Gods & Monsters

Chapter 9 (Part 2)

"Fuck," he curses to himself, then immediately gains a nice, splash of red on either of his cheeks as his smile falters, looking at the two boys with wide, apologetic eyes. "Sorry!" he bumbles with an awkward laugh, voice like an earthquake. Louis feels uneven from the tremors of it, fighting back a wince. "Damn—er, sorry! For the swearing." He turns even redder, looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights as he looks from Louis to Liam, almost as if he's unsure as to whether or not he's going to be scolded for his complete lack of manners.

Oh, how little he knows his present company.

"Not a problem, mate. We're not your mum," Liam comments in a sigh, clearly unable to resist rolling his eyes. Louis almost rams his elbow into his ribs at the rudeness of it, but Horan seems undeterred. Pleased, even, his features and shoulders relaxing that much more.

Still, though, Louis offers a half-smile (that's the best he can do, sorry) as he rests a pliant hand on Horan's shoulder which startles the boy into a small body jerk, his skin warming again, his eyes scrambling to Louis' face. "I know we've just met and all, Horan, but I promise you we can survive a lewd comment or two. Or ten. Or any number, really. I'm not fragile, I promise." Louis grins as he says the words, obligatorily squeezing the boy's shoulder once before pulling his hand away. He doesn't miss the wistful look in Horan's eyes as he trails his gaze after the missing contact, doesn't miss the way his body just barely sways towards him.

Instead of letting the gaze simmer though, instead of catching it with his own, Louis finds himself looking away, an odd sort of coil in his stomach.

He feels distracted. And uncomfortable. Something feels off.

Why, though? This is Louis' element, this is what he does best—never does he feel more powerful or appeased as when he can lord his own allure over a dull, rich kid who normally would look down upon him. There's something very addicting to being in control when you're the 'lesser' of the two powers at hand, and it's Louis' favorite thing in the world: reducing the 'elite' to a slobbering, pathetic mess, crawling at his ankles.

But, shit. He's looking at Niall's sweet, brash (if a little bit annoying and maybe ditzy?) face and he sees this kid waiting patiently to be introduced to this new society he's being brought into, thinking he's making new friends right now and...

And he sees Harry, too.

Louis sees where he would rather be right now. Sees a pair of gardening gloves and a white sky overlooking unearthed soil and geraniums, all paired with an uneven laugh that takes the ache out of Louis' bones.

Goddammit. This is a game, this is all a game.

And right now, his game is Niall Horan.

Fucking focus, Tommo. Focus.

He snaps out of himself just in time as Liam turns to him, every inch of his face composed into the perfect host.

"Shall we sit down with our new guest, Louis? Tell him a bit about the town? Get to know each other better?"

Niall beams at the sentence before Louis can answer. "That sounds incredible, mate! Gotta admit I feel a bit overwhelmed here already." He laughs, a bolt of electricity, as he slides his hands into the pockets of his ironed trousers, flashing his eyes to Louis again. "I think I'm going to like it, though. It's a nice change! It seems fun here." Every word is the sound of bubblegum being popped.

Louis tries to smile with allure, tries to blink his eyelashes in the way that's always worked before. It feels uneven, though. He probably looks like he's got a twitch. "Yeah," is all he manages to say, and Liam shoots him a look. Shit. He clears his throat, relaxes his face again. "I think we're going to have a lot of fun," he amends, leaving the sentence wide open for possibility.