The Drive-In | l.s.

chapter 1.

their skin became their diary; inked with the words they couldn't say.

۵

It was Friday night; one of the busiest nights at the drive-in. While the weekdays felt eternal and like the day would never end, the weekends were the reason behind Harry's constant aching back and trembling legs. No one ever had the time to just sit and have a soda, let alone take a whole thirty-minute break. Only when they snuck off for quick pee were they able to take a breather. 

Weekends were always the hardest at the drive-in. Harry absolutely dreaded the week coming to an end. Well not quite.

While his fellow coworkers were practically dragging themselves along, praying for the weekend to be over with, Harry was perched up on a stool at the concession stand with the biggest smile on his face.

His usual messy uniform was ironed down perfectly - not a single wrinkle in sight. Striped dress shirt properly tucked into khaki trousers, shoes neatly tied. He even made sure not to forget his bowtie this time. It was a very simple uniform however it fit Harry perfectly. He was a charmer.

Every now and then Harry would sneak quick glances at himself through the glass of the cooler to make sure his hair looked okay.

Only after running a hand through his quiff and rearranging his chocolate curls multiple times, was he finally satisfied with his appearance.

Giving his usual dimpled grin, he reached over and pulled a piece of licorice out from the wrapper. He chewed on his favorite sweet as he waited to spot the reason behind his late night hard-ons.

And if Harry folded up his already short sleeves just so this particular person would think he was cool, he would never say.

You see, Harry only got this way on Friday and Saturday evenings - as was said earlier.

But if you asked him if it happened to be because of the Louis Tomlinson, the 'annoying little shit who only came to cause trouble and steal cigarette packs,' he would probably turn into a blushing mess and ask you why. And if Louis asked you why.

Which, of course, he did not.

The older lad had no idea who this odd curly-haired boy was, nor did he pay any attention to how flustered he made him every time he walked by. But this didn't stop Harry. In fact, he made sure to tell those around him that Louis was his soulmate.

The younger boy was about to reach for some more sweets when a rather tall, blonde boy walked up to the stand, interrupting him.

"Yoy don't happen to have some fresh popcorn do you? Mines a bit stale."

Harry remained silent for a second, completely stunned from the enduring accent and incredibly attractive metal attached to the boy's lip. It almost reminded him of Louis' piercings.

He recognized the boy as being one of Louis' friends he always hung around with.

"Oh, I can just make a new batch for you." Harry spoke softly.

Getting up from his stool, he quickly turned to the popcorn machine sitting behind him in attempt to hide his flustered face.

"Um, plain or butter?" He called from over his shoulder as he began opening cabinet after cabinet. He was sure the popcorn kernels were kept in one of these. But not in this one. Or this one. He was almost positive his manager had told him where they kept the popcorn but of course Harry had not listened to a single word.