Orphans | Larry

28

(A/N so I got a larry tattoo lmaoo ^^)

LOUIS POV

I held gratitude, for the fact that Stan had at least managed to detach himself from my side long enough for me to have been able to get ready.

His actions today had left me dumbfounded. This was not the behaviour of somebody who was mentally stable.

He was manipulative, made you feel as if you owed him something, and that something draws you in. The feeling is indescribable.

It causes you to feel as if it is your duty to help.

They play like a broken record, a record that you, perhaps only for a split second, believe that you can scrub clean and get to work again.

And yet that record is beyond a cloth and water, the record needs renewing. Needs a whole new palette to work from.

A palette that you, as much as you would like, cannot give.

And yet as I placed the seatbelt around me, and observed as Stan reciprocated my actions, my heart was screaming for one more attempt to clean away at the scratches on his canvas.

To help him.

And yet sometimes, the mind is more powerful.

-

The lights were blinding, the flow of techno was deafening.

The usual feeling of the bass pouring throughout my veins was absent, and that only further highlighted the fact that something was off.

Stan had disappeared, to my dismay, or to my gratitude, I was unsure of.

I made my way up to the bar, gently moving away the sweaty bodies that guarded the path.

"Surely not."

I whipped my head around, only to be met with the raven haired boy whom I had been unaware of how deeply I had missed.

"Zayn!" I grinned, pulling his form into my arms and holding him in place for perhaps a syllable too long.

"Haven't heard of you in ages mate," his grin was blinding, it was clear to see the joy that poured out of his features, "what have you been up to?"

I sighed, adding in a small shrug for emphasis, "Nah, not much really."

"I know that face." Zayn laughed.

"Oh yeah?," I returned the gesture, "And what's this the face of?"

"Of absolute bullshit," he bought his palm up to my shoulder, leaving it to rest there, "found yourself a bird or something?"

I let out an awkward giggle, "Y-yeah, could say that."

Zayn nodded in what seemed to be approval, the two of us spiralling into a comfortable spiral as we waited to be served.

"What can I get the two of you?" The extremely average waiter in his late twenties asked.

"Gin with lemonade for me," I turned to Zayn, my expression questioning him on his choice, to which he nodded to, "and a vodka coke for him."