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Living in his mother’s fully furnished basement at the age of twenty-one is a nightmare. He’s woken up at exactly six by footsteps that sound like thundering hooves, as his sisters get ready for school. Louis sighs loudly and turns over. He should be used to this. He doesn’t have work for another hour or two; he needs as much sleep as possible.
The second time he wakes up is to his phone ringing. He huffs loudly into his pillow before reaching out for his phone on the bedside table. He doesn’t even check the caller ID before he’s pressing accept and snapping. “What?”
“Morning to you too, darling. Are you awake yet?”
“It’s too early for this, Stan.“ Louis peeks an eye open to check the time on the wall clock. It’s a little past eight. “Fuck!” He scrambles off the bed in a hurry, blinking repeatedly at the harsh morning light blinding him. “Work was half an hour ago.”
“Thought you took the day off.” Stan sounds like he’s laughing. Louis wants to punch his best mate in the face.
“Wh—“ He feels like such an idiot when he realises. Flopping back onto the bed, he sighs. “I forgot.” He’d taken two days off to make a trip to Manchester. The X Factor auditions are open and Louis’ been looking forward to it since he signed up. He made it to round two of the auditions, and he just needs to get through it to end up at the live one. Yawning into a fist, he asks. “Why are you calling me so early anyway?”
“Thought we should get a head start. Check in at the hotel; go out for a few drinks. Get the proper city experience. Seize the day and all that shit.”
“It’s ten past eight, give me, like, an hour.”
Stan groans on the other line. “Fine. If not, I’m coming there myself.”
Louis rolls his eyes and hangs up. He honestly does try to go back to sleep, but there’s too much light in the room – he’d been too lazy to buy some curtains for himself – and he’s excited by the day ahead.
Twenty minutes later, he gives up. He only makes an attempt to brush his teeth and wash his face before taking the stairs two at a time to enter the living room. It’s quiet, like it always is during the weekdays, but is in complete disarray all the same. Four younger siblings means there’s never a tidy house. Louis’ not too tidy himself.
He puts the kettle to boil and bends, his back popping as he stretches. He finds a yellow post-it note stuck to his box of Yorkshire, written in familiar cursive writing. You’re going to rock it, Boo. Have fun, and all the luck. I believe in you. Lots of love from Mum and the girls. xx
He smiles, tucking the note into the back pocket of his trackies. He didn’t expect his mother to accompany him. She works long hours at the local hospital and has a full household to control. Stan is his second choice. Even if his mum won’t be there, he’s carrying her luck and love with him, and Stan is a really good cheerleader when he wants to be. Besides, Louis couldn’t very well party with his mum.
He sips his cuppa by the window, eyelids heavy and nose still a bit stuffy from sleep. He drags his feet as he walks to the sofa with a bowl of mixed cereal, once he’s done with his tea. He has to push several toys and clothes to the side before he sits down and switches on the telly. The hall is going to smell like a laundry basket soon enough. He decides to leave a note for Charlotte. She’s the oldest at fifteen and could do a bit of cleaning up. Louis completely ignores the fact that he’s the eldest and should probably be sharing the house chores.
When the time comes for him to leave, Louis puts on a pair of dark wash denims he’s been wearing all week and a fresh, blue polo shirt. He drags the duffle bag he’d packed last moment from underneath his bed and heads upstairs. He makes sure to leave a note for his family, then slips his feet into a pair of loafers and steps out the door. His mum has a second key, which also means she’s going to have to pick the girls up from school today. He wishes she wouldn’t have to.
He meets Stan at the bus stop where they take a bus to the train station. And as they wait for their train, due in fifteen minutes, they snack on sandwiches and boxed juice.
He’s just so excited to get to Manchester. He has never been outside of Doncaster before, except for that one time he visited an aunt in London when he was like five. He barely even remembers that trip.
Manchester is big and full and bustling. It feels vibrant with life. The buildings are a mix of old, detailed and ornate architecture and ultra modern, oddly shaped glass structures that share Manchester’s skyline. Louis feels like he could get lost if he tried. Stan’s not too amazed by it, though, and he has to tug Louis to keep to the pavement as they walk towards the hotel they had researched. It was the cheapest they could find, and they’re trying not to spend too much money. Louis can’t help looking behind him and around as they walk, taking all of it in.
The hotel isn’t too shabby. The room contains a single bed, a sofa and a small dresser. It’s decent for two nights.
“You hungry?” Stan asks as he takes off his jacket and throws it on top of the sofa.
“Yeah. We should find a place to eat.”
“Or we could find one of those food carts and pump ourselves full of junk.”
Louis laughs. “Whatever floats your boat, man.” He glances at the time on his phone. “We’ve got an hour and a half before my audition.”
“Let’s get going then.” Stan calls halfway out the door. Louis pauses; double-checking into the room and patting his pockets to make sure he hasn’t forgotten his wallet and keys, since he won’t be coming back until after the audition. They might even end up heading straight to the club. Stan is more of an on-the-spot decision guy.
They buy burritos from the Barburrito to eat on the way. Louis feels content enjoying his meal as they stroll around to waste time. He even manages to buy a few small souvenirs for his sisters and mum, t-shirts and key rings.
They make it to the auditioning hall half-an-hour early, just in case. Once checked in, he takes a seat in a corner of the large room. It’s filled with so many people that it looks crowded and stifling. He feels completely out of place for some reason. He pulls the beanie off his head and ruffles his hair self-consciously.
Stan is useless. He has already abandoned Louis to make friends with a group of people carrying guitars. They look like they sing country music and they’re mostly comprised of girls; no wonder Stan is having the time of his life.
Huffing in resignation, Louis leans against his seat and rests his eyes. One of the production assistants will call his name and number when it’s his turn. Louis is, however, interrupted when his phone rings.
His mother’s voice is soft and delighted as she speaks, inquiring if he’d made it and how he’s doing so far. “I’m on my lunch break, love.” She says. “I have enough time to hear everything.”
“It’s honestly a bit boring.” He says as he glances around. He’s not sure why he isn’t worked up. His anxiety was off the roof when he did his first round of auditions. “Stan seems to be having a good time though.”
“Well, that’s good. Call me when you’re done then?”
“I will.”
“You’ll do great, babe.” Louis instinctively smiles. “You show them what you’ve got. You have all our support here.”
“Thanks mum. Love you.”
“I love you too, Boo.”
When he hangs up and raises his gaze, Stan is watching him with a knowing smile. Louis’ smile is forced as he gives Stan a small wave. He read himself wrong. The idea that he might disappoint his family and Stan, who are all rooting for him, is starting to put so much pressure on him. He’s biting at his fingernails incessantly as he thinks.
Especially his mum, she has so much faith in him and she spent so much money on his singing classes for years. What if he doesn’t make it to the live audition? What if he isn’t good enough? What if he messes up and that’s the reason he doesn’t make it through? It would be both an embarrassment and a failure.
Singing is the one thing he can do right. Ever since he was a child, he and his mum would put on these show-stopping performances in their small living room, singing their hearts out. And he’s finally here at the UK’s biggest singing competition, and he is balls-deep in his fear of failing.
By the time they call for his turn, he’s biting at the skin of his nail beds and some of them have even started to bleed. Rubbing his clammy hands on his jeans, Louis stands up with a deep breath and tries to psych himself up. Stan is by his side in a second, squeezing his arm and wishing him good luck.
Louis hugs him for a few seconds too long before stuffing his beanie into Stan’s hands and following one of the assistants to the room he’s supposed to audition in.
The room feels intimidating the moment Louis steps in. There’s a large table and four producers sat around it, as a crew stands by with cameras rolling.
Louis clears his throat and introduces himself, whilst wringing his hands painfully behind his back. The two female judges give him warm smiles, yet it does nothing to placate the internal conflict.
He does his best, sings just like he’s trained, and like he remembers doing with his mother. But when they ask him to sing a second song, it only continues to make him falter in his confidence. He does it anyway. If there’s one good thing about him, it’s how persistent and determined he is. His mother would be proud.
After his audition, they instruct him to wait for another hour or more till they’re done with all of the contestants before they make decisions. It’s almost as if they’re determined to raise Louis’ blood pressure.
Twenty minutes later, Louis cannot bear to stay in that stuffy room. His thoughts are going to kill him the longer he keeps staring at the door that the contestants enter and exit through. He gives himself a break and decides to go out for a cuppa.
If his mother were here, she would’ve told him to put a little faith in himself, messed his hair and pressed a wet kiss on his cheek. He wishes he believed in himself as much as she does, but tonight he’s proud.
When he returns, he finds the contestants being organised into groups and each group is sent into the audition room to hear the results. By the time it’s his group’s turn, Louis’ forehead is beading with sweat.
Hearing the words, “You’re through” feels like a lucky charm. Louis can’t shake the excitement and the smile as he stares at the green wristband he’d been given to identify that he’s through to the live audition.
The moment he steps out of that room, he’s dialling his mother and hysterically recounting the event. She’s just as excited as he is. “I knew you could do it, Boo.” She almost shouts. “I’m so proud of you. Now go out and have some fun.” That’s exactly what he plans to do.
Stan hugs him tight and pats his back way too many times. “You did good, man.” He punches Louis’ shoulder.
Louis grins. “Thanks. How ‘bout some celebratory drinks?”
“It’s on me!” Stan pumps his fist in the air.
+
They ask him to do an interview before the live audition, and Louis agrees albeit with jittering nerves. He feels a bit silly wearing the sticker with the contestant number across his plain, light blue shirt. He doesn’t know why he thought wearing a tie with his outfit was a good idea.
The interview takes place outside the building, where crowds of people stand behind pedestrian gates. He tugs at the sleeves of the grey cardigan he’s wearing over the shirt as he waits for the camera crew to get ready. Once they give him the signal, he tunes out the chatter of the crowd and begins to speak. He speaks of his family, how he decided to perform at the X Factor, and his high hopes for it. He mentions his singing coach, who’s going to be so surprised that he auditioned, and does a small wave at the camera.
It leaves him buzzing hours after. Waiting to be called onto stage feels like torture and like it’ll take an eternity. As time flies, the nerves begin to spike like they did yesterday. It doesn’t help his anxiety, being glued to a plastic chair beside Stan who’s laughing on the phone. Louis’ too wound up to even attempt making conversation with anyone. If he moves, he might unravel.
“Nervous?” A dark haired guy in a leather vest approaches him. Louis eyes him with caution but nods.
“Aren’t you?”
The guy shrugs. “Who isn’t?” He does a once over of Louis before continuing. “What were you thinking when you dressed this morning?”
Louis looks down at his outfit. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it. Frowning, he asks. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. You look better suited on the set for a porn video.” Louis’ face twitches, eyes trailing this guy from head to toe. He feels the flicker of a spark for a raging fire in his belly. “I’m Arthur by the way.” The nerve this guy has, to keep talking after he’s been blatantly disrespectful. Louis wants to give him a nice shiner to sport on stage, but he keeps his hands to himself. It wouldn’t do him any good to be caught in a fight right now. He silently rages.
“Don’t look like an Arthur.” Louis scoffs.
Arthur laughs, a low, raspy sound like nails on a chalkboard. Louis visibly winces at the sound. Arthur honestly thinks Louis’ being nice and it’s becoming an annoyance. “A Robert then?”
Louis makes a face with a shake of his head. “Nah. More like a Dick.”
Arthur continues to laugh. He’s not getting the memo at all. Louis looks away in irritation. Stan beside him is sporting a red face. “Hi. I’m Stan.” Stan reaches around Louis to hold out a hand.
“And you are?” Arthur asks, laugh dying down immediately.
“Louis’ best mate.” Stan replies, shaking Arthur’s hand too firmly. “You’ve got that whole punk rocker thing going on.” He gestures with a pointed finger at Arthur’s tattoo sleeves and ear piercings.
Arthur nods. “Yup. You not a fan?”
“Definitely not a fan.”
“Aww, why’s that?”
“’Cause you’re a big dickhead, man.” Stan grits out.
Louis really doesn’t want a fight to break out. Leave it to his best friend to abandon him but make an appearance when someone chats him up, not that he’d call Arthur offending him a compliment. He loves Stan for having his back all the time. “Weren’t you on a phone call?”
“Just got done.” Stan grins. “I’m having a very lovely conversation here if you don’t mind.”
“Man, you gotta watch your mouth.” Arthur says immediately, eyes scanning the room.
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you think about having some respect?” Stan leers.
Louis stands up and without a backward glance, leaves the room. It’s not like Stan can’t handle a fight. His bar fights are epic, and Louis doesn’t want to be in the middle of this one if it happens. He’s too worried about the competition, and he hopes that Stan has the good sense to avoid getting thrown out.
It’s just his luck that he comes face-to-face with one of the production assistants. “You’re on in about fifteen minutes, Louis.” The man taps his watch.
Louis nods like a machine, eyes widening. He immediately hurries to the toilet once the guy leaves and heaves into the toilet bowl. He’s suddenly shaking all over, and he hadn’t even noticed his anxiety getting the best of him.
He can hear his mother’s voice in his head, wishing him luck. Everyone’s expectations are echoing voices spinning around him, and all of it is starting to crush him. He can only imagine their disappointment, his failure, the loss, all over again. It’s never-ending, and it’s still surprising how fucking worked up he can get. He made it through two rounds of auditions to get here, and he’s still bloody scared of the outcome.
Louis rinses his mouth at the sink and splashes cold water on his face. For a minute, he stays that way, clutching the sink and breathing heavily as he tries to regain control of his mind and body. Then his phone is vibrating against his thigh and Louis digs it out.
“What, Stan?” He grits out, in hopes that his voice doesn’t waver. He can’t have Stan finding out how scared he is.
“Where are you?” Stan sounds breathless. Louis wonders if he actually did end up in a fight with the dick. “You’re supposed to be getting ready.”
“I’ll be right there.” Louis mumbles. “Was just in the toilet.” He doesn’t wait for Stan’s reply before he’s hanging up and wetting his face again. His face feels so warm, as if he’s about to have a fever. It’s ridiculous.
Stan hugs him before he goes on. Mic clutched in his sweaty palms, Louis stands in the middle of the stage, underneath the bright lights and the scrutiny of the audience. He had dreamed of this for so long and now he has never felt so small. He can hear his own blood pounding in his ears. Fuck!
But as his gaze sweeps across the audience and the judging panel, he does a double-take. His breath hitches at the sight of Harry Styles, teenage pop sensation, sexiest man of the year and the love of Louis’ life. He isn’t surprised to see Harry Styles, but he’s dumbfounded by the fact that the lad is feet away from him, actually physically there, and Louis’ stomach is doing backflips. He had watched Harry on this very show four years ago, been a fan of his for fucking ages, and Harry’s the reason he figured out his sexuality. Louis kind of owes it to this stunning man.
Louis forgets his purpose in the brief moment that he freaks out over Harry, in all his glory, thick brown curls and rich, intense eyes; tan skin dotted in pimples that only makes him so much more attractive in Louis’ eyes. But tonight Harry looks weary, eye bags like purple pockets, and form slumped. Louis doesn’t read too much into it. He focuses on Simon Cowell inquiring about his age and career.
Louis doesn’t take his eyes off Harry as he responds, watching the way Harry pulls at his long fingers and plays with his rings. It’s a nervous tic Louis realises. He’s nervous himself, sweating buckets actually, underneath his shirt. He can feel how damp his skin is becoming and wonders why he ever thought it was a good idea to wear long sleeves.
“What are you going to sing today?” Simon asks.
Louis chances a glance to his side where he spots Stan in the wings, who gives him an encouraging smile. Combing his hair to the side, Louis takes a deep, shuddery breath he hopes the mic doesn’t pick up. “I’ll be singing Hey There Delilah.”
Leaning back in his seat, Simon says. “Sounds good. Let’s hear it.”
When the music starts, Louis wishes he could just melt into a puddle. He can feel each pair of eyes focused on him, just waiting for him to mess up. He can’t quit now though, he can’t let it get to him. So he closes his eyes, focuses on the music and pretends he’s having a singing session with his friends.
As soon as he gets into the groove of the song, the words spill out of lips like water, and he feels in his element. He sways on his feet and grins up at the audience. He catches Harry’s eyes and smiles just for him. He hopes it’s not his imagination when Harry smiles back, soft and subtle but a smile nonetheless that he ducks to hide. It warms Louis’ chest, a flutter, gives him the extra bit of push he needs to power through his performance. He’s confident in being able to sing the song he has rehearsed for months.
Louis ends on a soft note, letting it ring for a few seconds. His hands start slightly shaking the moment he looks at the judges. They stare back at him, expressions contemplative, but Louis’ gaze moves on to Harry. He’s not very good at reading people, but if the way Harry’s lips are curved and his fingers are pressed against his lips are any indication, it seems as if he had enjoyed the performance. Louis’ heart skips a beat at the thought.
“Right.” Simon begins on a heavy exhale. Louis doesn’t breathe in the time it takes for Simon to finish. “Think it could’ve been better. Lacks stage presence and the song doesn’t go with your voice. So it’s a No from me.” Louis nods, lips tight and manages his composure.
Nicole Scherzinger looks apologetic but she agrees with Simon. “I would’ve gone with a different song choice. It’s a No from me, love.” The word “No” is beginning to feel like a noose around his neck, tightening with every word the judges utter.
Louis Walsh on the other hand disagrees wholeheartedly. “You’ve impressed me, lad. I’d like to see what you have to deliver. It’s a Yes.” It doesn’t make Louis feel any better though, nothing is going to make him feel better when dread begins to trickle.
He keeps his gaze locked on Harry when it’s his turn. Harry looks small, retracting in his chair as he glances at the other judges. Counting on his vote won’t matter; Louis’ fate is already sealed.
Harry swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Sorry.” His words are hoarse. Stop apologizing, Louis screams in his head. This is becoming a nightmare and he wants out. “It’s a No from me too.” Louis doesn’t pay attention to the regret in Harry’s voice, the way he looks away. He’s too caught up in the tightening feeling that envelops his body. With what’s left of him, he looks at Harry with a glare that could kill, hoping it conveys everything he’s feeling inside. Harry just gave him a No without any reason to support his decision.
Somewhere, there’s a higher power that truly loves to shit on Louis’ parade. He never saw it coming the way it did. Three No’s that triumph over a single Yes, continue to ring in his ears like a mockery.
His blood runs cold at the implication of their decisions and his eyes are burning. The audience is quiet at they watch, the judges are content with the verdicts they’ve made over his fate and Louis wants to run. His family is probably watching his failure right now; Stan is watching him go down, the whole world is. Louis is humiliated and angry and he wants it to end. So many thoughts and so many emotions are running through his head like wildfire. He just wants it to end.
He can’t look any of them in the eyes as he swallows thickly and nods. He blinks furiously to get rid of the tears that are quickly forming.
“T-thank you.” He stutters into the mic, barely raising his head but he musters a smile anyway because he doesn’t want the world to remember him as a selfish prick.
And then he runs.
He runs off stage with a sob lodged in his throat. But he doesn’t miss the broken look on Harry’s face, the furrowed eyebrows and the apology written all across it. Louis hates him, so fiercely in that moment. He hopes he never sees the bastard again. He’s going to rip all of Harry’s posters from his bedroom walls when he gets home.
He runs like he’s being chased, shoes loudly hitting the pavement and his surroundings a blur. He vaguely hears someone call out to him but he doesn’t stop.
He can’t stop till he’s standing outside the building, hunched over and trembling. He is devastated, like the world had taken his voice and shattered it underneath its feet.
“Lou!” Stan comes running out seconds later, out-of-breath and hair caught in the wind.
Louis turns away, angrily scrubbing at his eyes with his fists.
“Louis. Come on, man. It’s gonna be okay.”
“No it’s not.” He wants to scream. “Fuck.” He whirls around, tugging at his hair. “Fuck!” He shouts again. The passers-by falter in their footsteps, sending him cautionary glances.
Louis can’t bear it. Everything is wrong. “Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” He continues to yell profanities as he paces back and forth on the pavement. He wants to punch something or break something, anything to get the burning anger and despair to bleed out of him.
It’s by mistake he catches Stan looking terrified. He looks small, keeping his distance. The look itself breaks something in Louis and he lets out a weak cry. He worked so hard for this. So fucking hard, day and night. His mum sacrificed everything she had to give him this opportunity. She emptied their emergency savings, for fuck’s sake, so he could come to Manchester. He wanted this to be the turning point in their lives, the way he could repay her for everything and take care of his family. Louis chokes, throat closing up as his airways struggle to get enough oxygen. He’s so full of rage that his own body doesn’t know how to breathe.
Crouching, Louis hides his face, hands clutching his head as he cries. He lets it all out; the anguish, the defeat, the regret for both him and his dear mother. He whispers an apology to Stan somewhere in his nonsensical mutterings, an apology for making Stan come all the way here for nothing.
“No. no.” Stan crouches down to be on his level and rubs Louis’ back as gently as he can. “I’d do anything for you, mate. Don’t ever apologise.” He tries to get Louis to stand up after some coaxing, but Louis refuses to show his bloated, red face. “It’s okay. This is just a hitch in the long ride.”
“I fucked up.” Louis’ confession is a whisper, robbed by the noise of the city. Stan pulls Louis against his chest and hugs him tight. Louis sniffles, a hand bunching up Stan’s shirt. Normally he’d feel embarrassed but he can’t care now. “I ruined it for all of us.” Stan says nothing, obviously at a loss for words. Louis keeps talking though, uttering words without second thought.
“I hoped I’d make it. Everyone had faith in me. Why didn’t I make it?”
“I don’t know, Lou. Maybe it’s because you’re supposed to get through next time.”
Louis bites his lower lip hard, till he can taste copper. “I’m not coming back here, ever. I’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time chasing this nonsense.”
Stan steps back and Louis tries to regain his footing. He sways, unsure if he’ll fall over any minute. His body feels lifeless. He could lay right there and hope to die. He doesn’t want to see his mother’s disappointed face when he gets back, doesn’t want to face his colleagues or his friends.
“Don’t say that.” Stan says. “You smashed it today. Give it a year or two, you’ll do even better.”
Louis scoffs. What does Stan know about singing, and having to scrape pennies for money? What does he know about sacrifice and disappointing a family? He coughs roughly into a fist as soon as he feels the tears building up. He doesn’t have the energy to become a wreck again.
Stan sighs. He squeezes Louis’ shoulder and turns him around so they can start walking. “Come on. Let’s drink away this crap night.” Stan couldn’t have proposed a better idea.
+
Buzzing. Everything is dimmed into a buzzing in his ears. It may have something to do with the fact that he’s a third of the way into his drinking rampage. Louis has been downing a variety of strong liquor for the past twenty minutes. The buzzing doesn’t stop.
Frowning, he finds that when he stands up, the buzzing is more of a vibrating against his left thigh. He slides a hand down his thigh only to come across his phone. Oh.
He stares very closely at his phone, nearly going cross-eyed.
It’s his mother. He definitely can’t mistake the photo of her wide smile for anyone else. Louis groans and places the drink back on the bar top. Some rational part of his brain is arguing against accepting the call in his drunken state. He doesn’t give that rational thought any attention.
“Hey, mum.” He has the conscious thought to pretend he isn’t drunk. Obviously, his mother would be able to hear the loud bass and the crowd. He’s so fucking stupid.
“I can tell you’re busy, love.” Louis hums, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright lights. Suddenly he just wants to lie down. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” He mumbles. He shouldn’t have answered the call. He really shouldn’t have.
“I’m sorry, darling.” His mother starts. Louis sighs, wishing he could hold his heart in his fist right then. “You did so well and we’re very proud of you. It takes so much courage to face an audience and take the criticism. You’ve always been strong, my darling.” His mother isn’t helping at all. Louis downs the shot of tequila. “You accomplished something wonderful today. You sang your heart out. Everyone wants you to know they love you. So do I.” Louis gestures to the bartender for another drink.
“Thanks…mum.”
There’s silence for a few minutes too long. His mother was probably expecting him to say something more. He can’t, though. He’s intoxicated and incoherent and barely holding together at the seams. If he says anything more, he’s going to fucking break, and this time there won’t be anything left of him.
“I love you.” His mother repeats, sounding almost sad. “Take care of yourself, and have fun.”
His reply is a grunt and the moment they hang up, he’s left staring at the blank screen of his phone. He misses her. He wants her to call him back, to repeat how much she loves him. But she’s not here to wrap him in her arms and make the pain go away. She’s not here to fix him a cup of warm tea and watch a dumb TV show to distract him. He’s too big to need his mother.
He takes the vodka the bartender hands him and slips off the stool. Sniffing into the back of his palm, he drinks, taking a moment to feel the liquid burn as it runs down his throat and warms his stomach.
In the flashing lights, he is a ghost wandering through the crowd, aimlessly. Stan’s off somewhere, probably chatting up a lass.
He’s not sure if it’s karma spitting in his face. For the time he borrowed a few bills from their savings, or the time he and Stan drank a whole six pack at the park when his mother explicitly warned him he was three years too young for that, or the time he broke Lottie’s telescope because she ratted him out to their mum that he’d smoked once or twice. Or maybe this is for all the times he had kissed a boy.
Louis finds himself leaning against the dirty wall of the club, assaulted by his thoughts one after the other. He lost the vodka glass somewhere in the throng of people slamming against him.
He startles when a different body slides against him, strong and broad in all the right places. When the light bounces off of them, Louis has a moment to take note of the man before him, dark hair gelled back and body clad in leather and jeans.
Louis feels the guy’s muscles flexing underneath his hands. Resting his head against the wall, Louis groans, letting the man grind against his crotch. Louis’ hot all over, almost burning, and he wants to tear his clothes off.
“Twink.” The man whispers in his ear. Raspy and metallic, familiar. But Louis doesn’t jerk out of his grasp.
“Dickface.” Louis snipes. Arthur chuckles, breath smelling of alcohol against his face. “Funny seeing you here.”
Arthur pushes him roughly against the wall when Louis tries to take control. “I could say the same to you.” He pauses to say before kissing along Louis’ neck. Louis moans, feels his dick stir when Arthur blows cool air over the hickey he sucked below Louis’ jaw. “Didn’t think you’d come dow—“ Louis crashes their lips together as much as he cringes at having to do it. He’ll be damned if he lets the fucking punk finish that sentence. Not tonight.
Arthur wastes no time slipping a hand into Louis’ trousers. He palms at Louis’ erection, which twitches in his hand. “You’re thick.” Arthur grunts. Louis swallows the words. He breaks their kiss to trail his lips across Arthur’s jaw, subtly wiping his lips on the leather jacket. “Just how I like it.”
Before Louis can do anything else, Arthur pulls away completely. His hands keep gripping Louis by the shoulders as he studies Louis in the light. “Look at you.” Arthur smirks. Louis hates it. “Already begging for it, huh?” Louis whimpers when the taller man presses a thigh against his crotch. “I could fucking wreck you right now.”
Louis blinks back hazily. “Why don’t you show me then?” He bites his lower lip and flutters his eyelashes. There’s only one thing he’s after tonight, and Arthur’s falling for it.