Lets Cross The Lines We Lost {L.S} (Not My Work)

Chapter 1

**

Louis notices two things when he gets home from work.

One, there is a car parked in the driveway, implying that Zayn finished classes early (or chose not to go altogether) and didn’t bother to give him a lift home.

And two, there are movers outside the house next to theirs, which has been unoccupied for the past month since the previous tenants were obviously unaware that they lived on a street entirely occupied by students, and they didn’t much take to the questionable smoke that would drift out of the window of Zayn’s studio.

He can’t see anyone yet behind the mover’s truck, and he’s mildly annoyed as he isn’t the biggest fan of change. He knows all of the faces on their street, so he’s grown accustomed to everyone’s routines, with the odd block party here and there, and he hasn’t had to introduce himself to someone new in a few months at least. He’s aware that he’s terribly cynical and reclusive, but it wasn’t always like that. Life’s just shit sometimes, and it happens.

He walks inside to see Zayn leaning against the window looking out to the front of the house.

“You were standing there for ages,” Zayn mutters.

“Hello to you too,” Louis says dryly and plants a kiss on Zayn’s cheek. He makes himself a cup of tea and then dramatically falls backwards onto the couch with a sigh.

“Tired?”

Louis hums noncommittally in response. “What’re you doing over there?”

“Seeing what the new people look like.”

“Haven’t seen them yet?”

Zayn shakes his head. “They literally just pulled up in this crazy coloured van, its actually kind of cool. Three guys I think.”

“Nice.” Louis says, unmoving from his spot on the couch. “What’s the verdict? Worth any of my attention?”

“You mean would you bang any of them?” Zayn says, amused.

Louis smiles innocently. “Precisely.”

Zayn ponders for a second. “I mean, they’re fit, yeah. Fucking frat boy vibe though.” Louis dips his head back and groans. “Hey, this one looks more your type.”

Louis shifts off of the couch, cradling the cup of tea between his fingers. His curiosity spiked, he’ll be completely honest. Becoming a self-pitying recluse does have the disadvantages of not getting any for months, and it’s difficult to recall the last time he actually had a meaningful relationship.

He used to go out a lot with Zayn and their other mates who have probably assumed he’s fallen off the face of the earth. They’d go out to smoky pubs and Zayn would buy Louis drinks because he was a sad, unemployed mess whose tattered denim jackets smelled of cigarette smoke and whose home was the torn, stained couch in Zayn’s tiny dorm.

It’s not that Louis was desperate after the infamous ex, the one that broke his heart to the point where he really lost all sense of self-worth, but he did pick up some bad habits that he isn’t proud of.

It’d go like this; he’d spot some pretty boy in a pub, drink himself silly, and then drag him into the bathroom where he’d drop down and accept the way it caused rips in the knees of his jeans, or the filthy kiss on his cheek before the boy would slip off and that would be the end of it. And sometimes he’d be the other boy, sometimes he’d be the one to leave. But none of it even mattered, he was unaffected, desensitized, and night after night and he’d tear through the seams and close his eyes and let his throat burn because he just didn’t care.