with everything in me - l.s

chapter nine

Fuck.

Because literally fuck his life.

Louis was currently in Zayn Malik's luxurious ass car  (With Zayn driving, obviously), and tripping balls about the destination they'd be going to. Since the night before, Louis hasn't heard jack-shit from Harry, which pleased him to an extent- however, he didn't remember what happened at the party. Like, at all. There was no recollection on his part. Seemingly, it wasn't too substantial of an occurrence because the male with perfect teeth and a chiseled jawline barely uttered a word about it so far.

Louis knew Zayn, though. How the bloke was the spitting image of someone who would be considered calm, cool, and collected, and infrequently opened his chops about anything. Zayn was gorgeous, too, and people loved pure, modest Bradford lads with model-like features. Especially Louis. Louis thought Zayn was a superior individual and admired him endlessly.

If it wasn't apparent enough, Louis wouldn't exactly take a bullet for Zayn. (He would thoroughly consider it.)

When Louis looked over to observe Zayn, he couldn't have looked more godly if he tried.

What the actual fuck.

Louis had elected that Zayn wasn't even mortal- just a hologram or a figment of his ingenuity. One of the large hands of Zayn's were firmly pressed to the wheel whilst the other one on his lap, tapping the beat of the song blaring through the radio. His skin was a perfect caramel tone all over, and his eyes were a splitting speck of hazel- and yes, Louis was confident that Zayn was a Greek God. From just the way Zayn carried himself, it sold it for Louis.

Breaking his trance, the velvety voice of Zayn cut through the air like a blade. "Loueh, look at me,"

Louis did as he was instructed, fulfilling the gaze of the lad beside him.

"You seem fully out of it, mate. Sorry for prowling, but I just have got to know if you're all right." Pressed Zayn in almost a whinging manner, eyebrows dipping as if to sell his plead.

The skepticism was already ample enough for Louis to answer, but he essentially wilted at the facial articulations.

"'M alright, Zayn. I just've got this feeling in my stomach."

"Really? Of what? Are you going to be sick?"

Louis' face hardened, drawing his brows together. "No, Bradford."

Zayn did a double-take before answering back, his eyes wide with mirth. "What in the fuck did you just call me?" Zayn's polished voice had not a sole hint of violation in it, and his tone had a certain light-heartedness to it.

"Bradford. You're a Bradford bad boy, y'know?"

"Oh- am I, Tomlinson?"

"Mhm, that's why I said it,"

And with that, they both burst out in hearty laughter, Zayn nearly swerving the malevolently invaluable black Mustang off of the highway they were driving in from how hard he was laughing. That only stimulated a gasp from Louis and an even more contentious laugh to come rumbling out of Zayn's throat. ("You just about fucking killed us!" "I didn't, you're such a doormat," "You won't be saying that when you're a quarter-way out of the windshield and dead as shite, Malik.")

The rest of the way there, the boys listened to all of Zayn's road trip playlist and almost half of Louis' as their jam session was cut short by them actually arriving on time. As they walked up to the hospital building, Zayn twirled his car keys around his index finger with a particular grace that Louis was in complete astonishment of.

Because what the fuck.

Louis has never been anywhere near as careful and attentive as Zayn and didn't plan on it, either. He quite liked his own personality, thanks. It periodically got him in a shit ton of trouble and scandals, but that was the fun of it. The exhilaration of knowing he was such an utter asshole really prompted him. Louis also took into consideration how greatly his personality and Zayn's clashed, but since they were best mates, they actually complimented each other.