Shattered. ls

Five.

Let me know what you think x

2010

In the midst of summer, the August air being chilly and the sky grey, Louis shoves his pal to the ground with no remorse and steals the football with swift feet and a loud laugh; leaving Zayn on the ground to die (not actually, but he's a dramatic one despite the mysterious exterior). Harry helps the lad up, shrugging helplessly at the sound of Louis yelling in Liam's face about kicking the ball in the bushes again.

With a heavy sigh and disappointed shake of the head, Louis jogs over to the offending shrubbery and bends down to search for his prized possession. He's wiggling beneath some brambles for the ball, his arse poking out delightfully, swaying slightly as he rummages around. Harry tries not to stare, but it's tough when it's just... waving around in front of you.

"Thanks a lot, mate!" Louis yells, emerging with mud streaked across his chest and some on his jaw and a dirt and leaf cloaked ball in hand. "Let's just carry on," He's obviously in a bad mood, having a bad day. They all know it, they all want to smack him, but they don't. Louis has his days, and this is just one of them, he'd be worse without a football to boot around and the boys to shout at and take out his anger.

"Lou!" Harry calls, jogging the short distance, grimacing as he slips in a stodgy path of mud. "I think I'm getting a tattoo." He says with a nonchalant shrug, acting like he doesn't care when they both know that tattoos are the most exciting things for Harry (the hopeless romantic in him loves the idea).

Louis glances to him with the ball by his left toe, just brushing against the tip of his shoe as he watches his best friend. A grin erupts, spreads across the soft features of his slightly dirty face as he hears Harry words, brushing the wet fringe from his eyes with a gentle hand and easing his stance as the boy approaches.

"That's brill," He grins, having received all his tattoos by now- being seventeen with all four. "What do you think it'll be?"

"I haven't the faintest," Harry chuckles, "What do you think?"

"Something deep and profound, knowing you." Louis taps a blank space on Harry's forearm with a smile, "We were born to be real- not perfect, or something like that."

"Piss off!" Harry laughs, punching Louis' bony shoulder light heartedly.

"Nah, I reckon it'll be on your wrist." Louis taps the back of Harry's wrist with icy fingertips, brushing the pads along the smooth plane of skin momentarily.

"Come on!" Zayn's voice rings through like a bell, and the game continues. The tattoo rises as they play, dampened by the slow shower of rain that had begun to splash down on them shortly after their conversation, an anchor that rested firmly on the back of Harry's wrist.

"Lou!" Harry screeches once he notices, curls sticking to his forehead in an endearing tangle of chocolate, flicking water this way and that as he shakes the unruly locks from his eyes. "It's an anchor, Lou!" He crashes his way across the field, most likely alerting the whole park of his newest tattoo, unceremoniously coming to a halt in front of Louis with an ear splitting grin.

"An anchor?"

"Yep, lookie here," He raises a pale arm for Louis to see, thin wrist donned in ink that seems too bold and large for the bony span of skin.

"Why are you so nautical?" Louis asks, seeming genuinely curious as he prods at the ship on Harry's arm. "Maybe your mate's a sailor," He suggests, raising an eyebrow at Harry, whose brows are furrowed slightly in thought. "Or a wind surfer, that'd be cool." He pauses, "Or they could be on a rowing team? Live on a canal? A pirate? The possibilities are endless!"