Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. All credits go to ©️ Velvetoscar.
READ! Because some of you still don't get this book contains male pregnancy. BEFORE YOU START READING. THIS IS MPREG! THAT IS YOUR WARNING SO YOU ARE NOT COMMENTING ABOUT IT LATER OR TELLING ME THINGS DON'T WORK LIKE THAT. I KNOW, BUT IT'S FICTION. "You're so cute when you laugh!" Louis threw his hands up into the air...
"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He...