english fry up


at the very top of the list of things he can’t (and shouldn’t) do is turn up, unannounced at louis’ home. and it’s not only because he looks like shit – he’s gotten the double takes and sympathetic frowns to back his claim – or because he hasn’t slept since louis’ sign off text.  it’s the simple fact that it is unequivocally not his place to be bringing his ex lover a classic english fry up, just the way he likes it. it’s not his place and yet here he is, pulling up to the flashy property with the smell of sausage, eggs, and potatoes permeating the cab of his audi coupe despite the measures he’s taken to keep it covered and hot.  

louis needs it, is the thing. no matter what was said nor how many tears harry shed over it, louis needs this food and harry knows there’s no one in his life at the moment who could do as much for him (not that he’s keeping tabs on louis’ lovelife over tabloids or anything; that would be preposterous and rather pathetic to boot). and even if there were such a person, they probably wouldn’t do it the way harry does it. louis had always said harry’s fry ups were a gift even the gods couldn’t match. he slips the preemptive shades down over puffy, swollen eyes and double takes for paparazzi as he has since hitting the road as his car rolls to a stop. the californian sun hasn’t even fully risen yet – louis will be cross. he’s hoping that the sentiment towards the food remains and is enough to excuse harry’s inability to wait any longer. he knows how louis’ likes to sleep in and wallow when hungover.

although it’s been actual years since they lived together in london, it still feels foreign to have to press the buzzer at the front door. even when they weren’t living together, they’d always given each other keys – whether it be to their hotel rooms or to separate residences. until they didn’t. not anymore. 

he fidgets as much as is allowed without jostling the warming container he’s holding in one hand. pointed boots cave inwards, entire posture reading as out of place and unassuming. all it’ll take is one or two harsh exchanges for harry to run back home, proverbial tail between his legs. but with the lingering taste of louis’ apology fresh on his tongue, he buzzes again. louis probably didn’t hear him the first time. typical.