for angels to fly | lwt + hes.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He got the job, of course. Harry had adamantly claimed that it was the shirt he had picked out that had done it when Louis told him, absurdly pleased with himself. Louis had kissed him the smirk off his pink lips and they had proceeded to have very loud celebratory sex. Louis had spared a brief thought for his poor neighbours but it was a little hard to be hesitant when Harry was licking and biting his way down his chest and it seemed like everywhere his mouth wasn’t his fingers were.

Afterwards, when Harry left him with a simple, ‘I’ve got somewhere to be, but congrats, yeah?’, he wasn’t bothered at all. Not one bit.

Three days passed. It was a Friday night and he had spent far too long standing in front of his open cupboard, trying to decide what to wear to his first night on the job. All the woman who interviewed him had specified was ‘black’. He tried not to acknowledge it but that ache in his chest, the one that whispered harry harry harry into the darkness when he was trying to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, was starting to feel a little painful, harder to push down and to the back of his consciousness. 

He finally settled on black skinny jeans and a simply black t-shirt and decided that it didn’t really matter what he wore anyway; everyone there would be too drunk to notice or care.

Louis decided that he liked the vibe of the place within minutes of arriving at the bar. When he’d gone for the interview, it had been almost completely empty; a few people had milled about the bar area but the manager had told him that he didn’t need to worry about what went on in the day. All of his shifts were at night and he would be spending most of his time upstairs, where the dance floor and DJ would be. It was big, with stone walls and flashing lights and a circular bar right in the middle of the carpeted floor. He arrived at about 8 pm and it surprised him how different it looked, already filling up at an alarming rate. It was hard to understand what people are saying over the thump of the music but he got used to it and settled into the role easily. 

There were two other people working at the bar that night; a stoic type of boy with a freckled face and dark hair, and a girl who laughed at everything Louis said with a wide, pretty sort of smile and shining brown eyes. He only stuffed up a drink order once and so counted it, all in all, as a good first shift. He swapped numbers with the girl, Eleanor, before leaving and he wondered absently why she showed absolutely no interest in him. Had he begun to exude some sort of signal that screamed ‘don’t engage with romantically due to issues; probably in need of therapy’?

Louis walked home after collecting his bag from one of the backrooms, shoving on a beanie as soon as the cold air hit him outside. It really was incredibly convenient that he lived so close; it made his life a whole lot easier.

His ears were still ringing from the music and he was startled to find himself smiling as he reached the front door of his apartment block and as he pressed the button for the lift up to his level. It was a nice change of pace to be doing something different, something he found he actually quite enjoyed. He was exhausted, but it was in a way that made him feel satisfied. The strong smell of spirits embedded in his clothes, however, was something he’d need to learn to embrace.

He spotted Harry as soon as the lift opened. Somehow Louis was not surprised at all, but the small smile still on his lips morphed into a grin when he saw the boy, sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall opposite Louis’ door, long legs stretch out and crossed at the ankle and eyes closed. 

He looked up when Louis approached though, using the wall for balance as he stood up. ‘Where have you been? I’m starving.’

Louis rolled his eyes as he reached him but laughed, giddiness bubbling up in his chest. ‘You’re always hungry.’