the rogue - ls au

1: All American

Chapter 1
L: 16
H: 15

1923

The cold London streets were not strangers to Louis. He knew about the potholes on the road a kilometer from the theater and the potheads on the corner of Abbot Street Bistro.

And Louis was so familar with the cold concrete because it was a best friend of anyone who enjoyed music.

At night the roads made the best pathways for music notes to travel. In those days it was the streets that would hold all the crazies (like Louis himself) at night along with booze and horrible dancing. And their swaying hips were always out of rhythm, but so in time with their heart beats and bare feet.

Boom, boom, boom...

The pavement didn't mind if Louis danced with random guys, it even encouraged him, the slopes basically pushing his feet in the direction of doing so.

You could say the streets "turned him gay".

And god Louis love the feeling of loud eyes and quiet mouths and real-live guitars; even at sixteen.

And it was okay, because the sun was down, the stars were shining, and he could finally come out and enjoy the rainbow of people lining up along the sidewalks. He didn't even have to sign up for this shit, he just wandered into the crowds, ears and eyes wide open.

Come out to me, come out to me, now.

Maybe he regrets bumping into Harry Styles one musically soggy night.

That's a lie though, because he didn't bump into Harry, he full on ran into him with a crazily, unintentional force.

boom, clap!

The kid was startled and squealed.

And Louis' senses were suddenly acutely aware of the high pitched voice and they rippled throughout Louis' veins quite rapidly.

Louis saw a loosely fitted white t-shirt in his direct vision. His eyes tracked up the body until he looked up at the tallest, most glowing, doe-eyed boy he'd ever seen.

The sound of my heart...

And Louis probabaly wasn't sober when he had seen sparkles and fairy dust in the other boy's green, gold-speckled irises. But hey, it was certainly magical with the help of liquor.

"I didn't mean to - it's crowded."

The mop of curls infront of Louis shook as the sweaty boy nodded. He smiled bashfully, a dimple denting each cheek.

Louis noticed a thick, black guitar strap across the long torso of him.

"Guitar? Far out man!" Louis awed, his voice soaked with respect and curiosity.

"Yeah.. I'm up next, actually so.." He replied, his head nodding for Louis to move aside.

"What's your name?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed, and his hand reached to scratch the back of his neck, "Erm, Harry, It's Harry Styles."

Louis noted the name, placing it a file deep inside his brain.

"Well, Harry Styles, good luck!"

Harry grinned sheepishly at Louis' statement and brushed past him, continuing on his path towards the other guitarists.

That night Louis listened harder than he ever though he could, memorizing the sound of Harry's pic strumming the strings and how it bounced off of people's backs in the crowd. He forced his body to remember and actually dance to the rhythms and vibrations of the low pitches and high pitches Harry's guitar-playing made.

Louis decided Harry Styles was alright.

And it was funny because Harry actually sucked, and it was like his 8th time playing, and it was Louis first time hearing and he was slightly impaired due to alcohol. But Louis still liked it.

Louis liked the fact that smoke clouded his vision and his throat and the way it swirled around with Harry's beat. And it was great, the way everything seemed to make sense and it didn't matter that the sun was going to be rising in only a few short hours. Because Louis was smushed between so many bodies, but was singing and humming along with light-as-air music. It was like an all American movie, where all the teenage dirtbags gathered in the streets at midnight just to dance and sing. Louis fit in.

And even though they were all too clumsy, no one knowing what to do with their fucking hands, they danced until daylight.

Boom, boom, boom... clap!

While they ran from the streets, quick to get away before the police showed up, Louis checked the back of his brain, making sure he remembered the melody and name of the musical boy he had met.

And he hummed the toons he had heard from Harry Styles' guitar as he jogged from 6th back to Abbot Street, and all the way to Colin's Place.

The red door was open, just like louis left it, (as were the windows). He stumbled through the door, tugging it shut behind him, before bouncing his way to down stairs. There was Ed, passed out on the couch with a beer and a girl on his hip.

As quietly as possible Louis slipped past the clothes and papers on the floor to reach the "bedroom" (which was really just another room with another couch). He laid down on the bumpy, blue couch, legs dangling and head pounding.

And even Louis' eye lashes were blinking to a beat, his loose arms and swaying legs as well. And it

was like it was taking over (the music), but really Louis was just high off of adrenaline

The rush was still very present inside of Louis and it was pumping through his veins to the beat of sweet, sweet guitars (incase it wasn't obvious, Louis adored guitars). His breathing was labored, chest rising, and skin sticking to every inch of his t-shirt, but it felt good.

And at four am, there Louis laid, subconsciously humming and smiling, like genuinely honestly smiling, because everything felt pretty damn good.

And then he began to fall asleep, slowly at first, and then it was like hitting a brick wall.

And he'll be out for awhile.

boom, clap, the sound of my heart, the beat goes on and on and on and on, on

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