Larry Stylinson - Turning From Praise (AU)

6.

It was cold, so Louis had his arms wrapped around himself to try and regain a little warmth, and it had been raining on and off for the past hour, so it was damp, so he was hurrying home, not paying much attention to his surroundings, so really it was a miracle that he spotted the little flurry of sparks coming from a nearby alleyway out of the corner of his eye.

He paused, tilted his head to one side and glanced down the alleyway with interest, torn between curiosity and wariness; he’d never been one to go charging off towards suspicious circumstances just in case something untoward happened. But when another light flickered down the nearby alleyway, a tiny pinpoint of brightness in the darkness, he couldn’t help but turn curiously towards it and take a hesitant step forwards. Nibbling his lip, Louis slowly moved towards the entrance of the alleyway and froze when he heard an all-too familiar voice mutter a profanity.

A little stunned, Louis dazedly shook his head and then stood perfectly still, listening out for another mumble, to see if he’d perhaps misheard the voice. The next sound that greeted his ears wasn’t a human voice; it was a steely scrape of metal on metal, accompanied with another flare of light – and then an ill-tempered growl when the flame went out once more. Abandoning all hope of it being someone other than the boy he’d been so valiantly determined to avoid, Louis closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths and then edged forwards into the alleyway just in time to see an attractive face lit up by yet another flash of a cigarette lighter.

This time the lighter miraculously stayed lit, giving Louis an excellent view of Harry’s face. The flickering light accentuated his cheekbones and made his piercings glint a little eerily; his forehead was furrowed in concentration underneath the thick curls falling across his forehead. A cigarette was clamped fiercely between his plump lips, and he appeared to be trying to light it one-handed, with very little success; the other hand was cupped around the cigarette to stop it from going out once he’d actually managed to light it. Having managed to persuade the lighter to ignite, Harry touched it to the end of his cigarette, but it remained firmly unlit. He swore colourfully, words muffled by the cigarette, shook his hair out of his eyes, and tried again.

Louis had always despised cigarettes, and he despised even more the thought of Harry Styles attacking his own lungs and turning them black with chemicals, ending up with yellow fingernails and teeth and basically endangering his own health – but on the other hand, it was hard to ignore the fact that he looked sinfully good with a suicide stick caught between his lips.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, too taken aback to remember that Harry had no idea that he was stood there staring creepily at him and that it was probably a bit weird to be standing there gazing at him, bearing in mind that he was just trying to quietly light up in a backstreet alleyway. Then again, he was trying to quietly light up in a backstreet alleyway, which suggested that nobody else knew he smoked, and if Louis had an opportunity to strike up a conversation with him, even in the name of being completely pious, he was hardly going to let it pass him by.

Harry jumped out of his skin, his carefully cultivated flame went out, and his mouth fell open; he yelped and managed to catch the still determinedly unlit cigarette before it hit the ground. Then he stared open mouthed at Louis, the metal ring through his lower lip flashing. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, sounding a little put-out. (Like his cigarette, then.) “Still yelling at me, I see. I don’t suppose you’ve come to ask my help in cleaning the whiteboard, have you?”

Louis ignored the question; it wasn’t as if Harry was expecting an answer. “I suppose you think you’re cool, don’t you? Standing there, with that thing in your mouth. What on earth are you doing with it, anyway?”

“Smoking it,” said Harry helpfully.

“Yeah, looks like it.” After a few moments, Louis couldn’t help but comment, “Novice, huh?”