Burn [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter One

A/N: please please please read the prologue first or you won't really get the story. I know we all are guilty of skipping them but trust me, you need to read it first.

Louis' smile quickly vanished as he stepped into the cold. With a sigh, he trudged through the shovel of snow that littered the sidewalks. His flat was only five blocks away, but still Louis dreaded going back to the crippling building.

As he crept closer and closer to his destination, the city began to lose its adequate and beauty. Richly cultured churches and halls morphed into thrown together buildings with washed out limestone. Buildings that perhaps were once beautiful and influential now lay forgotten and abandoned, giving way to nature's elements. Most were made into cheap flats, since the ones available in downtown could only be enjoyed by the doctors and lawyers and celebrities of Great Britain.

The drizzle of snow lightened as Louis stepped foot into the bricked building. He shook the light watery flakes out of his hair as he crossed the empty lobby, and climbed the stairs. The lobby had an elevator, but since the accident last October where somebody was stuck in it for five solid hours, Louis made a mental note of never stepping foot in that elevator again.

When he reached the third landing, he walked down the barren hallway until he reached the door 17C. He jingled the keys out of the tight pockets of his skinny jeans and unlocked the door. The boy kicked it open and placed his guitar by the doorway, hanging his peacoat on the hook beside the light switch. Louis breathed in the stale air and exhaled. "Home sweet home."

Louis' unmade, metal-framed bed lied by the large window overlooking the streets below. The pale blue curtains were pulled back, and the thin white bedsheets lied in a crumpled heap on the dusty, dark-teal carpet. The nightstand held a secondhand lamp that offered little light source, a digital alarm clock, and a book of E. E. Cumming's poems.

His tiny open kitchen connected with his bedroom, leaving enough counter space for a microwave, conventional oven, and a drying dish rack. The groaning ice box lied against the wall with a rusty stove beside it, and along the opposite wall was the sink and cupboards. A hanging ceiling lamp dangled above, pooling a cool light onto the chipped granite floor.

The bathroom contained a shower tub, toilet, and sink that offered little leg room. The mirror was grimed, and placed just above the dripping sink was a small bathroom cabinet with few of Louis' toiletries.

To the right of Louis' bed and nightstand was his closet the size of his wardrobe- tiny. It held shoeboxes filled with old CDs, memoirs, and ratty old junk. Seven t-shirts and five pairs of faded, holey jeans held onto their wirey clothes hangers. The room's walls were bare and a dull white, with a pinup of one or two of Louis' favorite bands. To one, it was an eyesore, but to Louis, it was home.

The twenty-one year old toed off his shoes and face-planted onto the bed. Stretching, he reached under the bed and pulled out his two year old Mac. He placed it onto the bed and booted it up. This place may be shitty, but it had free wi-fi.

Louis' phone buzzed and he glanced down to open up the message:

From: Andy

meet me @ 7 behind will's pub. you better be there.

Louis groaned and locked the screen. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the bills. He had used most of his money on this month's rent last week. He wouldn't have enough. There was no way he would have enough.

Louis opened up his iTunes and clicked shuffle on his playlist. He curled himself into a ball under the thin sheets and tucked away the thought of what seven o'clock would bring.