Hot Chocolate☕ || L.S. (Complete) ✔️

☕three☕

"Oh yummy! You got the bunny-shaped kind," Harry marvelled as he watched Louis climb up and sling the bag of marsh-mellows onto the floor.

"Oh shut up. These things weren't exactly the cheapest thing to come by." Louis didn't want to admit it, but Harry was actually not that bad a kid to hang around.

The lad was a curious little dwarf that asked good questions and listened to Louis rant. They'd hung out by that same spot in front of Harry's house for a week straight before Harry suggested they retreat to Harry's tree-house in his backyard.

"Want me to pay you back?"

Louis' eye twitched as he fixed Harry's filthy collar.

"You couldn't possibly be able to pay me back, you can't even count."

"When my business sells better, I'll give you all your money back and then some."

The days got warmer it seemed, especially when Harry was nearby. Harry's wound healed progressively and Louis' feelings for him only strengthened.

It made him sick that he couldn't even attempt to ditch the young boy because not only did he really want to kiss him so hard his curls would deflate, but he also was curious as to Harry's family life and how his mom treated him. It couldn't be good, because Harry was rarely ever in the house, and the weather outside was decreasing rapidly. He'd never tell the little angel that, though.

Louis scoffed at how sentimental he was becoming. Harry was doing this to him. Louis never cared about people. His mother was OK, somewhat. Everyone else can chew on a tampon.

The last couple of days were spent with Louis levitating his lonely self to the cute little boy with the crappy hot chocolate, which is odd as Louis is the youngest misanthropist that mother nature ever had the displeasure of producing.

Louis aided him in the art of hot chocolate making and in return, Louis ranted and raved about his daily plights that he'd spent the whole day having to cope with. From snot-nosed school kids, to inadequate teachers who's excuse for not knowing how to spell 'division' is that they're math teachers.

"Don't worry about it," he eased stepping off of the ladder and onto the floor of the tree-house. It was quite roomy and Louis was told that it'd been here when he and his mum moved in. "Told you, just don't forget about us poor people when you become a model or something once you hit 18."

Harry baffled as his face reddened. "You never told me that before."

Fucking hell, that might have been something Louis may have thought in his head.

"Louis thinks I'm pretty," Harry sing-songs.

Louis refused to meet Harry's eye as he finally made his way in fully and focused on Harry's stack of dusty comics. "These yours?"

"Yes, Louis, you seen those before but Lou...."

"Neat-o. I don't know what you mean about you not being smart. These are brilliant selections of-"

"You don't even read comics." Harry was very observant, Louis observed. Wow. Observe-ception.

"I make up my own stories for the characters. It's a lot of fun since the characters are already drawn." Harry yawns and lays on his stomach, feet swinging back in forth as he looks through the old comics. "The last people who lived here left 'em. I'm so lucky."

"Haz, you're anything but lucky in my eyes." Louis whistles an unfamiliar tune, mind racing with all the questions he has for this beautiful boy at his feet. "Look, Haz. I've been meaning to ask you about your home life....and your mum."

Harry flinched his hand away from where Louis' assuming it was aiming to get a touch of Louis, like the boy always seemed to do. It was comforting, but Louis had a barrier for crying out loud. Ones made especially for cute, moon-eyed curly-haired boys that you shamelessly think of while in the shower. What? Louis' too young to be thinking about that? Tough shit, Louis was advanced for his age, so of course he wasn't ignorant to sexual desires.

"What about her?" he mumbled.

Louis moved his body back to the wall opposite the exit and Harry mirrored his movements."What's she like to you and why don't I ever see you in the house much?"

Harry's blush remained as he focused on the quiet fall of snow outside. "She doesn't like me much. Says I look too much like my dad."

Ah, Louis understood. She was that type of parent. Where she wasn't enough for her boyfriend, who leaves after knocking the girl up, creating a distaste for the child who shares it's looks with the father. Harry's mum was predictably the type of woman who blames Harry for the father's leaving. Louis hated selfish parents like that.

"Let me guess, it's your fault he left-"

"Yes. He liked kissing me more than he did her."

Louis prepared his rant about the carelessness of parents today, the further neglect on society for producing aidless shit like MTV that romanticizes the shit on a daily basis, but nothing could have prepared the winding cogs centering his brain for this type of confession. He turned to study Harry's face, not sure if he'd heard correctly, to find Harry glancing back at him, a mixture of innocence and acceptance.

"Harry that's...." Louis couldn't find the vocabulary suitable for Harry's ears to call this. "Why would any mother treat her son like that?" Sure his own mother wasn't saint Mary herself but she'd never allow anything like that to happen.

"It's OK. He's gone now. It's the winter, right? He might be back again when the sun comes back with all the pretty flowers. I don't like flowers much anymore."

Louis said nothing.

He might have wrapped a dainty arm around Harry's neck and scratched softly at the nape of his curls, but overall, Louis said nothing.

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