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The One Where He Couldn't Drink It Away

Chapter Twelve: The One Where He Couldn't Drink It Away

"You're gonna have to talk to me eventually, you know?"

Was the first thing Zayn told him when Louis walked into the shop.

He had just woken only a couple minutes ago, his hair still disheveled and sleep still lidding his eyes. So this talk really could have fallen on a better time.

Zayn could've brought it up the whole of last week, but no, he chose the day Louis was most sleep deprived. Perfect, he thought.

"Oh, I have to, now? Didn't know it had to be done by force, sorry. Thanks for informing me, though." Louis didn't even spare Zayn. Holding back a sharp reply was beyond him.

Zayn blinked, surprise written nowhere on his face because he knew his friend enough by now. "I'm assuming you have more of those, so how about you empty your tank first, so we can have an adult conversation."

Louis went to the back of the parlor to drop his stuff, annoyed that Zayn chose to follow him.

He didn't reply, and Zayn must've taken that as a chance to continue. (It really wasn't)

"You're acting childish, Lou. We need to talk about this. So I thought you might be gay, it's not the end of the world." He said.

Louis scoffed. "You know what? I think you were just jealous."

Now Zayn scoffed, even louder than Louis did. "Of what?"

"Harry. You're jealous I've been spending so much time with him. You can't stand the fact that I have other friends, it's that isn't it?"

Louis could admit throwing empty accusations that most likely were false wouldn't lead anywhere but Louis wasn't about to let him step all over him, again.

"Even if it were true, which it really isn't, I don't think I'd be questioning your sexuality. And look, I know I have no right to tell you what you are, or aren't, I know-"

"You don't." Louis cut, just to really push it into his head.

The dark haired man let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head and leaning against the lockers.

"He was here, you know?" Zayn told him, which made Louis frown. "This morning, was lookin' for you."

Zayn bit his lip, leaning against the wall. "He asked, randomly, if you ever talk about him, I told him all the time." Zayn chuckled a little, Louis narrowing his eyes.

"He asked if you ever mention him, Louis. And by the way he asked, it sounded like a preteen asking about her crush. Whatever you're doing, you're leading him on. And granted, I never quite liked him, but if you don't like him, as you say, don't lead him on. Tell him. He at least deserves that." His friend finished, sighing softly.

He left, leaving Louis to stand there, to stare at the wall.

*

"What is a pretty boy like you doing here drinking on his own?"

Louis was pulled out of his deep thought, looking up from his empty shot glass to the girl next to him.

He was way past drunk at this point, but somehow, all the alcohol coursing through his veins wasn't enough. He tried Jack, he tried gin but he could still feel the growing void in his chest he tried so hard to fill. Yes, every time he swallowed the drink down, his throat would burn even harder, but if it could stop this, press a pause on life, he'd keep on drinking.

Louis looked at the girl, looking over her face slowly. The dark club made it hard for him to tell her features, but she was still cute. Wasn't much, but still cute.

"Danielle." She held out a hand, Louis slowly taking it to shake it.

"Louis." He slurred.

Just by the way the girl was touching his shoulder and back, nimble fingers traveling up and down, Louis knew she wasn't just looking for a conversation.

No one here was just looking for a conversation. They're all either drinking to forget, or hooking up to forget.

Neither better than the other.

"You still haven't answered my question," She whispered in his ear, almost seductively, and it made Louis want to retreat—but he stopped himself from doing so.

"You see, Danielle, sometimes one simply doesn't have anyone to drink with. Or, they're trying to get rid of feelings they do not want to feel. Sadly, both seem to be the case right now."

Louis hadn't always been a sad drunk. Usually, he'd be in the center of the dance room, flirting with everyone he saw, but now, he didn't have the heart to do anything.

Danielle didn't seem to quite catch that, though. "I can help with that, if you want." She suggested, fingers digging into his hair.

The way her fingers felt on him was such a big contrast to Harry's. His was softer, gentler, hers wanted one thing and would pry off him as soon as she got it.

He missed Harry.

"C'mon, you take me to your place. I'll make you feel all better?" She kissed his cheek, her hand on Louis' bicep and pulling him towards her, urging him to get up. And Louis didn't want to, he really would rather drown in vodka and self pity, but his feet followed her anyway.

It was as if they had a mind of their own, because they led him, and Danielle, to his flat, and into it, and to his room.

His mind was telling him no, screaming and pleading no, but he felt he had to, as his lips connected to Danielle's, and her hands sneaked down his chest.

It was way too late by now for Louis to stop. His body was limp, and similarly, so was his mind.