Falling In Manchester

Chapter Eight - Louis

Louis let out a breath. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

Deciding what to wear shouldn't be a hard task considering the date was going to take place in cold surroundings, and his attire would most likely be half hidden by a jacket. Yet Louis found himself in a crisis. He was pacing around his room, looking at two different pairs of jeans. Liam and Zayn were sitting in the corner.

"Zayn," Louis said for the third time, "for real, should I wear black, or blue?"

"Black. Your denim jacket is blue. It would be too much." It was the third time he said that.

"But—"

"Louis, for fuck sake, wear the black denim. You have to pick Harry up soon, and you haven't even shaved."

"But I quite like my stubble," Louis pointed out.

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't it you who insisted on shaving your beard in case you were gonna kiss Harry tonight, not that I can see why the beard—"

"Right!" Louis said, clapping his hands together. "Because, you know, maybe Harry doesn't like kissing people with beards."

"You're severely overthinking this, Lou," chuckled Zayn. "Also, he's gay. Why wouldn't he?"

"I just want it to go right," Louis said, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. "I like him a lot. Like, God. He's just so..." He trailed off. There didn't seem to be a word that quite captured the exact meaning of what Harry was.

Liam chuckled. "You're acting all cute. I'm living for this."

Louis' ears flamed red. "I'm not."

"You are, though," Zayn pointed out.

"Whatever. What shirt?"

"Again, you're wearing a denim jacket," Zayn said. "Just take a warm one, you freezing motherfucker. Actually, wear a warmer jacket as well."

Louis rolled his eyes. "You sound like my mom. Except the motherfucking part, she would never dare to utter such words at me."

Zayn shrugged. "That's what you have Liam and me for."

"And I'm really grateful," Louis said. "But honestly, what sweater?"

Zayn let out a pained groan.

Louis finally settled for an outfit. The black jeans, paired with a maroon-coloured crew neck. His usual Toms, and a beanie, his face freshly shaved. He was standing in front of his mirror, trying to pep himself up.

It didn't go very well.

"Louis, you have to leave soon," Zayn said, emerging from the living room. "I bet loverboy is waiting." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Louis' cheeks heated, and he went to grab the flowers from his nightstand. "Yeah, yeah, I probably should."

"Yes. And you look great by the way. You're gonna throw Harry off his feet."

"Considering what I have planned, I think he'll be falling a lot already."

"Who knows?" Zayn said. "Maybe he already knows how to ice skate."

"Hmm, maybe," Louis said. "Wait—what if he hates it?"

"Louis, once again you're severely overthinking this."

"But—"

"No buts, now, go get your man. It's getting late."

* * *