Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Niall's voice reverberates through the room, each deliberate word tauntingly repeated, "So let me get this straight - this dude was a towering 6'1, had curls wild enough to host a bird's nest, and you're claiming you spotted a six-pack through his shirt, all while he lurked in the shadows?"
The room waltzes with the soft, flickering cadence of candlelight, weaving intricate shadows that dance to the rhythm of their banter. A warm, inviting floral fragrance envelops them in its soothing embrace.
Louis huffs, his brows knitting in a skeptical frown as he gazes down at the orange cushion beneath him. "You're really not helping here," he grumbles.
Niall can't help but let out a suppressed chuckle that dances across his lips. "Mate, because it is absurd," he retorts, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Louis shifts uncomfortably, straightening his posture as if readying for a confrontation. His irritation is palpable, fingers scratching at his own skin in impatience. This is beyond annoyance; it's teetering on the edge of offense. They've been perched on this couch for an entire hour, and Niall's response has mostly been amusement - a fact that's thoroughly irking Louis. He's attempting to relay something serious, yet Niall remains firmly rooted in light-heartedness.
"I'm telling you, I was close to getting abducted!" Louis exclaims, his arms now defensively crossed. He's reached his limit with this incredulous situation.
Niall merely shakes his head, a wry grin stretching across his face as if this is all part of an elaborate joke. The candle flame dances precariously on the brink of extinguishing, casting ephemeral light that barely grazes the two men. The bedroom window stands open, a distant hum of passing cars briefly punctuating the hushed atmosphere. Yet, Louis's unwavering gaze remains locked onto Niall, anticipating a response that might finally align with the gravity of the situation.
"Lou," Niall starts, a thread of uncertainty weaving through his words, "did you take something?"
In an instant, all traces of drowsiness evaporate from Louis's demeanor. His jaw clenches tightly, and what was irritation has now erupted into a simmering anger. Miffed doesn't even begin to cover it. He clenches his fists so fiercely that his nails bite into his palms, igniting a dull pain that courses up his neck.
"You've got to be kidding me," he retorts, his voice rising in tandem with his frustration. He edges closer to the couch cushion, as if seeking support from its very fibers. Arms constricting around himself, he tries to rein in the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. His breath comes out short, and his heart races at an almost irrational pace.
Niall doesn't waver, his expression holding a blend of seriousness and exasperation. "Dead serious," he affirms, drawing in a deep breath before continuing, his tone strained with a tinge of underlying vexation, "You roll in hours late, drop a bomb about nearly being kidnapped, and then talk about the guy's damn physique? Can you blame me for thinking you've been out doing -" He stops himself.
