Winter crept over London with a bitterness the usually rain-soaked city was unaccustomed to, and by no means prepared for. Over the course of the day the sun had grown increasingly elusive, its already hazy face cowering behind cloud after oppressive cloud, its minimal warmth receding into pathetic nothingness, stabbed away by the piercing blade of an icy wind. Yesterday's rain froze in shallow puddles and black sheets, felling theatregoers in the West End who had dared to venture out, and backing up traffic on Tottenham Court Road where a scarlet double decker had veered onto the sidewalk, losing control on a patch of invisible ice. In City Centre shoppers glanced warily at the steel colored sky as they debated cutting their outings short, scurrying across busy intersections, their lighter purchases twisting in the wind as if attempting to escape.
As night fell, the street lamps were the first to spy the falling snow, illuminating the pale flakes as they settled softly to the ground, shimmering in the orange light. By midnight the gentle flurries had escalated into a full-blown storm, their icy carcasses piling into drifts and banks across the paralyzed city. Sirens pierced the night like mourning wails as first responders attempted to navigate the frozen streets. Cars lined ditches here and there along the A5 into London, their drivers digging frantically beneath the tires, looking for some purchase in the frozen ground below, or waving torches at passing lorries, hoping for a ride, or at least a spot of warmth in the frigid night.
Louis awoke with a start, his hands grasping at the smooth linen that engulfed him, trying to find his bearings in the obscurity of his surroundings. The source of his disturbance was the iPhone sitting on the bedside table where its electronic wail grated against his consciousness. Half awake, mumbling to himself in the darkness, Louis collapsed back against his pillow, covering his eyes with the palm of one hand while the other fished erratically for his phone which hummed as it vibrated on the polished table top. Finally his fingers found their screeching prey, a gentle swipe across the screen silencing the ring. He shifted slightly, pulling the blankets with him as he rolled to face the edge of the bed before laying the phone against his ear and letting his hand fall to his side. "Hello?" Louis rasped, the phone resettling as his jaw worked to form the word. Tomorrow he would think of a better way to answer when tossers came calling in the night, but at the moment this simple question would have to do. The voice on the other end of the line did not surprise Louis, it was not unusual for management to call in the early hours of the morning with important updates, or in this case, cancellations. The caller finished his oratory and bid Louis a good evening, which Louis answered with low grunt.
He lay for a moment in the darkness, turning his face into his pillow slightly so his phone tumbled the short distance from his cheek to the bed beside him where it rested innocently. Louis glared at it. Exhausted, his eyes stinging, he pulled himself up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, wincing as they grazed the cold wood of the floor. He sat for a moment, absentmindedly running his hand through his soft brown hair where it cascaded down over his right eye. Inhaling deeply, he slipped off the bed, braving the icy floor and padded softly to the heavily curtained window. Yawning, he yanked them aside allowing a single strip of light to fall across the length of his body, bare except where his boxers sat low on his hips. Louis gazed out at the falling snow, watching with an exhausted interest as it spiraled across the drive, swirling in the beams of light shed by a single lamp, partially obscured by heavily laden boughs. The soft light fell pale against Louis' face, rendering his skin flawless and smooth as marble, reflected in two small discs in his eyes as if they were carved from pure, clear crystals, his irises two circular sapphires around the onyx depth of his pupils.
A gentle moan from the dark behind him startled Louis out of his trance. He looked over his shoulder, barley able to discern Harry's outline as it shifted slowly under the covers of their bed. "Whass wrong Lou?" Harry mumbled through the dark, "bad dream?" A small smile twitched at Louis' lips as he turned towards Harry's swaddled shape, "No babe," he laughed softly, "phone call, Heathrow's closed, we're not flying out tomorrow." Harry groaned thoughtfully, shifting again under the covers, "the boys know?" he asked finally. "Management will have called them too I suppose." Louis mused out loud, "Go back to sleep Haz, its alright."
