One Direction One Shots 3

Punk Louis (Louis)

Louis POV

Sweat formed in the creases of my forehead, sleeking down into my eyes. It burns but I have to carry on. My fingers race along the fret board, I bite my lip, my lipring cold against me, passion and fire surging through my body. I live for this, being on center stage, even if that stage is in the corner club only a few blocks down from my flat. I wander off stage momentarily as the other guitarist begins his solo in the spot light. My hand grips the neck of a Captain Morgan bottle. I bring it to my lips, the alcohol burning it’s way down my throat. I walk back to center stage, things are blurry and the lights are blinding.

“Some people have a hard time explaining rock ‘n’ roll. I don’t think anyone can really explain rock ‘n’ roll. Maybe Pete Townshend, but that’s okay. Rock ‘n’ roll is a lifestyle and a way of thinking…it’s a voice that says, “Here I am… and fuck you if you can’t understand me." And one of these people is gonna save the world. And that means that rock ‘n’ roll can save the world… all of us together. What it all comes down to is that thing, the indefinable thing when people catch something in your music. What do I do? I connect. I get people off. I look for the person who isn’t getting off, who isn’t enjoying the show, and I make them get off.”

The interview I had merely hours before this show is circling my brain. “I look for the person who isn’t getting off, who isn’t enjoying the show, and I make them get off.” There she is, back up against the bar, not the faintest smile across her face present. She stands, stone faced. I try to connect, get her to notice that I notice her. I bite my lip once more as I pull ever last ounce of remaining energy out of my soul and pour it into my guitar riff. My eyes tightly close as the guitar whales through my amp. The lights flash and drop, the small crowd cheering, everyone except her.

‘I make them get off.’

Y/N’s POV

I sipped on my gin and tonic, trying to loosen up, but there was no hiding my terrible mood. Here I am stood up on a blind date for the, umpteenth time, I didn’t even want to come here. I paid the twenty dollar cover charge to get into the sketchy place, I thought that I might as well stay to enjoy the band, but I was too disappointed to even to that. I turn facing the bar to get another refill.

“Enjoy the show?” My eyebrow cocks at the unfamiliar voice asking me a question. My eyes follow the contours of the man before me. He is nothing like my “type,” he is cover head to toe in black. His skintight black jeans are rolled at the bottom, his snug black killers tee is tucked into his pants and his shoulders are accentuated by thick black suspenders latched tightly. His skin is inked, almost every visible inch marked with the taboo artwork. He may have a nice body, but his lip, eyebrow and nose piercings are anything but my “type.” Still there is something utterly sexy about him, sexy like forbidden fruit that I have yet to taste. He bites his lip, waiting for me to answer his question.

“Sure.” I say, not in the mood to put with anyone flirting with me, I just want to be left alone. His eyes have yet to leave mine, but I’m bored of him trying to make small talk.

“I’m Louis by the way. Can I get you another drink?” He draws out the question, asking me to give him my name.

“(Y/N), and I already have one” I say coldly placing the dainty black straw between my lips.

“You’re not very friendly are you?” His eyes are now furious, I don’t blame him, I’m only being a bitch to protect myself from getting hurt, even if I am attracted to this man and he does make me curious.

“Being friendly has never done me any good.”

He scoffs saying things under his breath as he walks away, leaving me alone once again. I always so this, push people away.