Gods & Monsters // velvetoscar on ao3

chapter 4

"It's an impossible task," Louis says flatly, the minute Liam opens the door to his room. He's got his arms crossed, his eyes set in a permanent glare that he hopes burns at least one hole in Liam's bulletproof makeup. Or many holes. Hell, just swiss-cheese the fucker, why not?

But Liam just quirks an eyebrow. "Surely you're not talking about Styles?"

"I am most definitely talking about Styles," he snaps, arms uncrossing and falling to his sides. Somehow, he manages to glare even harder. "You do realize you sent me to chase after a bunny rabbit, right? A fucking socially awkward, docile as shit, weird, impossible-to-read goddamn bunny rabbit?"

A smirk forms on Liam's lips but he doesn't respond, just leans on his doorframe as he observes Louis through a calm gaze.

Since Liam seems intent on saying abso-fucking-lutely nothing, Louis continues, jaw set. "He doesn't like me. He wants fuck all to do with me. And, to be quite honest, I can't say I feel any differently. I also can't exactly say that I even understand why I'm going after the thing in the first place."

Liam quirks a brow. "Thing?" he questions, amused.

"Thing," Louis affirms flatly.

There's a pause, one where Louis' flexing his frustrated muscles and biting his tongue and Liam is watching him like he would his favorite television program. Arsehole.

"So," he drawls out slowly, eventually, eyes flickering over Louis' body. "Styles isn't taking the bait. Lost our touch then, have we?"

"Oh, piss off," Louis glares, shoving past him into his room. He scoffs a bit for good measure, heading straight for the bed to sprawl out and massage the shit out of his aching temples. 

No, he has not lost his touch, thank you.

"Don't disappoint me, Louis," Liam then sighs, closing his door as he turns to face him. "This one's important. Extremely important. He may not have taken to you on the first go, but he sure as hell took to that Latin exam we just had. Furthermore, my sources tell me that he's been nominated for the Student Board next term. As President." His eyes turn icy, his tone sharper. "Which, we both know, is a coveted position. Coveted by me." A curl develops in his lips. "And I don't even care to mention what that old cow Alice Horan said about letting him give a fucking speech at the school's charity gala next month."

Despite the sluggish frustration in his veins, Louis manages a smirk. He gets an odd pleasure out of Liam losing. There's something indefinably satisfying about it.

"So, I'm sure I don't need to explain why this of the utmost importance, Tommo."

"Oh, 'utmost,' oh-ho," Louis mocks under his breath. Oh, Liam and his uppity words. Fuck off.

Liam continues, undeterred, his posture stiff and muscled as he unzips a giant sports bag set atop his desk. His sharp brown eyes catch on Louis'. "Failure is not an option."

Oh, alright then. No pressure or anything.

A spike of anxiety seizes through Louis' muscles. Not an option. Doesn't Louis fucking know it. This is his one shot, too.

He breathes evenly through his nose as he sinks his head deeper into Liam's pillows (they smell like his obnoxious cologne and it's almost too much), pushing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. Anxious, he's feeling anxious. Just wants to lie down and listen to something. A song, any song. The Doors' 'The End' would probably fit pretty nicely right about now.

This is the end, my only friend, the end...

"Is your mum home?" Louis eventually asks, hoping for a subject change, his body and mind irritated, eyes aching with the pressure from his hands. "I like ruffling her feathers; it's an easy task—all I have to do is say hi and ask about her day."