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LOUIS TOMLINSON

"Where are we off to next, H?" I ask Harry as he finishes shutting the trunk of his car. He rests a hand on top of the black paintwork, his fingers glinting as his rings catch the morning light.

"I've still got business to do in Texas." He says briefly, his eyes following a couple walking down the sidewalk. His mind seems to be somewhere else lately and I don't like it.

I pull a cigarette packet from my pocket, flipping it open and offering the nicotine sticks towards Harry. We've always smoked, all the way back to when we were at the orphanage. Harry and I would sneak out of our beds at night and steal whatever leftover cigarette butts we could find, savagely sucking on used up filters for whatever release we could get. It was a desperate time; it isn't nice to think of. I guess that's why once we got out of there, we converted to smoking proper cigarettes. They're bad, of course they are, but we didn't leave the orphanage as little boys who sucked on used up ciggies. We left as men who could finally buy as many cigarette packets as we wanted. It symbolised power to us more than addiction. Nobody wants to be addicted to inhaling smoke. So even though it sounds stupid, I guess cigarettes have always been kind of sentimental to us.

Harry looks inconspicuously at them, all lined up neatly row by row. It's like I can almost hear the cogs working in his mind. Cigarettes are easy. Cigarettes are addictive. There seems to be a moment of consideration but eventually he groans, shaking his head and looking away. I stand frozen, with the cigarette packet still flipped open in his direction as he fishes around in his own pocket and retracts a packet of watermelon flavoured gum? Slowly, he unwraps a stick and pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

I know he made a deal with a kid yesterday to never smoke again, but I didn't think he was serious.

"I thought you only ate cherry flavoured gum," I say, confused.

Harry unwraps another stick of gum as if deeply stressed, chewing harder. "I—I do. But Elise gave me watermelon flavoured gum, specifically for repressing the urge to smoke. I think so, anyway. They don't taste awful. Do you want one?" His green eyes look alight with anxiety, like he might snap and chain-smoke ten cigarettes.

"Harry—" His eyes look sort of desperate, so to reassure him I flick my own cigarette away and pull out a piece of his special watermelon gum, placing it under my molars. Harry's shoulders sag slightly with relief, his eyes flashing back to the traffic.

"What business do you have to do?" I ask, it's bothering me that Harry is being so brief about business, because all of us guys usually share the same knowledge about our jobs. It's all interconnected, after all. We know each other's businesses, that's how all of this operates.

"You know what? Mind your own business Louis," Harry snaps suddenly. He pulls the sunglasses out of his hair and down over his eyes, circling around the car to where the rest of the guys are stood waiting. I don't take offence at his outburst. He seemed wound up, and maybe offering him cigarettes didn't help. If I had known he was seriously trying to stop then I wouldn't have done it and I won't offer again.

Elise has her arms wrapped tightly around her body like she might be cold in her sweater, and I go stand beside with our arms touching so she can share in my warmth. The sun has barely risen so it's still fairly cold out, and she passes me a silent but small smile.

"So, where exactly are we staying now?" Niall asks, leaning back against Harry's car. His hair is wet from a shower, so it looks darker in colour than normal and is relatively flat against his head. I know Niall is only bothered about where we'll stay next because he wants to sleep on a mattress rather than in the back of a cramped-up vehicle, and I don't blame him.

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