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Louis was jolted awake by what sounded like a shrieking rooster, and he groaned and shoved his head under his pillow, not even bothering to check the time. It happened every morning for the past week at exactly 3am, and the first time it took him a good few minutes of rubbing his eyes and muttering to himself before he realised that a rooster couldn’t possibly have been what woke him up. He lived in the middle of bloody London, the closest chicken would be miles off. He figured he must have had some weird dream he couldn’t recall, something to do with a farm maybe, so drifted back to sleep shortly after.
The next day Louis sat up in bed when he heard the rooster cock-a-doodle-doo, eyes darting open. It kept going, over and over, until suddenly the noise cut off mid-caw. For a split second Louis was worried someone had killed the animal to silence it, but a much more likely option occurred to him. It wasn’t an actual rooster, it was an alarm! Someone had set their bloody alarm tone to a rooster noise for whatever stupid reason, and that’s what had been forcing him into consciousness at such a ridiculous time.
Louis didn’t have to be up for work until seven thirty most days, and the too-early alarm calls were messing with his sleep cycle. He was snapping at co-workers and customers during the day, mood awful from lack of sleep, and he felt dead on his toes by 6pm. He was meant to go on a tinder date a few evenings before, but had to cancel; all he wanted to do after work each day was climb into bed. It wasn’t normal.
So there he was with his head under his pillow, gritting his teeth because it just wouldn’t stop. And he’d had enough.
He jumped out of bed, putting his glasses on and grabbing his keys from the counter when he passed the kitchen, and stormed out of his flat. He went down the stairs to the next level and banged on the door that said 3B.
Louis was ready to go off, ready to spit out some of the fiery rage that had built up in the pit of his belly from a week of sleep deprivation, when the door opened and all his heated words lost their steam. Louis was frozen, turned to ice, at the sight of the man in front of him.
The guy was fucking adorable. His dark hair curled past his shoulders, wild and tangled and sleep-mussed. His eyes were wide, green and glossy like dewy grass. His lips were plump and bitten-red, the lower pulled back behind perfect pearly teeth. When he spoke, it was in a voice so deep and smooth and slow that Louis was too entranced by the mere sound that he missed what was actually being said.
So the first word that Louis ever said to the gorgeous doll of a man was “What?”
And the guy’s look of confusion turned to one of frustration. “I said, is something the matter?”
“Is – I don’t know.” Louis said dumbly back, tilting his head and peering into the man’s flat.
He stepped to the side, blocking his view. “Well then why are you outside my door this early? It’s just gone three you know?”
Which reminded Louis what he was there for. The annoyance on the guy’s face, however pretty that face was, was the spark that ignited the flame in his gut and brought Louis’ anger back to the surface. “Yes, I do bloody well know!” He snapped bitterly, and the pretty man took a step back in shock. “It’s three in the morning and I should be asleep, but instead here I am awake! Because of your bloody alarm clock!”
“Oh!” He exclaimed, eyebrows flying up and mouth dropping open. “Shit, I’m sorry!”
“Well sorry’s not gonna bring me back all those hours of sleep I’ve missed this week, is it?”
“No.” He answered, corners of his mouth turning down and shoulders slumping. It was an exaggerated sad-face, and it made him look all of seven years old. Louis half expected him to start begging for an apology. “I am sorry though.”
It was the sincerity in which he spoke the words that had Louis sighing out “Its fine. If you could make the alarm quieter it’d be good.”
He nodded eagerly and said “Of course!”
“Right, well, have a good one… what’s your name sorry?”
“Harry.” He replied. “Yours?”
“Louis. Why do you get up so early, anyway, Harry?”
“Work. I’m a baker.” he said with a proud smile. “Gotta be at work by four to start baking.”
“Sounds horrible.”
Harry laughed loud and unapologetic, and it made Louis smile.
But then Louis noticed Harry’s eyes drop down to his chest, and he felt himself blush all over.
He was only in his boxers.
He hadn’t put anything more on when he’d climbed out of bed, so there he was standing outside of a stranger’s door wearing nothing but pants and glasses. And it was cold. He was too afraid to check, but he was pretty sure his nipples were standing at full attention and the hair on his goose-bumpy chest was sticking out.
It felt like ages that Harry’s eyes were fixed south of his chin, so Louis cleared his throat and said “I’m off to sleep now then. Have a good day and all that.”
Harry was a lot pinker when he met Louis’ eyes again, but he stuck out his hand despite his apparent embarrassment and said “Nice to meet you.” When Louis took his hand to shake it, Harry added “I’m sorry about the alarm.”
“It’s all right. Sorry for kicking off. And that I’m wearing practically nothing.”
“Don’t be sorry about that!” Harry was quick to say, and after three beats of awkward silence he added “I mean about kicking off! Not that you did. You didn’t. I mean if you did you had a reason to. I’m going to stop now.”
And Louis snorted out a laugh, pulling back his hand because they’d been shaking them for a weird amount of time. “See you around.”
“I hope so! Bye! Have a good sleep!” Harry chirped, and Louis shook his head, smile still plastered on his face.
“Hopefully see you around.”
Louis went back to his flat feeling incredibly awake for three-something in the morning, Harry’s presence strangely revitalizing.
Louis had been right about his first impression. Well, technically the second, if his original belief that the person with the loud alarm was a fucking twat was to be taken into consideration. Harry was adorable. Everything from his wild sticky-up hair to the very tips of his pointy-in toes was precious.
And Louis decided he would see the boy again, even if it meant waking up at three every morning until it happened.