Edinburgh is for Lovers (l.s.)

xii.

On Sunday morning, Harry had met Henry one last time at the cafe by his flat. He had his messenger bag and suitcase, ready to head to the train station after breakfast. He'd finished the manuscript on Friday night, so he and Henry spent the morning talking about non work related things. They discussed their travels, families, and loves. Harry had blushed and shook his head awkwardly when Henry asked if he had a girl waiting for him back in London. He'd blushed even more when Henry asked if he had a boy waiting for him back in London instead? He still shook his head no. Hopefully, his boy was waiting for him in Edinburgh.
After breakfast, Henry gave Harry a shaky hug and thanked him for all the time he'd dedicated to him and his book in the last few weeks. He wished Harry lots of love and happiness, and Harry did the same, promising to keep in touch, and congratulating him on a beautiful book.

A little after noon, Harry boarded the train to Edinburgh. He tucked his suitcase in the overhead, his messenger bag under his seat, and settled in for the trip. When he stepped out into the streets of Edinburgh a little over an hour later, he felt lighter. He took his bags right to the hotel to check in. It felt nice, and familiar, and Harry decided to get dinner and try and calm his nerves for the evening before going to the cafe early the next morning. Harry woke early Monday morning, ready to get to the cafe when it opened at 8:00. He dressed in slim, light wash jeans and his green jumper, slipped his shoes on, and left the hotel at 7:50.
The walk to the cafe was short and chilly, but Harry grinned as he watched the sun rise over the city. He slipped inside the cafe moments after open, grabbing a quick coffee and making his way to the usual table in the empty cafe.

He spent the whole day at the cafe, no book to kill time, and no Louis. Harry left again at closing time, disappointed and alone. He walked back to his hotel in the cool evening air, picking up takeaway on his way, and shut himself in his room all night. He fell asleep to the fuzzy radio playing old love songs and the thought of seeing Louis.
Tuesday and Wednesday were much the same. Harry sat at the cafe from open to close. He stopped at a book shop on Tuesday evening, so he at least had something to distract him while he waited.
He waited.
He finished the book on Wednesday afternoon, and Louis still hadn't come into the cafe. Harry's heart and stomach hurt constantly as he stared at the empty seat in front of him. He worried that maybe Louis moved, or maybe something happened to him...and he had no way of knowing.
At closing time on Wednesday, Harry tucked his book under his arm and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He didn't bother getting dinner on the way, he just went straight to his hotel, tucking himself into bed as soon as he got back to his room. He laid in the dark in his hotel room, the radio playing quietly in the background. He decided that if Louis didn't come to the cafe by closing time on Friday, he'd have to call Mr. Oliver and tell him it didn't work out with the new author.... that he needed a flight home.

Thursday felt like the longest day of Harry's life. He got to the cafe again at opening. The boy working behind the counter was expecting him at this point, and made his coffee before even ringing him up. Harry thanked him and sat down at his table. He brought Henry's manuscript with him to reread without having to edit it as he went. It was good that he did because he managed to get through more than half of the book by the time the shop closed again, no Louis in sight. Harry frowned as he packed his book back into his bag and dumped his cup in the dish bin. The disappointment of not seeing Louis was familiar now, but it hurt even more knowing that tomorrow was his last chance.

Harry didn't go directly back to his hotel that night. He had remembered a jacket, and tugged it on over his jumper. He slipped his hands in the pockets and walked out into the night. The streets were busier than he'd seen them. Uni students walked in groups in and out of local pubs, and the city felt alive. Harry walked with no direction, he walked completely unintentionally past the speakeasy that he and Louis had gone to that last night. He walked down the stone steps and pushed the door open slightly. The bar room wasn't too busy, and Louis clearly wasn't there, so he shut the door and walked back up the steps.
He wandered the city for another hour. It was long past sunset, and the streetlights warmed the sidewalks and walls of every brick building he passed. When he finally felt slightly tired, Harry turned back towards his hotel and walked on. He'd gone further than he thought, and the twenty two blocks back to the hotel had him dead on his feet. He was physically and emotionally exhausted as he took the lift up to his floor and walked into his hotel room. He drew the curtains shut and stripped down to his pants. He walked to the attached bathroom and turned the shower water as hot as he could handle. The steam and constant stream of water loosened his muscles, but it did nothing for his mind.
Harry fell asleep in silence that night, not in the mood for old love songs or false hope for tomorrow.
Harry naturally woke up a little after 4:00 a.m., his body absolutely refusing to let him fall back asleep. He sat in the darkness until the sun started to rise.
With sleep heavy eyes, Harry pushed himself out of bed and pulled on his jeans and then grabbed his green jumper again. He tugged it over his messy curls and tucked the longest curl behind his ear. He grabbed Henry's manuscript and tucked it in his bag, along with a jacket and his wallet, and left his hotel room early.
He walked around city centre for an hour before the cafe opened, standing outside by ten to eight. He said good morning to the boy that was working that morning, got his usual coffee, and sat at his table. He opened Henry's book right away, not giving himself time to get caught up in over thinking.
The first two hours in the shop passed the quickest, until he finished Henry's book and had nothing to do. He ordered an herbal tea at 10:00 a.m., already too anxious to add another coffee to the mix. Harry looked up every time the door to the cafe opened, his heart pounding a little harder each time as the day went on.
It was early afternoon, and Harry was miserable. He absentmindedly flipped through the pages of Henry's manuscript, not absorbing any of the words, just giving himself something to do. He'd pretty much resigned to the fact that Louis wasn't coming.
There were still a few hours until close, but as the cafe emptied in the slow afternoon, Harry started to pack up his things. He pulled his jacket from his bag and tucked the manuscript back in. He set the bag on the table to pull his jacket on as the shop door opened again.

Harry turned to check like he had all day, no spark of hope this time, just habit. His eyes widened as he watched the man at the door, his windswept hair in a disarray, and his glasses low on his nose, blue eyes hidden behind the glass.

"Louis." Harry gasped aloud unintentionally, his heart pounding against his ribs.