The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 14

"I just don't get it. I just don't know what the fuck would compel him to just – no forewarning, no explanation, no nothing-"

"No," Harry agreed, "no."

He'd just calmly survived Louis having a hysteric hissy fit in the van, stomping his feet and punching the dashboard till his knuckles went numb. How, Louis wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything about anyone right now.

Well, he was sure that he was running late for work. And that Fizzy and Lottie couldn't miss more school than they already had – well, Fizzy couldn't anyway.

And Niall was gone.

"Hey. Lou." Harry slipped a hand around the back of his neck, scratching lightly at his hair. "I'll go babysit."

"No," because, just- "no, Harry this isn't your responsibility, I can't just ask you to-"

"Louis," and his voice came out so unusually stern that Louis couldn't help but look up. "You're not asking me anything. I'm offering to do it for you. I want to do it for you.."

Louis glanced at the clock on Harry's radio, then sighed and said, "okay." Wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway.

"Okay," Harry echoed, pinching his cheek, "okay. I'll try and check where Niall's stuffed the coke. I'm sure he hasn't just run off with it. He wouldn't do that. Would he?"

"No." Louis shook his head vehemently, thinking if his body looked convinced maybe his brain would follow suit sooner or later. "No, he wouldn't do that. No."

All throughout the workday, Louis had one eye on his phone. Zayn even had to tap his shoulder a couple times to remind him he had costumers waiting. If it'd been anyone other than Zayn working the counter with him that day, Louis would've probably been snitched out to the boss and subsequently fired. Luckily, Zayn was smart enough to notice when Louis needed some extra string and decent enough not to ask why.

He did however, neglect to remind Louis that they were having an after-hours surprise ten-year-anniversary party for the boss that exact day.

At least not until the very last minute.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asked, when Louis had dragged his coat halfway over his shoulder and hurried toward the exit. "The guys'll be here with the booze and cake in ten."

"What?" Louis stopped dead in the door. "What are you talking about?"

"Frank."

"What about him?"

"It's tonight, for fucks sake! Frank's party!"

And then, memory clicked. Two secret meetings, masses of update texts that he hadn't bothered opening, and five quid for the shared present that Louis couldn't afford chipping in with. All leading up to tonight.

And Louis couldn't skip out.

Not when he'd missed Frank's birthday party thing last November with no proper excuse (unless watching footie through a shop-window with the fam would do – hint; it wouldn't). Not when he'd gotten so drunk at the Christmas party that he'd puked in the coffee-maker. Not when he'd accidentally insulted Frank's new expensive hair-plugs just the other day. No, he had to stay. There was no way out of it, unless 'out of it' meant out of the job entirely. And as with most of what motivated Louis to do things in life, he just simply couldn't afford that.

Louis dipped out into the backroom, dialling Harry.

He picked up on the first ring. "Hello, it's Harreeh, how are youuu..."