inferno // l.s.

eight

kai's jumping in this shit hard (:

—-

at one point in time louis remembered what life was like before he met mylo.

it didn't dawn on him that he was quite the free bird back then until his phone started to blow up with messages from an unknown number. which usually doesn't happen unless it's his ex texting him from a new number because let's face it, louis has managed to block the man on literally everything - social medias, phone numbers, even email accounts. who the fuck emails their ex? what is this, 1990?

was email even a thing in the 90s?

louis doesn't respond to the messages, only blocks the number and puts his phone on the bar. harry had him work bartending early into his first shift and swap to the floor when the 1am bartender came in. it would get him used to the back scenery, plus harry was curious as to how good louis could make an old fashioned.

their first few nights in los angeles were simple, mainly consisting of unpacking everything in the penthouse and putting shit together. they attempted to decorate the new place similar to the old one until zayn found a furniture store roughly 20 minutes from their location and spent nearly 5 grand on a new living room suit. it was nice, definitely worth the money. since the walls in their apartment were grey, they agreed on a black leather set that had a matching love seat and the main couch itself reclined out. it had an ottoman to go with it, end tables and there were also cup holders on each end which was a blessing in disguise. niall, being the helpful neighbor he was, threw them his discount with the company and they got the set 20% off.

louis, oddly enough, doesn't feel too fondly about the bar. harry did want to see how his bartending skills were though since he has experience. this bar is a lot different than the one at paralyzer. he has to get onto a ladder to reach the good bourbon, there's a small sink beneath the bartop itself to wash out glasses and the ice scoop is almost too big for his hands. so far it sucks.

around eleven on the dot there's a figure sitting at the bar, lighting a cigarette. louis recognizes the man as his boss and he gives harry a light smile before leaning against the bar between them.

"what could i do ya for?" he asks, tapping his red varnished fingers against the marble counter.

harry purses his lips around his cigarette in thought before plucking it from his lips to exhale the smoke. "throw me two vodka shots."

"straight?" louis hums as he steps back to eye the vodka row.

harry tuts. "no, gay," he flicks his cigarette on the ashtray to rid excess ashes.

louis rolls his eyes before grabbing a good brand and places two shot glasses in front of the man, pouring the clear liquid into each.

"didn't know if you're a chaser lad, my fault," he puts the bottle away and slides the shots toward harry, who thanks him with a chuckle.

"screwdrivers are nice if i want something simple besides a beer but i just want this," is all harry says before he picks up the first tiny cup to down the shot. his nose scrunches at the foul taste but he flips the glass up in the air and catches it as he swallows and sets it back down. "how's it going so far?"

"i think one of the customers was trying to hint towards either free drinks or fucking," louis shrugs. "told him to fuck off."

harry chuckles and takes his second shot before hitting his cigarette again. "i hate men."

"you and me both," louis sighs before catching a glimpse of his phone out the corner of his eye. he only peeked at it to see zayn's message of his response to an 8 ball game and he tucks the device into his back pocket. harry swivels in his seat to take a look at the growing crowd before turning back to the bar to continue smoking.