the light's on but nobody's home || l.s

vi

louis

louis expected the place to be some normal frat house, or a small two storey house with neon lights hung around the yard and some red beer cups scattered everywhere, aimless teens and young adults mingling around and making out, playing beer pong or whatnot.

but what he didn't expect was the enormous mansion that stands tall and proud right before his eyes. golden light shining dimly through the translucent curtains, displaying the silhouettes of people laughing and clutching onto champagne glasses.

the yard wasn't decorated with neon lights like how louis had anticipated, instead there were countless limousines all lined up, ready to depart the guests. bodyguards stood around the luxurious building, inviting the wanted guests and setting aside the unwanted ones. louis could see that almost everyone was dressed in dazzling outfits which looked far too pricey for his own liking.

he nudges niall with his elbow. "so this is why you told us to wear nice suits. what is this place, niall? where exactly are we?"

"you're lucky you're not underdressed. they'd kick you out in an instant. the host absolutely loathes people who don't obey the dress code," niall explains. louis and zayn share a confused look, and louis may or may not have mentally snorted at how absurd this host must be. it's a damn party not a wedding, sheesh. everyone's lovely attire is bound to get wrecked at some point.

"what are we waiting for? let's go inside!" zayn grins, opening up arms for the other two to latch on. with that being said, the trio walked up the stairs, got their names checked by an alarmingly muscular bodyguard and headed inside this so-called mansion which louis believes should be called a castle.

the first thing louis notices is the atmosphere of the place. it feels posh and royal, the scent of expensive perfume and cologne mixed with alcohol clings in the air. he sees magnificent chandeliers hanging meters above their heads, its crystals seamlessly reflecting on the venue. the cream coloured walls are splashed with golden designs, antique furnitures quietly and carefully placed on every corner of the room. vast paintings hang on the wide walls, open and out there for everyone to see and admire. everyone is dressed beautifully and there isn't a single distasteful sight.

until he sees a complacent harry styles standing in the middle of the enormous golden room, clutching onto a glass of champagne, three girls in tow. he's dressed in a resplendent suit, and he looks sickeningly attractive that it sends louis' stomach twisting.

louis visibly scowls.

"the dick is right there," he seethes, nodding his head towards harry's direction. zayn doesn't even take a second glance and scoffs. "yeah, i'm gonna head to where the punch is. wanna join?" zayn asks, not really anticipating for an answer. after a few seconds of no response from louis, who is still, visibly fuming, he walks away.

louis, with eyebrows furrowed and fists tightly clenched, he decides against creating a scene and huffs in annoyance. he tries his best to ignore the fact that harry's there looking like a prince and walks over to the far corner of the humongous room. he mingles with a few people, pretending to hear their conversations and compliments, his mind still occupied by a certain jade eyed boy.

when he walks over to the punch, he accidentally bumps into someone and mutters an inaudible sorry, not even glancing up to see who it is.

"excuse me?" the voice says, obviously displeased.

and oh lord have mercy on louis.

"it's you," louis says apoplectically, narrowing his eyes.

"louis," harry drawls, not showing any sign of emotion. louis almost wants to puke at how bitter the way harry says his name.

"you know what, i take back what i said, i'm not sorry for bumping into you, i'm rather glad i did. you deserve it," louis sneers, his confidence suddenly arising as he notices that harry slightly grimaces.

"i don't know what you want from me, tomlinson, but i can assure you that you will never get in my way. you and your cheap self can go fuck off somewhere else. why are you even here in my party? i don't recall inviting low-levels like you," harry counters, and before louis can counterattack, he continues, "you know what, don't answer that. just get out of here before something undesirable happens to you, louis tomlinson."

louis just wants to scream and slap him right there and then, but he contains himself. he will not show this man that he affects him.

"fuck you and your dumb party anyway, this place sucks," louis lies. this place certainly does not suck. this place is marvelous, only if harry wasn't the one hosting it.

harry scoffs and sends one last stabbing glare at louis and struts away, plastering his fake smile once again. what the hell is wrong with him? one minute he's a total douche and the next he's some sort of angel, sending diamond smiles to everyone he passes, except louis, of course.

louis shakes his head full of thoughts regarding this man. is he bipolar or something? does he have a several personality disorder? why is he so mean to louis? what the hell happened to him this morning in the music room? why was he full on crying while playing the piano? okay, maybe it was in the moment kind of thing, being an overly dramatic and emotional piano player. or maybe it was something else.

maybe harry is not what he seems.

for the rest of the night, harry refuses to acknowledge louis' presence, which louis is thankful for. he sits down on an empty velvet couch, sipping his wine, watching his surroundings intently.

he can't help but gravitate his vision on harry once again.

there he is, a vacant smile lingering on his face, one hand occupied by a glass of champagne and the other obscenely draped around a girl's waist, laughing and chatting along, not a care in the world. it's irksome and fake, he knows it's fake, they both know it's fake.

louis subtly watches as the seemingly gleeful curly-haired man whispers something in the girl's ear and receives a momentary wink in return. louis ponders about how a man who is so infallibly flawless and joyful in the eyes of the public can be so broken and shattered when no one's around. except, he's been there. he's seen the man crumble into pieces. he's seen the man cry like there was no tomorrow.

he's seen the truth hidden beneath the veil he uses to mask his insecurities and sadness.

amidst his preposterous thoughts, his eyes meet harry's. they're dull and idle, like he's not there, like he doesn't want to be there. they both continue to stare at each other unblinkingly.

they stare and stare until louis' eyes tingle, alarmingly close to tears. the ladies clinging on harry begin to touch his body, seeking for his attention, their mouths peppered all over his face. louis almost wants to throw up at the sight. harry keeps still, knowing he can't do anything about the intrusiveness of his guests.

and then he sees harry's eyes, the once frigid emerald orbs, infinitesimally flicker. he swears he sees it.

he sees them glimmer, silently calling for help.

louis blinks for a few times and then it's gone. those pleading eyes are impassive all over again. louis looks away, and chews on his lips restlessly.

what the fuck was that?

so he ignores the uneasy feeling in his stomach and sighs, exhaling all the nervousness that seeps through his skin. no matter how much he doesn't want to do this, he has to. he only has one objective to accomplish.

and that is to fix harry styles.