The Sound of Love and Coffee

by Alli_chasing_dreams

Summary:

Louis, 25, runs a café in London called 28 Cups with his best friend Liam. Though he appears tough, he's kind-hearted and devoted to his family, especially after his mother’s death. As the oldest of seven siblings, he balances his café with caring for them. Romance hasn’t been a priority—until he meets Harry.

Harry, 23, is an aspiring singer-songwriter, working on his first EP while performing at small venues. Shy and a hopeless romantic, he expresses himself through his music and is supported by his family, especially his best friend Niall.

Louis and Harry meet at a party and form an instant connection. As Harry returns to the café, their bond grows, and they begin to share dreams and struggles. Despite their feelings, they hesitate—Louis is busy with his café and family, while Harry wonders if Louis feels the same. The breakthrough comes when Harry invites Louis to a performance, and afterward, their connection deepens.

As their relationship develops, they face challenges—Louis’s chaotic family and Harry’s rising career—but they support each other and find balance, discovering that love can flourish even in busy lives.

Chapter 1: First Impressions

It was a warm Monday morning. Louis, busy in his café as usual, as Zayn enters. Always a mischief smile on his face he’s approaching Louis. “Hey mate” he greets him, “vas happenin?”. Louis glances up from his tablet where he was just checking the latest deliveries he placed. “Hey” he simply replies. “Friday, 8pm, at the rooftop bar, I’ll be DJing there. Come around” Zayn said. Louis hesitated for a moment, he sure isn’t someone who would miss a party, but he’s got a busy weekend ahead. “I don’t know, Zayn,” Louis said slowly. “This weekend’s looking pretty crazy. I’ve got a lot to sort out.” Zayn’s smile didn’t waver. “Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s just a few hours. You could use a break, and it’d be great to have you there.” Louis rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted. “I guess I could try to swing by. It’s just... if anything comes up, I might have to bail.” Zayn nodded enthusiastically. “Fair enough. Just do your best. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Louis gave a small, reluctant smile. “Alright, I’ll be there if I can. Just send me the details.” Zayn, heading toward the door says “Will do! See you Friday!”
Louis watched him leave, shaking his head slightly but already rearranging his plans in his mind. “Guess I’ll make it work,” he muttered to himself.
The following Friday Louis managed to shuffle around his busy day and made it to the party with a little delay. Zayn was just at the turntables as Louis arrived with Liam, his best friend and business partner in tow. They soon made their way to the bar. Ever the socialising person Louis found himself chatting in a larger group when he spotted a young, tall man with long curly hair.
As the party continues, the atmosphere is lively, with music playing and laughter filling the air. Zayn joined the group in the meantime as he finished his set. Louis, typically confident and relaxed, finds his attention repeatedly drawn to this guy across the room. Harry, with his long, curly hair slightly tousled, is a striking figure in the crowd. He's wearing a blue button-up shirt, slightly unbuttoned to reveal his chest tattoos, paired with black skinny jeans that fit him perfectly and Chelsea boots that add a classic touch. The look is completed with painted nails and several rings adorning his fingers.
Louis can't help but steal glances at Harry, intrigued by his unique style and the effortless way he carries himself. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the night air, as he continues to watch Harry from across the room. Zayn, ever perceptive, exhales a puff of smoke and notices the direction of Louis’ gaze. He smirks, sidling up to Louis and nudging him with his elbow. “You’ve got your eyes on him, haven’t you?” Zayn teases, a playful glint in his eye as he takes another drag. Louis, always quick with a comeback, smirks and brushes it off, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “Nah, just appreciating the view,” he jokes, trying to play it cool despite the slight flush creeping up his neck.
Despite Zayn’s teasing, Louis finds himself unable to resist striking up a conversation with Harry. He approaches him with a friendly smile, the warm glow from the dim party lights catching the edges of his cigarette. “Hey, great shirt,” Louis starts, nodding towards Harry’s blue button-up.
Harry looks up, his long curls falling into his face as he grins. “Thanks! I’m a bit of a sucker for vintage finds,” he replies, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Louis chuckles, extending his hand. “I’m Louis, by the way.”
Harry takes Louis’s hand with a firm shake. “Harry. Nice to meet you.”
As they talk, Louis is captivated not just by Harry’s striking appearance but by the magnetic pull of his personality. Harry’s eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as he shares stories about his latest songwriting projects and fashion inspirations. Louis, leaning against the bar with his cigarette between his fingers, finds himself drawn into Harry’s world. They discover they both have a deep appreciation for eclectic fashion, with Harry discussing his love for mixing vintage pieces with modern trends, while Louis shares his own passion for football and the social scene around his café.
Their conversation flows easily, with bursts of laughter and playful teasing. Louis is impressed by how thoughtful and well-spoken Harry is, and Harry seems genuinely interested in Louis’ stories about running *28 Cups*. When Harry talks about his songwriting, his eyes light up with excitement. He shares his latest lyrics and how his own experiences inspire him. Louis listens closely, feeling more and more captivated by Harry’s creativity and passion. The more they talk, the more Louis is drawn to Harry’s charm, realising there’s something special about him beyond just his looks.
As the night goes on, Louis realises he’s more than just a little interested in Harry. Their conversation has revealed layers of Harry’s personality that made him curious to get to know him better, and he finds himself captivated by the way Harry’s eyes light up when he talks about his passions. From the way Harry smiles at him, Louis wonders if the feeling might be mutual.
As the evening draws to a close, the energy between Louis and Harry is undeniable. The party starts to wind down, and the crowd thins out, leaving the two of them standing near the bar, caught up in their conversation. The music fades into the background, and it feels like they’re the only two people in the room.
Louis glances at his watch, realising it’s getting late, and reluctantly mentions that he should probably head home. Harry nods, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes, but he smiles, not wanting to break the moment.
They walk out of the bar together. There’s a pause as they stand on the sidewalk, neither wanting the evening to end. Louis, still feeling the warmth of their connection, hesitates for a moment before turning to Harry.
“Well, this was fun,” Louis says, his tone soft but sincere.
“Yeah, it really was,” Harry agrees, his voice carrying the same reluctance to say goodbye.
There’s a brief silence, and for a moment, it seems like they might part ways without saying more. But just as Louis is about to step away, Harry reaches out and lightly touches his arm.
“Maybe we’ll run into each other again,” Harry says, a hopeful note in his voice.
Louis smiles, his dimples showing. “Yeah, maybe we will.”
With that, they exchange a final look, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they’ve made, before they turn and head in opposite directions. As they walk away, both can’t help but glance back, already wondering when their paths will cross again.

Chapter 2: Almost, Maybe

Summary:

After a night at a party, Louis—still hungover—returns to his café where Liam teases him about disappearing during the night. Louis had been caught up talking to Harry, a friend of Zayn’s, and the memory of that connection lingers in his mind.

Harry, on the other hand, remembers their conversation just as vividly. During his jog the next morning, he passes by Louis’ café but doesn’t stop, and they miss each other by a split second. As days pass, both men go about their lives—Louis managing the café and supporting his family, Harry working on his music—but they both keep thinking about each other. Their friends, Liam, Zayn, and Niall, notice and encourage them to not let the moment slip away. Despite their busy lives, both Louis and Harry begin to wonder: what if?

Opening the café the next morning was a bit of a challenge for Louis. Still feeling the effects of the party, he dragged himself out of his apartment, the sunlight only making his headache worse. As he arrived at the café, Liam was already there, leaning against the door with a grin.
“Hey, long night, huh?” Liam teased, eyeing Louis' dishevelled appearance.
Louis managed a slight smile, his sunglasses doing their best to hide the tiredness in his eyes. “You could say that.”
Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “You bailed on me, mate. Left me to fend for myself at that party.”
Louis chuckled weakly. “Sorry about that, mate. Got caught up in... something.”
Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but deciding to let it go for now. “Well, you owe me one. Don’t think you’re getting out of opening duties just because you’re hungover.”
Louis laughed, the sound a bit rough, but it felt good. “Fair enough. I’ll make it up to you.” He pushed open the door to the café, already feeling a bit better as they stepped inside and the familiar scent of fresh coffee greeted them.
Meanwhile, Harry had a slower start to the day. During his morning jog, he found himself passing by Louis’ café. He didn’t enter though and quickly passed by, kinda hoping Louis wouldn’t see him like this—all sweaty, with his hair tied up in a messy bun. As he jogged past, he only looked back for a moment, catching a glimpse of Louis behind the counter, chatting with a customer. The moment Harry looked away, Louis glanced up, but it was just a second too late. Louis caught a brief flash of someone familiar but wasn’t sure if it was Harry.
Later that day, Zayn came into the café with a big smile. “Hey Tommo!” he shouted. “Thought you’d only stay a few hours last night. Turns out you were one of the last to leave.”
Louis, feeling better after a few coffees, energy drinks, and some aspirin, snapped back with a grin, “Well, just for you, mate.”
Zayn started laughing. “Me? I didn’t see you again after you started talking to Haz.”
Louis felt a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks but tried to play it cool. “You could’ve joined us, you know.”
Zayn grinned, clearly enjoying Louis’ reaction. “I might have if I’d known you’d be so entertaining. So, how was it?”
Louis shrugged, still a bit flustered but smiling. “Yeah well, he’s pretty interesting. We talked about a lot of things.”
Zayn raised an eyebrow, noticing Louis’ slightly distracted look. “Sounds like there might be more to that conversation. You seemed pretty engaged.”
Louis shifted slightly, trying to deflect. “Maybe. We’ll see if anything comes of it.”
Zayn’s grin widened. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. And who knows, maybe you’ll see him again soon.”
Louis chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. Anyway, let’s focus on getting through today. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a busy one.”
With that, the two friends continued their chat, but Louis couldn’t help thinking about the possibility of seeing Harry again. The idea lingered in the back of his mind, making him wonder if their paths might cross once more.
While Louis and Zayn were chatting at the café, Harry had his own plans for the day. After his morning jog, he headed back to his apartment, quickly showered, and decided to meet up with his best friend, Niall, for lunch. They often caught up at a small, relaxed diner a few corners from Harry's place—a favourite spot for both of them.
When Harry arrived, Niall was already there, sitting at their usual booth with a huge grin. “There he is! Took you long enough,” Niall teased as Harry slid into the seat opposite him.
“Had to get my run in first,” Harry replied with a smirk. “Anyway, how was your night?”
Niall grinned. “Oh, it was grand! But I was wondering where you disappeared to after the party started getting good. You left me hanging, man.”
Harry shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just needed some air, you know? I met this guy, Louis—Zayn’s mate. We had a good chat, and I kinda lost track of time.”
Niall raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh yeah? What’s he like?”
Harry hesitated for a second, unsure how to sum up Louis. “He’s... interesting. Runs a café, knows his coffee, and has this way of making you feel like you’ve known him forever, even if you’ve just met.”
Niall smirked. “Sounds like someone made an impression.”
Harry rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe. I’m not sure what’s going to come of it, though. We didn’t even exchange numbers or anything.”
Niall took another bite of his pizza, considering this. “Well, if it’s meant to be, you’ll see him again. And if not, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, as they say.”
Harry nodded, though he couldn’t quite shake the thought of Louis.
The next days for Louis were busy, as usual, with the café bustling with customers and supporting his family whenever he could. He threw himself into work, managing the staff and keeping everything running smoothly. But every now and then, his thoughts drifted to Harry. He found himself glancing at the door whenever a customer entered, half-expecting to see Harry walk in. Each time it wasn’t him, Louis would shake his head, telling himself not to be so distracted.
Liam, ever the observant friend, noticed Louis’ occasional distant look. “Still thinking about that guy from the party?” he teased one afternoon.
Louis rolled his eyes, trying to brush it off. “Nah, just tired, mate. Lots to do around here and at home.”
Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, you’re busy, but I know you, Tommo. You’ve got that look.”
“What look Payno?” Louis asked, pretending to focus on the inventory, but his slight smile gave him away.
“The look you get when someone’s on your mind,” Liam replied, crossing his arms and grinning. “Come on, admit it. You’ve been thinking about him.”
Louis sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Alright, maybe a little. But what’s the point? I haven’t got time to get too involved with someone right now, anyway. Between the café, my family, and everything else... I can’t afford any distractions.”
Liam chuckled, not buying his excuse. “You say that like you’re not already distracted. Look, I get it—you’ve got a lot on your plate. But maybe that’s all the more reason to let yourself have a bit of fun. You don’t have to dive into anything serious. Just see where it goes.”
Louis hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that simple, though. I’ve got responsibilities. I can’t just... you know, go off chasing someone because of a few good conversations.”
“Why not?” Liam countered. “You’ve been running this place like a well-oiled machine for years. You deserve a little something for yourself, too. And besides, you never know—maybe this could be just what you need.”
Louis chuckled, shaking his head. “You sound like a romantic.”
“Nah, just a realist who knows you too well,” Liam replied, giving Louis a playful nudge. “Anyway, all I’m saying is, don’t close yourself off just because you’re busy. If you want to see him again, make it happen. If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know.”
Louis sighed again, but this time with a hint of a smile. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’ve got a point. But don’t get your hopes up.”
Liam grinned, satisfied. “I’m just saying, Tommo—life’s too short to let moments like this slip by. Now, let’s get back to work before the next rush hits.”
As they returned to their tasks, Louis couldn’t help but think about what Liam had said. Maybe there was room in his life for a bit of something more, even if it was just a spark of something new. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find himself hoping for another chance to cross paths with Harry again.
Meanwhile, Harry was busy working on his music. He spent long hours in his tiny flat, writing lyrics and composing melodies, trying to channel his emotions into his work. But inspiration seemed to come a little slower than usual. He couldn’t help but think about Louis—their conversation, Louis’ laugh, the way he’d looked so comfortable at the bar.

Chapter 3: Just a Chat, Right?

Summary:

Harry can't stop thinking about Louis, a charming barista he recently met. Noticing this, his friend Niall convinces him to visit Louis' café. Despite his nerves, Harry goes—and the encounter goes well. There's clear chemistry between the two, and Louis seems genuinely happy to see him. Zayn teases both of them about the budding connection, while Louis tries to downplay his interest.

Later, Louis confides in his sister Lottie about his hesitation to pursue anything serious due to work and family commitments. She encourages him to take a chance on happiness, reminding him he deserves it. Though unsure, Louis starts to consider opening up to the possibility of something more with Harry.

Niall picked up on Harry’s distraction when they hung out over the next few days. They were at Niall’s place one evening, sprawled out on the couch with a movie playing in the background, but Harry’s focus was clearly elsewhere. He hadn’t said much, his thoughts seemingly miles away, and Niall noticed.
As another scene unfolded on the screen, Niall glanced over at his friend. “You’re still thinking about Louis, aren’t you?” he asked, keeping his tone casual but with a hint of knowing amusement.
Harry didn’t deny it. He let out a soft sigh and nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV. “Yeah, I guess. Just wondering if I’ll run into him again. It’s weird—I can’t get him out of my head.”
Niall smirked, not surprised in the least. “Maybe you will,” he said, still watching the movie as if it was no big deal. “Ooorrrr maybe you should just swing by his café. You know, casually grab a coffee, see if he’s around.”
Harry shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m not that bold, Niall. Besides, what if he thinks I’m just stalking him or something?”
Niall chuckled, finally pausing the movie and turning to face Harry fully. “Stalking? Really, Haz? It’s a café, not his private hideout. You’d just be a customer. And from what you’ve told me, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d mind seeing you again.”
Harry leaned back, rubbing his temples as if trying to clear his mind. “I know, but it’s just... different. I don’t want to seem too eager. What if he’s not interested?”
“Mate,” Niall said, his tone more serious now, “you’re overthinking this. You felt something, right? And from the way you’ve described it, it sounds like he did too. What’s the harm in just going for it? Worst case, you have a nice coffee and a chat. Best case... who knows?”
Harry bit his lip, considering Niall’s words. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is easy, or at least it should be,” Niall replied with a grin. “Look, I get it—you’re not the type to just walk up to someone and make a move. But sometimes you’ve got to step out of your comfort zone, especially if you don’t want to be sitting here weeks from now, still wondering ‘what if.’”
Harry sighed, knowing his friend was right but still feeling that familiar hesitation. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to just go for a coffee,” he said, half to himself.
“That’s the spirit!” Niall exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “And if it helps, I’ll come with you for the first time. Make it look like we’re just grabbing a drink, no big deal.”
Harry laughed, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Niall said, turning the movie back on. “Now, let’s finish this and stop thinking so much. You’ve got enough on your mind with your music. Don’t let this become a big deal when it doesn’t have to be.”
Harry nodded, but even as the movie resumed, he couldn’t help but imagine walking into Louis’ café. The idea of seeing Louis, even just casually, sparked something inside him—a mixture of nervous excitement and hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth exploring between them.
As the night went on, Harry found himself less focused on the movie and more on how he might bump into Louis again, the anticipation slowly building as Niall’s words echoed in his mind: *What’s the harm in just going for it?*
It took a few days before Harry finally found the courage to take the plunge. He quickly rang Niall and asked him if he was in. Of course he was, and so they made their way to the café. The closer they got, the more nervous Harry became. He could almost feel the butterflies dancing around in his stomach. When they arrived, he paused for a moment, took a deep breath and let Niall lead the way. “After you,” he said quietly. He tried to hide behind Niall, which was impossible as he was much taller than him. When he saw Louis behind the counter, his heart skipped a beat. Damn, he looked so confident and handsome. Always a smile on his lips as he made the coffee and talked to the customers. The café was bustling with the usual morning rush. Lost in thought, he suddenly felt Niall nudge him with his elbow: “Harry chill, you're staring,” he laughed.
The little nudge brought Harry back to reality. As they approached the counter, Louis looked up with a friendly smile asking “What can I get ya..” as he looked up and saw Harry his eyes lit up and he continued “...hey Harry. Hi, how are you doing? What brings you here?” Harry felt his stomach tightening slightly but managed to reply with a grin “You’ve spoken so highly about this place so I’d pop in.”
Louis’ eyes flicked over to Niall, and his smile broadened. “And you must be Niall, right? Harry’s told me a bit about you.”
Niall grinned and nodded. “That’s me! Nice to finally meet you.”
“Good to have you both here,” Louis said, still smiling. “I’ll get you our specialty if you don’t mind. Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Harry and Niall moved to a small table by the window, the perfect spot for Harry to sneak glances at Louis while still trying to look casual. As they sat down, Harry positioned himself so he could see the counter, where Louis was now preparing their drinks. Every now and then, Louis would glance up, their eyes meeting briefly before both of them quickly looked away, smiling to themselves.
Niall noticed Harry’s glances and leaned in with a teasing grin. “Not bad, eh? Seems like he’s happy to see you.”
Harry gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”
As they waited, the café buzzed with the usual mid-morning activity. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with the chatter of customers created a cosy, welcoming atmosphere. Harry found himself relaxing more, the initial tension easing as he soaked in the warmth of the place. Every now and then, he’d catch another glimpse of Louis at the counter, his heart doing a little flip each time.
Louis soon arrived at their table with two steaming cups of coffee, setting them down with a flourish. “There you go, lads. Our specialty, just as promised,” he said, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment longer than necessary.
Harry picked up his cup, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a careful sip. The taste was smooth and comforting. “This is really good,” he said, looking up at Louis with genuine appreciation.
“Glad you like it,” Louis replied, his smile never fading. “So, how’s everything going? Still working on your music?”
Harry nodded, feeling a bit more at ease now. “Yeah, still plugging away. How about you? Busy day?”
Louis chuckled, glancing around at the bustling café. “Always. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He paused, his gaze meeting Harry’s. “It’s nice to see a familiar face here, though.”
Niall, ever the wingman, chimed in with a grin. “He’ll be back, I’m sure.”
Louis nodded, his eyes flicking between the two of them before settling back on Harry. “I hope so. Anyway, enjoy your coffee. If you need anything else, just give me a shout.”
As Louis walked back to the counter, Harry felt a warm feeling spread through him. The conversation had been short but pleasant, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to discover between them. He and Niall continued to talk, but Harry's mind kept wandering back to Louis, replaying their exchange in his head.
As they finished their drinks and got ready to leave, Harry stood up and made his way to the counter, intending to pay. Louis saw him coming and quickly shook his head with a smile. “No need, Harry. This one’s on the house,” he said, waving off Harry’s attempt to pull out his wallet.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then smiled back. “Thanks, Louis. I appreciate it.”
Louis shrugged casually, but there was a glint of something more in his eyes. “Anytime. Just glad you stopped by.”
With that, Harry returned to Niall, who had already grabbed their things. As they left the café, Harry couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Louis was still behind the counter, their eyes meeting for just a second before they both looked away, smiling.
As Harry turned back, he suddenly bumped into Zayn, who was just entering the café. “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Zayn said with a cheeky grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly, but he tried to play it off, giving Zayn a casual nod.
“Just grabbing a coffee,” Harry said, his voice light but his heart racing a little.
Zayn’s grin widened. “Grabbing a coffee, huh? Looks like you got more than just caffeine.”
Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to distract. ‘What do you mean?’
Zayn’s eyes danced with amusement. “I mean, I saw you and Tommo sharing a few smiles in there. Seems like you two hit it off pretty well.”
Harry’s blush deepened. “It was just a quick chat.”
Niall, who had been quietly enjoying the interaction, couldn’t help but chime in. “Oh, come on, Harry. It was more than that. You were practically glowing the whole time.”
Zayn nodded, still grinning. “Exactly. And I’ve got to say, Tommo’s not usually that friendly with everyone. Maybe you’re special.”
Harry tried to keep a straight face but ended up smiling despite himself. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your fun. Can’t a guy just enjoy a coffee?”
Zayn laughed, clapping Harry on the back. “Sure, sure. But if you’re thinking of going back, just remember—I’m always around to see what’s brewing.”
As Zayn headed into the café, Harry and Niall walked away, Harry shaking his head with a laugh. “Zayn’s impossible,” he said, feeling both amused and slightly flustered.
Niall chuckled. “Yeah, but he makes things interesting. So, what’s next for you? Another visit to the café?”
Harry smiled, thinking about the brief but meaningful connection he’d felt. “Maybe. We’ll see where things go.”
As Zayn walked into the café, the smell of fresh coffee welcomed him. Louis, busy behind the counter, noticed him and smiled.
“Hey, Zayn! What’s up?” Louis asked, happy to see his friend.
Zayn walked over to the counter, still smiling. “Hey, Tommo. Just came by for some coffee and to catch up. Looks like you’ve had some interesting customers today.”
Louis raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? How’s that?”
Zayn leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Well, I happened to run into Harry and Niall just now. They seemed pretty happy about their visit here. Or well at least Harry was. What did I miss?”
Louis chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, I don’t know why you’re so interested. It was just a regular coffee order.”
Zayn’s grin widened, clearly enjoying himself. “Regular coffee, sure. But I couldn’t help but notice that Harry was looking pretty pleased as he left. Maybe he’s got a little crush?”
Louis laughed, though he tried to keep it light. “You’re ridiculous. I just gave him a coffee on the house. It’s not that big a deal.”
Zayn winked. “Oh, so you’re saying you didn’t notice the way he was looking at you? Because I did. And from what I saw, you two had a nice little moment.”
Louis shrugged, trying to downplay it. “We had a nice chat. That’s all.”
Zayn leaned on the counter, clearly relishing the opportunity to tease Louis. “A nice chat, huh? Well, if you say so. But don’t be surprised if Harry decides to make this place his regular hangout. He seemed pretty taken with it— and you.”
Louis rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. What can I get you?”
Zayn pretended to ponder for a moment before replying. “I’ll have my usual, Tommo. And maybe throw in a little extra charm for good measure.”
Louis shook his head, smiling as he prepared Zayn’s coffee. “Coming right up.”
When Louis handed him his coffee, Zayn took a sip and then turned back to Louis. “Thanks, Tommo. And who knows? Maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting all the special treatment.”
Louis gave him a playful shove. “Get out of here, Zayn. You’re impossible.”
Zayn laughed and waved as he headed towards the door. “Catch you later, Tommo. And good luck with this ‘special’ customer.”
A few hours later, as the late afternoon sun began to cast a golden hue over the café, Liam arrived for his shift, ready to take over from Louis. The two friends exchanged a warm greeting as Liam stepped behind the counter.
“Hey, mate,” Liam said, slipping on his apron. “How’s the day been?”
Louis finished serving a customer and leaned against the counter, a small smile playing on his lips. “Busy as always. But guess who came by today?”
Liam raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Who?”
“Harry,” Louis said, trying to sound casual but not quite succeeding. “He dropped by with Niall to grab a coffee.”
Liam’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “No way! And how did that go?”
Louis shrugged, but his tone gave him away. “It was fine. We chatted a bit, nothing too serious. But... well, Zayn walked in just as Harry was leaving, and you can imagine how that went.”
Liam burst out laughing. “Oh, I can only imagine. What did he say?”
Louis rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but chuckle too. “Zayn being Zayn, of course. He made some cheeky comment about how Harry got more than just caffeine from the encounter.”
Liam shook his head, still laughing. “Zayn never misses a chance, does he? But seriously, it sounds like you’re more invested in this than you’re letting on.”
Louis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe, but it’s complicated. I don’t have time for a relationship right now. The café is demanding enough, and with my family... I don’t want to get too involved.”
Liam leaned closer, giving Louis a knowing look. “I get that. But what if Harry’s worth making time for? He came all the way here, didn’t he? That’s got to mean something.”
Louis hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. He does seem different, though. Like, genuinely nice. I don’t want to mess around with someone who might be looking for something serious.”
Liam’s expression softened. “I hear you. But maybe you’re jumping to conclusions. You won’t know what he’s looking for unless you give it a chance. And who says it has to be all or nothing? You could just get to know him better.”
Louis considered this, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe. I guess I’m just worried about complicating things. He’s too nice of a guy to play with, and I don’t want to lead him on.”
Liam clapped him on the back, his voice encouraging. “That’s fair. But keep an open mind, yeah? Take it slow, see where it goes. You might be surprised.”
Louis nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks for the advice, Liam.”
“No problem, mate. Now go get some rest. I’ve got the café covered,” Liam said with a grin. “And who knows, maybe Harry will pop in again soon. You’ll be ready if he does.”
With that, Louis grabbed his coat and headed out, his mind still on Harry. He didn’t have time to relax nor think about Harry too much though as he headed to his family. He promised Lottie to step by and check on them, helping with some shopping.
As Louis arrived at his family’s home, Lottie was already waiting at the door, her face lighting up with a welcoming smile. “Hey, big brother!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a warm hug. “Thanks for coming by. I was starting to think you might have forgotten.”
Louis chuckled, hugging her back. “Never. Just got caught up with work. How’s everyone doing?”
“Busy as usual,” Lottie replied, leading him inside. “Come on, I need your help with some groceries.”
As they went out to the car, Lottie glanced at Louis, her expression turning a bit more serious. “So, what’s going on with you? You’ve been a bit distracted lately.”
Louis paused, considering how much to share. “It’s nothing, really. Just work and the usual stuff. You know how it is.”
Lottie raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Come on, you can tell me. Is there something you’re not mentioning?”
Louis sighed, realising he couldn’t completely hide his thoughts from her. “Well, I did meet someone recently. Harry. I met him at one of Zayn’s parties the other day and today he came by the café.”
Lottie’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Oh? And?”
Louis shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s nothing serious. Just... a bit complicated. I’m not sure what’s going to come of it. He is really nice and everything. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to him,” he admitted, knowing he could open up to Lottie about anything.
Lottie looked thoughtful. “Complicated how?”
Louis forced a smile, “It’s hard to find time for anything else with everything going on. I don’t want to get involved in something if I can’t give it the attention it deserves.”
Lottie leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Lou, life is always going to be busy. There will always be something that needs your attention. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make room for something—or someone—that makes you happy.”
Louis looked down, considering her words. “It’s just... I’m not sure if I can handle anything more right now. The café, the family... it’s a lot. I am not sure if I am ready to commit at the moment”
Lottie nodded, understanding. “I get it. But think about it—what if this is something good? What if he’s exactly what you need? You don’t have to dive in headfirst, but maybe just give it a chance. Take it slow, see where it goes.”
Louis sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “You really think it could be worth it?”
Lottie smiled back at him, her eyes shining with encouragement. “I do. And besides, Mum would’ve wanted you to be happy. She wouldn’t want you to close yourself off just because things are a bit complicated. She’d want you to find someone who makes you smile, who makes you feel good about life.”
Louis felt a lump in his throat at the mention of their mum. He knew Lottie was right. Their mum had always wanted the best for him, and she wouldn’t want him to shy away from something that could bring him happiness. “You’ve got a point,” he admitted quietly.
“I know I do,” Lottie said with a grin. “And remember, you deserve to be happy, Louis. You deserve someone who sees the amazing person you are. So, maybe... just maybe, you should give it a chance.”
“Maybe,” Louis tried to smile.

Chapter 4: More Than Words

Summary:

As Harry pours his feelings into a new love song, he doesn’t expect Louis to be sitting in the crowd—thanks to Zayn’s not-so-subtle matchmaking. What begins as an ordinary open mic night turns into a turning point, as Louis realizes the song is about him. After the performance, the truth finally surfaces between them—not in grand declarations, but in soft confessions, shared smiles, and a late-night walk that ends with their first kiss. Over tea in a quiet café, they exchange numbers and something more: the start of something real.

The days that followed, Harry found himself thinking about Louis more and more. He was too shy to make a move—and without Louis’ number, popping by the café felt desperate. So, he buried himself in work. The result? The cheesiest love song he’d ever written—one hundred percent inspired by the boy with the cigarette and the easy smile who’d somehow taken up permanent residence in his thoughts.
Zayn, despite loving a good tease, had had enough. He knew Harry would be performing at a little bar in Camden and dragged Louis out for drinks after work—carefully neglecting to mention the open mic set... or who was playing. He didn’t tell Harry either, or Niall. Only Liam knew, just in case backup was needed to convince Louis. But to their surprise, Louis didn’t even hesitate.
Harry was already backstage, tuning his guitar and sipping water, Niall nearby offering quiet encouragement. These gigs were routine by now. Still, tonight felt different. Harry had decided to debut his newest song—the one he hadn’t admitted was about Louis.
Meanwhile, Louis, Liam, and Zayn were seated at a booth, a few pints in, catching up. Just before Harry’s set, Niall stepped out to find his reserved table—only to spot the trio. Zayn waved him over, grinning.
“Hey—what are you all doing here?” Niall asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. As he spotted Louis, his stomach dipped. He knew what song Harry had chosen. And now, it was too late to warn him.
“We're just supporting our mate,” Zayn said casually, then added with a pointed smirk, “And I thought I'd bring some company.”
Louis turned to stare at Zayn, putting it all together. “Wait—Harry’s here?”
Zayn just shrugged. “Wot? Someone had to do something. I couldn’t watch you two pine forever.”
Niall slid into the seat beside them, glancing between them nervously. “You didn’t know he was performing tonight?”
Louis shook his head slowly. “Nope. Thought we were just grabbing drinks.”
Zayn leaned back, smug. “Surprise.”
Niall gave him a look. “Well... just don’t get your hopes up too much. Harry’s doing a new song tonight. And it’s... personal.”
“Personal how?” Louis asked, brow furrowing.
But the lights dimmed before Niall could answer. A hush fell over the crowd as Harry stepped onto the small stage, guitar in hand. He looked out nervously, fingers twitching slightly at the mic.
Louis sat forward, curiosity rising. The first chords were soft, almost hesitant. Then came the words—and Louis froze.
Zayn leaned in, whispering with a grin, “Trust me. You’re in for a treat.”
Harry’s voice filled the room, low and steady, singing about chance encounters, fleeting glances, and the feeling of being drawn to someone you barely know—but can’t stop thinking about.
Louis’ chest tightened. There was something familiar in the melody, something about the lyrics that hit too close. Lines about crowded rooms, blue shirts, and surprise connections. And then—
Did you feel it too, in a crowded room, like I did?
Liam nudged him. “Mate,” he whispered, “I think this song’s about you.”
Louis couldn’t take his eyes off the stage. Harry looked out into the crowd occasionally, scanning, and when their eyes met for a fleeting second, something clicked. Harry quickly looked away, focusing on his guitar, but Louis knew.
As the final note faded and the applause broke out, Louis sat motionless, his heart pounding. Harry flushed, nodding a thank-you to the crowd, but his eyes searched until they landed on Louis again.
Zayn nudged him. “Go. Talk to him.”
Louis hesitated, then stood. Every step toward the stage felt like a leap. Harry was wiping his brow, talking to someone in the crowd when he turned and saw him.
“Hey,” Louis said, a little breathless.
Harry smiled, soft and surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Neither did I,” Louis replied, eyes searching his. “But I’m really glad I did.”
They stood in the ambient hum of the bar, the noise fading around them. Something unspoken passed between them.
Harry chuckled nervously. “It wasn’t exactly part of the plan... but I’m glad too.” He glanced down, then back up, his voice lower. “I meant what I sang. I’m not great at saying things outright, but... that was my way of saying it.”
Louis smiled, heart thudding. “I got the message loud and clear. You’ve got a way with words, Haz.”
Harry laughed, loosening up. “Better at singing them than saying them out loud.”
“I get it,” Louis murmured, stepping closer. “Sometimes words are hard to find.” He paused, then added, quieter, “But I’m here now. So maybe we could talk? Just us.”
Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They stood for a moment, a shared silence blooming into something more. Then Louis smiled. “Fancy a walk?”
“Perfect,” Harry said.
They strolled through the quiet streets, side by side, their hands occasionally brushing. The air between them was full of something unspoken and sweet. After a few blocks, Harry let his fingers graze Louis’ again, lingering this time.
Louis gently took his hand. Neither said anything. They didn’t have to.
They stumbled across a small, all-night café tucked into a quiet corner—old-fashioned, warm, with a vintage jukebox and the scent of pastries in the air. Through the window, they could see only a few scattered patrons.
Louis nodded at the door. “Fancy a cuppa?”
Harry smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Inside, the waitress seated them in a quiet booth at the back. They ordered tea, and for a while, just talked. About the café, about gigs, about family, fear, and the pressure of expectations. They peeled back layers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
At one point, Harry pulled out his phone, slightly sheepish. “You know, I’d really like to do this again sometime. Without Zayn playing puppet master.”
Louis grinned, already grabbing his own phone. “Let’s exchange numbers then.”
They swapped phones, each sneaking in an emoji—Harry a music note, Louis a coffee cup. When their hands brushed returning them, something sparked again.
“There,” Louis said. “No more middlemen.”
“Good,” Harry said with a small laugh. “We’re doing alright on our own.”
Eventually, they stepped back into the night, now quiet and still. As they neared Harry’s flat, the mood shifted—quieter, warmer, more tentative.
“Can I...?” Louis began, voice low.
Harry nodded. “Yeah.”
They met halfway, lips brushing softly in a kiss that started tentative and deepened as they leaned into each other. The world around them disappeared.
When they pulled away, they stayed close, foreheads resting together.
“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis whispered.
“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry murmured, eyes shining.
Back in his flat, Harry leaned against the door, heart racing. A soft laugh escaped him. Did that just happen? He headed to bed, the memory of Louis’ kiss and the text on his phone—Coffee sometime soon? Or tea, I won’t judge 😊—warming him from the inside out.
He typed back quickly: Tea, definitely. But I’ll accept coffee if it’s from you.
Louis walked home with a quiet smile, the kiss still on his lips. But his mind churned. Harry was something special—he knew that now. And he also knew he’d have to make space for this, no matter how busy life got. Harry wasn’t just a passing moment. He was the kind of thing worth trying for.
As he reached his apartment, Louis felt it settle in his chest: he was all in.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5: The Sunflower

Summary:

A quiet morning after a kiss. A message that almost goes unsent. A new drink on the menu. As music fills the café and glances linger longer than they should, something unspoken brews between Harry and Louis—warm, familiar, and just on the edge of becoming something more.

The sunlight filtering through Harry’s curtains was warm, gentle—and rude.
He groaned, pulling the blanket over his face, then let it drop with a soft sigh. For a moment, he just lay there, smiling like an idiot. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Louis. Laughing in that late-night café. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way his hand had felt in Harry’s.
The kiss.
Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, still grinning. “Okay,” he muttered. “Get it together.”
He reached for his phone and opened his messages, hovering over Louis’ name. It felt surreal seeing it there. He tapped it and started typing:
Good morning ☀️
Pause. Delete.
Still thinking about last night. And your ridiculously soft hair.
Delete.
So… is this the part where we pretend it was just a really good cup of tea?
He stared at the message, thumb hovering over "send."
Then he flopped back onto the pillows with a groan and tossed the phone aside. “I’m pathetic.”
It buzzed. Harry blinked. Grabbed it. A new message.
Louis:
Morning. Hope I didn’t overdo the whole "late-night-coffee-walk-kiss" thing. You free this week?
Harry read it once. Then again. He couldn’t help it—he laughed. Out loud.
He typed back before he could overthink it:
Depends. Is the coffee on the house again?
Louis replied almost instantly:
For you? Always.
Louis wiped down the counter at 28 Cups for the third time in ten minutes.
“Alright,” Liam said, walking over with raised eyebrows. “So, is this the day Harry finally walks through that door again, or are you going to keep pretending he’s just another customer?”
Louis gave him a look. “Can’t a man just keep his counter clean?”
“Sure,” Liam said, grinning. “But not usually three times in a row.”
Louis tried not to smile. “He might be coming by tonight. For the open mic.”
Liam raised his eyebrows. “Ah. So it is a date.”
“It’s not a date,” Louis said quickly. Too quickly. “It’s coffee. And music. And… catching up.”
“Right,” Liam said, clearly unconvinced. “Should I put out the fancy candles?”
Louis rolled his eyes, but the smirk gave him away. “Get back to work, Payno. And no, you're not putting out candles.”
But later, when he was prepping drinks before the evening rush, he carefully brewed a new blend—a little honey, a hint of cinnamon, something sweet with just enough spice.
He scribbled on a chalkboard: Special tonight: The Sunflower.
When Harry arrived, a little breathless and in a jacket Louis hadn’t seen before, their eyes met across the café. That smile was back.
Louis gestured toward the counter. “Got something new on the menu. Thought you might want to try it.”
Harry grinned. “Sunflower, huh?”
“Sweet,” Louis said, sliding the cup over, “with a little kick at the end.”
Their fingers brushed. Harry didn’t pull away.
“Sounds familiar,” he said softly.
And Louis—for once—was speechless.
Harry took the cup with both hands, his fingers lingering on the warmth. He followed Louis’ gaze for a second before looking down at the drink, heart fluttering. The café was buzzing, but the world narrowed to the small space between them.
He found a seat by the window, the one with the little potted plant on the sill. It gave him a clear view of the stage—and of Louis behind the counter, who glanced over when he thought Harry wasn’t looking.
Harry sipped the drink. Sweet, a little spicy. Like Louis, actually.
He reached into his bag and pulled out his worn leather journal. Flipping past pages filled with half-formed lyrics and doodles, he uncapped his pen and started writing: *"honey and smoke / and the glance you almost didn’t catch..."
Then he stopped, grinning to himself. This wasn’t just inspiration. It was something real beginning to grow.
And it terrified him in the best way.
A sudden round of applause snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, realizing the lights at the front had dimmed. The first performer—a young woman with shaking hands and a stack of folded paper—was already standing at the mic, her voice just audible over the hush.
Harry tucked his journal back into his bag and settled into his seat, hands wrapped around his cup. The café had shifted into its evening rhythm, all low lighting and soft murmurs. But his gaze flicked to the counter anyway.
Louis was pretending not to look at him.
Harry smiled and took another sip of the drink.
This was going to be a good night.
As the night wore on, more and more artists took the stage. A young comedian bombed so hard Harry almost felt sorry for him—almost. Especially when he tried to rope the audience into his bit and made a beeline for Louis, standing too close, getting far too smug for Harry’s liking.
Why did that bother him so much?
Was he—jealous?
Before he could spiral further, Liam appeared at his table, sliding a fresh cup in front of him. “On the house. Again,” he said, then added with a knowing look, “He’s not subtle, is he?”
Harry blinked. “What?”
Liam nodded toward the counter. “The drink. The chalkboard. That thing where he wipes the same spot for five minutes straight. It’s a Tommo classic.”
The tease softened into something gentler. “He really likes you, you know? Wouldn’t have made a drink named after you otherwise. Trust me.”
Harry said nothing. Just lifted the cup, pretending to sip while hiding a smile behind the rim. His face was warm—too warm.
Luckily, Liam got called back to the counter before he had to come up with a response.
He really likes you, echoed in his mind.
Over and over.
Harry stayed tucked into his corner, the new cup growing cold between his hands. He wasn’t really listening to the guy on stage anymore—some guitar ballad about being ghosted on a holiday.
His eyes kept drifting to the counter.
Louis was busy. Always busy. Taking orders, laughing with a couple of students, adjusting the crooked “Sunflower” chalkboard for the third time. And yet, every so often, he glanced over—just for a second too long.
Harry looked away first. Every time.
Then, just as another performer stepped up to the mic, Louis slipped out from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. He didn’t say anything at first, just slid into the seat across from Harry with a soft huff like he’d finally let himself exhale.
“I’ve got five minutes,” Louis said, nodding toward the cup in Harry’s hands. “Tell me the truth—was it too much honey?”
Harry blinked, thrown. “What? No—it’s perfect. It’s…” He paused, looking down. “It’s sweet. Familiar.”
Louis arched an eyebrow. “Familiar?”
Harry gave a half-smile. “Yeah. I don’t know. Like something I didn’t realize I wanted until now.”
Louis stilled, and for a beat, neither of them spoke.
The stage noise faded to background static. Just two cups, two pairs of eyes, and way too many unsaid things between them.
Louis tapped the side of Harry’s cup with one finger. “Glad you liked it. I was worried it was too much.”
“The drink?”
Louis smirked. “The whole... sunflower situation.”
Harry huffed a laugh. “I think it’s safe to say it’s better than that one guy’s punchlines.”
Louis groaned and dropped his head to the table. “I was hoping to repress that memory.”
“Was he hitting on you mid-set?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice even.
Louis looked up, amused. “Flirting? I think he was threatening me with audience participation.”
Harry grinned. “Honestly, if you’d jumped behind the counter to hide, no one would’ve judged you.”
“I thought about it. But then Liam would’ve tried to livestream it.”
They both laughed—soft, easy. Something warm settled in Harry’s chest.
Then Louis glanced toward the front of the café, and just like that, the moment started slipping away.
“Duty calls,” he said, standing. “Break’s over. But…”
He paused, his hand resting on the back of the chair.
“I’m glad you came tonight.”
Harry looked up at him. “Me too.”
Louis offered one last smile—smaller, a little shy—and headed back behind the counter.
The last act had barely finished packing up their guitar when the lights in 28 Cups were turned a little brighter, the hum of the coffee machines replaced by the sound of chairs scraping the floor and quiet goodnights.
Harry lingered.
Louis was wiping down the counter again, this time for a reason. The café was almost empty. Liam had disappeared into the back. It was just them now.
Harry stood up slowly and walked over.
Louis looked up as he approached, and for a second, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“I wanted to say—” Harry started.
“Do you maybe want to—” Louis said at the same time.
They both stopped.
Harry laughed under his breath. Louis rubbed the back of his neck.
“You first,” Louis said.
Harry hesitated. His heart was thudding.
“I just… I really liked tonight,” he said, voice low. “Not just the music. Or the drink. But… this. Being around you.”
Louis opened his mouth, something soft behind his eyes—
And then the back door creaked open. Liam’s voice echoed from the storage room.
“Oi! Louis! We’re short on lids again!”
Louis blinked. The moment was gone.
He looked at Harry, apologetic. “I should…”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
But just before Louis turned, Harry reached out and gently touched his hand.
“Next time,” he said, smiling.
Louis squeezed his fingers once. “Next time.”
Harry left the café with something quietly blooming in his chest. He wasn’t sure what came next—but maybe he was ready to find out.

Chapter 6: Next time

Summary:

A late-night text pulls Harry to Louis’ flat, where quiet tea turns into unexpected chaos when Louis’ sisters need rescuing. Amid the noise, glances, and unsaid things, both are left wondering if “next time” will come—and what it might mean.

It had been a few days since the open mic night, but the feeling hadn’t worn off. If anything, it lingered more stubbornly now. The way Louis had looked at him, the way his fingers had stayed just a little too long on Harry’s own—it kept playing back in his head.
Harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of his flat, the only light in the room a soft, golden glow from the lamp beside his bed. His journal rested open on his chest, half a page filled with scribbles—half-formed lyrics, disconnected thoughts, and one name written and crossed out more than once.
He tapped his pen against the paper, then set it down and reached for his phone.
You up?
He stared at the message. Then deleted it.
He flipped his journal shut, set it aside, and sighed.
A minute passed. Then two.
He picked up his phone again.
You up?
This time, he sent it before he could second-guess himself.
Less than thirty seconds later, his phone buzzed.
Louis:
Kettle’s on. Want to come by? I’ll text you the address.
Harry sat up, heart skittering. He grabbed his coat and keys without thinking.
Sometimes, you didn’t need a plan.
Sometimes, just showing up was enough.
Harry checked the address again, standing at the bottom of a narrow stairwell that led up the side of a converted Victorian building. The brick was worn, ivy half-dead in places, and one of the exterior lights flickered as he passed it. It didn’t look like much from the street—honestly, it didn’t look like anything—but the text from Louis had been clear: Third floor. Watch the second stair, it creaks like hell.
Harry climbed the stairs, careful to step over the one that did, in fact, creak like hell. The railing wobbled under his hand. By the time he reached the top landing, he was slightly breathless—not from the climb, but from nerves.
The door was already cracked open, light spilling out into the dim hall. Music drifted from inside, something low and lazy—guitar, maybe. Warm.
Louis appeared a second later, socked feet on old wood floors, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His flat was small and slightly chaotic in the way Harry had imagined but hadn’t quite prepared for: exposed beams, a skylight above the couch, stacks of books and mismatched furniture that looked like it had been claimed from markets and charity shops.
There were dishes in the sink and a half-unpacked box on the floor, even though Louis had definitely lived here for a while.
“Hey,” Louis said. His voice was soft, but not unsure.
“Hey,” Harry replied, his smile coming a little too easily.
Louis stepped back and held the door open. “Come in. Mind the rug, it’s a tripping hazard.”
Harry stepped inside, instantly aware of how different this space felt compared to his own flat—his place was tidy, curated. Louis’ was... lived in. Real.
“Hope you like peppermint,” Louis said, moving toward the tiny kitchen area. “It's either that or builder’s brew strong enough to resuscitate the dead.”
“Peppermint’s perfect,” Harry said, brushing his curls back with one hand as he looked around. “You live at the top of the world.”
Louis glanced over. “Best light. Worst insulation. It’s a trade-off.”
There was a slight draft near the windows, and the floor creaked under Harry’s steps as he followed Louis toward a sagging but inviting sofa. A record player sat unused in the corner beside a stack of vinyls that hadn’t been alphabetised—or moved—in a while.
Louis handed him a mug and sat beside him, tucking one leg under the other. The couch dipped slightly between them. Harry wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, the steam curling toward his face.
Music played softly from a speaker tucked behind a plant. Something acoustic. Something that asked you to listen.
“So,” Louis said after a beat, his eyes not quite on Harry, “what made you text?”
Harry looked down at his tea, fingers tightening slightly around the mug.
“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I kept thinking about the other night. About you. And it just... wouldn’t go away.”
Louis didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to.
Instead, he nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. Same.”
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like something might be said—something big and heavy and overdue. But the words hovered, unspoken.
And that, for now, was enough.
Louis took a sip of his tea, staring into the mug like it might help him form the right words. Harry watched him in the soft light from the lamp near the couch, both of them tucked into the corners like they didn’t quite trust themselves to sit in the middle.
“I’ve been thinking about—” Harry started, but the words caught somewhere between his chest and throat.
Louis looked up just as a sharp buzz cut through the moment. His phone vibrated against the coffee table, screen lighting up.
“Shit,” he muttered. He reached for it, brow furrowing. “It’s Lottie.”
He answered, standing as he did. “Hey. What’s—? Wait, what? Where even are you?”
Harry stayed quiet, watching Louis pace toward the kitchen.
“No, you shouldn’t be walking. It’s late. I’ll come get you.”
A pause.
“Yeah, bring Fizzy too. I’ll be there in twenty.”
Louis ended the call with a sigh and turned back toward Harry, sheepish.
“My sister’s stranded. Car broke down or battery’s dead—she didn’t explain it well. Fizzy’s with her. They’re halfway across town.”
Harry stood too, setting down his mug. “Everything okay?”
Louis nodded. “Yeah. Just… typical chaos.”
Then, after a beat:
“You wanna come with?”
Harry blinked. “Really?”
Louis shrugged. “I mean—you don’t have to. But I wouldn’t mind the company. And it’s not like I’ve got time to walk you home first.”
Harry smiled. “Alright. Let me grab my coat.”
Louis’ mouth twitched, almost into a grin. “You’re really signing up for the full Tomlinson experience tonight, huh?”
“I mean,” Harry said, following him toward the door, “you did promise me tea and chaos.”
Louis snorted. “That I did.”
The car ride was quiet in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable. The kind of quiet that settled over two people still figuring out where to place their words. Louis tapped the steering wheel along to the radio—some 2000s throwback Harry half-recognized. He didn’t sing, but Harry could see his lips moving, almost without thinking.
Louis pulled into a dimly lit car park next to a petrol station. Two figures were perched on the bonnet of a car, arms crossed, one of them clearly mid-rant.
“That’s Lottie,” Louis said with a sigh. “The one talking with her whole body.”
“And the other?”
“Fizzy. Buckle up.”
Harry snorted.
Louis stepped out and waved. “Oi! Drama queens! Get in!”
Lottie turned sharply. “You took your sweet time.”
“I live across town and I’m not a bloody Uber.”
Fizzy spotted Harry stepping out and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this? Wait—is this—?”
“Yep,” Louis said. “This is Harry.”
Harry gave an awkward little wave. “Hi.”
“Hi?” Lottie echoed, smirking. “That’s all we get?”
Fizzy elbowed her. “Shut up and get in the car before Lou leaves us for dead.”
They piled into the back, still bickering, and Harry caught Louis shooting him a sideways glance like, Welcome to my world.
The drive back to Lottie’s place was short and loud.
Fizzy quizzed Harry on his favorite biscuit. Lottie asked if he could play the guitar upside down. Both of them definitely noticed the way Louis kept glancing toward Harry at stoplights.
By the time they pulled up, Lottie leaned forward between the seats and said, “He’s cute. You did good.”
“Goodnight, Lottie,” Louis muttered.
“Bye, Harry!” Fizzy chimed, grinning.
Harry waved as they disappeared up the path. The doors shut. The car was quiet again.
Louis started driving.
They parked in front of Harry’s building. Louis didn’t turn off the engine right away.
“Sorry,” he said finally, staring out the windshield. “Wasn’t exactly the evening I had in mind.”
Harry looked over at him. “Don’t be. I liked it.”
Louis blinked, turned slightly. “You did?”
“Yeah. The tea, the chaos, the sisters interrogating me. Felt… real.”
Louis smiled, small but genuine. “They liked you, for what it’s worth.”
Harry laughed softly. “That’s terrifying.”
They sat there a beat longer.
Then Harry reached for the door handle, hesitated, turned back.
“I’m glad I texted,” he said quietly.
Louis’ hand shifted on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you did too.”
Harry nodded once, then stepped out into the night. He didn’t look back until he reached the front step.
Louis was still watching.
Harry smiled.
Louis lifted his hand in a quiet wave, then pulled away down the street.
He drove home with one hand on the wheel and the other tapping an uneven rhythm on his thigh. The silence in the car didn’t feel peaceful anymore—it felt full. Too full.
He should’ve said something. Should’ve explained better. Should’ve kissed him, maybe.
Instead, he’d dragged Harry into sibling chaos and dropped him off like it was nothing.
He sighed, pulling into his usual spot and killing the engine. The flat above him waited—cold, unbothered, full of half-done things and silence.
Inside, he kicked off his shoes and stood there for a minute, keys in one hand, forehead resting against the door.
You ruin everything good before it even starts, his brain offered helpfully.
He didn’t reply to the thought. Just walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle, the movement automatic. He didn’t even want tea.
Still, as the water boiled and the flat hummed around him, he couldn’t stop picturing Harry’s face in the passenger seat—smiling, gentle, patient. Like he hadn’t minded.
Louis leaned against the counter, eyes on the quiet street outside his window.
Next time, he thought.
But even that felt like a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

Chapter 7: The Things We Don’t Say

Summary:

A casual check-in turns into a chaotic grocery run, a quiet evening, and something that feels dangerously close to a real date. Between cereal debates, shared biscuits, and brave questions, Harry and Louis find themselves closer than ever—without quite meaning to. Or maybe they did.

(Harry’s POV)
It had been three days. Not that Harry was counting.
Three days since the tea, the sisters, the almost-conversation in the car. Since the way Louis had looked at him in the glow of the streetlights—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite untangle the words.
Harry hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
Now he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, phone in hand, rereading their last exchange like it might magically change tone if he looked at it enough times.
He took a breath and typed:
Hey. Hope the sisters are alright. Did the car survive?
He hit send before he could talk himself out of it.
It didn’t take long for Louis to reply:
Barely. Lottie tried to argue with the mechanic about the battery being “dramatic.” Fizzy played Coldplay the whole way home.
Harry smiled at the image. Then typed:
Honestly, that sounds iconic.
Louis replied with:
It was chaos. I mean, it is always chaos.
A pause. Then Harry added:
You seemed a bit off when you dropped me off.
You alright?
This time, there was a longer pause. Not worrying long. Just… careful.
Then:
Yeah. Just felt like I’d ruined the night. Got in my head a bit. Happens more than I’d like to admit.
Harry's chest ached a little. He tapped out a reply and sent it without editing:
You didn’t ruin anything.
Another moment passed.
Then Harry added:
You free this week? Thought maybe I could return the favour and make you tea this time.
Also, I need groceries. So if you’re into chaotic errands and weird snacks, I’m just saying…
Could be fun.
Louis had no idea how he’d ended up in the middle of a Tesco aisle on a Wednesday evening with Harry Styles comparing oat milks, but here they were.
“This one’s barista-grade,” Harry said, holding up a sleek grey carton like it was a prized artifact. “Creamier texture. Better for foaming.”
Louis blinked. “Are we making lattes or adopting it?”
Harry grinned. “I’m just saying. Some standards matter.”
“You picked spinach over crisps five aisles ago. Your credibility’s already shot.”
Harry dropped the oat milk into the trolley with a delicate clunk. “Meanwhile, you’ve got four boxes of cereal in there.”
“Three.” Louis held up a finger. “And one of them’s a variety pack. That barely counts.”
Harry gave him a look. “You have Cocoa Pops, Frosties and Lucky Charms.”
“That’s the holy trinity of sugar, thanks.”
They moved on, their steps falling into sync down the biscuit aisle. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and somewhere nearby, a child shrieked with joy—or possibly rage.
Harry paused at a display of tinned chickpeas. Louis kept walking, then turned when he realised he was alone.
“You getting lost back there?”
Harry held up a can. “These are great for protein.”
Louis made a face. “So’s a sausage roll.”
Harry jogged to catch up, smiling as he tossed the can in the cart. “And yet, somehow, you’re still alive.”
“Pure spite and processed carbs.”
Their hands brushed as they reached for the same loaf of bread, and this time, neither pulled back. Just a quick glance, a flicker of something behind Harry’s eyes—something warm and unreadable.
They didn’t say anything.
Ten minutes later, Louis was balancing two tubs of yoghurt on top of the cereal stack while Harry reorganised their produce by density and fragility.
“You know this was meant to be a ten-minute stop, right?” Louis said.
Harry didn’t even look up. “And yet here you are with six different kinds of biscuits.”
“Five,” Louis corrected. “And one’s a wildcard.”
Harry laughed, quiet and easy. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re still here.”
Their eyes met across the cart, something hovering again between them.
Then a sharp announcement cut through the air: “Would the owner of a grey Volkswagen blocking the loading zone please move their vehicle immediately.”
Louis blinked. “Let’s get out of here before I spontaneously combust from emotional exposure.”
Harry chuckled. “Lead the way, Cocoa Pops.”
The Tesco bags rustled with every step, one swinging lightly from Louis’ hand and the other tucked into Harry’s elbow like he was cradling something precious.
“You know,” Louis said, eyeing the neatness of Harry’s bag, “you rearranged the groceries three times in the checkout line.”
Harry didn’t even look embarrassed. “It’s called spatial efficiency.”
“It’s called insane.”
Harry smirked. “And yet your cereal’s still in one piece, isn’t it?”
They crossed at the corner, the sky already slipping into deep blue. Their coats brushed shoulders occasionally as they walked, and neither of them moved away.
“I had a nice time,” Harry said after a moment, quieter now.
Louis glanced sideways. “At Tesco?”
“Well, yeah. But… just hanging out. With you.”
Louis let the silence stretch a bit. Not uncomfortably. Just long enough to let it settle somewhere between his ribs.
“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Me too.”
They reached Harry’s building, a familiar little block with a dark green door and a quiet entryway. He unlocked it with a soft click, nodding toward the stairs.
“3rd floor. Hope your cereal’s ready for cardio.”
Harry’s flat was warm in a way Louis hadn’t expected. Calmer. Neater. Wooden floors, tall bookshelves, one corner with a battered piano and a few potted plants that somehow looked thriving, not sad.
The kettle was already on before the groceries were fully unpacked.
“Tea or chamomile?” Harry called from the kitchen.
“Whichever comes with biscuits,” Louis replied, flipping through Harry’s record collection while pretending not to be impressed by how together everything was.
They ended up on the couch, mugs in hand, a packet of digestives open between them. Louis had removed his shoes. Harry had pulled a blanket across his lap like it was a subconscious habit.
The playlist was low—something instrumental. The kind of music that didn’t ask for attention, just made the quiet feel a little less lonely.
“You’re not what I expected,” Louis said suddenly, not looking at Harry.
Harry looked up. “What did you expect?”
Louis shrugged. “floaty scarves and cryptic advice.”
Harry laughed softly. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“You didn’t,” Louis said, finally meeting his eyes. “You really didn’t.”
Something shifted then—just slightly. Not dramatic. But something real. The kind of moment you’d remember later and realise was important.
They didn’t kiss.
They didn’t reach out.
But they shared the last biscuit without a word.
And that was enough.
The last biscuit was gone. Their tea had gone lukewarm.
Neither of them moved to stand up.
Harry stretched his legs out slowly, socked feet brushing against Louis’. “You’re staying suspiciously quiet. Everything alright?”
Louis looked down at his mug, then at Harry. There was something braver in his voice than he usually allowed.
“Do you want to go on an actual date with me?”
Harry blinked, caught off-guard—but only for a second.
“A real one?” he asked, a slow smile tugging at his mouth.
“No grocery aisles. No sisters. Just… us. Somewhere quiet. Maybe less cereal.”
Harry leaned in slightly, still smiling. “Sounds perfect.”
And then Louis didn’t overthink it.
He just leaned forward and kissed him.
It was slow and soft and a little hesitant at first, but Harry kissed back instantly, like he’d been waiting—like they both had.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads still close, Louis whispered, “So that’s a yes?”
Harry laughed, breathless. “That’s a yes.”

Chapter 8: The real thing

(Louis' POV)
Louis stood in front of his wardrobe, towel still around his neck, hair damp and sticking up in five different directions. He’d changed shirts twice already—well, three times, if you counted the one he tried on, looked at for five seconds, and then dramatically launched onto his bed like it had personally offended him.
This was ridiculous.
It wasn’t like this was a first date. Not really. Not after late-night tea and grocery runs and hand brushes and that kiss in Harry’s flat that had lived rent-free in his head ever since.
Still, it felt different tonight.
There’d been no chaos, no distractions, no siblings stranded across town. Just... a plan. A time. A place. Just the two of them.
And that, somehow, was way more terrifying.
He pulled on a navy jumper—the one that didn’t cling too much but still made his collarbones look kind of good—and stood in front of the mirror. Not bad. Not too try-hard. Just try-enough.
His phone buzzed. A message from Harry.
“Leaving now :)”
Louis stared at the screen for a second too long before replying:
“Cool. I’ll be outside. No pressure, but if you make me wait I’m leaving with the cute barista.”
Harry’s response came a second later:
“rude. but fair.”
Louis grabbed his coat, took one last look in the mirror, fixing his hair and whispered to himself, “Don’t overthink it.”
Then he locked the door behind him and headed down the steps.
The place Louis had picked was tucked into a side street just far enough from the bustle to feel like a secret. Small wooden tables, fairy lights in the windows, and that low, quiet hum of jazz playing somewhere in the background. It looked like the kind of place you only found by accident—or by knowing someone who really got it.
Of course Louis would find a place like this.
When Harry arrived, Louis was already waiting outside, hands in his coat pockets, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. The streetlamp above him caught in the edge of his hair.
“Hey,” Harry said, a little breathless from nerves or cold or both.
Louis smiled, small and real. “You didn’t keep me waiting. The barista will be devastated.”
Harry laughed. “Poor bloke. Tragic loss.”
They stepped inside, and the warmth hit instantly—soft lights, clinking glasses, the smell of roasted tomatoes and garlic. The host led them to a corner table by the window. It was intimate, but not suffocating. The kind of spot you could talk without needing to raise your voice.
Harry slid into his seat, heart still doing that annoying flutter it had learned ever since Louis walked into his life.
“So,” Louis said, unrolling his napkin. “We’re actually doing this.”
Harry smiled. “Apparently.”
They ordered—nothing fancy. Pasta and wine. The kind of food you didn’t need to pretend to eat in tiny bites.
For a few minutes, they talked about normal things. Café drama. A song Harry was stuck on. Liam’s terrible taste in podcasts. Louis made fun of Harry for using oat milk in everything, and Harry called Louis a cereal hoarder again.
It was easy.
And then it got quiet.
Not awkward. Just full.
Louis picked up his wineglass, turned it slightly between his fingers, and said, “I was nervous.”
Harry looked up. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. I don’t… really do this.”
Harry nodded, smile gentle. “Me neither. Not like this.”
Louis set the glass down and leaned back a little. “It’s weird, yeah? This part. When it’s not just flirting or guessing. When it starts to matter.”
Harry didn’t rush to answer. Just let the silence settle.
Then he said softly, “It already mattered.”
Louis met his eyes, something unreadable flickering there—and for a second, it looked like he might reach across the table.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
The plates were cleared, the wine finished. The little bistro had started to wind down, and outside, the world had grown quieter, like it was making space just for them.
Louis tucked his hands into his coat pockets as they walked side by side down the narrow street, their footsteps soft against the pavement. The kind of quiet that didn’t ask to be filled.
Harry’s shoulder brushed his every few steps, and each time, Louis didn’t move away.
“You still nervous?” Harry asked after a while, his voice barely above the hush of the wind.
Louis thought for a moment. “Not really. Are you?”
Harry shook his head. “Not the way I was.”
They turned a corner, the street narrowing. String lights were still hanging above from some long-forgotten festival, swaying gently.
Louis stopped.
Harry turned back to face him, brows lifted just slightly.
Louis stepped a little closer, just enough to close the last of the distance.
“I’ve wanted to do this again since the first time,” he said. “And maybe every time after.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He just smiled, that slow, breath-stealing kind of smile.
And then Louis leaned in and kissed him.
Not hesitant. Not a maybe.
This kiss was warmer, fuller, anchored in something real. Harry's hand curled gently into the front of Louis’ coat like he didn’t want the moment to drift away. Louis tilted his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, and Harry sighed into it—soft and content.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched.
Harry let out a quiet breath. “Worth the wait.”
Louis laughed, quiet and relieved. “Yeah. It really was.”
They ended up at Harry’s flat without ever saying, “let’s go back.” It just happened—like gravity, like instinct.
The door clicked shut behind them, and Louis slipped off his coat while Harry toed off his boots by the door. It was late, but neither of them said anything about the time.
“Tea?” Harry offered, already heading toward the kitchen.
Louis chuckled, voice low. “You really are trying to win me over with peppermint and oat milk.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
While the kettle hummed, Louis wandered over to the couch and dropped into it with a soft sigh. He pulled his legs up, curled against the corner like he’d done it a hundred times. It didn’t feel strange.
Harry came over with two mismatched mugs and handed Louis one without a word. Then he sat beside him, their knees touching.
They drank in silence for a while. The soft clink of ceramic. The buzz of the fridge. A faint playlist playing low in the background, half-forgotten.
At some point, Harry leaned his head against Louis’ shoulder. No tension. No hesitation. Just quiet.
“I liked tonight,” he said.
Louis rested his cheek against Harry’s hair. “Me too.”
Neither of them moved to kiss again.
They didn’t need to.
The kiss had already happened. Now it was just this—the calm, the closeness, the kind of quiet that meant you didn’t have to say anything to be understood.
When Louis finally spoke again, his voice was muffled by Harry’s curls.
“Still not calling it a date, though.”
Harry smiled against his jumper.
“Too late.”