Larry Stylinson - Turning From Praise (AU)

3.

So Louis was a devout Christian who liked to frequent charity shops. What a hilarious cliché. He would never have admitted it to anyone, least of all himself, but Louis liked charity shops. That way, he could buy things that were a little weird, suited him, didn’t smell like the shop he bought them in or like polystyrene drenched in chemicals (so many manufactured items of clothing did smell just like that; he was spending a fortune drenching them all in Lynx before he wore them, it was getting to be a real problem). And he was helping charity at the same time! Everybody wins.

Still, charity shops aren’t really the coolest of places to buy clothes, so Louis was keeping a relatively low profile. Burgundy and white-striped sweater. Jeans. A beanie and a pair of glasses that he didn’t really need, but wore for vanity’s sake. His ever-present crucifix necklace. Reasonably conspicuous, really. Nobody would see him, not unless they were specifically keeping an eye out.

He flicked nonchalantly through the clothing rails, draping a loose woollen jumper over his arm. What colour it was supposed to be was anybody’s guess (the sickly fluorescent lighting in the shop left a lot to be desired, leaching the colour out of the world so that everything looked pale and wan, and therefore colours were trickier to determine, although he was estimating some kind of beige) but it was the kind of sweater he liked to wear, and only a fiver, so he was having it. A pair of espadrilles – in his size, too! Pleased, he picked them up. He hoped it was just the horrible lighting which made them look orange.

A historical novel for his mother. A moth-eaten bear for the twins (they loved threadbare, shabby toys far more than new ones; seemed to take a strange delight in looking after battered old teddies and caring for them like they were their children). By now, Louis had found a wire shopping basket and was haphazardly throwing bargains into it without hesitation, enjoying the clink of his purchases as they landed in the basket, the buzz of knowing that he was going to leave the shop with a lighter wallet and an abundance of bulging plastic bags. He loved shopping. Probably should have brought his mum with him – she thrived on tiny little places like this, excitedly throwing cut-price items into a basket and buying them all with a grin, and then lavishly pouring her change into charity gift boxes. It would have been an excellent opportunity for them to talk. He wished he’d asked her to come with him.

However, he rather swiftly changed his mind about that when he walked around a couple of shelves bulging with bric-a-brac and spotted none other than Harry Styles, standing behind the counter with his fingers in the till.

He instantly retreated, mouth falling open, and peered around the shelf with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Today, Harry was wearing ripped black jeans and a shirt with lots of safety pins poking through it. Some of the safety pins were dripping with paper clips, and the whole effect was rather weird. The headphones dangling out of the front of his shirt had been spray-painted silver, but the dodgy lighting made them look an unpleasant coppery kind of colour, doing the same to his angel bites and the ring through his lip. As Louis watched, the boy took another step behind the till and continued rifling through the money without a care in the word, apparently completely unconcerned that someone could see him at any moment. Undoubtedly, he didn’t think anyone would have the audacity to stop him. 

Well, then, he thought wrong! Louis angrily pushed out his chest. Finally, a legitimate reason to dislike the boy – he’d caught him stealing, and from charity, no less! He wasn’t about to sit back and watch someone steal money from homeless children or women with cancer or sick dogs, or whatever cause this weird little shop was supporting, no matter how many bits of metal he had sticking through his face! As Louis watched in utter disgust, Harry pulled a fifty pound note out of the till, examined it and held it up to the light, squinting at it like he was making sure it wasn’t counterfeit.