Love is War (L.S.)

7

When Louis regains consciousness, he's lying on a king-sized bed in a hotel room very similar to the one he stayed at in Montpellier. Though, he has no full recollection of how he got there, only little tidbits here and there. He can remember closing his eyes in the airport and someone guiding him through it. He can remember opening his eyes briefly when the engine of a car started up. He had been braced against the car door but his neck was annoyingly stiff that he pushed himself away from it and onto someone else's shoulder. Someone who didn't make any movements to push him off, not that Louis is aware. He remembers being jostled a lot; remembers feeling the hot breath of someone near his ear as he struggled to walk and sleep. At one point he thinks he must've been carried because he absolutely has no memory of getting to the hotel room. One thing about Louis is when he's sleeping, there's no waking him up until he's ready to wake up. 

Louis sits up in bed and stretches his arms above his head. He's still in the clothes he wore to board the plane early this morning - his favorite green Adidas hoodie and a pair of joggers.

He should be sweating with the thick comforter surrounding him but the air is surprisingly cool, almost as if someone had turned down the temperature for him. 

Louis grabs his phone off the nightstand and registers two texts. One from Sam Lorne with the plans for Malik to fly down at the end of the month to Montpellier. And another from Browski that just says, "waiting."

Louis types out a response to both before tossing the phone back on the nightstand and heading to the en suite. 

It's when he's washing his face that he hears three consecutive knocks on his hotel room door. He moves to open the door after drying his face, and finds Styles standing there looking...comfortable? He's wearing his regular black dress pants but instead of his usual black buttoned-down or dark satin blouse, he's sporting a grey hoodie. His curls are tied into a bun but they're also tousled and baby hairs are attempting to escape from the hair tie. He also has the faint remains of a pillow mark on his left cheek and he looks tired but naturally, like a man on a mission. 

Louis clears his throat and steps back, gesturing for him to enter. 

Styles nods once and walks by him and it hits him - the smell of vanilla and that thing. That specific thing that he can't figure out. And oh god, he's such an idiot. He should apologize, right? He should apologize for leaning against him for warmth and comfort and sleep. Or would that make things awkward for them if he brought it up? Was he the one who carried him to bed? 

Oh no.

Louis closes the room door and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Styles is leaning against a desk in the corner watching him. 

Louis plays with his fingers and waits for the other man to speak. He certainly won't be starting the conversation this time around. 

After a minute of silence goes by, Styles finally speaks up. "Some cars are going to come to pick us up in about an hour and take us to Lenders International Deposits Office. You and I will ride in one and Swift and another bloke from here will be in the other."

"Alright.." Louis says skeptically. 

Styles steps forward so he's standing right in front of Louis, who looks up at him from his spot on the bed. He knows his hair must look like shit and his eyes must be red but he gazes up anyway, trying not to form an expression of any kind. Styles just watches him with narrowed eyes and a crease between his eyebrows. 

"Here," he says quietly, handing Louis a piece of paper. 

Louis unfolds it to find the blueprint of what he assumes is the deposits office or bank or wherever they're going.