Slow It Down

"What do you think of it all?" Louis asks as he straightens out the waves of his hair and checks to make sure he has his ticket for the Manchester show tucked safely in his pocket. Zayn leans back against the mirror from his perch on the bathroom sink. His arms are folded over his chest and he looks like Louis' just asked him to punch him in the mouth. "It's all a bit sticky," he begins with a lick of his lips. "It's like driving straight into a wall without any airbags. All you can do is close your eyes and hope for the best because, hell, you hit the brakes the best that you could." A fic where Louis' always a little too close to alcohol poisoning and hates stuffed animals with a passion, while Harry's got glasses and sees the end of his book coming a little too soon.