Chapter Text
PART I: LOUIS
It’s June, so the sun only starts to rise around 5AM, it creeps through Louis' uncovered bedroom window and everything remains still. He listens, restless, almost too warm under his blanket, but not overwhelmingly so just yet. He never closes his curtains in the summer. He welcomes the uncommon peace and quiet. London is always noisy. He was reminded how long he had been awake once the birds started to sing around 4AM. The world had stopped. One last hour of peace, he could allow himself to breathe for just a little while more.
He wakes up from a dreamless sleep. Everything is still there, too intensely real. The room is too warm, too bright and too noisy. He throws his sweat-drenched t-shirt onto an ever-growing pile of clothes he keeps promising himself he'll wash. The air is so warm that breathing hurts his throat. When he stumbles into the kitchen he notices his phone laying on the stove where he left it last night. He unlocks it. 18%. 14:12. 0 new messages. It’s never what he hopes for, but it’s always what it is, a hollow silence. He hasn’t had a text from him in months. He grunts. His throat is dry and his voice sounds so strange and foreign that he immediately regrets it. He grabs apple juice from the almost empty fridge and drinks it straight from the bottle. It tastes a bit off but he’s too thirsty to care, droplets dripping down his chin. He wipes his mouth. Using a glass crosses his mind but what for? There is only him and endless piles of dishes to wash up. Life feels repetitive. Going to the store, cooking and washing dishes. Washing himself sometimes. Maybe if he put the dishes in the shower he could conquer two chores in one, he chuckles at the idea. He wonders whether he would scrub the dishes with body wash or wash himself with dish soap. He might do one or the other tomorrow. Today though, he needs to escape. From the intense heatwave and from the equally overbearing reminders of everything that relates to himself and his existence. Outside he can just forget. He can lose himself in the crowds.
He goes back to his bedroom and briefly plugs his phone into the charger. He mindlessly picks an outfit - underwear, shorts, t-shirt, jumper. Most of his wardrobe is black so everything always pretty much matches. He quickly grabs socks, pleased with himself as he always forgets about socks. Brushing his teeth and putting on deodorant come next. He already feels drained from the heat and his restless night. He checks his phone battery knowing it will probably have reached 40% by the time he is done getting ready. 50% would be good enough to go out. Enough charge to enable him to wander until he was so exhausted he could drop into a deep sleep, not thinking about anything. Not that he really needs his phone. It is just in case he texts. But he never texts.
Teeth. The tap water hits the stained bathroom sink loudly, splashing up into his face. Every sound is deafening. The hot water has been out for days, but he won't top up his gas key yet. If he can just wait a little while longer… It’s too warm to use hot water anyway, and he’s not planning on using either his stove or the heating. He turns his mind back to the task at hand. Deodorant. When he comes back to the bedroom his phone battery is on 38%. He sits next to it. He laces up his shoes while he waits. Even at 50% charge it probably means no listening to music if he wants the phone to last the night. And he really really needs to listen to music. He curses his past self for abandoning it in the kitchen. He wonders whether he has an external charger, and if he does, whether it works. He could also just charge the phone somewhere else outside, at a fast-food restaurant perhaps. He can hardly afford that and he figures he could find a charging point in a public space. Does the tube have plugs? He can't remember. He thinks if it did he would remember. If the phone reaches 51% of charge before he leaves the house, it would probably be okay if he listened to a little bit of music, just until it reaches 48%. Maybe by the time he checks his phone again there might have been a surge of electricity charging the battery faster. Indeed, when he checks again, the battery has reached 55%. Very pleased, he pockets his earphones, charger and wallet and heads out before he has time to change his mind.
The weather is too warm and the sky is too blue and he tries not to notice. He walks down the brick stairs of the council flats. Fourteen per floor. Through the small garden, past the trees, over the gate, left, then right, and a bit further on to the gaping tube entrance, welcoming the refreshing gusts of wind in the station’s corridors. He jumps over the ticket gate knowing no one will either notice, or no one will care. He looks at the map absent-mindedly. If he hopped on the next train he could get off when his battery level reached 48%, wherever that was. Most probably around Bond Street. He bets on Bond Street as he plugs his earphones in. The train comes in noiselessly, thanks to Kings of Leon blaring in his ears, a safe, reliable choice.
White City. Shepherd's Bush. Holland Park. Notting Hill Gate. Queensway. Lancaster Gate. Marble Arch. Bond Street. His phone battery reaches 48%. He turns off his music and gets off the train, smiling softly because everything is going according to plan. He checks his phone for the time as he is walking up through the crowded exit. It's 15:15. Double fifteen. Noting that, he decides to take 15 steps before stopping wherever his feet bring him. They bring him to a little Tesco. A meal deal seems like a reasonably affordable option, it’s a shame he can’t charge his phone there though.
There are too many types of sandwiches. Even past the usual lunchtime rush when the aisle has already been heavily raided. Who came up with so many ways to slap ingredients in between two slices of bread? How can anyone choose a single sandwich out of this monstrous selection? He knows he wants a Pepsi, and he wants salt and vinegar crisps too. He doesn't want a wrap or a salad. His name, Louis, L-O-U-I-S, has 5 letters, as does the only other name that means something to him, so he will pick the fifth sandwich from the right. It falls on chicken and avocado, absolutely not. Fifth from the bottom then. Prawn Mayonnaise. Who thought soggy prawns and mayo-soaked bread was a good idea? There are so many sandwiches he feels like crying. Whatever the next customer chooses he will choose, as long as it doesn't involve avocado or seafood. Ok, cheese and onion. Cheese and onion suits him well enough. It goes well with salt and vinegar crisps. Three short beeps sound from the self-checkout, then another longer one when he scans his card. That's morse code for "S.T.". If his phone wasn't on 47% he would Google ST. He taps his card on the machine instead. The electronic voice says, “payment accepted” then "thank you for shopping at Tesco." The only meaning of ST he can think of is street.
He never used to care about those things, he never used to think this much but he's changing. At least, he's trying his best to. He's been too careless, reckless really, for too long.
The heat from the street blows up in his face, contrasting with the artificial coolness of the supermarket. People knock into him on the overcrowded pavement. For a few minutes, he gladly lets himself get carried along. He suddenly spots one of these BT Wi-fi kiosks that have been replacing London’s iconic red phone boxes recently. He feels sad that nothing ever stays the same, but he knows he can charge his phone there, a bit away from all the people swarming around him. He stands in front, eating his sandwich slowly, waiting. Why are sandwiches always triangles? He likes it though, he wouldn't want a rectangle sandwich. The second sandwich feels suffocating. He drinks half of his Pepsi, careful to leave the other half for later. But the crisps suddenly don't seem so appealing after he finishes his second sandwich. In fact, he feels a bit sick. Despite the heat, he wishes he had a coffee. His phone is on 88%. He Googles ST. Saint. Nothing mind blowing. 89%. He waits until 90% to unplug it.
He is relieved to be able to listen to music again. Back on the main street he gives his bag of crisps to the first homeless person he sees. There are so many of them. More empty houses than homeless people in the UK he remembers reading. He doesn't like to think about it. Looking through his pockets for spare coins he could give he finds one pound and twenty pence. He drops it into the homeless man's empty plastic cup. If he walks past a coffee place before the song ends, he will get a coffee. Twenty steps and there is a coffee place to his left. He gets an overpriced americano in a takeaway paper cup.
"I don't need the lid," he nods at the barista smiling politely. She shrugs before throwing it in the bin. So much for saving the planet.
"Bye! Take care!" she chirps. He wishes she meant it.
He finds the coffee is too hot and too watered down. Oh well, he's not one of those coffee hipsters anyway. The crowds surge along taking him towards the river while he sips it carefully, still listening to his music. He needs the fresh air. Or a smoke. He smiles to himself about the fact that these are not even remotely similar. But a touch to his pocket reveals to him he does not have any cigarettes with him. He debates whether or not he should buy a new pack, he spots a group of teenagers passing a pouch of rolling tobacco around. He takes one of his earphones down before politely approaching them.
"Hi!" he says. The teenagers turn around. "Could I steal a fag?"
"Sure," one of the girls replies. She passes him the pack and a filter which he immediately props between his lips.
"The rolling papers are inside the pouch," she informs him. He licks the paper and rolls the cigarette shut in one smooth move. Another girl passes him their lighter.
"Thanks, mate," he mumbles, the cigarette in between his lips. "Thanks for the cig, too".
"No worries," the first girl smiles, the tobacco is very obviously hers.
He walks away after nodding a goodbye to the group, minding his demeanour for a few feet in case they are still watching him, he doesn't know why. He turns around and they have disappeared. He can see the Thames at the end of the street past the trees. His phone vibrates in his pocket. He felt it clearly this time, not like one of those times he wanted it so bad his body imagined feeling it. It feels too real to be a figment of his imagination. He stops. His heart drops. His hand flat on his pocket, he slowly breathes in and out.
Taking the phone out of his pocket he brings it up to his face. He squints, the blazing sun makes it hard to see the screen. One new message. He unlocks it by double tapping the screen. It's just Liam in the group chat.
He sighs, unsure of his feelings, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette.
Liam: Meet up at 6 for a pint?
Zayn is typing...
Zayn: yess!! Market Tavern?
Liam: Sounds good!
Louis keeps the cigarette in his mouth for a second in order to type an answer.
Louis: my shift finished at 4 actually. I’m right around the corner.
He smirks at the lie. He hasn’t had a job in a while. He thinks it’s funny somehow. Better to laugh about it than cry, he thinks.
Liam is typing...
Liam: Get started without us? 😉
Zayn: lmao, Louis would NEVER
Louis: Obviously not… ;)
He locks his phone, smiling slightly this time. Nothing like his friends to cheer him up. It's 16:47. He unlocks his phone again, opening Google maps. He types “Market Tavern” in the search bar, then taps “directions”. It’s an 8 minute walk from where he is. He exits the directions app, then types up “Westminster”. It’s a 25 minute walk to the side of the river, and he really feels like continuing to the river. He locks his phone for good and slips it back in his pocket. If he goes to the Thames and back, he will still manage to get to the pub before 6. He takes the last few drags from his cigarette, kneels down to put it out by crushing it on the pavement, but keeps it in his hand until he walks past a bin where he can dispose of it. Saving the planet and all that. He used to care more. There is a bin further down the street and then at the end there is the entrance gate to Hyde Park.
He walks through the park because it’s cooler. Everyone in London seems to have been thinking the exact same thing. He spots a few squirrels and an ice cream van. If he walks past a shop he will buy three cans of beer.
He checks his phone battery. 83%. Pretty good. No new messages. He opens all his messaging apps, one by one, checking just in case a message had appeared without the phone notifying him. It happens sometimes, but there are no new messages. His finger hovers briefly over his banking app without opening it. He would rather not know. He checks whether his phone is on vibrating mode. It is. He opens Spotify and changes the playlist. An ad starts playing. He sighs. Outside of the park exit there is a shop.
There are too many types of beer but Louis knows very well how to choose this time. The highest percentage of alcohol for the lowest price, obviously. He settles on three big bottles of 5.2% polish beer reduced for £1.20, a pack of salt and vinegar crisps (again) and a bag of cashews to feed the squirrels. A cashier is waiting behind the counter, customerless, but Louis lines up for the self-checkout. It’s always awkward to go to the cashier when you can go to the self-checkout, even though he knows someone will come and check his ID anyway. If he wanted cigarettes he should have gone to the cashier though, but it's too late now, and he could probably have some from Liam at the pub later in the evening anyway. Cigarettes were getting so expensive recently. Five short beeps. Three plus One. Morse code for “S.I.” Age-restricted item. A staff member is heading towards him to check his ID. He hands it over lazily. He secretly appreciates the fact that he looks young enough for cashiers to still check his age. The ID check is very fast. Anyone whose birth year starts with the number “19” is an adult now. It’s weird to think that some people born in the 2000s are adults too. Makes him feel old. The cashier unlocks the till, allowing him to pay. There is a long beep when he scans his card. “T” S.I.T. Sit? He bites his lip expectantly looking at the card reader’s screen. The payment is magically approved. He doesn’t have a bag so he grabs one of the thick plastic bags next to the checkout without paying for it. No one ever really cares.
He doesn’t feel like going to the river anymore, so he walks back to Hyde Park instead, opening one of the bottles of beer using his lighter as a lever. He must have stolen it from the teenagers before he realises. Not that he’s ever bought a lighter in his life. He chugs the beer down fast (he was really thirsty) while looking for a bench where the squirrels might be. He never used to care about animals at all, especially not the likes of squirrels, rats or pigeons. He'd changed his mind watching him feed and care for the tiny creatures. Together they had fed nuts to squirrels with the tips of their fingers. They would grab them with their odd, almost human-looking hands, gradually venturing nearer, and either eat them right on the spot when they were feeling brave enough or immediately run away to hide the snack somewhere in the trees. He smiles fondly at the memory. He started doing it himself once he’d left. He rips the bag of cashews open. Cashews are park squirrels’ favourite food. He lets them climb on his hands and arms.
He is already slightly buzzed when he reaches the Market Tavern. The time is 5.36PM (he checked). It's rare for him to be that early. There is a sign on the window that says “happy hour from 6 to 7PM”. That’s order a beer, get one free. He doesn’t want to have to wait 24 minutes to order his first beer, and he thinks maybe he could just order a single beer now, to get started before happy hour. He only allows himself one pint though. He would need to drink it slowly. He takes off his earphones. There is a piece of white fabric rolled down the wall inside the bar where a football match is being projected. A lot of red-faced older men are gathered around with beers, some sporting the colours of one of the teams. Manchester United against Liverpool. Louis likes Man U better, and he can't help but feel glad to see they are leading 1 - 0. The match is 37 minutes in. He used to really like football. But he doesn’t even feel remotely excited about it, watching the silent match on the big screen through the window. He doesn’t understand why and it makes him sad. He wonders how did this happen, something that was so important to him for such a long time, how has it become so strange and foreign. He doesn't even care that much. He's not one to feel sorry for himself. He orders a pint of Tennents. Not the tastiest of beers but definitely the cheapest. Surprisingly, he easily manages to secure one of the only free tables outside.
He really needs to pee, now. It makes sense, with everything he’s drank so far. He has two options. Either he goes inside and takes the chance of someone sitting at his table, or he leaves some of his belongings there in hope they don't get stolen. He scans the surrounding terrace for someone he thinks he can trust with his table and belongings. Two girls in sunglasses sipping beers are sitting on the bench right next to him.
“Hi!” he ventures, sounding a bit too jolly. They both direct their gaze up to him, or so he thinks. He can’t actually see their eyes behind their sunglasses.
“I’m just going inside to the loo, would you mind keeping an eye on my stuff please?”
“Of course,” one of the girls replies with a soft Welsh accent and a smile.
Even though she is wearing sunglasses, he can notice that she is following him with her eyes when he stands up. She leans over and whispers something to her friend. He wonders whether they are checking him out. Probably not. He used to be handsome when he was a bit younger and cared more. He hasn't tried so much in a while, hasn’t cut his hair, or shaved, or worked out, or eaten a decent meal, or showered, or done anything related to self-care in a very long time. He doesn’t really mind though. He checks his phone for new messages. No new messages. He goes back to sit once he’s finished. His stuff is still there and his table is still his own. He thanks the girls who are now smoking. He asks for a cigarette. It’s only scraps of tobacco from the bottom of their pouch but they offer it to him anyway. He accepts it gratefully. Smoking always makes him feel drunker. So does the sun. He smiles to himself, looking at the sky. When he drinks, he can almost think about nothing. Perhaps if he drinks some more it could almost feel like happiness.
“Hi! Louis!” It's Liam. He drops down next to him. “Man, I’ve had the most tiring day!”
“Hi Liam,” Louis answers softly. “What happened?”
“You know, same work stuff as usual… Nothing to go on about…” he sighs. Louis actually has no idea. “What have you got there?”
“Oh, Tennents,” Louis looks down inside his glass, shrugging. Golden brown with white sparkly bubbles. It’s beautiful. Beer is so beautiful. He smiles to himself.
“Has happy hour started? What time is it?” Liam fumbles in his pocket for his phone.
“Almost, it’s like 5:55.”
“Do you think I could order it now?”
“No, I don’t think the till will let them do the happy hour thing until the actual time, but maybe by the time you get to the counter it’ll be good?”
Louis knows, he has been a bartender before.
“Cool, yeah, see you in a minute, mate.” Liam takes his wallet out of his blazer pocket, taking it off and setting it neatly on the bench next to Louis, and immediately walks inside the bar.
Louis checks that he is out of sight before going through the blazer’s pockets. He immediately finds what he is looking for, the pack of tobacco. Filters and papers are tucked inside of it, bless Liam's organisation, so he rolls himself a quick cigarette. He doesn’t know whether it’s the act of rolling the cigarette, or the alcohol, or the sun, but he suddenly feels all strange and rotten from the inside. He almost feels like crying. He doesn’t know why and he tries not to think about it. He rolls the cigarette clumsily, it’s not pretty but it will taste okay. He lights it, all choked up. Breathing is hard and smoking doesn’t help, but he needs it for composure. He holds his cigarette in one hand and his drink in his other hand. He just wants to be drunk. He remembers a time when 3 tall bottles of beer plus a pint, two cigarettes and the blazing sun would have gotten him very drunk. He wonders how Liam could bear to wear a blazer on such a hot day. Probably a work thing. It occurs to Louis that he doesn’t really know what Liam’s job is. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths in and out.
“You okay?”
Louis opens his eyes. It’s the sunglasses girl from the bench next to him who had been looking after his stuff earlier. It’s none of her business. He doesn’t know whether she means it as a greeting or if she’s genuinely asking.
“Hey! I’m great, thanks. How about you?” he asks, not really wanting an answer, just being polite.
“Great thanks! I was just wondering if we could steal a cigarette”
“Oh, of course!” he is relieved that it’s only about this. He hands over Liam’s pack of tobacco and the lighter he stole from the teenagers earlier. They thank him politely.
Louis tries to not be too obvious about observing them and how they both keep the filter in between their pinched lips while the one in charge of the pouch separates the tobacco evenly in between the two of them. Seeing how physically comfortable they are with each other he wonders whether they might be a couple. So much for thinking they were checking him out earlier. When the both of them are done rolling their cigarettes, the filter stained red from their lipsticks, they hand everything back to Louis who puts his glass of beer down and slips the tobacco back inside Liam’s blazer pocket.
“It’s my friend’s tobacco, don’t tell him.” Louis winks. The girls chuckle, but he can tell they’re not interested in continuing the chat. They thank him again before going back to their own conversation. So he studies the lighter he acquired instead. It’s a Clipper with little kittens on it. It makes him smile. The odd feelings disappeared.
Liam comes back to the table with two pints of beer (because of happy hour).
“What did you get?” Louis asks while pocketing his lighter.
“Fosters. Tennents is vile mate.”
“But Tennents is the cheapest!”
“Fosters is also pretty cheap,” Liam observes. The conversation is so awkward it’s painful. Louis can’t wait until they are both more drunk so that it doesn’t really matter anymore who they’re hanging out with and what they talk about. It occurs to him that he doesn’t really have anything in common with Liam anymore. They used to get along so well. Back when they were still all together at Manchester Uni years ago. It’s always a bit strange that one of them is always missing now, he never got used to it. Louis had dropped out and Liam had graduated, he forgot from which course. It never really mattered. He finishes his beer, slams the glass on the table and stands up too fast. Stars shoot in his eyes. He is blinded for a second but pushes through it.
“I’m getting another,” he declares.
“Okay,” Liam says. Louis walks away abruptly, hitting his hip on the corner of the table but downplaying it. It really hurt though. It will definitely bruise. He wonders whether he should have taken his glass with him for a refill. Too late. He checks his phone. It’s 6.05PM now. Time passes so slowly. No new messages. The football match is in its second half and Manchester is still leading 1-0. He doesn’t care though.
When he comes back with his two beers, walking extremely carefully as to not spill them, Zayn is here, invested in a conversation with Liam. He can overhear them before they see him.
“...He doesn’t really watch telly much though, does he.” Zayn says, furrowing his eyebrows. Louis notices the two girls from before left.
“Heyyy, Zayn!” he exclaims. Zayn stands up to hug him clumsily, as he is still holding the two pints. “Nice to see you, man,” he smiles, genuinely happy.
“Man, you’re way ahead of us aren’t you?” Zayn laughs. He means to say Louis is drunk.
“I’ve had three bottles of Tyskie and this is only my second pint. Well, second and third right here.” he gestures at the two pints just set down on the sticky table. He struggles to sit down on the bench.
“Where did you have the Tyskie?” Zayn asks conversationally.
“From Tesco’s. I drank in Hyde park. I was feeding the squirrels there.”
“Oh, you’re still doing that?” Zayn’s tone sounds sad.
“Yeah… I think they’re sweet” Louis shrugs, then smiles with all his teeth, and his eyes. A real smile.
“Tough day at work?” Liam asks.
“Oh yeah, just very busy” Louis answers vaguely, straying away from the conversation by offering one of his beers to Zayn.
“Thanks! I’ll get the next ones.” Zayn smiles “is this Tennents?”
“You bet.” Louis chuckles. He always gets Tennents. “What were you guys talking about before?”
“Just this TV show.” Liam informs him.
“Oh, what’s about it?” Louis asks, he’s not that interested but he likes being nosy.
“Like, some baking thing. Nothing that would interest you.” Liam answers evasively. Louis can see Zayn looking at Liam intensely, almost like he just said something he shouldn’t have. That’s odd. Louis doesn’t care but he is curious about Zayn’s reaction. He smiles smugly.
“What about it?” he asks propping his chin on his palm, fluttering his eyelashes, looking as interested as possible. Of course, now he really wants to know.
“It’s called The Great British Bake off, have you heard of it?” Obviously, Louis knows about the Great British Bake Off, but he is curious about how Liam would explain it. He shakes his head.
“It’s like, um, this baking competition thing where normal people who love baking go on, I think? It’s been going on for years. It doesn’t look that interesting honestly, I just saw an ad for a new season of it, that’s all.” Liam is slowly growing redder, shifting in his seat.
“And, you two, just wanted to discuss that? Baking? ” Louis asks, squinting his eyes suspiciously, biting his bottom lip with a mischievous smile, still suspicious of Zayn’s reaction and amused at Liam’s growing discomfort. “What’s this all about, then?”
“It’s not worth it.” Zayn says, a bit too fast and a bit too loud. “Just drop it.”
So, Louis drops it. He makes a mental note to Google the trailer for the new season later though. Just to see what all the fuss is about. He’d probably forget anyway.
“Right!” Liam slaps his thighs with both hands, startling Louis. “Shall we go clubbing later?” He’s stirring the conversation away and Louis notices, but he doesn’t mind.
“To Fabric?” Zayn asks. “I think the entrance is £5 on Fridays.” They all nod, agreeing. Because, yes, indeed, the entrance is always £5 on Fridays and yes, indeed, they want to go.
“Can I have a cigarette, Liam, baby, please, and thank you so much?” Louis asks sweetly, joining his hands in front of him as a “please” gesture, batting his eyelashes trying his best to look as innocent as possible. Liam laughs, rolling two cigarettes for Louis and himself without noticing that three cigarettes’ worth of tobacco is already missing.
“Aren’t you cute,” Zayn chuckles, rolling his own.
“Do you ever think about quitting?” Liam asks conversationally. “These little bitches are getting so bloody expensive nowadays…”
“I’m doing pretty good,” Louis smiles broadly, tucking his hands under his armpits. “This is my first one today!”
Zayn rolls his eyes, not so discreetly, while Liam smirks.
“What?” Louis gasps, mock offended. “What is it?”
The two boys smirk, looking at each other, but say nothing. Louis knows they know he’s full of shit. He doesn’t mind though. Yeah, he’s full of shit. At least it’s funny. They all smoke and drink together in silence for a bit, enjoying the sun and each other’s company. Louis is shaking slightly, though he doesn’t feel cold. He checked, it’s 25°C right now, he can’t possibly be cold. Some shouting inside the pub marks the end of the football match. Man U won 1-0. The screen is rolled up and the customers who were there to watch it slowly leave. They all finish their beers at once.
“I’m going to get another round.” Zayn declares, standing up. “I think we should stock up before happy hour ends.”
“I’ll come with you.” Liam says.
“Can you get two for me?” Louis hands Liam his credit card, one free happy hour one, one charged. He’s too lazy to stand up. “Actually, get this round on me.” He offers. He really appreciates his friends, and he doesn’t know how else to show it. These things can be difficult. Liam pockets his card and winks before walking away after Zayn.
Louis takes advantage of that and rolls himself another cigarette, this time from Zayn’s tobacco. He looks at the cloudless sky as he smokes it slowly, savouring it as though it was his first cigarette in months. Maybe Zayn’s tobacco is just that much better.
It takes a long time for them to come back; with 8 pints, Louis counts. It’s funny because it took them 8 minutes. 1 minute per pint, not too bad when you think about it.
Louis is long done with his cigarette by then. He even started considering a new one. Zayn and Liam are followed by a waiter who’s helping them carry everything to the table.
“I didn’t use your card.” Liam explains, giving it back to Louis once the waiter is out of sight.
“Oh.” Louis suddenly blushes in embarassement, taking the card back from his friend. “Why?” He doesn’t really like people doing him favours. He can take care of himself.
“Don’t worry about it, mate. I know you’re skint.” Liam winks again, and when Louis looks over at Zayn, he is smiling too. He is skint, but that’s not the point. He doesn’t want to have to rely on them.
“Thanks,” he mumbles. He doesn’t really know what else to say to that. He supposes there’s nothing he could say. It’s embarrassing. He’s grateful. They cheers once more. “You know what!” Louis suddenly remembers after his first sip, and he’s glad for the distraction. “I have a bag of crisps!” at least that’s something useful he can offer his friends.
“Oh my god, really? I’m starving!” Liam exclaims eagerly. Louis reaches for the plastic bag he had left on the bench next to Liam, takes the crisps out and sets them down on the table. They all dig in at the same time and finish the tiny bag of crisps in no time, like a flock of starved seagulls.
Louis feels proper tipsy now, on the verge of drunk - having clear thoughts is hard but he can still pretend to be sober - that’s how he knows. He talks too much but he doesn’t really say anything, he smiles and laughs a lot because having fun is easy. He still checks his phone for the time and new messages though. He knows the sun will set at 9.15PM. It’s almost 8PM. He tries to never miss the sunset. He stands up to go to the toilet. Music is playing inside the pub. He suddenly wonders whether he warned his friends he was going to the toilet or whether he just stood up and left. He can’t remember. He can’t remember what they were talking about, and he can’t locate the toilets, looking around. It’s not like he’d been here countless times before. Jesus. He knows he will look drunk if he hesitates too much, and he doesn’t want to look drunk. He walks up to the counter and asks the bartender. He has to scream to be heard over the music and the conversations.
“Down the stairs to the left” the bartender points. Louis follows. The toilets are packed with lads, all pretty drunk, some more so than Louis. He decides to go in a cubicle for more privacy even though he has to queue for them. He can hold it in. He takes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and opens messaging app, Signal. No new messages.
His last conversation on there is with Luke. He’s called “Drugs Luke” in his contacts. He wonders if he ever told him that. He opens the conversation and types.
Louis: hey man are u about?
He locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket. It’s his turn to go in the cubicles. He takes his phone out of his pocket before lowering his trousers. He sits down to pee. He is tired, he doesn’t feel like standing. No shame in that. His phone vibrates in his hand, his heart drops. He unlocks it, it’s Luke. He sighs, remembering he just texted him.
Drugs Luke: Yeah man I’m in Charing Cross atm but I can go around. What do you need?
Louis: mandy pls? O:)
Louis: it’s an angel i made it up
Drugs Luke: I have e w me
Drugs Luke: you didn’t make it up lol dont you use emojis 👼
Louis: no m? :(
Drugs Luke: no ☹️
Louis: ok can i have 2 e?
Drugs Luke: its 20 just so u know
Louis: Can i get special freidn discount pls <3
Drugs Luke: mate….
Drugs Luke: u don’t need two if u can’t afford it, just get one u can use it twice probably
Louis: O:)
Drugs Luke : How can I resist your angle face …
Drugs Luke: 15
Louis: thankskssss <3 coolo we going to Fabric canyou be there around 10?
Drugs Luke: fabric? really? come to heaven instead
Louis: letme ask the bois but they are very str8 lmao
Louis: boiiiiiiissssszz!!
Louis: u know, zay n nd Liam
Louis: Liam is very straigt espcesially
Louis: Zyn is too cool… Heavn is 2 mnstrema for him u kno
Louis: i m peeeing
Louis: sitting down >:)
Drugs Luke: and are YOU straight?
Drugs Luke: lol ok champ, well either way i can be there 😉 see u x
Louis is done peeing so he hitches his trousers up, forgetting to pull his boxers up first. They get caught up and twisted but still manage to get dragged up by the trousers, although he settles uncomfortably into them. But maybe he wasn’t quite done peeing because his underwear suddenly feels a bit wet and warm. It’s not so nice but he doesn’t mind that much. It will dry fast. He is unstable on his feet and drifts to his left, half falling half leaning against the wall of the cubicle. He hits his head but it doesn’t really hurt. It just confuses him for a second, like a Pokémon, a confused Pokémon with the little duckies circling around their heads. They're just hurting themselves instead of their enemies. He laughs at his mind’s associations. He doesn't have enemies. How come you only realise the extent to which you are drunk in the toilets? The floors are carpeted. Why are the floors carpeted? That's disgusting.
“Louis, you in here?” it sounds like Zayn.
"In a minute!" Louis replies. He props himself up against the wall he just fell on, trying to set himself straight again. "I'm coming out!" He struggles to unlock the door and stumbles out. The toilets are emptier than when he first walked in.
"Oooh careful there!" Zayn laughs, steadying him with his hands on his shoulders.
"What?" Louis pretends to be offended "I'm fine! Almost sober. Haven't had anything to drink ever.”
It’s not really a funny joke but it makes Zayn laugh anyway, so Louis smiles. He really does love Zayn. He goes to wash his hands to prove to Zayn that he’s really almost very sober.
"I'm feeling amazing!" his voice is drowned out by the stream of water from the tap. It’s warm and lovely.
"I believe you!" Zayn laughs. He enters the cubicle Louis just left. "Alright, I'm going to pee too!"
"Have fun without me!" Louis mumbles. He is pretty sure Zayn didn't hear him. He turns off the tap. He doesn't really feel like using soap. He wonders whether he flushed the toilet after himself, and he probably didn’t, but who cares. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror.
He leaves the toilet without waiting for Zayn, because he needs to withdraw money for Luke and if he doesn’t do it now, he will forget. He walks back up inside the pub, then past Liam, still sitting at the table, looking at him with bewildered eyes. He gestures at the cash machine across the street so Liam understands where he’s heading. There are so many steps to taking out cash. He needs to remember his passcode and decide how much money he would need. This machine asks way too many questions. £20. £5 for the club and £15 for ecstasy, that’s £20, right? He always sucked at maths.
He eventually sits back at the table where both Liam and Zayn are, almost done with their last beer. Louis’ glass is still half full. He completely forgot about it and it makes him so incredibly happy to see he still can drink. He takes his wallet out of his pocket and slips the £20 note inside of it.
“For the club entrance.” he explains.
“And Luke?” Zayn asks winking.
“Yeah maybe.”
He checks the time. It’s 9.01PM and he can see that the sky is tinted in pink and red, and orange, and it’s beautiful. He locates the sun immediately, looking at it intently, and he hopes for the green flash. It's exactly what the name says it is, this ray of green light that can briefly appear when the sun sets or rises, right at the moment it dives behind the horizon. It almost never happens, so, obviously, Louis wants to see. It will mean something if he sees it. He had been looking at the sun rise and set for a very long time.
“I’m waiting for the green flash,” he explains, “then we can go.” He sips on his beer.
“Still?” Zayn asks, suddenly sad again.
“Always.” Louis replies. He hates himself sometimes and his grand Great Gatsby type shit. He laughs humourlessly.
“He…” Zayn begins softly but he doesn't finish his sentence. Louis doesn’t react.
The sun completely disappears behind the horizon. And then, nothing. The green flash never comes. The sky slowly shades in purple and then deep blue. Louis sighs and closes his eyes. The world is suddenly spinning. He opens his eyes again. He almost feels sick.
“Alright, let’s go clubbing then.” He stands up abruptly, wavering, unstable on his feet, but spirit undefeated. If he was a Sim, his mood bar would be blue and say “inspired” for sure. Like after they paint or read a book or something.
“Are you sure they’re going to let you in, Lou? You seem plastered.” Liam enquires, a look of worry on his face, he holds out his hand in front of him to support Louis in case he falls.
“Pff, not even close! Besides, I can sober up on the way there!"
His phone vibrates in his pocket. He breathes in, and then out, and then in and out. He is falling outside and throughout himself. He unlocks his phone expectantly.
Drugs Luke: Omw to fabric I’ll be there at 10 😊