We're Okay

Chapter 6

Louis

He had it all planned out perfectly, because he’s Louis fucking Tomlinson, and that’s just how he is. His sisters were due home two days after the party, which meant he could spend the day after nursing a terrible hangover while the cleaners worked their magic. He’d already got them booked, as well as the DJ and the catering.

Except no matter how well he planned everything, no matter how carefully he ordered everything, put it all in its place, people were always a variable. You could never count on them to do absolutely everything you need. And the DJ cancelled at the last minute.

The issue, of course, is that the DJ is, like, really fucking important, and it’s too close to Christmas, too many people are having parties, and he’d booked the DJ weeks in advanced, because he knew he wouldn’t get one if he waited. And he also knew, now, that there was now way to find a replacement.

Except Louis’ life is a romantic comedy, obviously, and he’s the butt of all the jokes, because he mentioned this issue to Zayn, and Zayn mentioned that Harry actually knew how to operate a turn table.

“How do you even know that?” Louis demanded when Zayn brought it up. They were sitting in Zayn’s apartment, only because Zayn didn’t want to take the bus up to Louis’, and Louis didn’t see any point to go to Zayn’s building just to drive back to his own home, when he could just stay at Zayn’s.

Zayn shrugged, that carefully composed look on his face that he’d taken to wearing lately. “Because he mentioned it that night you got fucked off your arse and fell asleep with your head in his lap.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “You mean the same night you hooked up with dear, sweet, innocent Liam?”

“Don’t,” Zayn warned, lifting a hand. “Don’t make it sound like it’s something, because it’s not. ”

Louis snorted. “Really? So then what is it, exactly?”

“Nothing,” Zayn had said with real conviction. “I just wanted to see what he’d look like while I sucked him off.”

Louis made a face at that. “That’s got to be one of the weirdest, creepiest things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“It’s really not,” Zayn assured him, and his lips quirked up just a bit, only on the one side. It was like he wasn’t with Louis anymore, but instead somewhere else. “You should have see him, Louis. I swear, it’s like he was fucking surprised every time I touched him, and it’s like--,” he took a hall off his cigarette, “it’s fucking beautiful.”

Louis gave him a pointed look. “But it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” Zayn repeated.

And after that, and a few hits off a joint, Louis forgot all about the original conversation, until he got home and remembered all the details he still had to work out for his party. And, in the end, he’d resorted to doing the one thing he didn’t want to; he called Harry.