Cocaine for Breakfast

Chapter 10

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They're heading in the direction of Manchester. Louis figured this out the moment Harry drove onto the all too familiar motorway, speeding up and passing cars, leaving them in dust behind.

The low hum of the radio does nothing to calm Louis' vibrating nerves. His leg jiggles as Harry switches back and forth between the left and right lane, hopping cars and driving way past the speed limit. There is unwavering tension in his broad shoulders, and his eyes don't leave the road in front of them. (Louis is glad about that, because he might be fucked up but doesn't have the desire to be in another car crash, thank you very much, not today, especially not when Harry is with him in the bloody car). His knuckles turn white with the tight grip Harry is holding onto the steering wheel, like he needs something solid to ground himself.

Harry is usually a good driver. He has quick reflexes, always watching out. However, today he is being reckless and Louis knows it's because of whatever awaits them in Manchester.

Louis' first guess is that they're meeting up with Gemma. His second guess is that they're meeting up with some other drug dealers. The third guess is that not only are they meeting up with 'some' drug dealer, but the Big Boss. Zayn had called him Satan and looking at how stiffly Harry is sitting in the leather seat, he looks like he's preparing himself to go down knocking on the door of hell.

Not one of his guesses is something he wants to be part of. He'd love to meet Gemma, of course, but maybe not when his hair resembles a birds nest, strands of it falling into his dark ringed eyes. He's also wearing the same shit from yesterday and is probably reeking of sweat, dirt, and anxiety.

He tries to brush some of the dust stains off his trousers in the most subtle way - they're from the fall when Harry knocked the bloody air out of his failing lungs. Distracted with rubbing at a dark spot on the blue fabric, he jumps when a hand settles over his. Fingers tangle with his own and Harry brings their clasped hands to the armrest between them, squeezing slightly.

"Y'alright?" Harry asks, sending him a quick glance before his eyes flicker back to the street.

"Peachy." Louis nods curtly, stroking his thumb over Harry's knuckle.

"Listen, I'm sorry about jumping down your throat like that," Harry mumbles, not looking Louis' way, not seeing him flinch at his choice of words. "It wasn't my place to tell you any of what I said and assuming the worst."

"We fight a lot, hmm?" Louis mutters. "I know I'm difficult."

Harry snorts. "Yeah, you're the difficult one."

"You never took me to the movies." Louis says. He hasn't thought about that, just remembered it now (also the conversation is leading in a dark direction and Louis already is a nervous wreck, so he'd rather keep it lighthearted).

It works, thank fuck, a smile lingering on the beautiful curve of Harry's lips and when they lock eyes for a moment, he can see the warmth shining through them. His dimple pops out of its hiding place when Louis squeezes his fingers.

"I promise to take you out." Harry says, smiling but his tone oddly serious. He looks back at the road, passing another bloody car like they're in a race. "If you still want me to, after today."

Louis wants to scream, he wants to take Harry's face between his hands and just make Harry look at him, so he can see how fucking gone Louis is for Harry. If Harry would tell him, 'Hey, do me a favour, open the door and jump out, will ya?' he would open the fucking door and jump to his death with a smile on his face. That's how fucking gone Louis is, all that's holding him back from snuggling closer or pressing a kiss to Harry's soft cheek is that he isn't sure if Harry is on the same page. They've never talked about it and if they had, Harry wouldn't say something like ' if you still want me '. Louis thinks he'd want Harry even when his hair is all grey and his milky skin is carved with wrinkles.