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It was nearly midnight, and Louis had just started to drift off.

He was curled up on his mattress, one leg tangled in the blanket, phone abandoned somewhere on the floor. The room was dark except for the faint glow from a streetlight outside the window. For the first time all day, his mind had gone quiet enough to let sleep sneak in.

Then came the crash.

A loud, unmistakable, what-the-hell-was-that kind of bang from just outside his front door.

Louis jolted upright, heart thudding. For a second, he sat frozen, listening. Nothing. Then another clatter—less of a bang, more like something metal tumbling. Maybe a person tripping over it.

He got up, tugging a black hoodie over his head, and padded barefoot to the door. He peeked through the peephole and blinked.

Someone was crouched in front of his door, muttering to themselves while trying to pick up what looked like... a broken potted plant?

Louis opened the door. "Uh. You alright?"

The boy looked up, startled—big green eyes, curls flopping into his face, dirt smudged on one cheek.

"Oh god. Hi. Sorry. Yes. I'm—uh—fine. Completely fine. This is fine," the boy said in a rush. "I was just, um, watering my plants and I tripped over my own feet and it went flying and now it's... yeah. I'm Harry. I live next door."

Louis blinked. "At midnight?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I don't sleep well. Plants help. Or they did. Before I murdered one."

Louis leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "So your plant's dead, you're covered in soil, and you woke up your new neighbor."

"Technically, you're the one who left your welcome mat at a perfect trip angle."

"I don't have a welcome mat."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Then that might've been my own doormat. That's... actually worse."

Louis couldn't help it—he laughed. "You're a disaster."

Harry gave a theatrical bow, one hand over his heart. "Thank you. I try to keep the bar low. Less disappointment that way."

"Well, congrats. You've set an impressively chaotic tone for our neighborly relationship."

"I'm proud of that."

Louis rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Come on. I've got a dustpan."

Harry looked surprised. "Really? You don't have furniture but you've got cleaning tools?"

Louis disappeared inside. "I've got standards."

A few minutes later, Harry was sweeping up the remains of the plant while Louis watched, arms crossed and amused. The hallway smelled faintly of dirt and cheap air freshener.

"I owe you a new plant," Harry said, glancing up at him.

Louis raised an eyebrow. "You owe me sleep."

"I could make it up to you with coffee tomorrow?"

Louis hesitated just long enough for Harry to notice—but not long enough to take it back.

"Alright," he said. "But don't bring dirt this time."

"No promises," Harry said, grinning like the whole thing hadn't been a mess. "Goodnight, neighbor."

Louis shook his head as he shut the door. "What the hell just happened?"

He walked back to bed, but now sleep felt like it had been nudged aside by something new. Something green-eyed, clumsy, and possibly dangerous to potted plants.

And against his better judgment, Louis found himself smiling.