Doh-Ray unlocked the door. The boys were drifting on the sofa. Harry was draped over Louis's back, only wearing a navy blue sweat shirt that read "San Francisco," a pink arse cheek in the air, and limp arm across his friend's chest. "Put some clothes on, mate. You got comp'ny." Doh-Ray found a pair of dirty basketball shorts draped over a chair and tossed it to Harry.
The Man of Many Needles hefted a gym bag onto the coffee table. The days of shoe box paraphernalia were long gone. The boys vulture-picked over the bag, not caring that Doh-Ray was watching.
Harry's phone was endlessly ringing. "Ain't you going to at least silence it?"
"You can. I don't give a shit," Louis was prepping Harry's calf for the dope, searching the bruised and black leg for a useable vein.
"Give me your other leg," Louis said. "That one's spent." Harry threw a long leg over Louis's knees.
The phone stopped ringing, only to begin another round. Doh-Ray reached over to switch the phone to silent, but he recognized the name on the caller ID. "Think this is your record company, Mr. Styles."
"Fuck 'em ," he said as Louis successfully found an entry point. His headed nodded forward. His eyes closed. Doh-Ray didn't judge. How could he in his occupation? But hadn't this gaunt, bruised, and scabbed over heroin addict on the couch not just been what his sister called, "A golden god?"
Louis started looking at his own legs for a good vein. The dealer held up a finger. "Mr. Tomlinson, before you do. Don't you think you should answer this?" The phone rang on and on. "Make an excuse for him." Doh-Ray pointed to the slightly swaying figure on the sofa.
Louis took the phone. "Hey. This is Louis Tomlinson," he was presumably talking to the record company exec. "Good, man. I'm doing real good. Yep, He's here. Right beside me, but we're dope addicts now so you can fuck off." Louis threw the phone into the wall.
Doh-Ray knew it was time to leave the house. It was time to move on to one of his other working locations for a while. Miami was always nice this time of year. I wouldn't have to worry with street folk and gang bangers about this shit. No one comes to look for the hooker, the homeless guy. That's the problem with working with these famous fucks, Doh-Ray said to himself. People care about them.
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Watermelon Sugar Die
FanfictionHarry has been a careful serial killer, but after a holiday trip with Louis, it's all coming to the light. And one of them has to die. Excerpt: Harry spread the pearly bubbles over his friend as gently as he could. Even through the sponge, he could...
