larry- one shots

midnight memories

Louis was the epitome of pathetic – the Webster's definition of pathetic, really. He was sat at a bar, his third pint of the evening in front of him and his phone in his hands. It was New Year's Eve and the pub was packed full of groups of people who were patiently chugging back alcoholic beverages as they waited for the clock to strike midnight and the new year to begin. It was packed with couples who were ready to have their lame and cheesy midnight kiss. It was packed with people who had somebody, and Louis was alone, sitting on a barstool, mindlessly swiping left and right on fucking Tinder. He'd only moved to London a week ago after accepting a job offer at Relentless Records. He didn't know anyone, and spending New Year's Eve alone wasn't exactly the most thrilling of times. So, here Louis was, trying to find a last-minute date on some stupid dating app he'd always sworn he'd never use. Here he was, hoping to find some guy to kiss when the ball dropped and the kazoos sounded. He knew his chances were slim. He knew there was little hope that he'd find someone even remotely suitable to spend the rest of the night with, but he'd keep trying. He had to keep trying.

He had just swiped left on some blonde, built, bro-looking type douchebag when the face of a straight up god filled his screen. He stared down at the mass of shoulder-length brown curls with emerald eyes, feeling hopeful for the first time since he'd made an account the day he'd arrived in London. Louis scanned through the rest of the guy's photos, which mostly comprised of him hanging out with friends and strumming a guitar. He couldn't hold back a snort of laughter when he got to the last picture, where said god himself was standing in front of a brick wall, acting as though he was having some sort of intriguing conversation with it. Louis had the urge to swipe right based on looks alone, but that had proven to be a misstep in the past, so he scrolled to the profile and began scanning through the typed words.

Harry, 22
Scrabble, Fleetwood Mac, and dad jokes.

Louis laughed again, not taking another second to overthink before he swiped right. They matched immediately, and Louis wasted no time in hitting the "send message" button. He tried to think of something witty, something clever that would catch this Harry guy's attention. He was absolutely, positively sure that someone as beautiful as Harry probably received a million messages a day, and Louis didn't want to be just another guy. He wanted Harry to message him back. He wanted to show Harry everything he had to offer. Okay, maybe Louis was a little over zealous, maybe just a bit too desperate, but time was of the essence. It was 9:30 on New Year's Eve and he'd be damned if he was still sitting alone at a pub at 11:59.

To: Harry
Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing

Louis chuckled to himself as he hit send, quite proud of himself for his clever Fleetwood Mac quote. He needed his opening line to work. He needed this guy to message him back and be completely smitten. He would quite possibly die if he never got to see this beautiful human being in real life. His phone vibrated just as he was taking another swig of his beer, telling him that Harry (oh, so fucking beautiful Harry) had messaged him back.

From: Harry
Are you trying to charm me with your Fleetwood Mac knowledge, or is this your way of telling me you're a player?

Now this, this was something Louis could do. Louis was an A+ student when it came to banter. He practically lived and breathed banter.

To: Harry
Honey, the only thing I know how to play is the piano

This time, Louis didn't even bother setting his phone down – he didn't even bother exiting the app. He just sat there, beer and phone in hand and waited. He counted to 30 before a new message popped up on his screen, the smile on his face growing even wider.