SOLITUDE

Chapter Four

"Does the fact that there is a curly haired kid sleeping on the sofa have anything to do with you not getting enough sleep?" Niall asked with a smirk, watching as Louis yawned repeatedly, absent-mindedly drumming his fingers on the mug of tea in his hand. 

"Let's just say I went to bed a bit late, alright?" 

Niall laughed a little, nodding as he flipped the pancake in the frying pan and smiling as he noticed the boy stumbling into the kitchen sleepily, rubbing his eyes, his hair completely dishevelled from sleep. Louis instantly sprung up from his seat, grabbing the young boy gently as he led him to one of the chairs, making Niall snort.

"He can walk, you know?"

Harry grinned at Niall, his eyes hooded with sleep and his smile lopsided. And then he turned to Louis. "Morning,"

"Morning, rockstar," Louis replied, glancing at the plate of pancakes that the Irish boy placed in front of Harry. "We're going out today,"

"Hmm?" Harry hummed, glancing up from the mug in Louis' hand that his gaze was fixed on. 

"Yeah, we need to get you stuff."

Harry's pupils widened, and he shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

 Louis leaned back in his seat, patiently waiting for Niall to finish making his pancake. "Clothes, all that, you know,"

"But-" Harry glanced down at his hands that rested on the table. "I thought-"

"Don't think," Louis mumbled, shaking his head, and Harry sighed, nodding.

"I can leave, anytime, ok?" 

"You're not though," Louis frowned. He can't keep the boy from doing things, of course. But Harry doesn't want to leave - he was sure of that. "The street is a horrible place to live."

"Used to it," Harry said, and Louis noticed that Harry says that a lot. He shrugged.

"Nevertheless, we're going," Louis stated, and Harry nodded, one of his curls falling in front of his left eye and Louis quickly sat on both his hands because if he didn't he would have literally jumped at the boy and tangle his hands in his curls.

Niall placed the plate in front of Louis, and stuffed one into his own mouth, leaning against the doorway. "I'll get going,"

"Thanks for the breakfast, mate," Louis said. "Any plans for today?"

"No problem. And yeah, going out with Josh. Remember him?"

Harry and Louis nod, both of them leaning down over their plates when Niall leaves the flat. Only then, they both look up, their eyes meeting and a beautiful blush spreads over Harry's cheeks.

-

The first thing Louis does when they walk into the shoe shop, is make his way over to where long shelves of vans were.

"Vans?" Harry read out from the stand, a small frown on his face and Louis laughed.

"Go on, rockstar. Pick something out,"

Harry would have - if he was the one paying. But it was Louis - and it didn't feel right.  

"You're not making this any easier, Harry Styles." Louis whined, and Harry let his eyes scan over the brown leather boots on the side. "Boots, Harry? Go pick, I'll wait here."

Harry nodded, sighing, as he ushered himself to move and stop being such an idiot, and Louis turned back to his precious vans.

"Hey," An all too familiar voice spoke, making Louis turn and gasp, his eyes stopping on the olive-skinned boy, his black hair quiffed up, half a can of hairspray most probably used on the soft black locks.

"Zayn! Hi, hi mate," Louis stuttered out, his eyes snapping over to Harry, and back to Zayn. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping. With Liam." Zayn nods his head to where Liam was flipping through a rack of some sort of leather bags, and Louis nodded shakily. "You?"

"Um... uh, well, I-"

"I'll do with those, Louis-" Harry stopped in his tracks, noticing Zayn. 

"Hi? Who's that?" Zayn's judging eyes scanned Harry, before turning to Louis with a questioning gaze. 

"Um. That's Harry..." Louis glanced at Harry, who was glancing between the two boys, a box of brown boots that seemed like they have been worn two hundred times in the past fifty years in his hands and his eyes dark, as he stared at Zayn.

"Oh! Is that the homeless kid? Louis, you seriously shouldn't let him tag along with you." 

Louis gasped, and Harry flinched under his coat. That's all he ever was and will be. The homeless kid. He sighed, curling into himself, voices in his head screaming at him, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. That is until he felt Louis' arm around his waist, some hushed voices, and Louis was tugging him away from Zayn, from the shoe shop, and towards a bench.

"Harry?" Louis whined, tugging at Harry's coat, pulling him close, the younger boy's head falling onto his shoulder, their arms wrapping around each other. They sat in complete silence, Harry breathing heavily against Louis' soft hooded jacket, eyes unblinking.

"I'm sorry-" Harry sighed after a few minutes, trying to pull away, only to be pulled closer by the older boy. 

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for." Louis whispered into the mop of curls. "Zayn's a dickhead. Ignore him."

Harry nodded, Louis finally letting him pull away from his tight grip, but kept both of his hands cupping Harry's chin, forcing them into eye contact. Green meeting blue. Blue meeting green.

"It's okay, Harry, yeah? I won't let that happen again." He let one of his thumbs brush down Harry's cheek to which Harry nodded a little, mouthing a thank you. It's only been a day, yet somehow some strange connection pulled him to Harry, almost telling him to never let go of him. Because Harry was something special.

"How about we get back to the flat, okay? I'll make you something to eat, you can curl up on the sofa and we can watch evening telly. How does that sound?" He murmured to Harry, and the young boy smiled and nodded in confirmation.

"Thank you, Louis," Harry whispered into his shoulder, as they hugged one more time before Louis pulled him up from the bench, and they made their way over to the car.

"What about those shoes?" Harry asked after five minutes of driving in comfortable silence, and Louis glanced at him, shrugging and grinning.

"You can borrow one pair of mine, until we buy some. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry nodded, turning his head back to the window.

And he didn't even notice when they drove past his old home; the corner of the brick road where he spent five years with his back against the cold bricks of the old warehouse. He didn't even notice the man flipping through the bins, checking behind the fences, looking for him. Looking for Harry. And he didn't even notice when the man turned around when Louis stopped at the pedestrian crossing and saw Harry, comfortably seated in the car of a twenty year old boy, with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips.

He didn't notice the trouble he just got himself into.