Realities ➳ Larry Stylinson [COMPLETED]

twenty-nine

At precisely midnight, my phone rings.

I rub my eyes tiredly and check the screen to see who the hell would possibly call me at midnight. Am I really that surprised to see Louis's name?

"Why are you calling me at midnight?" I ask, my voice rough from sleep.

"Because it's February first!" His cheerful voice answers, not sounding tired at all.

"Okay?" I say, groaning into my pillow. I just want to sleep. "Let me sleep."

"It's your birthday, dummy!"

"Hooray," I mumble.

Louis laughs. "Happy birthday, baby."

"You couldn't wait until tomorrow to say that?"

"It is tomorrow!"

"I mean at school. Or in the car, if you wanted to give me a ride to school. Somewhere not in bed."

"Well, then it's not fun."

"This isn't fun at all," I tell him.

"It's very fun on my end."

I yawn and rub my eyes again. "Thanks, Lou. Although I don't know why you couldn't wait, like, seven hours."

"I wanted to be the very first one to tell you happy birthday," Louis says. "And I succeeded! You're eighteen! We can now officially both go to concerts in eighteen-and-up venues."

"That's definitely a perk to being eighteen."

"It is. And you can buy alcohol, but you don't care about that."

"I don't."

"And you can register to vote in America, if you wanted to."

"Why would I want to vote in America?" I ask tiredly.

I can imagine Louis shrugging. "Don't know. Maybe you'd want to go there for Uni."

"I don't want to go to Uni in America, Lou."

"Okay, well, for one, good." How is he not even the tiniest bit tired? "I'd miss you too much."

"You wouldn't miss me if I went somewhere else around here?" I'm just messing with him. I know he would miss me a lot.

"We would make it work if you went somewhere around here, love. And another reason I'm glad you don't want to go to Uni in America is because those Americans would change you."

I laugh a little. "Those Americans, hm?"

"Yeah. They're barbarians. Heathens. They would chew you up and spit you out."

"Yeah? And how exactly do you know this information?"

"Personal experience."

"And how many Americans have you met?"

I can hear Louis laugh a little bit. "One."

"One? How can you have a theory about Americans if you've only met one?"

"Well, to be fair, the one American I did meet was a complete and utter asshole, so there's that." There's a second of pause. "No, wait... four. Four Americans, because of his family... yeah, four. The rest were fairly nice, except for him."

I furrow my brows. "I'm confused."

"My ex was American," Louis explains.

I yawn again. "Remind me why we're having this conversation at midnight again?"

"Because it's your birthday!" Louis cheers softly. "Oh, shit, I probably shouldn't be talking about my ex on your birthday. I shouldn't be talking about him at all; he's a douche. Anyway, babe, my point is, happy birthday and I love you."