#wqotd

“Why?” Harry asks, peering back over his shoulder to eye the stranger curiously. He’s petite, dressed in a worn oversized sweater that slips down to expose a golden sliver of skin, fingers curled into his sleeves and head ducked low. “He looks harmless.”

“He’s not,” Niall says. “Believe me.”

Harry hears the nervous tinge to Niall’s voice and he reluctantly drags his gaze away from the boy to meet his uneasy eyes. “What’s up with him?”

“Fire. That’s his gift,” Niall murmurs, glancing back behind him as if he’s afraid to be heard. “I heard he got into a fight with his ex-boyfriend and burned him so badly that he can’t register anything in his hands anymore. It’s all numb.”

“Jesus,” Harry whispers, a grimace pulling at his lips as his eyes drop to his own hands.

Niall bites his lip. “His name is Louis Tomlinson.”

“What was that?” he asks. 

“Is that going to fit in me?” Louis blurts, tips of his ears going red. 

Harry stills at that, taken aback. “Yeah, yes,” he stutters. “It will.”

Fuck. 

“Can we get the check please?” Harry asks awkwardly.

Louis won’t lie and say he doesn’t savor it all. He takes his time as he pulls off his own shirt, skin prickling from the cold of the air conditioner. Then he’s running his hands over the soft fabric of his dress shirt before slipping it on, buttoning it up with delicate fingers. 

He almost wishes there was a mirror back here with him so he could watch himself, a small smile unfurling on his lips as he slides his leggings off and puts on the trousers next, having to wiggle a little to get it over his bum. He tucks in the shirt before finally picking up the jacket with reverent hands. 

“Seriously?” Harry asks, and he looks like he’s fighting a smile. 

Louis glares at him anyway. “Ten reasons,” he grits, “beginning with number one.” He presses the button for the first slide.