chapter one

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harry taps the cigarette carton on his knee, freeing one of the cigarettes from amongst the others. he puts it to his lips and flicks the lighter, breathing in the smoke and nicotine as soon as the paper is lit. 

"you know those are going to kill you," louis, his younger and more naive twin brother, says from a few feet away on the porch. harry shrugs and pockets the cigarettes and lighter, removing the cigarette from his lips with two fingers. 

"maybe i want to die," he says, feeling like jd in the 1989 movie heathers. he always feels like a boy in an 80s movie when he smokes. there's something romantic and almost beautiful about the way he flirts so dangerously with death every time he breathes in the noxious chemicals he knows probably wont even really do much damage. his uncle smoked for fifty something years and died peacefully in his sleep, cancer and other cigarette related illnesses free. "after all, why else would i breathe in shit like this?"

"so you admit that you're willingly and knowingly breathing in something that will, eventually, lead to your demise? seems like a well educated decision, i'm glad you're able to make such choices."

louis, on the other hand, is strongly opposed to smoking anything from joints to cigarettes. he doesn't see the point in filling ones lungs with chemicals, shards of glass, filter fibers, and other things that will, ultimately, shorten his life in one way or another. it's a major turn off for him, in both guys and girls, and is the main reason why he hasn't had a steady, healthy relationship with anyone in his school. half of them smoke and the other half wish they were brave enough to. why do they do/wish these things? well, that's easy. 

his twin brother set the example which everyone wants to follow like a pack of lovesick puppies. 

"c'mon, lou," harry rolls his eyes, putting the cigarette back to his lips for a quick puff. "you act like this is going to, in some way, shape, or form, alter my life drastically."

"when you get lung cancer and die," louis rolls his eyes. "don't expect me to cry over what a good person you were."

harry fakes a look of insult, clutching jokingly at his heart with his free hand. 

"that hurt... so bad... right in the feels..." 

louis rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest at his brothers idiocy. louis never misses an opportunity to thank his lucky stars that he and harry are fraternal twins, and therefore not in any way identical. they look nothing alike and have completely different personalities, likes, dislikes, etc. 

harry is quiet but charming, goofy and easily embarrassed. he attempts to seem bad ass by always wearing plaid and pushing his curly hair back with bandannas that are actually, probably, women's scarves that he found in a dumpster somewhere. he's smart but not overly intelligent - average, in every sense of the word - but he doesn't get lost in a crowd. 

louis is loud and outgoing, never shy and willing to give his opinion whether it's asked for or not. he's known for his simple style, sweatpants and vans making up a majority of his wardrobe, and his hair is always changing styles. he's known for being sassy and a bit of a smart ass, but that suits him just fine. after all, it's better to be honest than a liar. 

"are we going to leave for school or not?" louis asks, attempting to veer his somewhat delinquent brother in the right direction. harry rolls his eyes and turns around, reaching for the helmet on the seat of his motorcycle. he tosses it to louis who barely has enough time to unfold his arms and catch it before the sleek, black helmet is smacking him right in the chest. 

"sure," harry says with a laugh. "let's go."

"why can't we take my car?" louis pouts, turning his head to look at his brand new audi a4. the white car is clean and shinning in the 7:20am sunlight. 

"because," harry rolls his eyes, throwing his legs over his brand new harley davidson seventy-two. "i am not being seen showing up to school in a sedan."

"it's an audi!" louis argues. "it's not just a regular sedan!"

"get on, pretty boy," harry takes one last puff from his half-used cigarette before tossing it onto the front lawn. "we're going to be late."

"come on, pretty boy, we're going to be late," louis mocks harry as he puts on the helmet, sitting down behind harry. he knows how weird it looks - riding behind another guy on a motorcycle as macho and manly as the black and orange one he's currently sitting on - but he doesn't care. all he cares about his getting to school in one piece. "aren't you going to put on a helmet?" 

"do i ever?" harry asks. louis sighs and grips tightly onto harry as he kicks down the kick stand and starts to ease the motorbike onto the road. as soon as the road his clear harry is taking off, going from zero to sixty in about three seconds. 

louis grumbles quietly to himself and holds tight onto harry for fear of falling off. not only is harry a motorcycle freak, he's also an adrenaline junky, much to louis' dismay. 

twist of fate » larry stylinsonWhere stories live. Discover now