Collision; Larry

14.

Louis' tummy aches. His lips and fingers are sticky and he's positive his tongue's actively crumbling from all the sweetness. He'd quite like something to drink right about now but it's already abundantly clear to him that walking down to the shore and drinking from the ocean is not an option like it would be at home in the Forest-the lakes and streams over there are always perfectly clear and clean and fresh, and the harsh, salty water he got out of a couple of hours ago is none of those things. He mentally cusses the others out for forgetting to buy some kind of beverage when they'd been at the grocery store. Not himself. How would he know that eating so many s'mores would get you this thirsty?

He wouldn't know. And he's just about to call Zayn or Niall out on this, when Zayn gets there before him with a different subject.

"So. Teach you about Earth, huh?" he questions. His gorgeous eyes are glinting with something slightly mischievous, and Louis' immediately over his dry tongue and leans forward. He knows that when he himself has got that look in his eyes, only beautiful things can come from it.

(At least according to him. What others around might reckon is not important.)

"So have you... Have you ever gone clubbing, then?" Zayn asks, and as soon as the last syllable leaves his lips, a grin splits across Niall's face as he pumps a fist in the air.

"Fuck yes. You're a man after my own heart, Zayn Malik."

Louis hasn't gone clubbing. He's never heard the expression before.

Perfect.

"What is clubbing?" he asks, notably intrigued.

"You don't have any related activity?" Zayn raises an eyebrow. "You go to a place where there's alcohol and loud music, and then you get wasted and dance on other wasted people."

"Oh. Of course we do. We have festivals for the season changes. There's lots of wine and dancing, then."

A snort is heard from Harry.

"This isn't a fancy occasion. We're talking liquor, Louis, do you do that kind of thing? Drinks that are so alcoholic they burn your throat and set your insides on fire?"

Louis frowns, wrinkling his nose. "Why would I want to? That sounds unbelievably shitty."

"You're sweet, Louis, you're so sweet," Harry shakes his head, right corner of his mouth twitching. "It's because it gets you drunk."

And, well-surely Louis' had creatures in his surroundings who drink just a little too much. Who empties entire bottles during grape harvest season and then they get all buzzed for hours-the summer festival they have each year is the most prominent one. Louis remembers the elves and the fairies and other embodied spirits gathering to eat and drink, taking on bottle after bottle of the finest red wine they have, reminisces how their cheeks go a little redder and their eyes a little glossier and their voices a little louder for every glass they consume.

He doesn't really do it much, though. Either he's been too young, or too restless to ever stay put with the older creatures around the table and get to that point.

"Maybe that's why you do it," he allows. "But I don't."

"You've never been drunk?" Harry stares at him, eyes blown wide.