WARNING: details, details, details.
FOR THE 1975 STANS: the Somebody Else music video was absolutely unique and just amazing.
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chapter eleven. punk rock doesn't rock tonight.
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Suspicions always give me headaches. Not only is the trait irritable, but it can also damage the way a friendship has formed. Like the bridge of trust and the comfortability of shared words. One negative action can send, all of those relevant aspects in a friendship, spiraling down in the matter of seconds.
I HAD SO MANY double shifts to work in Punk Rock. Not that I minded; more works means more wealth in my paycheque so it's worth it in conclusion. But from ten am to five pm I've been taking orders and serving tables.
Although today, Punk Rock is rather empty with Louis and Dylan doing absolutely nothing alongside me. Unless bantering around to be absolutely nothing.
The pair together spent most of the morning and early noon starting food fights in the kitchen, and I unintentionally happened to get caught in between. Spending most of my break cleaning flour out of my dishevelled fringe, only worsening the look I wore to work. Nonetheless I wasn't so upset — when I've trained myself to get accustomed to my coworkers/friends shenanigans, nothing can be upsetting to me anymore.
I couldn't find myself to burden it—brushing off the apologies Louis and Dylan constantly showered me with. And the consistent guffaws heard within the 'apologetic' words.
But now we're lounging around, waiting for our separate shifts to end. Louis and myself at five and Dylan an exact hour later to close up the pastry shop like he's expected to.
For the first time in hours the entrance door chimes and someone enters. Wearing nothing but their usual dark colors. A large smile brushes the intruders lips when their eyes automatically land on Louis's lanky figure sitting beside me. He runs and subconsciously scoops Louis into his arms.
Zayn and Louis look happy. It's suppose to be their date night together. (We all agreed to cancel our traditional Friday night movie night because of it. And the many conflicts rising in our clique from Liam and Harry's breakup to just not having enough time).
Quite frankly, after the mass of days Zayn and Louis haven't had to themselves, they only deserve it. And we all blame the schoolwork.
Louis's stuck completing his photography assignment– A mini project to create an abstract collage. While Zayn had many papers to write from health class to his sociology class. We've really all been focused on school and the schoolwork thrown left and right at us, that there hasn't been much time for anything.
I know after my shift I'm using my free time to catch up on a necessary amount of sleep I've missed staying up to complete these assignments.
I watch Zayn and Louis talk amongst themselves inaudibly. They've always been quiet and under the radar with their relationship unlike Liam and Harry. But isn't that a good thing to do? It usually keeps the relationship stronger.
Just not when Louis is huffing at Zayn before walking away from him. Arms wrapped across his chest as he walks towards the back room. Intentionally ignoring the distraught calls of his name from Zayn. Repeatedly and numerously and continuously until Zayn briefly gives up. He looks at me sighing with a small shake of his head.
"What did you do to him?" I glare teasingly at my other best friend. And maybe everyone in my group of friends are my best friends for different reasons, but Harry's my overall because he's simply the greatest.
"He's upset because I have to cancel our date tonight," Zayn answers. "I have a paper to do on the Law of Thermodynamics."
I eye Zayn confusingly with some suspicion, drowning. Knowing the topic of Thermochemistry has no affiliation with the Biology class he's currently taking this year. "I thought you took Chemistry last year. Aren't you in Biology with Harry?"
Zayn looks at me skeptically as his shoulders slouch, he shrugs before departing through Punk Rock's doors with a solemn look on his face. He looks towards the door Louis left through as he waves a bashful goodbye to myself and Dylan, a forced amiable smile on his face.
We sit there in remaining silence as Dylan skims through his phone with no focus on his surroundings nor the outside world. But to announce my departure, in worry of Louis, I tell him where I'm headed to anyways. Reminding my coworker to take care of the invisible costumers around the small shop. Dylan laughs at that.
Louis's sitting in one of the five bean bag chairs in the back room on his phone also. His blue eyes stare at the vibrant screen intently with legs properly folded into his abdomen. He lets out a sad sigh before noticing my appearance. An also melodramatic sigh because that's who Louis is as a person. All the same he's bubbly and fun, and not in his habitual aura at the moment.
"You alright, Lou?" I question genuinely and curiously. It's always good to cheque up on a friend to see how they're feeling several days out of the seven days of the week, of stress and hard work for kids like us.
Louis shrugs. He does that when he isn't okay. It isn't that hard to see the bubbly, loud, sassy Louis looking like he's low in the dumps. Like he's lost one million dollars to a poker game in the matter of five minutes kind of sad. He's wearing disappointment.
I sit on top of Louis with a goal to properly crush him, but not to death. I only want him to responsively speak. Collapsing on his petite frame he lets out a frustrated whine at the discomfortable contact between him and I — a look of defeat on his face as he struggles out of the pressure prominent between us.
"Talk to me," I practically plead, jokingly of course but with the right amount of assurance. "I'm here to listen to you and I don't like sad Louis."
Louis chuckles at that. "I don't like him either," he agrees. "But I'm just disappointed," Louis admits as he glances at me. Probably to cheque if I'm still listening to him. "It's been more than two weeks without affection from Zayn, and I'm sexually frustrated!"
I choose to laugh at that but Louis glares sharply at me. "This isn't funny," he warningly says. "I just miss him and our alone time. I can't help it," he mutters.
To have a boyfriend for about several years, to grow that attachment and train yourself to grow accustomed to it, then have it slip away sounds tough.
We have two more hours until our shift ends. Truthfully, it'll bother me to see Louis outwardly miserable like this for the remainder of it. Especially since Punk Rock doesn't rock today -- nor has it ever -- but that's Louis's usual personality: rocking. He makes the long amount of hours of work easy to get by by just being him. Fun.
"We can always do something together after work," I suggest, rubbing both my thumbs together when Louis appears to be thinking about it, or taking in the information. It isn't like anyone is home. No one usually is except I.
Louis smiles broadly at me. "We can. I can use some blond company anyway," he says jokingly as we both laugh lightly. It feels warm to see him laugh after the saddening look he wore minutes ago.
"Good," I note with a remaining smile. I stand up to allow Louis to finally breathe. "Now turn that frown upside down while I play some Arctic Monkeys to keep you in a positive mood."
Louis's smile turns into a wide beam. "And The Neighbourhood?" he questions quietly, almost hopefully.
"And The Neighbourhood," I agree before walking towards the aux chord, smiling to myself when I hear Louis faintly cheer to himself.
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