.Fishnets. - Larry Stylinson AU.

Chapter One.

October 3rd.

Louis POV.

Saturday; up far too early for my own personal liking, especially considering that my alarm was Niall dropping a pan on his foot and yelling like the irish would. Mouth of a sailor that boy has, I swear. I've never heard such vulgar language in my life, excluding the group of guys that are always stood on the corner of our street.

It's rough, where we are. I admit that it could be a lot worse, but council flats are never guaranteed to be very nice or in a safe neighbourhood. I've actually watched three of my neighbours be arrested for possession of illegal drugs and whilst it was amusing the first time around, it wasn't so fun the second or third. Bloody persistent, us lot are. We seem to resist many things despite the fact it's what needs to happen.

I had quite the social life, and I don't like to brag, but the majority of the people living on our floor knew me, and they knew me well. Niall was kind of forced upon me considering he was my boss' son and my boss was a master at guilt-tripping and manipulation. The poor lad was homeless, and I was looking for a roommate, so my boss at the time immediately put two and two together and here we are, biting each other heads off almost every second of the day. But it's a brotherly rivalry we have. We never seem to hold grudges.

I don't like to have favourites, but my neighbour Zayn has to be at the top of the list for sure. Who in their right mind would turn down a hippie who constantly offers you free alcohol and a blunt or two? Yeah, exactly. Zayn was awesome and also like a brother to me in many ways. I've had to bail him out once or twice, not going to lie but that was all part of our bond and how close we are.

Zayns girlfriend, Perrie, was pretty awesome too. A little bit of a punk, she is, with her white-ish blonde hair, black nose piercing and a ring on her bottom lip and she was constantly adorning a beanie and black skinny jeans. If I was straight, she'd be the first girl I'd hit on. I'd therefore also be hit on by Zayn in a completely different manner and I know for a fact that he can throw some serious punches. I'd be bruised for weeks, honestly.

But luckily for me, I was not straight. Very, very gay in fact. It's something that me and Niall had in common and strangely enough, it's one of the reasons we're so close. We're not romantically or sexually involved with each other in anyway, but bonding over how hot Zac Efron and Liam Hemsworth are until three in the morning was certainly a way of building a friendship. And it must've worked, because we've been dealing with each other's shit for two years now.

Yep, two years in this shithole, but it does the job of keeping a roof over our heads.

I'm barely there anyway, in all fairness.. there's almost no point in charging me rent. I'm either at work or at the club a couple streets down. Work tires me out but the club revives me so it's like a constant cycle; Two hours of sleep, three coffees, work for ten hours, club for a couple more, have a bit of fun, then home. Repeat. This was my schedule for the weekdays. The weekends, however, consisted of me being a lazy shit and sleeping. Maybe I'll get up to watch some TV but that was the extent of my exercise. Niall absolutely hates me for it. And this is the reason that I think he purposely woke me up with a loud noise, so that I'd go and check on him.

So back to reality.

Reluctantly, I ripped the dark grey duvet off of my half-asleep body, the stagnant air of my bedroom hitting my half-naked form like a ton of bricks. I stared up at my ceiling for thirty seconds, contemplating whether I should actually go and check on my best friend or whether I should just snuggle up and sleep some more, but the latter made me seem like a dickhead so the first option seemed more appealing. Apparently, I radiate douchebag vibes anyway, I don't want to actually be one. I'm just sassy, deal with it.