Here In The Afterglow

Chapter 1.4

The New Year passes in a fizzle of terrible weed that Liam got from God knows where, a mismatch of faulty firecrackers and an almost-deadly set of illegal fireworks.

Most of the seniors and the juniors have congregated out of town, through the tufts of snow-dusted pine and into the clear opening behind the mass of trees that shelter the town from the hills. Louis feels rather disgusting, if he's being honest with himself. The weed Liam had given him was scratchy and generally just shit, and the only supplied alcohol that he's managed to get his hands on so far is whiskey. Liam, of course, the ass, refused to share any of his drinks.

So there's a bit of alcohol, a lot of fire, and Louis is trapped in a daze of deep reds and oranges, feeling a bit like he might cry for some reason as the clock ticks down to midnight. Stan has been trying to get him to go around with some senior that's apparently interested in him, Shelley, or something, and he's been trying to push them together all night. It's awkward and uncomfortable and no matter how much Louis tells him no, no matter how much he makes an idiot of himself when Shelley looks at him expectantly, he doesn't want to do it.

"Man up, dude," Stan had hissed in his ear, while Shelley had stood by the fire and sucked a cigarette. "You're gonna embarrass yourself. Just do it."

Louis stands here now, beside her, and he wants to jump into the flames. They're standing way too close, and he can feel it burning past his clothes, licking uncomfortably against his skin, prodding and sizzling. He wants to run.

He feels bad for Shelley too, standing there beside him in silence while her friends whisper by the trees. She can't even get a junior to go 'round with her. Loser. Bitch. Louis wants to yell at them, wants to shout at them all, and if he were in a better state, he'd have kissed her already, pretended to enjoy it, and then run all the way home. If he were in a better state, he'd have stayed in bed all together.

"Are you, like...tripping?" Shelley asks hesitantly, peering closer. Louis stares harder at the firer.

"No, I'm not," he says quietly, trying not to snap. "Sorry."

"Um, it's fine," she shuffles her feet and flicks her long hair behind her shoulder. "Are you gonna kiss me at midnight, or...?"

"Probably not," Louis says. He apologizes again and kicks his feet in the dirt, sending ash swirling. "Not feeling it, babe."

"Oh," Shelley says. Louis breathes in the smoke. "Okay. Well, see you 'round."

"Yeah," is all Louis offers. She lingers for a moment longer, then slinks away back to her friends. Louis scowls at himself. He's being an idiot.

Night sufficiently ruined, and feeling particularly, overdramatically jaded (is that the right word? Has he had too much, or not enough? He really never knows how to figure that one out), Louis turns away from the fire and starts to thread himself through the clumps of people, hoping to avoid anyone that wants to talk to him, particularly Liam and Stan.

Of course, nothing ever seems to go his way, and as he's making a beeline for the looming trees, a warm hand catches him arm, and there's a soft hey in his ear.

It's Harry. Who else.

He's been popping up all over town sporadically, and it's making Louis slightly tetchy, even though he doesn't want to be. He'll be riding down the path along the river, and Harry will magically appear, lounging on the grass like he's fallen out of the sky, seemingly out of nowhere. He'll be doing the grocery shopping, feeling his way through the good and the rotten, and there's Harry, across the aisle with a basket in his hand and a curious look in his eyes. He is always, always, hanging around Daphne's.