A Thousand City Lights ➳ l.s

Chapter ➳ 12

Hi. I realize it's been months since I've really updated any of my stories...I sincerely apologize for that. I hope this (long) chapter makes up for it and I'm forgiven! Will try not to make this happen again. Enjoy xoxo

Song: Disconnected - 5 Seconds of Summer

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America was not like the books. Or the movies. It was actually better, like seeing a mythical creature. Everyone had said their thoughts about them, but once you see it, it's beautiful beyond.

Harry and Louis were just flying over Atlanta, Georgia. Their plane had stopped there, where they then boarded another plane to the big apple.

Louis got the window seat. Harry wasn't worried about the view outside. His view was sitting right beside him.

Every building they passed, was like turning a new page in a book for Louis. He tried to soak in everything he could but one could only capture so much with a blink of an eye.

The sun was on its way down to the horizon. It would be dark soon and Harry was hoping for a starry night.

The plane jolted slightly and Louis immediately dug his nails into Harry's arm.

"Aye, watch it." Harry says, trying to release Louis' firm grip, "I want to get a tattoo there, not a scar."

Louis releases his arm, getting ready to apologize until he realized what Harry had actually just said.

"A tattoo?" he asks.

Harry nods. "Was thinking a rose? A big one. Thorns or no thorns?"

Louis continued to stare at him. Harry has tattoos already. But he never would get one without Nick doing them.

Nick was tall and dark haired. He had a straight smile and a teasing personality. He was also good with ink. He was known for his art rather than anything else. But Harry adored him.

Louis wasn't aware he was asked a question until Harry bumped his knee with Louis'.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Thorns or no thorns?"

"um. . ."

"Refreshments, gentleman?" A flight attendant had rolled her cart full of drinks and small snacks down the aisle.

Her cheek bones were high and noticeable. She wore too much blush and a bulky necklace. She smelled of leather and orange juice.

Harry looks up and smiles. "I'll definitely have a blueberry muffin." he says.

"Certainly." she says, picking a muffin up from a tray and handing it to him. She doesn't seem to react to Harry's accent. She must be used to it. . . but Harry will never be used to their accent.

She looks over to Louis now. "And for you, sir? How may I help?"

Help? Louis doesn't need help. "I'm fine for now. Thank you."

The lady nods her head and continues to go down the hallway. Her hips sway in what straight guys would call a "teasing" motion. Louis scoffed.

Harry laughs at Louis' behavior. "Feisty are we?"

He's not sure where this attitude is coming from. He thinks he just moody and tired from all the traveling. Louis narrows his eyes at him. "Shut up. Get the thorns."

•••

Hours later, when the sun goes to sleep and the moon comes out to play, Harry and Louis are just minutes away from landing. Harry's stomach feels like it's going to explode. His head feels light and warm to the touch. He knows that New York's lights are already lit and glowing like a candle's fire. The streets are flooded as always, but it's night now. A Friday night. The city is packed with people. And Harry is captivated by it.