Louis was almost too fixated to notice that Harry had sat down on his mattress opposite Louis. The green eyed lad just sat there for a moment, every now and again his mouth opening, then shutting again as if trying to spit out the words which were obviously on the tip of his tongue.
“Do you want to talk about what happened? I’ve heard that talking through things makes it better, we could try that?”
Ah- so Harry was one of ‘those’ types of people. The fix it people, the self-proclaimed pseudoscientist who would mean the best by trying to talk things through, trying to get him to look at a Rorschach test and to tell him all his problems, then that would make everything magically better.
Louis tried not to be so bitter but honestly there …show more content…
He mindlessly tugged his fingers through tufts of the creature’s fur.
“How did you manage to get this many animals in a London flat anyway Styles? What’s the appeal of a one-eyed cat, another that’s missing a tail, a hairless cat and I don’t know about the puppy but I feel like there is a kind of running theme here. Is ugly-cute your kind of thing?”
Harry looked up and chuckled ever so slightly shaking his head and moving down to pet the two creatures sprawled over his bed. The third cat, Pluto, was still lurking in the doorway, looking to Louis with his fur …show more content…
Harry was definitely the helper type. The fix-it kind of guy. The ever optimistic, living incarnation of Imagine by John Lennon, a regular mother Theresa. In hindsight, Louis was surprised his pessimistic heart had even considered falling for this lad. They were two parallel lines that should never have intersected and yet somehow they did. What an odd thing fate was.
“Are you trying to tell me that hissing creature has more heart than a cute, pet shop, fluff ball? I’ll believe it when I see it.” He chuckled faintly, leaning back on the beanbag.
“I don’t know Lou- you two are both rather alike in that way,” He teased smirking ever so slightly. Louis really was rubbing off on the lad.
“Shut up Styles, I’m not a volatile little shit.”
Harry found himself smiling, lying down on his mattress, hands tucking themselves up behind his head. His shirt rose up slightly to expose a slither of a hipbone. Louis looked once then turned away, nibbling on his lip. He made a mental note of the ink stains that lay there, pressed against his skin and wondered what exactly the whole image was, wondered if he would even have a chance to see the tattoo in its
“Do you want to talk about what happened? I’ve heard that talking through things makes it better, we could try that?”
Ah- so Harry was one of ‘those’ types of people. The fix it people, the self-proclaimed pseudoscientist who would mean the best by trying to talk things through, trying to get him to look at a Rorschach test and to tell him all his problems, then that would make everything magically better.
Louis tried not to be so bitter but honestly there …show more content…
He mindlessly tugged his fingers through tufts of the creature’s fur.
“How did you manage to get this many animals in a London flat anyway Styles? What’s the appeal of a one-eyed cat, another that’s missing a tail, a hairless cat and I don’t know about the puppy but I feel like there is a kind of running theme here. Is ugly-cute your kind of thing?”
Harry looked up and chuckled ever so slightly shaking his head and moving down to pet the two creatures sprawled over his bed. The third cat, Pluto, was still lurking in the doorway, looking to Louis with his fur …show more content…
Harry was definitely the helper type. The fix-it kind of guy. The ever optimistic, living incarnation of Imagine by John Lennon, a regular mother Theresa. In hindsight, Louis was surprised his pessimistic heart had even considered falling for this lad. They were two parallel lines that should never have intersected and yet somehow they did. What an odd thing fate was.
“Are you trying to tell me that hissing creature has more heart than a cute, pet shop, fluff ball? I’ll believe it when I see it.” He chuckled faintly, leaning back on the beanbag.
“I don’t know Lou- you two are both rather alike in that way,” He teased smirking ever so slightly. Louis really was rubbing off on the lad.
“Shut up Styles, I’m not a volatile little shit.”
Harry found himself smiling, lying down on his mattress, hands tucking themselves up behind his head. His shirt rose up slightly to expose a slither of a hipbone. Louis looked once then turned away, nibbling on his lip. He made a mental note of the ink stains that lay there, pressed against his skin and wondered what exactly the whole image was, wondered if he would even have a chance to see the tattoo in its