This story is an emotional rollercoaster. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's sad, or spicy, or even cute.
I am writing this story for my friends. You know who you are. Love you all!
Huge Thanks to my amazingly talented friends for help with editi...
Both are sitting on the ground, against the club wall. With closed eyes, Louis could hear the quiet noise of the city mixing with the rhythmical sound of club's beats. Or maybe it was the sound of his own heartbeat? It's not important. The important part is that Harry's hand is resting on the pavement so close to his that he could feel the warmth radiating from it. He could just lift his finger up and he feel Harry's skin... He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at Harry. As if he sensed it, Harry turned to him as well-eyes all red and mouth already curving into a drug-induced grin. Louis is willing to spend infinity in this single moment, thinking about the perfection of Harry's lips. But he shakes his head. It seems like he has been thinking about Harry's lips a lot lately. Why would that be? He lifts his eyes to the sky. Just don't screw this up!
"You want to go back inside?" Louis' voice involuntarily breaks into a giggle.
"No," Harry stands up abruptly, "nightclubs steal people's souls! Let's go for a walk instead?"
Louis would never go for a walk in the middle of the freezing night in a normal situation.
But this is not a normal situation.
He is ready to walk forever in the middle of Alaska only to have a chance to see Harry's dimples one more time.
They walk through a couple of blocks without any purpose. The weed is hitting well now, so they just chuckle at everything.
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"We need tacos!" Harry shouts suddenly, stopping in the middle of the street.
"There are no tacos here," Louis laughs, shuffling a small rock like a football.
"No, there are. We just have to go straight down this street!" Harry tries to take the rock from Louis but fails miserably. "I know there is a taco place down the street" Harry looks determined to get tacos.
"I know this part of the city, no tacos here, everything is closed anyway, fool!" Louis kicks the rock to Harry, but Harry's reflexes are slowed by the drug, and the rock just disappears somewhere in the darkness.
"We will see who will be a fool when I am eating tacos in five minutes!" Harry starts speed-walking toward a couple of lit-up stores on the other side of the street.
"Even if there is taco place here, it is cloooseeeed!" Louis follows him, laughing.
"No, everything is still open! Look, even this tattoo saloon is open!" Harry presses his face against the lighted up window of a tattoo shop. His face looks hilarious, all squished against the glass.
"No, it is closed!" Louis' cheeks start to hurt from smiling, so he rubs them with both hands, observing the way Harry's curls are jumping on his obnoxiously wide shoulders.
"It is open!" Harry is banging on the window with his fist now.
"Hey, cut it, you crazy, someone will call the police on you!" Louis tries to grab Harrys' hand, but the boy raises it above his head and keeps banging, ignoring Louis' attempts to stop him.
Suddenly a person appears behind the door. It's a tall bald man with a big beard, arms covered in tattoos, and he has a baseball bat in his hands.
"See, they are open!" Harry looks like a little kid who got his candy, completely oblivious that they are probably about to get their asses kicked.
"What the fuck, man, are you trying to break my door?" The tattooed guy looks suitably pissed.
"I am not trying to break it, sorry, sir!" Harry steps back from the door, "We want a tattoo!"
"What?" Louis chokes a little.
"Yeah, we want a tattoo!" Harry repeats, inspired by his own idea.
"I am not open! Come back during normal hours! I am just cleaning up. Go now!"
Harry turns to Louis, his face is long again, disappointment in his sad eyes.
"I will pay you double!" Louis wants to make Harry happy. If Harry is happy- then he is happy. And he just wants to be happy for once. Even if it includes getting a random tattoo in the random shop in the middle of the night.
The tattoo master looks at him, hesitating.
"Tripple!" Louis pulls out his wallet. This tattoo thing is happening.
"Only small ones then," master opens a door inviting them in. Harry squeaks and tries to hug him and maybe even sneak in a kiss on a cheek.
"Hey, hands-off, lover-boy," Tatto master gently pushes Harry away, but the slight smile on his face shows that he doesn't mind the late-night company.
Louis is happy, and he knows it's not only because he is a mile high.
