168 HOURS (Larry Stylinson)

Prolouge

It was an unusual day in the town of Las Vegas. The sky seemed to be incapable of making up its mind.

Over on the left side, the skies looked as if they had a giant bucket of grey paint poured in it, left to run and fill the canvas in its gloominess, there was a slight puffiness in the clouds that gave the only life there, making it seem like fluffed up pillows. The right side was a beautiful array of gradient colors showing off the soft touches of orange, yellow, pink, purple, and fading into blue as it filled the rest of the sky in darker shades at it rolled along. The clouds were strings of clean white that resembled stretched out cotton balls glued across the sky.

A man of the age twenty-two held his youngest sister's hand and made up an enticing story about how the sky got to be those colors. And a boy who had turned twenty half a year ago watched the heavy, grey clouds as the car he was in zoomed along the road with his headphones in, ignoring the lecture he was being given by his sister about their schedule for the trip.

Fifteen minutes later, both of the boys arrived at the same hotel complex; their cars exactly six spots apart. The family of four and the family of ten started to unload the cars of their luggage. The family of ten was slower, due to the large amount of people, and almost double the amount of bags to unload. Arms became heavy, and young ones became impatient.

"Louis honey," Johanna breathlessly approached her eldest son, with the two newest editions in a stroller by her hip. "Can you please go ahead and check into our rooms for us? Dan and I can handle the rest here, please take your sisters up there and out of the way dear."

Louis smiled at his mom, and set a pink and blue suitcase on the ground. He knew his mother was under stress about the wedding plans, and all the wild little ones roaming around. She would need all the help she could get.

"Sure thing mum." He turned to the group of squealing girls. "Let's move troops!" He directed.

This was a little game that went on often with the Tomlinson family. The leader -usually Louis- would be general, having his troops march behind him.

They all followed like ducklings behind him all the way to the tall, wide, red swinging doors. The kids became fascinated by the marble reflective floors and stopped to gaze down at their distorted reflections as soon as they walked in. Well, after they moved off to the side so others could come in and out of course.

Louis let the girls giggle and play without the presence of their bigger, boy brother. He instead, walked up to the counter where a man in his late twenties stood with a smile, treating the family of four in front of Louis.

The person directly in front of Louis was a good 5 inches taller than him, and had a head of short, semi-wavy brown hair stuck in a bun on top of their head.

Looking down the body, all Louis could see was that they were wearing some sort of black tee, black jeans, and boots.

That's how Louis looked at people. From the top to the bottom, taking account of every tiny feature they partook. He stored them in filing cabinets that were kept in the back of his mind; he never forgot a face.

"Louis look!" One of the girls' called in a giggly tone.

Louis turned, his hands folded over his chest. He watched Lottie hop from red tile to red tile in the hallway across from him. He smiled and gave a small wave to signal he saw her fighting to keep her balance on colored floorings.

As he turned back around, he felt a sharp pang in his nose and stumbled back a step as he cradled it.

"I'm so sorry mate, are you okay?" Another fellow English accent asked, and the gentle touch of a hand was placed on his shoulder.

Louis opened his squinted eyes and eased up a bit, taking himself off of the wall. He saw his sisters watching cautiously from the corner of his eye and gave them a small wave.

The boy in front of Louis was the tall one in front of him while they were in line. His hair was still in a bun, but he made it work somehow. He had green eyes that worriedly looked down on Louis as he clutched his nose. He was wearing a plain black shirt and plain, black skinny jeans with brown boots.

"Yeah I'm fine, thanks," Louis reassured the boy as he tenderly touched his nose.

"You don't look so fine. I mean yes you do look fine and all," the other boy nervously rushed out, "but you still look like you're in pain." He finished. Louis let out a small laugh at the taller man's awkwardness and dropped his hand from his nose to try to comfort the boy into letting him know he truly was fine.

There wasn't much to say, or anything really. So both of them just stared at each other with a playful smile for a minute.

"Harry!" the other boy turned to face a lady, "Come on dear, we have lunch scheduled with your grandmother in an hour."

He held up a finger to his mum and she nodded. He turned back to Louis.

"So Harry," Louis emphasized the boy's name, liking the way it sounded, "it looks like you have to get going."

"Sadly I do, I don't even want to go to lunch. All my grandma is going to do is pinch my cheek and tell me how much I've grown," Harry pouted. Louis made another small laugh, finding this boy rather amusing.

"Well, I'll see you around then Harry."

"I'll see you around then nosey."