Burn [Larry Stylinson AU]

Chapter Fifteen

                Dawn was creeping slow and steady against the backdrop, climbing the sky like a domesticated vine. There were traces of pink and orange smeared along the horizon, casting the quiet campsite in a weak, watery, tangerine light. The air of ambiance that had settled over the chilled earth was cut only by the sporadic calls and squawks coming from the black birds scavenging along the littered grounds, and as Louis made his way down the low descent of the hill the camp rested on, he couldn't help but feel a bit isolated. This surprised him, considering there were maybe more than fifty tents bracketing each side of him. He was standing in the middle of what probably was the craziest, most mad event of the year for god sake.

                On this Saturday morning, however, all that remained of the loud, hazy night that had pertained only hours before were bits of rubbish nettling the damp earth and cold, scattered mounds of ash. There was not a single soul in sight, and Louis allotted himself the idea that more than likely, most of the camp goers were still sleeping off their hangovers from the night before. He'd be doing the same if it wasn't for his pounding head and loud heart.

                Being the only lone body walking along the mud-packed trails, Louis found himself glad he had chosen to escape the tent. It wasn't that he minded being packed in a small, tight space with Harry (because he absolutely did not) or that the tapping had quieted to a dimmer, vaguer prodding, but because he knew he needed to clear his mind of certain things.

                Like the fact that he could taste Harry on his mouth.

                Louis could still taste the bitter dregs of last night's alcohol staining his bottom lip; still feel the dreamy apparition of lips trembling against the skin above his mouth; still hear the tiny whimper that had ricocheted off the back of his teeth. The way Harry had said his name, saying it with an air of ambivalence and sudden capitulation, replayed over and over again like a scratched-up record at the back of his mind:

                “Lou.”

                Last night had felt like a dream. Out of the recesses of Louis' morning-fogged memory came a succession of glimmers of rain-washed hues and wet grass and burnt chips and drawn-on bus seats and big hands and fiery stars, reminding him of one of those grainy Super 8 films. He sort of wished he could recapture those memories on actual film, so he wouldn't have to on rely on the faulty camera in his mind to get him through the days when there would no longer be a pair of suede shoes tracking mud his door mat.

                He was scared to death that Harry would just wake up and pretend that last night did not happen, that he did not kiss Louis and Louis did not kiss him back; that they hadn't stumbled into the tent in the middle of the night when the moon was still washing its milky light over their skin and the smell of artificial smoke and greasy food clung to their clothes like prickly birch seeds; that they hadn't ended up falling onto the mattress in a fit of giggles and then kissing some more until their breath fogged up the night, pulses beating out something secret and familiar against each other between the clasp of their hands.

                He felt his cheeks warm at the memory, and ducked his head as he chased the shadow cast by the sun slicing through the network of skeletal trees that lined the outer edges of the park. He looked over at the trees and noticed the little sprouts budding at the end, looking like shiny green beetles crawling across the sky. It was just getting into spring, and Louis' thoughts briefly flitted to promises of new beginnings and green eyes.

                He winded down the rest of the path, the stars up ahead dispersing into nothing but wispy clouds as the sun moved glacially up the sky. The village was located conveniently at the center of the park and was open at all hours of the day for emergencies and basic necessities that might be needed by any of the campers. Louis wasn't exaggerating when he said Leeds Fest could get hectic, and on many occasions, people often tended to overstep their safety boundaries.