Writer: 'Okay, Let me be honest. I haven't been getting enough sleep, and I haven't been spending enough time with myself, so when you slap those two together, and then you think of your favorite ship, somehow this ends up being the crappy abominati...
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Theme: Homeless/omega!Louis - Rich/alpha!Harry.
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New York City, Queens. 8:33, P.M.
INT. Rainy day, at a bus stop.
-The Night They Met.-
It touched his nose, and he would be lying if he said it didn't startle him.
A droplet, as tiny as could be, but so startling in his position. He could've been caught by the cops--or it might've been the small child down by the gas station that had always asked him if he was okay every evening around nine.
Still, Louis shuddered at anyone being near him. He smelt of cigarette smoke and bile. Not like trash, but nearing a close.
His lips were held together in the afterglow of his wake, crusted eyes being rubbed away with tan slim fingers. He grimaced at himself; what a state. A shower would be pleasant, maybe a spa day or two.
He looked at his surroundings frowning. No, a shower would definetley do.
The city lights were still as bright as ever, hints of Tokyo glimmering off of the shop logos. The Pizza shop was down the road, a line of people waiting outside the entrance with umbrella's over their heads--meek laughter sounding faint within the mixture of rain that fled through Louis's ears.
Louis tucked his knees closer to himself, shying away from the downpour.
He got a closer look at a woman who was smoking by a van where a tall man in all black were talking--her face was poised and interested in whatever he was talking about, and she was standing there in a ruby red dress. Fat rolls making an overhang, causing a shadow to cast on her stomach. Louis grimaced. Her face was slim, but her body was not. it was makeup, Louis noticed.
Louis chuckled to himself. He could contour his face so much better than she could.
The silence was too loud once his mind settled on that thought; remembering where he was. And painfully, he sighed.
Then an umbrella flew loose from somewhere and hit him square in the nose.
"Sorry!" He heard from over the blood pounding in his ears.
Louis put hands to the small wound; whining. What the actual hell? He looked up at the man, blue eyes furious. He stood, looking at the hooded boy with fierce anger. "What's your fucking problem?" Louis stepped closer, watching the boy's shoulders tense. His eyes watered as his nose stung--face growing self conscious and covering the bright red bruise. "Why the hell did you hit me with your umbrella??"
"It was an accident!" The boy's accent was rich--bright, but with a nice drawled tone. He was taller; Louis noticed. Louis' mind seethed with the want to knock him square in his jaw--to show him who he really was.
