clean » larry stylinson

[11]

warning: there is a part of this chapter that some may find mildly triggering. it's not too bad though. enjoy!

his toast was burnt. burnt such that the crusts fell apart into smoky ash with the touch of a knife and were as black as his espresso. it was well beyond salvation yet still, louis buttered the toast up with a flick of his hand until it was golden once more because god dammit he did not want to have to wait to cook another piece.

a string of christmas lights sit idly rested through the leaves of potted plants and shelves, still glistening despite christmas having passed months ago. they are lit and glistening, just as they will be until christmas comes around again once more and louis can sit back in content whilst he marvels at how he has saved himself from an unnecessary chore.

louis' gaze drops out of focus as he stares ahead, the lights becoming a multi-coloured blur against the white walls.

"you're up?" a sleep-laced voice startles him as liam makes his way through his bedroom door, running a hand quickly through his mess of hair.

louis gives a half-smile, shrugging his shoulders as he finds warmth from his cup of coffee. he's up. and if he never actually fell asleep, well, nobody has to know.

he's back at his apartment sitting alone eating homemade toast rather than a properly prepared, slightly less charcoaled, breakfast at a café with harry. and though this isn't exactly the perfect start to his day, it's okay. it really is. because as the boy contemplates whether or not to bite into his slice of charred dust, he's able to think about last night's stars and the sight the sky beheld below, of him curled together with another boy and not a soul about to tear them apart.

"we need a new toaster." it occurs to louis. he's met by a disorientated grunt in reply. a moment passes before liam realises that louis' trying to speak to him.

"did you stick a knife in it? don't do that." he half-mumbles as his eyes skirt around the room, barely leaving his bedroom door.

"liam. really." he places down his cup of coffee before it can reach his lips. "do i look as though i have electrocuted myself? do you not think my screams would have woken you?"

"what, no. wait, what's wrong with the toaster?" liam snaps back to his friends' words before his stare falls on the blackened toast. he grimaces.

"this is an atrocity." louis states.

"this is proof that you need to start waking up earlier more often so that you can learn to cook your own breakfast." he turns the toaster around for louis to see the settings dial turned up to the highest heat.

louis plays down the blow to his confidence.

"look, coffee." he changes the subject by passing a second warm cup to liam who takes it graciously, marvelling at, but not daring to question, louis' productivity for a sunday morning.

"this at least," liam smiles as he takes a sip, "is good."

his swallows are quick and undoubtedly burning the insides of his throat, though he doesn't let it show. liam's fingers grasp the handle firmly, his knuckles turning near white with the force.

"easy there love, what's got you panicked?

and while liam drinks nervously and muses louis development, the older boy can't help but think how odd it is to not be on the receiving end of that question.

both of their thoughts are interrupted by a wide-eyed zayn standing in the open doorway to liam's bedroom, a pair of boxers sitting loosely on his hips and tattoos peaking through the fabric of his shirt.