Picture Perfect | Larry Stylinson

Nineteen

Dedication: @dividers because you cool

Louis was sat on his hotel balcony, one of the places that he went when he wasn't sacked on the couch. He stared tiredly out at the sun rising above the skyline, going on his umpteenth night of no sleep. He didn't even know why he was still in London anyway. His job was done. It was brought to an abrupt stop as soon as he had went to visit Harry. His plan for his reputation to be changed by a relationship with a well-rounded individual was abolished. Why wasn't he at home, back in Los Angeles?

It had been upwards of two weeks since everything ended. He hadn't heard hide nor hair from Harry. There wasn't any posts on his social media or any news in the tabloids. Harry had blocked him on Snapchat and locked his Twitter direct messaging, making it so he couldn't contact him personally. Sure, there was Instagram direct message, but Harry didn't check those. Nobody did. Besides, Instagram was the only thing that he wasn't blocked on. It was his only source to all things Harry now.

With a sigh, Louis slid a cigarette out of the box on the table next to the chair. He never smoked cigarettes as much as he had in the recent days. Social smoking was really the only excuse he ever had, but now, it was stress smoking. Why did he feel so defeated?

His phone began vibrating in his pocket. He was tempted to let it go to voicemail like he had with every other call that he had received, but when he read that it was Justin's name, he figured he should answer. The boy had called him over a hundred times.

"Where in fuck have you been?!" Justin yelled on the other side. "I've called you at least two hundred times and you refused to answer. The least you could've done was send me text and tell me that you weren't dead in a ditch or something."

"Are you done lecturing me?" Louis sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"What the hell's wrong with you? Are you sick or something?" Justin quizzed.

"No. I haven't spoke to anyone in a couple of weeks and I just had a smoke," Louis told him. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to know if you were okay. I hadn't heard from you for a long time and just wanted to know that you were still alive," Justin explained to him. "Also, I wanted to know if everything was okay between you and Harry. He had called and asked where you were. He wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know how else to get him connected to you since you weren't answering your calls."

Louis felt himself perk up for the first time in ages. "What did you tell him?"

"That you were still in London most likely. I didn't know where you were staying, so I just said that it was probably close to his place," Justin told him. "Are you two still fighting?"

Louis ran back into the house, a surge of electricity running through his veins. He ran to the clothes, ripping down one of the last shirts that he had hanging up. He was halfway out the door, prepared to go to Harry's, before he spoke again. "Um, kind of. But if he asked about me, that's definitely a good sign, right?"

"Considering that happened two weeks ago, I don't know. He hasn't really inquired about you since then," Justin told him.

Louis stopped in his tracks, standing in the middle of the hotel hallway. If someone were to see him, they would ask him if someone passed away by the look of hopelessness on his face. His voice cracked and came out hushed, sounding like an old recording. "He asked two weeks ago?"

"Yeah. I haven't heard from him since then, so I assumed that he found you. I would've told you sooner, but you wouldn't respond to me," Justin replied. "Are you okay, Louis? You sound upset."