Apocalypse | L.S [Completed]

XLVI

Helplessness bubbles up inside Louis. Cigarette in hand, he rushes through endless schemes, trying to plot the perfect plan to win Harry back. But as they say, 'easier said than done'. He has dragged his way through three meetings and an inspection today, attending all of them without a fully concentrated mind. Harry accompanied him for all of them, too, never talking to Louis unless needed and cold, jade eyes piercing Louis' skin raw without a fail.

Finally, it's their lunch break, the entire office staff going their own ways, leaving the desks empty and the building hush. Naturally, Louis' first instinct is to check up on Harry, make sure that the boy hasn't given up his lunch again. Legs moving mindlessly, silently humming one of the indie songs Harry had planted in his memory, Louis barges in Harry's cubical out of habit, blue eyes meeting the sight of Harry and Chad whatever-his-surname-is.

The room falls silent, both Harry and Chad's conversation dying and now two pairs of questioning eyes fall on Louis, who stands there still as a rock with both hands curled up in a fist, holding in his rage. His eyes dart from Harry to Chad and Chad to Harry before they stick on Chad, dark eyes wordlessly challenging him, the blonde squirms with unease, his indigo eyes moving all over the cubicle.

"L-Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry asks after neither of them utter a word, Louis simply eye-murdering the poor blonde. Louis doesn't dart his eyes, though, continues to gaze into Chad's mere soul with a sadistic smirk on his face, mind going through endless ways he could chop the indigo-eyed boy limb by limb.

"Yes?" Louis questions back, never letting his eyes move from Chad. The taller shrinks down further, a sense of fear clearly dripping off his demeanour.

"Um, what are you doing here exactly?"

"I, uh," what the fuck is he supposed to say? To kiss you? Finally, Louis moves his eyes away from Chad, gaze violently scanning over the room to find an excuse, only for them to end up on Chad, again. "Chad!" Louis exclaims, a devious grin on his face as he strides towards the taller boy, heavy arm swinging around his shoulder until the blonde is slightly leaning downwards due to Louis' grip.

"What 'Chad'?" Harry interrogates further, figure leaning towards his bookshelf and arms crossed. Louis turns his head over his shoulder—Chad still under his grip—and his eyes meet Harry's, the latter's narrowed with the weight of suspicions and brows pinched together with a faint pout on his lips.

If Louis was an ice cube, he would be running water by now.

"I need to talk with Chad." Louis says, grip hardening around the blonde's shoulder, eliciting a small whimper from the boy as he gives Louis a pair of the pleading eyes. Pussy.

"Oh really?" Harry asks, now straightening his posture and walking towards the Louis, a brow raised in question and faux astonishment plastered on his face. Louis nods, not trusting his words as Harry continues to near them, Chad sandwiched by his side. "Do you even know his last name?" Harry questions again, standing in front of Louis with arms still crossed.

"Of course I do." Obviously a lie.

"What is it then? His last name I mean."

Louis can do either of the two things: come clean to Harry and make a fool of himself in front of Chad whatever-his-surname-is, or he could lie his way out. But who is Louis kidding? Lying to Harry with the damn man child right in front of him is as hard as getting straight answers out of Stephanie. So, Louis decides to play smart.

"Are you trying to say that you don't know his name? That you need to hear it from me, instead?"

"What the—I did not mea-"