Edinburgh is for Lovers (l.s.)

v.

Louis looked down at the watch on his wrist, the leather band slightly smudged with ink. He tapped his foot anxiously as he waited outside the door for the cafe to open. He had woken up after a rough night of sleep, too anxious to lay in bed any longer. He'd gotten dressed in his favourite baby blue jumper, pulling a brown plaid jacket over top and slipping on his shoes before heading out the door.
He was early. Probably too early, and he didn't expect Harry to show up for hours. As the hour hand of his watch hit 8:00, he sighed in relief when Olivia came to unlock the door. He shivered as he stepped into the warm cafe and wiped his foggy glasses off on the hem of his jumper.
He said good morning to Olivia and ordered a tea before sitting at his usual seat by the window, ready to wait. He had only brought his notebook and Harry's pen, he figured he could write a bit more while he waited for Harry. He barely had time to stand and grab his tea from the counter, when he heard the bell over the front door chime.
A slightly out of breath Harry came through the door with a relieved smile on his face. Louis frowned slightly when he noticed that Harry had his messenger bag over his shoulder and a suitcase in his hand. But he smiled as Harry approached him.

"Morning Louis."

"Morning." Louis gestured towards the register. "Can I buy your coffee?"

Harry nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."

He didn't take his eyes off Louis, watching his lips move as he ordered, and his eye lashes brush his cheek when he closed his eyes to take a sip of tea. With drinks in hand, Harry and Louis moved to sit at their usual table. They sat in silence for a minute, Louis' stomach turned as he watched Harry sip his coffee and play with his sleeves. No suit today, only slim trousers and that beautiful green jumper. Louis watched Harry's fingers disappear under the hem of the fabric, and reappear, rubbing his thumb over the soft knit.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up and locked eyes with Louis.
"Yeah?"

"How do you know when a book is good? The ones you read."

"When they make me feel something." Harry answered easily.

Louis nodded and looked down at the notebook in front of him. He'd been writing this book for a year. He'd cried while he wrote, and felt the weight of everything all at once.
He looked up to find Harry looking at him, an unreadable emotion on his face.

"Lou--"

"Can I read you some of my book? Before you go..."

Harry's chest ached and he nodded. "Please."

"It's--not all good feeling."

"That's okay." Harry promised in a whisper. "I just want to feel you."

"Okay." He whispered back, heart pounding in his chest. Louis flipped his notebook open to one of the first pages.

"I don't think I'm going to read it all... just parts if that's okay."

"Of course." Harry rested his forearms on the table, subtly reaching his finger tips towards Louis' hand.
The cafe was empty, and Louis let his hand stretch just far enough for Harry to graze the delicate skin with his finger tips, rubbing his thumb slowly along his wrist.

"Okay."
Using his other hand, Louis held the pages of his notebook open, his thumb resting in the spine of the book.
"To be young, to be still and so alive; it is to see nothing at all. When you see not the loss of a mother or the isolation included for free, with your suffering. When your heart is not afraid to beat for someone else, it becomes too fragile to beat for yourself."

Louis looked up briefly at Harry when he felt his fingers still against his skin. Harry nodded at him to continue. He skipped ahead a few pages.

"Your mind screams his name when it's supposed to be hers, it needs to be hers. And no one tells you why it should be that way, only that it should."