Louis sat up on the side of an unfamiliar bed. He rubbed his temples and dropped four shillings beside the candles on a table almost entirely hidden by the dark. Several stars were dusted in the sky when he'd dressed and left the brothel. The sky in question was an enchanting shade of milky pink that the women of sophistication tried so hard to replicate through many layers of fabric. Maybe, he thought, he would find lovemaking more enjoyable if he didn't have to unbutton so many layers of fabric women wore in hopes of making the perfect miky pink that other men found attractive.
Louis shook away the thought. He did not often think about women; it perplexed him why he could not think of ladies like other men.
He did not mind walking home; he believed it cleared one's thoughts and that fresh air and peace could be relaxing. He focused on the rhythmic steps of his shoes on the concrete and secretly stepped over the cracks like a schoolboy. He tilted his head up the slightest bit to feel the last hours of sunlight and looked at the pinks, oranges and yellows on display to say goodbye to the sun until it rose with much the same display.
"Tomlinson!" a man's voice called from ahead. Louis rolled his eyes at the familiar voice as peace and relaxation rushed from his body.
"Styles," Louis said between gritted teeth. He was somewhat intoxicated that evening, which mildly concerned Louis; Mr. Styles did idiotic things when he was drunk, such as kissing his best friend's sister and then refusing to wed her.
"Where on Earth would you be returning from at this time?" Louis used to laugh at Mr Styles' sarcastic jokes; now he made a face as if he'd just kissed his sister.
"The same place you are headed, Mr. Styles." He had almost forgotten how disagreeable this man could be. He thought it concerning that he had stayed friends with him throughout his years at Eton.
"Indeed," He gave Louis a devilish smile, "Give my regards to your sister for me, would you?"
Louis didn't know why Styles went out of his way to add the last unnecessary comment; it was childish and immature.
"Be grateful I did not kill you when you kissed her, Styles." Louis hissed as he grabbed Harry's jaw and lifted it upwards. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, but they stood there for several seconds before Mr Styles pulled away and walked off just as angrily as Louis did.
* * * * *
By the time Louis had reached the front steps of the large, elegant, pale stone house that was the Tomlinson family home in London, it would have been well past nine. He opened the door to the servant's quarters and kept one finger on the wall to navigate the dark hall. He knew that his sisters would have engagements later in the night and they would need rest; he only hoped his mother would not drag him out, too. Louis had far too much paperwork to go dancing or court some condescending young women.
Louis had not found his father to be the most agreeable man, and one could say that he did not miss his father as much as his mother or sisters, but the day he died was the worst day of Louis's life. He was just eighteen when he received a letter from his mother informing him of the news. Less than a day later, letters from his father's steward full of numbers arrived, and numbers made his head hurt. All had been quite well for a while now, and all Louis had to do was complete many, many daily sums.
"Louis? A feminine voice called as dress shoes clicked down the hall. "Louis?" The clicking came into the room.
"Yes." He woke in shock, still holding his quill. It took him a moment to remember where and who he was.
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No One Else?
FanfictionLouis had given up on love. After the death of his father, he seeks out the perfect bride. But his whole world is shattered when his ex-best friend tries to get a little too close for comfort. Months worth of secrecy are broken when an engagement br...