Red Skies Above, Black Streets Below {L.S.}

ii

H

Livin' just to keep goin'
Goin' just to be sane
All the while not knowin'
It's such a shame...
"Tighten Up" - The Black Keys

The drive to London was one of the most awkward, uncomfortable drives Harry had ever been on. Louis had sat still in his seat, leaning against the door like he was ready to tumble out at any given second, not saying a word to Harry, and Harry not saying a word in return.

When Harry drove through the streets of London, his chest loosened as he passed shops and buildings that he recognised well, now lit only by the street lamps around them. He snuck a glance at Louis, and he bit his lips as he fought the smile threatening to appear when he saw the slightly awestruck look on Louis' face. "Have you never been to London before?" he asked, the words coming out strange and soft, and Louis barely shook his head, staring out the window as they drove past Buckingham Palace. "Never had the chance." Louis responded, and Harry hummed. "You'll learn the lay of the land soon enough. The main problem is these side streets." He took another glance at Louis, who, to his surprise, was watching him, his face a little less stiffly set, his lean against the door more casual than defensive. He decided to risk giving Louis a quick smile, but that only earned him the return of Louis' sullen expression, and a quick turn of his head back to the window.

Harry had sighed quietly, and the rest of the drive had gone on in silence.

When Harry pulls up to his tall flat building, he chuckles as he sees a familiar face walking down the footway, and he cranks down the window. "What's a pretty lad like you doing out here this time of night?" he calls, and grins as the man leans down, a similar grin on his face. "Well, look who's made his grand return. Where've you been, Styles? The kids have been asking for you." The man grabs Harry's extended hand and shakes it, and peers around Harry to look at Louis. "And you brought a friend! Cheers, the name's Marcus Shelby. Nice to meet you." The man reaches over Harry to hold his hand out for Louis to shake, and Louis takes it, a cordial smile on his face. "Louis Tomlinson. A pleasure."

Harry rolls his eyes, and runs a hand through his hair as he takes a quick glance around him. He's anxious to get inside and get himself settled back in, but has no idea the condition of how he left his flat. He had left London rather abruptly, and had a feeling that he hadn't taken the time to properly clean beforehand.

He also hasn't planned on coming back with anyone, especially not someone who already hates everything about him.

A few minutes of idle chit chat and an offer from Marcus to help carry their things later, they stand in front of Harry's door. Marcus is making Louis grin as he tells a story, free hand flying around, and Harry can't help but feel a little peeved as he slides the key into the lock. He hasn't made any progress with making Louis like him yet, and frankly, he doesn't see any being made at any point soon.

He pushes his door open, and smiles as he sees the inside of his flat, the moonlight illuminating his living room. "Hello," he murmurs to himself, stepping into the room. He puts his bag over his shoulder and reaches out of habit to the shelf by the door, where he knows a gas lamp and a matchbox lay. He has electricity in his flat, the whole building does. He prefers the light of candles and lamps sometimes, he just doesn't know how much his guest would appreciate that.

His hand changes direction and flips on the light switch, his flat instantly becoming flooded with light as the overhead bulbs flicker on above him. He can hear Marcus and Louis enter behind him, Marcus still chattering on, but he moves on into his kitchen. He turns on the light, and smiles as he sees blue and white tiled flooring, his cooktop with his kettle sitting patiently, and his kitchen table, pockmarked with scratches and dents from his various cooking experiments. He places his bag down on the table, and takes out each dish that Amelia has carefully packed, smiling as he sees a note written on a piece of paper.