions were fixated on the land six floors below them, his green eyes flickering over every visible inch and committing all of it to memory – as if he thought that for some reason, the sprawling grey buildings and precisely-mown grass below were actually worth remembering. Louis couldn’t understand why something so simple and ordinary could possibly be worth such wide-eyed appreciation; Harry appeared to be catching his breath as he looked out upon it all, as if he was stunned by the sight, which confused Louis no end. He’d seen so many things that were more wonderful than that.

A dandelion puff, with all the seeds still clinging on, just after you’d picked it but just before you blew them all off. The patterns ice made on  the car windows in the dead of winter. Seeing his baby sister’s fingers curled around one of his only a few days after she’d been born. The flames of the candles on his birthday cake when he was six years old, and they’d leapt entrancingly high. Harry’s smile, an expression that took his breath away and made him feel delirious and almost dizzy when his eyes sparkled just so and the angle was exactly right. Those things, he never wanted to forget.

He couldn’t understand how a car park, some roads and a couple of obsessively trimmed fields could possibly enthral Harry so much when there were things like that to be seen.

The wind caught Harry’s already messy hair and tossed it around on top of his head, throwing it into his eyes and then out again, toying with it, basically. Louis almost felt jealous; he had a sudden and overwhelming urge to start sifting his hands through the thick curls, destroying Harry’s hair even more thoroughly. It was an absolute mess, the wind only intensifying that, and Louis wanted his hands to join it in the effort…to twist in Harry’s hair and ruin the vague shape that it had been in, turning it into a dishevelled curly mess. He shivered a little bit at the very thought of it.

They didn’t speak for a while; Harry was still staring, wide-eyed, struggling to take it all in, and Louis stayed silent, allowing him to savour and enjoy it all without distraction, maybe taking in a little bit of it himself, although he was far more captivated by the expression on Harry’s face as he looked at it all in amazement, shaking his head so that his curls bounced. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Harry’s fascination had cast a kind of spell over them; the only sound filtering through the silence was the wind whistling, and the faintly drifting sound of traffic from far below. There was a mutual silence in the air, and Louis didn’t want to be the one to break it. For once, he was happy to stay silent.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry said. “I mean, I know half of it is…rooftops and gardens and the golf course that you’ve been banned from and trees and roads and people wandering around, and bins and shops and alleyways and all sorts of rubbish, but it’s beautiful. All of it. Even the traffic…the way it glitters. The sun makes it all sparkle. Everything looks nicer when the sun shines, don’t you think?”