Gods & Monsters

Chapter 8 (Part 1)

It's a music shop. It's called Spin Records. It's right across the street from the school.

And it's not what Louis was expecting. (Add it to the list.)

"Is this seriously it? You've been working a stone's throw away this whole time? And in a music shop, no less?" Louis questions, both eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. He fixes a blank-meets-incredulous look at Harry. "I expected a dentist's office, if I'm being quite honest. Or a book shop, if I was feeling really creative."

"A dentist?" Harry questions, confusion writ across his brow, but his lips are still all jumbled up with a smile. The enormity of his mouth is making his grin all but consume his face and it almost looks as if he's putting genuine, vigorous effort into taming it down a bit. Louis can't help but watch the phenomenon, slightly fascinated. "I'm certainly not qualified to be a dentist, Louis. Contrary to popular belief," he adds dryly, boldly, and it makes Louis laugh.

"I know that, you sassy plum, but I pictured you as a desk employee or summat. A proper secretary." He smirks a bit, slides his hands into his pockets as they stand in front of the storefront, facing each other. Harry has yet to make any move to enter the building though, instead content to watch Louis with a quiet, amused smile lying in the soft brightness of his eyes, hand on his bag which very heavily rests atop his shoulder. It's the burn of his whispering gaze that prompts Louis to avert his smirk away, up to admire the spray painted sign of the building. It's black and red and bold, a hastily and cleverly drawn black record player set by the large letters. "You've got nice teeth, see," Louis adds in a mumble, just a fraction of a second later. "Dentist seemed logical."

A lone eyebrow lifts on Harry's face, but the gentle observance in his expression remains intact, that smile still pillowing his lips. He really is lovely to look at, isn't he? "General dental hygiene equates to being associated with licensed professionals?" he questions, but he punctures the sentence with a soft laugh. "I think I may have learned a different definition of logical, Louis." He smiles wider then, smiles because he knows he's a little shit.

It startles a short gust of a laugh out of Louis as he rips his gaze away from the building, bringing it back to the boy in question.

Such a shit.

"Didn't realize I was talking to Sassper the Friendly Ghost," Louis grumbles lowly under his breath, loud enough for Harry to hear.

It, of course, sends him into a fit of giggles. And it really wasn't that funny—it was a corny joke. A really bad joke. But damn. If Harry's not careful, he's going to inflate Louis' ego even moreso. And then what will he do? He'll just float away and the world will never be rid of him.

"Sassper the Un-Friendly Ghost?" Harry suggests, still giggling, and he doesn't tuck his palm against his mouth or bite his lips to stifle the sound. He just glows a bit brighter and tilts his head a bit and... It's really familiar. Open. It feels personal. Does that make sense?

No, of course it doesn't. Louis' still hungover. Nothing makes sense.

He silences all the nonsensical thoughts.

"The Bitchy Ghost," Louis amends further, and, yep—there he goes again. Laughing like Louis was actually clever or something.

He only feels that he's smiling when it starts aching his cheeks. And the minute he does, he immediately stops, forcing his face to smooth into something indifferent because Harry's sweet, yeah, and his laughter is something very enticing. But there's a line, see. A line between Louis and his targets.

It needs to remain a firm line.

So he clears his throat, offers up a self-aware shrug and gestures to the door.