The bell chimes as Louis pushes open the door and is greeted by an overwhelming mix of smells wafting towards him from the counter. It is practically empty at this time of day, most people are probably at work or school, he reasons. Noticing that the counter is unattended, he turns to take a moment to appreciate his surroundings. The bakery is beautifully decorated, the lights dimmed to a relaxing glow, the chairs made with intricate designs of metal, and the walls adorned with blown up images of the most breathtaking black and white photography that Louis has ever seen. Despite himself, he wanders towards the one picture which draws him in the most, a vibrant yet colorless background veiled by a metal curtain. The caption reads simply, ‘Chains’. The image is so artfully captured, the symbolism, the emotion, and understanding are brought to life. Louis shakes his head slightly as his mind returns to the chains by which he himself is bound. He spots a crumpled piece of paper on the floor beside him and begins to juggle it between his feet.
He releases a sigh of resignation and begins to mutter quietly to himself. “You are a strong and dedicated football player. Football is everything. Your heart and your identity lie in the hands of the Doncaster Rovers.” The words are vague, and his voice so low it’s nearly imperceptible, but the statement sends chills through his spine nonetheless.
A sudden crash of metal pans followed by a muffled curse pull Louis back to the present, and his focus is quickly redirected towards the counter. Behind it stands a boy who’s white apron is covered in pink icing, in a shade similar to the one which has spread across his cheeks. The pastries lie abandoned on the floor around him, except for one which clings stubbornly to the apron just below his shoulder.

“Oops?” He says sheepishly, glancing at the pan held limply by his side. He turns slightly allowing Louis to read the name which is embroidered across his chest, Harry.
“Hi,” Louis replies, fighting back laughter. “I’m Louis, I’ve been told that you have some great pastries here. It’s a shame you’ve run out.”
“Actually,” Harry says as he plucks the pastry off of his shoulder. “We’ve got one left that you can try… and it’s on me!” He winks cheekily at Louis before they both collapse into fits of laughter.
“That. Was. The. Worst. Joke. I’ve. Ever. Heard.” Louis chokes out as he gasps for air.
“Never insult a man’s sense of humor,” Harry says his voice cracking slightly as he continues to laugh at his own joke, a proud smile spread widely across his dimpled cheeks. “So what can I get you then?”

Louis’ eyes scan the glass display before settling on the blueberry scones. “I’ll have one of these,” he says pointing towards the tray. “And a cuppa Yorkshire Tea as well?” He reaches into his pocket and pays for the food, slipping a couple extra euros into the tip jar as well, before taking the warm brown bag and styrofoam cup from Harry’s outstretched arm. He can’t help but to realize how easily the two things fit in just one of Harry’s hands while his small and delicate fingers just barely manage to wrap themselves around his tea. The thought brings a slight smile to his face as he opens the door, making the bell chime once again on his way out.
It isn’t until he is on his way to practice, outside in the brisk wind and cool weather, that he notices his flushed and burning cheeks. He knows that this isn’t right, that he isn’t allowed to feel this way, but even as he thinks this, his racing heart betrays him.
All through the rest of that week at practice Louis finds himself making stupid mistakes, something is off and even his teammates can tell. He’s just not really there mentally anymore. It was one thing to push it away to the back of his mind when it was nothing more than an irrelevant secret, but now it could actually mean something- could become something even- and that made it so much harder.
“Alright Louis?” The goalie asks, bumping against his shoulder as he runs past.
“Alright mate,” Louis calls with what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. “Just a bit distracted is all.” His teammate nods back at him, before turning and scooping up the ball for a punt. The ball flies right past Louis while he stands motionless as though he’s been turned to stone. He spends the rest of practice in a trance-like state unable to do anymore than go through the motions.
By Saturday, Louis can’t contain it any longer, he has to go back to the bakery- has to see Harry again. The chiming bell and the enticing scent which welcome him back make the store feel like home. It’s silly he thinks to feel at home in a place he’s only been to once before, but he knows that he could feel at home wherever Harry is.
“Morning, Lou!” Harry calls, his dimpled cheeks masked by the powdered sugar which is dusted across them.

‘Lou’, no one has called him that since before he joined the team, not even his mother, the nickname of his childhood wasn’t tough enough for such a competitive footballer they’d said. He misses it though, almost as much as he misses the person it belonged to. It’s nice to be seen as more than an athlete once again.
“You remember me?” Louis asks, trying to come across as though he’s teasing him but the hint of insecurity in his tone betrays him.
“Of course I do,” Harry chuckles. “No one has ever seemed as interested in my photography as you did, and besides you laughed at my joke which was admittedly cheesy, even for me.”
“You mean you took these?” His astonishment is clear, but he can’t help it. Harry had taken those photos, Harry the baker, Harry the one with the dimpled cheeks and twinkling eyes, Harry with the cheesy jokes and puns, Harry who he had been unable to take his mind off of for the past week had been the one to take the photos which had drawn him in and allowed little pieces of the old Louis to resurface.
“Actually, I have a few rolls of film from a shoot the other day that I still need to develop, maybe you’d like to help? I have a dark room in the flat upstairs where I do all my work with them. We could go after you’ve finished if you like? It’s not too busy at this time of day so it wouldn’t hurt to close up shop for a bit.”
“That’d be great,” Louis says as he accepts the plate and the mug of his favorite Yorkshire Tea. “I was quite interested in photography back in college and even took a few classes. I wasn’t much good though and I haven’t really had time for it since I started Uni so it’s been a while.” He doesn’t mention that recently if he had so much as picked up a camera and film he would be mocked endlessly by the team for not being masculine enough.
Harry leaves Louis to his food while he begins to tidy up the counter and tables and hang a sign to tell customers that he was on a break. When Louis has finished, Harry takes his plate and sets it in the sink then slips out of his apron and folds it neatly on a stool.  He leads Louis through the door in the back of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs in silence, a silence that normally would be tense but with him it is almost comfortable.
His flat is decorated as nicely as the bakery downstairs, the furnishings and decor simple yet elegant and all reflecting Harry’s personality within them. Louis is stunned by the stark contrast between Harry’s flat and his own. Louis’ almost resembled a hotel room with its lack of decoration and minimal furnishing, and it felt as foreign as if it really were one. The jerseys with his name embroidered across the back which he had left scattered across the floor were the only indication that he lived there.
“Right through here,” Harry tells him, gently prodding Louis’ shoulder to bring his attention back to why he is here in the first place. The darkroom is all that Louis had imagined it would be, the undeveloped film spilling out of boxes, the processing trays and bottles of chemicals on the counter and a pile of finished photos sitting on the stool in the corner. Harry closes the door behind them leaving them in complete darkness until he finds the safelights which cloak the room in a very dim and shadowy light.
“Do you know how everything works?” He asks.
“I don’t remember exactly but I think I’ll just watch, I wouldn’t want to mess up any of your work.” Louis replies as he steps back to watch in admiration as Harry’s hands begin to fly through the process effortlessly. Harry is humming as he works, and Louis is so caught up in watching him that he doesn’t notice when Harry finishes the first strip of film and goes to hang them up to dry. They collide slightly, unable to see each other clearly in the dark, and Harry begins to laugh while Louis apologizes for being in his way.
“I shouldn’t have come up here, I’ll only get in the way of your work and bother you.”
“You could never get in my way Louis,” Harry says in a low serious tone as he pulls Louis closer towards him. “And you could never, ever, bother me.” They’re close enough to see the light reflecting off each others eyes, and that is what Louis is focusing on as he leans in to close the distance between them. The kiss lasts only a matter of seconds before Louis pulls away in embarrassment, apologizing once again.
“Stop apologizing Louis,” Harry says gently with his hand rested against Louis’ flushed cheek. “Stop apologizing and bother me some more.” He pulled Louis back towards him kissing him again, more passionately this time. They stumble backwards knocking over a pile of film and jump back startled.
“Oops,” Louis said as he gestured down at the black and white prints scattered on the floor around them.
“Hi,” Harry whispered as he took Louis’ hand in his own. And maybe some things are just meant to be. Maybe when it’s right everything will come full circle, and maybe love isn’t as black and white as it seems.