Louis is as dead as a zombie. Whatever that might mean. He doesn't feel very alive is the thing, but he still has to drag himself out of bed and to school. He slips into a pair of skinny jeans, throwing on an oversized, simple black shirt and slipping into his checkered vans. Since they don't have a match tonight (which they usually do on Fridays) the practice is scheduled after last period instead of before first, and Louis can spend the entire day not being pestered with Harry's presence.
His mother's still not home from work, but they'll have a family dinner for once tonight, and Louis' quite looking forward to it. He'd rather hit the gym than go to first period, but having a stellar attendance record can't hurt his future, which is looking rather uncertain as of this moment.
He goes to make sure Lottie has woken up and finds her at her mirror in her room, and so he goes down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He makes two jelly peanut butter sandwiches and brings a cuppa each up to Lottie's room. He places hers on the desk she's sitting at, and then proceeds to flop down on her bed.
"Did you–"
"Text her? Yeah, she's not coming," Lottie interrupts grimly, frowning at the mirror in front of her.
Louis sighs, even though he knew what the answer was going to be all along. He scratches at his scalp in annoyance, and shakes his head. "She makes me so frustrated, you know."
"Me too," Lottie mutters.
"How long's it been?" he asks, taking a bite of his sandwich, chewing loudly. "A month?"
"Try two." She puts her curling iron down, turning around in her chair and crossing her legs. "I don't want to nag her. It's up to her, Lou."
"Yeah," Louis agrees, but insists on rolling his eyes. "I haven't seen her in forever. Not like, for real."
"Maybe next week, okay?" Lottie says, pulling a tight smile. Louis nods, but he doesn't have much hope.
Finishing their breakfast and brushing their teeth, they pack up their schoolbags and then get into the car. Louis drives by Niall's house, because apparently his best friend doesn't feel like driving today, and when they pick him up he spreads out on the backseat, filling the car with good-natured chatter that lightens Louis' mood immensely. He drops his sister off at her school, and Niall climbs into the front seat. He's finally starting to think the day's not going to be as bad as he thought this morning, when all of that is shattered in the timespan of five seconds.
Louis is about to turn into his usual parking spot when suddenly he's cut off by another car, seemingly appearing out of thin air. He is forced into an abrupt stop, slamming the brakes and having him and Niall shot forward in their seats.
"Ooof!" Niall lets out a rough breath, the seatbelt cutting into his chest. "What the fuck!"
Louis narrows his eyes in incredulousness, realizing who the fucker who just stole his parking spot is. A black Range Rover. Fantastic.
Harry gets out of the car as soon as he's parked, throwing a winning smile Louis' way accompanied by a casual wave and a wink. Louis rolls his window down, yelling "Motherfucker!" at him. With an angry growl he starts the car again, parking on the other side of the lot.
"I fucking hate him, Niall," Louis swears. "Do you understand how much of a prick he is?"
"I know. I've witnessed stuff."
"And I have to deal with that for a fucking hour every day!"
"Maybe we should do something about it?" Niall says, pursing his lips.
Louis turns towards him in his seat, interested. "However do you mean?"
"Maybe we should teach him a lesson."
"Have him beat up?"
"No! Christ Tommo." Niall shakes his head. "I meant, like, a prank. Make him suffer a bit, but not in a 'rough him up' kind of way. Who do you think we are? The mob? Mate, we watched Disney movies last weekend."
Louis rolls his eyes. Niall's right of course, but it's not like Louis would mind seeing Harry with a few tame bruises. Okay, he's not a sadist, but it would be nice to get back at him a bit. A prank does sound tempting.
"I like where your mind's at, Watson," he says after a moment of pondering, and begins to climb out of the car.
"Why am I always Watson? Louis, it's literally the other way around. I'm Sherlock, you twat."
YOU ARE READING
Unbelievers
FanfictionIt's Louis' senior year, and he's dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he's also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy m...
