Strawberry Milk

4

In the morning, Louis rubs the sleep out of his eyes only to be faced with walls that are definitely not his, and to blankets that don't smell like come. It takes him a while to realise he's at Harry's- curly-haired Harry's- who paints his nails and drinks strawberry milk.

Then he hears the voice cutting through the silence of the flat, "If I were a boooooy, even just for a daaay," and Louis can't help the laugh that rolls out of his lips as he turns his face into the velveteen pillow. He's considering stealing the linen on it, he really is.

He rolls out of Harry's bed, making it up really fast, which is new because he hasn't made his own bed since he lived back at home. He stretches quickly, pulling up his jeans and finally stumbling into the kitchen. Harry looks soft with matted curls and bright eyes, sprinkling sprinkles on bread. Louis notices he is only in his pants. His pants that hug his hips just tight enough for his love handles to poke over the side. Louis takes note of this, and also the fact that Harry's legs are completely hairless. He also takes note of the fact that he finds Harry really...pretty. Not just pretty in the way he finds girls pretty despite having no interest in them, and not pretty in the way he finds the guys he wants to bone pretty, but pretty in the way that he thinks Harry could be shooting milk out his nose and still be just as pretty. It's very confusing.

He blinks, looking away. "Beyonce?" he says.

Harry looks up startled, and he flushes down to his chest.

Louis can't help but to laugh loud, throwing his head back. "S'alright, mate, everyone loves them some Beyoncé," he winks, looking at what Harry's doing, "now whatch'ya making?"

Harry smiles through squinted eyes. "Um, some fairy bread. I made you some, too." He gestures toward the other plate on the table that has a slice of bread cut in half, covered in pink sprinkles and small slices of bananas.

"Wow." Louis breathes. He doesn't mean to say it, but he does.

"What?" Harry asks.

"Just, I don't know, the way you live. I'm a bit jealous, really." He means it too, because everything is so neat and lovely and soft, and Louis sort of likes it compared to his own slobby life of greasy foods and bags of chips.

Harry doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Louis chews at his breakfast, humming when he tastes how yummy it is.

"You shouldn't be," Harry finally says, not looking up as he picks at a banana.

Louis wants to question it, make Harry sit down and explain, but he just sighs, (because he doesn't even know him) watching as Harry pours him a glass of strawberry milk.

"Send my best regards to the chef, yeah?" He says softly, because he feels the tension rising and Niall once gave him an award for being the one to kill the elephant in the room (granted it was scribbled on a piece of paper and Niall was drunk, but nevertheless.)

Harry smiles up at him. "He's on break right now, but I'll be sure to tell him when he gets back."

And it wasn't that funny, but Louis laughs hard and long until his face is crimson and there are tears in his eyes, because he thinks it's what Harry needs.

(Before he leaves, he says thank you a million times, ushering them out and out until Harry is grinning so wide his dimples look permanent and his cheeks are enveloped in a light pink. He makes sure to get Harry's number and promises to text him when he gets back to his flat.

And he does. Sending him a bunch of little 'X's' and smiley faces.

When he walks in, Zayn and Liam are curled up on the couch together, and Louis groans,

"God, I'm already disgusted," he says, leaving them alone whilst he gathers his clothes, all of a sudden deciding he wants to wash them.

Maybe because it has been awhile or maybe because he's feeling inspired- whatever.)