Turquoise (L.S)

VIII

From his room, Louis could hear the trap music pumping from downstairs. His walls rattled and the windows shook as the deep bass penetrated the air.

It had officially started over an hour ago, but the lad from Doncaster found himself staring at his bed, with hundreds of clothes sprawled across it. Whilst he had tried to convince himself otherwise, what Harry said had bothered him and he had never felt so self-conscious. And so, here he was, staring at his ratty shirts and jeans, trying to find something that did not have a hole in it. He wasn't having much luck.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, he collapsed onto his bed, creasing all of the clothes his sister had carefully ironed, before he left. He decided then and there that he was not going to be attending this party. Why would he want to anyway?

For over 20 minutes he lay there, miserable, staring at the darkening ceiling. It was quickly becoming nightfall and the party was getting rowdier and louder by the second. In the distance, he could hear sport car engines revving as they pulled up to the mansion and young girls laughing the night away, hoping to get lucky with a celebrity. They were all living these incredible lives and he was here, sulking.

A light tap sounded at the door and Louis mumbled a 'come in', not bothering to look at the figure who walked in.

"Oh my god," Ashe gasped, taking in the utter mess that was Louis's room.

"It looks like a bomb went off in here. You literally moved in an hour ago," She chuckled lightly and moved closer, perching on the edge of Louis's bed full of clothes.

He groaned and rolled over, hiding his face. He did not want Ashe to see him being miserable. It was pathetic anyway. She stroked his hair and gave it a playful tug. He moved his head slightly, to glare at her.

"I've been looking for you," She chuckled at how young and innocent Louis looked with his face half burrowed in clothes. A small blush rose on his cheeks and he avoided her gaze, smothering himself back into the bed.

"I don't wanna go," He huffed like a small, stubborn child, having a temper. He knew he was being ridiculous, but every time he convinced himself to stop being silly, Harry's words crept back into his thoughts.

"Why?" Ashe challenged, grabbing Louis's shoulder and turning him around so she could see him properly. Louis cowered and hid his face in his hand. He really did not want to confess his pathetic, frankly childish behaviour to her.

"It's stupid and you'll laugh," He groaned. Ashe raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

"Try me," She chuckled, sitting him up so they were facing each other on his small double bed. Louis sighed.

"I don't have anything to wear," He admitted and immediately felt the heat growing in his cheeks.

He waited for the cruel laughter, the piercing screech that would probably make him tear up. Louis did not cry, but certain things got under his skin. Harry Styles was one of them.

"Louis," Ashe said fondly, moving her head to meet his gaze. He looked at her with his big blue eyes and tensed. Rather than laughing, she smiled, kindly.

"You literally have a wardrobe-full covering your bed," She indicated towards the mess. It was true. Louis was not exactly short on clothes, just ones he could wear to fancy Hollywood parties hosted by snobby, arrogant assholes.

"I mean like nice clothes," He explained further. "These are all old," He held up a ratty looking t-shirt, that had a yellow stain down the front and a hole in the sleeve. Ashe could not hide her disgust and she grabbed off of him and chucked it towards the bin. It missed.