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Looking at the florist, Louis’ eyebrows furrow as he speaks; “I’m not fragile.” The tone is almost resentful, offended.
“Everyone is,” softly says Harry, thumb and finger rubbing the velvetiness of a fallen petal as his thoughts swirl in amongst the bones of his ribcage. When Louis does not reply, Harry speaks quietly again, shrugging. “It isn’t a bad thing. ‘S just how we were made.”harry's whole life is his flower stall, but somehow, a boy who cradles a cup of tea everyday slips his way in.
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and now a piece of me is a piece of the beach by TroubledPro
Fandoms: One Direction (Band)
23 May 2013
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Entrancing. Mesmerising. Unique. Exciting. Adventurous. Fascinating. Unpredictable. Whirlwind. Rush. Beautiful.
Harry is still not sure whether he is describing the sea or Louis.
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And the boy who just padded out onto his concrete balcony, he had his own story. Lilac pouches drape from the frail skin beneath his tired, yet still shockingly blue, eyes. Even they are dulled in slight by the deadened clouds above, or maybe it could be the story behind his eyes that Harry is yet to figure out.
He is in the building opposite, but Harry can tell that he is just as empty inside as he is.or, alternatively, a story in which Harry is wasting away smoking on his balcony above the world and Louis frequents the balcony opposite him.
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How is love supposed to speak, when one can’t even choke out the words?
Louis’ life was a joke through his witty words.
Harry’s life was a joke through his lack of words.
Louis was classed as a normal child; mentally and physically.
Harry was classed as an abnormal child; mentally and physically.
Louis could speak.
Harry could not.
Harry had progressive mutism.
Louis did not. -
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Summary
It's Christmas. It's snowing. Harry and Louis own a bakery. It's all pretty perfect, to be honest.