Pretty Boy || larry

ten

{all credit goes to the original author}

ten

“I’ll be back soon, before the movie’s even done,” Louis assures Harry as he deposits him on the couch next to Liam and a sleeping Niall. “Stay here with these lads. Relax. I’ll bring you back lunch.”

Harry pouts still, turning to Liam. “Why do you send him off so much?”

“It’s not me that does it, it’s the government,” Liam defends with a grin. “I’m just the one who remembers for him.”

“And where’s he going today?”

Liam visibly blanches. “Japan. Ambassador. The Japanese Ambassador. They’re having lunch,” he lies terribly.

It’s such a piss-poor performance that Louis rolls his eyes and makes note that next time, he should have Zayn or Niall deliver the cover story. Let the professional storyteller and the unreadable mystery man do the lying. “Home soon,” he repeats, giving Harry a kiss, and heads off.

The truth is that Liam has no idea where Louis is going, nor do the others. He refuses to tell any of them anything beyond the fact that he has a quick errand to run, and that Zayn will have to take him. They’re all satisfied enough that Liam and Niall agree to keep Harry company while Zayn waits by his own personal car smoking a cigarette. “Where we going?” he asks as Louis approaches.

“Harry’s place.”

When they pull up in front of the hovel, Zayn throws it into park and looks over at Louis. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“Stupid is relative.”

“Stupid involves anything that’s going to get anyone hurt,” Zayn clarifies. “Because I know you, and I know that look on your face. That’s a dangerous look, don’t tell me it’s not.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Louis says firmly. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m making peace, okay? I’m here to keep everybody safe.”

Zayn is unconvinced. “You don’t bring your muscle guy with you for peace.”

“No, I bring him with me so someone’s waiting in the car,” Louis explains with a tired sort of grin. “I don’t want my Audi getting jacked in the ghetto, you twat.”

He takes advantage of Zayn’s amused snort to make his exit, climbing from the car and walking up the drive. There have been a couple of times where his impossibly twisted sleep schedule renders him conscious for Harry’s morning trips so he’s been here multiple times before, but this is the first time he’s ever actually approached the building. It’s the first time he’s ever walked up the steps and through the ever-open door.

The inside is just as decrepit and disgusting as the outside, but the smell is far worse. He can’t identify the odor that starts choking up his lungs even when he tries to breathe through his mouth. There are people around, he realizes as dirty skin starts standing out from the dirty backdrop, and suddenly Louis’ hoodie and jeans even feel overdressed. This is squalor. There’s just no other word for it.

“You looking to buy?” asks a voice from one of the couches, and Louis startles. He hadn’t even realized that body was alive, much less conscious and playing doorman. “Kieffer’s asleep, come back tonight.”

“Uh, no, I- I’m looking for Styles,” he stammers, realizing belatedly he doesn’t even know the right name to give. He holds his breath and hopes that’s right.

Glazed eyes open a slit. “The slut or the whore?”

“I- the slut, I guess,” Louis mumbles with a wince.