Buy Me Purple Flowers First | L.S [REWRITING]

01

Hello, my lovelies. Thank you so much for reading. I'm in the middle of rewriting this story, and will probably upload bit by bit. 

This involves heavy changes in scenes and it may cause some plotholes. If you're a FTR it shouldn't affect your experience too much, but if things don't line up correctly, that will be why aha. 

June 13th, Sweden 

Louis stares into the empty faces of the crowd that stand before him.

Pulsing beams of electric light shine onto the sweaty bodies. The neon-coloured streaks emphasise their sensual dancing, it's intoxicating, it's erotic and it's all for Louis

His vocals vibrate in the back of his throat, a flow of notes pushed from his chest. His microphone takes the beating as it transfers his voice into the many prominent speakers above. The audience eats up his music as if they had never heard an instrument in their life, arms flying into strangers, overwhelmed eyes buried into necks, and the shameless occasional pair of breasts, flash Louis, belonging to people hoisted above the shoulders of another.

A break appears in the song, and Louis smiles into the microphone. A strange feeling of exhaustion flutters throughout his body, throat tired and tonsils tingling.

"I want everyone," He breathes as he takes in the audience before him, "To sing this next part with me, as loud as you fucking can!" He shouts, taking the mic off the stand and pointing it in the direction of the crowd.

There's a pause from the screaming crowd, bracing themselves for the following lyrics.

"Midnight... " He belts, followed by a sea full of powerful echoes, "Memories!"

"Baby, you and me!" They sing holistically.

The crowd seems to morph into a being of its own. It dances romantically amongst the cells that bind it and It lives and breathes music. It sweats and smells of metallic and spilled cocktails, it tastes briny and has an aftertaste of cheap perfume and it procreates with every new lyric sung.

"Stumblin in the street!" They scream

"Singang Singang Singang Singang," He chuckles to himself, mocking the way they all sound together.

"Midnight... Memories!" he gasps, becoming short of breath.

"Anywhere we go," He pants, "Never say no,"

"Just do it, do it-" Louis vocalises into the mic for the last time that night before the two big drum beats cut the song to an end, ending all the lights with it. "Thank you Sweden." He stands still in a pitch-black stadium and admires how the fans yell his name for more, more of him.

It's far too flattering to think about, so to humble himself, he bows to an audience who can't see him. Louis crouches and runs of the stage.

Once off the stage, he collapses onto one of the nearest available seats and begins to fluff his shirt to cool himself down. With a sneaky peek, he looks around the corner of the curtain and spots the thousands of fans.

Some cry and some scream; he smiles through the closed curtains, resting his elbows on his knees, watching them all for the first time since he walked out. When performing, he can only really see the first four rows of fans, but once the stadium is entirely lit, he can see everyone.

They chant and plea, waiting, hoping for him to come back out and treat them with another song, but they all know deep inside that that was the last time they were going to see him that night.