Bag of Bones (Larry Stylinson)

4

Clickity-clacking through the night
I'm carrying my bag of bones

Louis and Stan's feet scrape against the pavement as they walk the few blocks over to the bar in the chilly air of the night. They had a drink or two before going just to make it actually seem like a night out. It still doesn't feel like that to Louis, though, more like a desperate attempt to take his mind off of Harry and what his favorite color actually is, but he just shoves his hands in his pockets as he keeps his eyes focused on the sidewalk.
It's a bit cold outside, but Louis still wore a simple band t-shirt with some random black skinny jeans he found. He hadn't really worn an outfit like this in a while, not since him and Harry went through their matching alternative phase, but it was the best of what he grabbed on his way out of the apartment. Louis looks and focuses on his appearing and disappearing breath in the cold air rather than dwelling on anything, seeing as how thinking just makes his gut heavier.
Both of the boys are fairly warmed up due to the early alcohol, but the air still bites at Louis a bit. Stan had tried to get him to wear a jacket or something to break the chilly wind, but Louis opted out of it. It was a thing Louis always did, insist on not needing a jacket even though he tended to be colder than the average person. Maybe it was because he always ended up fooling himself into thinking the nights were warmer than they actually were, or maybe it was because Harry would always give up his own jacket for Louis once he got cold. Despite his reasons, Harry's not here now to help ease the cold from him. He figured if it was painfully cold tonight, he most likely deserved it.
As they approach the bar after walking for a while in relative silence, Louis takes note of how the bar seems less quaint in the night and more sketchy than anything. Stan said he and his buddies had gone to the bar once or twice, but they left the soon after since they were bar hopping, so he didn't have much of an idea for the place.
Louis assumes Stan thinks he wants to get laid tonight since he was so hesitant when he introduced the idea of going earlier, but all Louis wants to do is dance and forget about the insistent beating of his heart. The idea sounds nice to him. Harry used to put his head against Louis' chest really late at night and whisper out the beat of his heart rhythmically when he couldn't go to sleep to lull him to rest. Louis squeezes his fists and digs his nails into his hands in order to focus on entering the bar instead of Harry.
After passing by the bouncer with ease, the man not really caring if they were of age as long as they were paying patrons, Louis and Stan slip into the building. It's fairly full considering that it's a week night and not the best bar in town, seeming more worn-down rather than a charming rugged look. Louis has gone to his fair share of bars with Harry and their friends, though most of them were gay bars, so the image in front of him of sweaty men and women pressing up on each other is vaguely foreign to him.
      Instead of thinking of Harry, he focuses on the bodies casually brushing up against him from every which way like he's not even there. Louis loudly suggests over the pulsing music for them to go get some shots, as to which Stan agrees easily.
They walk up to he bar, getting approached by the bartender to ask what they want to drink after getting done with serving some other people. Louis orders shots for the both of them, assuming that paying for their drinks is the least he can do for Stan. When the bartender returns with their order, he throws the shot back immediately to try and shake off his tenseness.
After throwing back his shot, the bartender nudges a colorful and seemingly fruity drink towards him. A look of confusion takes over Louis' face, trying to wordlessly communicate that he's got the wrong order.
"This one is from the lovely lady over there who insisted on getting you this drink," the bartender tells him when he leans forward to be heard over the music. Louis has yet another look of confusion overcome his face as he looks in the direction the bartender pointed to find who gifted him the free drink.
He catches her eye from across the bar, as if she was waiting for him to look in her direction. There is nothing really eye-catching about her, if Louis was honest. She had brown hair, tan skin, a strong jawline, but her face was quite plain from what he could see. It's definitely not a girl that would grab his attention from a crowd, though it wasn't like he was ever seeking out girls.
He feels bad for brutally judging this most-likely sweet girl that paid for his drink, so he decides to have the decency to go tell her why he's not into her.
      Stan gives him a wink as he picks up the drink and starts to head over to her, obviously getting the wrong idea and making Louis feel a bit sick as he throws him a small smile to reassure him. He had never really come out to Stan about his exact sexuality, all he knew was that Louis was dating Harry and that he was happy; there wasn't much more to say other than that then. Louis thought that loving Harry was all that really mattered.
      Louis tries not to spill the drink as he swivels through hot bodies dancing and mingling as he feels his stomach churn once more. He wonders for a moment why this girl immediately bought him a drink. Louis hardly considers himself good looking in retrospect of Harry, and he must look so tired right now, so defeated. He figures that the girl has either already had too much to drink, or she's into the sickly looking white boys that seem one cigarette away from dying, or both. That's how Louis feels right now at least.
      He approaches the girl with a smile that most likely resembles a grimace more than anything, a poor attempt at looking friendly. The girl smiles back in way that Louis perceives as seductive, and it makes a wave of nausea overcome him for a moment. It's not that the prospect of sleeping with a girl is sickening to Louis, it's just that the prospect of sleeping with anyone else other than Harry feels sickening since he's the only person he's ever slept with. He snaps out of his daze by focusing on the girl's words that were suddenly coming out of her mouth.
      "Hey there," she says simply, lightly reaching over and touching Louis' shoulder to lean forward in order to be heard. He doesn't really think the contact is necessary, but that's how flirting often goes.
      "Hi, I assume you're the one who got me this drink?" he asks dumbly, the physical contact causing his brain to be sent into overdrive, but not really in the good way.
      "Yup, that's me. I hope you know that I only give drinks to pretty boys," she says slyly, though there is a slur to her words. She's probably a bit more than tipsy like Louis expected, but he feels bad for her wasting her money on him since she seems to be a nice girl. He throws her back a smile somehow.
      "Thank you; you're a beautiful girl yourself, but I'm sorry to say that I'm gay. It'd probably be smarter for you to give this drink to someone else that'd actually be interested. I didn't drink it or slip anything into it, I promise," Louis somehow manages to get out to the girl. He's sick of having to apologize for being gay, but he saw that as the best route to get out of this situation. It's always easier to get rejected when the blame is on someone else.
      The girl's face turns red immediately and takes the drink Louis was offering to her before going off with a simple "sorry about that." He's glad that she didn't get mad at him or accuse him of lying in order to turn her down because drunk people tend to do stupid shit like that all of the time. Louis lets out a sigh of relief and turns back to go find Stan.
      He remembers when men used to hit on either him or Harry when they'd go out to gay bars together. They usually hit on Harry because, come on, the man was like a Greek statue come to life, which resulted in Louis going red in the face and protectively warding them off. He wanted to get into fights sometimes when he'd become too fed up with strangers flirting with his oblivious boyfriend, but Harry always calmed him down and reassured him from doing so. One time when a particularly handsy guy hit on Louis, Harry almost resorted to the same violence, but Louis mocked him from all of the times he had to calm him down which stopped it from ever happening.
      With those memories fresh in his mind, the both of them usually going back home to have a good night by themselves, Louis feels more shards dig into his insides as random bodies brush up all around him, more interested in the music than his stumbling. He kind of wishes he took that girl's drink now, not nearly having enough alcohol in his system to make this tolerable.
      Louis tries to spot Stan back where he left him, but he rather finds him when his eyes wander to near the far left corner. He seems to be chatting up a girl, both of them laughing, and Louis's glad that he's actually getting something good out of this night because he sure isn't.
      Right as he sees Stan lean forward to the girl, his sight is obstructed by the frame of some guy in the way. Louis goes around him to reach the outskirts of the dance floor and be out of everyone's way, but the man in front of him lightly grabs his arm and speaks to him.
      "Are you gay?" the man asks, weirding Louis out with the simple question. The man is fairly taller than him, though he's more lanky than muscular. He can't see his face well in the dark lighting of the bar.
      "Why are you asking?" Louis answers with another question, not wanting to admit his sexuality to a man that could possibly be threatening. It's not like it's widely accepted everywhere, so he still has to be careful, especially in normal bars like this.
      "I heard you tell that girl back over there that you were gay," the man responds, his eyes locked on Louis'. He can see now that he has short brown hair, brown eyes, and a bit of a scruffy beard. He isn't Louis' type, he's not sure if he has much of one other than Harry, but he also doesn't seem the type to commit hate crimes on gays.
      "Well, sounds like you already heard it from me," Louis attempts to say mundanely as he pulls his arm out of the taller's man grasp. He just wants another drink and maybe even another smoke, not to be questioned by some random guy over his sexual preferences.
      Suddenly, the man's hand grabs his arm again and turns him around from how he was previously trying to walk away. "Why do you have to be snarky? It was just a simple question," the man says with heat behind his voice, causing Louis to yank his arm out of his grasp now.
      "Well, it's none of your business, is it?" Louis responds with just as much heat behind his voice in an attempt to show the odd and intimidating man that he wasn't interested in talking anymore. Right before he turns around to escape and get another drink and continue on with his night, the man pulls his fist back and launches it at Louis' left eye swiftly.
      Louis lets out a quick curse and cradles his eye for a second to process the pain. By the time he looks up to yell at the man, he's already gone. He tries to suppress his anger by telling himself that the random weirdo isn't worth getting into a fight over anyway. He thinks to himself what was possibly wrong with that creep to make him punch him as he works his way through the dancing crowd to the exit, already having enough of this night.
      All he wanted was to take his mind off of Harry and the heavy feeling in his stomach tonight, but all he did was think of Harry more than before and add more shards to his gut along with getting punched in the face for no fucking reason. He just feels so heavy now as he tries to escape the damn bar, his body reducing to feel like a useless vessel to carry his pain. He feels like a bag of bones by the time he finally worms his way out of the bar and into the cold and stale night air.
      He figures that Stan will be more than alright, probably planning on bringing that girl back to the apartment at some point tonight. Louis sends him a quick text to let him know where he went off to. And with Louis finally releasing his hand from his pulsing eye and ignoring his feeling of emptiness underlying all of his pain, he walks on in the cold night, only hearing his footsteps walking along all alone.