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Shaving is hard.
Louis is at his third tutorial. He is sure his leg is already ready to be amputated. The shower is spraying water onto his naked back while he has one leg up against the wall and is leaning over into an obnoxious frog-like position to shave his ass.
His technique got better after he shaved his second leg, half an hour ago. He had moved the sharp razor up and down. His shaving gel used to be Nialls' hand soap.
Usually Louis waxes.
He can't afford a full wax though. And waxing himself would probably end in early death.
Now, he does do this for himself. He likes his skin to be smooth. However he's also kind of a slut when it comes to the exchange students.
Niall showed him picture. To say he almost drooled would be an understatement. Louis loves women but seeing the pictures of those 20 tanned, well endeavored men in only swim trucks with their gorgeous lean bodies on display? Louis' knees got weak.
Louis moves on to his chest. He puts soap on his upper body and rubs it in until it foams. He takes the razor and moves it over his chest. Up, down, left and right. He washes the foam off completely and practically bathes himself in shampoo. He does his hair as well with one of Nialls' organic shampoos. It smells like oak and tobacco. He looks down at his body. His thigh got a nasty bruise near his ass from the fall. He hisses as his fingers touch the black and blue, swollen, area.
The faint noise of a key turning in the lock sounds. Louis sighs. He gets out of the shower and dries his body with a big white towel. He ties it around his waist. He lifts on leg on the edge of the bathtub and puts Arnica cream on the bruise. He puts deodorant under his arms and sprays two mini spritz perfume to his neck.
As he steps into the kitchen, sunlight streams through the expansive open window, casting a warm glow across the wooden surfaces. The space feels cozy and inviting, despite its small size. The countertops are made of polished oak, and a quaint breakfast nook is nestled by the window, offering a charming view of the outside. The walls remain mostly bare, awaiting decorations to breathe life into the room. Under the table, three boxes still sit, a reminder of the recent move.
"Did you get cereal?" Louis asks, already searching to the shopping bags Niall had placed on the counter.
"I did." Niall answers him. He sat down on the nook. The window behind him is open. Niall dips his cigarette out on the window shield. He turns to Louis. "I'm home late today."
Louis rummages through the cupboard above the counter. He grabs his favorite bowl and fills it with cereal and blueberries before he purrs oat milk on top. He's unfortunately lactose intolerant. One sip of milk and he'll spend a lifetime on the toilet.
