flower crowns // l.s.

4½

[Bonus chapter! if these chapters have "½" on it, then know it's in Louis' POV. enjoy! *don't expect these to be long. they're not supposed to be full chapters, hence the "½"]

"Okay, I get it. You like Harry, now can we stop talking about him? I'm on my break and would like to relax." Truth is, Harry really is a lovely guy and Louis doesn't mind talking about him, but Madeline is getting far too annoying for him to forget the way Harry's big, innocent eyes got upset with him for just laughing. Okay, maybe that wasn't what Harry was really mad at, but Louis didn't know what he was. He seems to always upset everyone and he hasn't got a clue as to why.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" She asked, stealing a fry from Louis' plate.

He hit her hand and rolled his eyes, but then acted like she was an animal (maybe a seal or a dolphin) and began throwing fries into her open mouth, only a trace of a small smile on his lips. "Nothing. My panties are perfectly fine."

"You wear panties."

"Only occasionally . . . Hey, they're really soft. You know what? Get out, get out right now. I'm done with you," Louis said, pointing to the door with his lips pressed together.

"Shut up. Let's get back to Harry and how I would definitely tap that if he was straight. Maybe I can turn him straight, yeah? Might like the boobs."

Louis gagged loudly and turned to look away when she cupped them in her hands. This was disgusting and Louis still didn't understand why they're friends. "No," is all Louis could muster, because ew. "You'd tap anything. Remember that thirty—"

"Do you really wanna bring that up?"

"You had a sugar daddy."

"Okay, changing the subject now. You're hot, Harry's hot, why haven't you gone after him?" She asked, grabbing the rest of Louis' burger when she noticed he wasn't eating it anymore and eating it herself.

Louis was about to protest, but he knew it was pointless and just decided to ignore it. "I didn't know he was gay." And, boy was that the biggest lie he's ever told. He definitely knew. The guy has a flower stand for Christ's sake and practically turned into an apple when Louis said anything to him. Louis just . . . didn't like him that way. He liked messing with him. He's cute, tall and clumsy, and is definitely a real life Bambi, but he wanted to avoid relationships and anything that would lead to it. Like, what the hell, Louis would do anything for the boy if he seen that frown and pout Harry did a couple of days ago with the whole flower bracelet thing. He knew it was bad then, knew if he liked him that it would be even worse, and he's not a softy. He's a man who doesn't need a cute boyfriend that's always happy. He's a punk. Harry's a flower child; Louis' reckless, Harry's smart and kind. Too many cons in that. It wouldn't work out. Harry could do better than Louis and everyone knows it.

"Is this because of that one guy . . . what was his name . . . Ah! Matt, yeah. Matt?"

"No," Louis stood up and shook his head, hands balling up into fists. Now he's angry; how dare she bring Matt up in a moment like this. Matt is a son of a bitch and doesn't want to ever talk about him as long as he lives. "Don't bring him up, ever again."

"Okay, okay; sorry, I won't. Chill, Louis, chill."

Okay, Louis knows how to calm down once worked up from that son of a bitch named Matt, but when someone tells him to chill? No way. It's not like saying 'chill' will actually make him chill, it will only piss Louis off even more. And now he can feel it—that itch to pull out a cigarette and smoke it, feel it relax his entire being and make him think clearly. So he grabs his coat and searches his pockets, so in need to have it soothe him and feel it fill up his lungs that it wasn't acceptable. Yes, Louis was taught that smoking was bad—who wasn't?—but once he grew up, it was his outlet. It calmed him down. It made him content for that little moment. And he needed it more than anything right now, needed to feel calm and content. Once he had his lighter and box of cigarettes, he was out of the building faster than the Flash himself could.

+ + +

Two days later, he was walking home, and Louis had a very long day, and currently, he wanted to do nothing but strip down to his boxers, drink a bottle of coke, and watch whatever action movie that was playing on television. Maybe have a TV dinner or two. He lived alone in a crappy, one bedroom apartment; the living room and kitchen was divided up by a bar. It wasn't anything special, but it's only himself, so why try and get something nice and out of his price range just for looks? It's not like he ever really had anybody over, anyway. He liked loneliness, got used to it.

As he made his way to his door (the damn thing was always so hard to open. Once it was unlocked, he had to jiggle the knob, pull up on it, and shove a shoulder into it to get it to budge. He tried talking to his landlord about it, but it was always the same excuse "We're busy right now, but we will get to you very soon." Such bullshit.), he grabbed his keys, unlocked it, and preceded the usual opening-door routine.

Louis didn't bother turning on the lights, just flung his keys onto the countertop in the kitchen. But the lack of lighting didn't make him blind to the dark colored hair pulled up into a bun, sticking above the other side of the bar. He also heard giggles, and when he rounded the bar, the lights flicked on, people jumped out, and Louis nearly fell back into the fridge due to a heart attack. Frightened and unbelievably shocked, he eyed the place, eyebrows scrunched together, and started laughing when they all yelled surprise.