It’s not exactly a problem.
It’s more of a if I don’t have a joint in my hand in two seconds I’ll fling myself out of a fifty story building.
“You have a problem.”
And really, what the fuck does Zayn know.
“You sell weed, who the hell are you to talk to me about problems?” Louis asks incredulously as he shoves the bag of weed into his pocket.
Normally, Zayn would meet the other person somewhere more discreet, like a shoddy alleyway or behind a building, but Louis has known him for four years now and he likes to think that he’s pretty special if he can just go over to his flat to get his weed.
Or maybe it has to do with the fact that Zayn is high as a fucking kite, but that’s beside the point.
Zayn takes another hit before passing the joint over to Louis, who takes it between his two fingers and inhales deeply.
He doesn’t even know what it is about weed that makes him depend on it like it’s air, but ever since Zayn pressured him into doing it two years ago, he’s been hooked. If he thinks about it, weed sucks. It stinks like all hell, he coughs so hard he thinks he’ll eventually hack out a lung one day, and it’s expensive even with his so-called friend discount. He figures the feeling he gets is well worth it, but his bank account disagrees.
It’s just feeling so relaxed and it’s pure fucking bliss. Rejuvenating, even. People go to get massages, he goes to get high. He probably wouldn’t even be doing this if he weren’t so stressed out from his classes and really, his teachers and the whole school system should be the blamed, not him.
But then again, he doesn’t really need to defend himself against anything because weed isn’t even bad. It’s healthy, people have medical cards to get it. Louis figures that nobody could argue with you if you’re holding a medical card.
Not to mention how good food tastes after he takes a couple hits. He doesn’t like to get into the science of it, but it’s like everything he eats after smoking tastes as if they have been crafted by the hands of God himself. So maybe the only problem he has- and it’s a tiny one at best- is that he needs to smoke before he eats because if he doesn’t, well then that’s just a waste of food.
Louis’ eyes droop slightly and he relaxes back into the itchy couch that Zayn found on the sidewalk. “Are you doing any exchanges today?”
Zayn grabs the joint and takes a drag, turning his face away from Louis to exhale it. “Ed later on today, I think. Or was it Niall?”
“What kind of business are you running?” Louis teases.
“I have a large clientele, it’s hard to keep track of,” Zayn mutters.
His eyes are turning a little red with dark under eye circles and his hair is slightly tousled so it looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. Louis doesn’t even know how that’s possible considering Zayn doesn’t go to school and all he does is smoke and watch the telly all day. Louis would too if he lived in a flat like Zayn’s. It may be in one of the more dubious areas of London, but for a person who makes a living only by selling weed, it’s nice.
It’s nicely spaced out, perhaps because of the lack of furniture, and there are no leaky ceilings, no creaking wooden floors, and it doesn’t take twenty bloody minutes for the water to turn hot like Louis’ flat. He’s thought about getting into the weed-selling business before, but he always talks himself out of it for multiple reasons, the first being that Zayn would kill him. Not because he would be competition, but because it’s apparently risky business of getting arrested and well, killed so there’s that.
Louis rubs his eyes tiredly and turns his head to look up at Zayn. “So you really don’t think I should start selling weed?”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “For the millionth fucking time, Lou, no. Do you want to get killed or live in a jail cell? Actually, a jail cell might even be better than the place you’re living at now.”
He would be insulted, but it’s probably true.
“Besides,” Zayn says, “you’re too much of a twink.”
Louis’ mouth drops open and he immediately scrambles up the couch to sit up right. “What? No I’m not! Just because I like cock doesn’t mean I’m a twink.”
“No, you’re a twink because you’re tiny. Jesus, I’m not even gay and I know what it means,” Zayn scoffs. “C’mon, you really need to get with your gay lingo.”
“I get with it just fine,” Louis huffs, annoyed. “But wouldn’t that be the best, I don’t know, disguise?”
Zayn runs his fingers through his hair and that’s a sign that he’s really over this conversation. “It’s selling weed, not going undercover.”
“Nobody would see it coming,” Louis continues. “They wouldn’t expect someone like me to sell weed. I could be like the new Heisenberg, except you know, with weed. You could be Jesse Pinkman.”
He turns and grips Zayn bony shoulders, shaking him excitedly. Instead of being excited about his new plan like he would have liked, he just shoves Louis off of him with annoyance.
“Have you gone mental?” Zayn asks. “If we were to team up, I’d be Heisenberg.”
Louis pushes his fringe out of his face and shrugs. “Okay, fine. I’ll be Jesse, I’m better looking anyway. Maybe Liam could be our Saul.”
“Just shut the fuck up and roll up another joint.”
It’s only been a week since his visit with Zayn and now he’s pacing back and forth around his flat, which is five steps at most.
His doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself for getting such a shitty flat, but he moved to London to go to uni at the last second and he had no idea how fucking expensive it was. So in the end, it all goes back to school, which is no surprise to Louis.
In fact, it’s the reason why he’s walking around his flat frantically trying to get a hold of Zayn. He’s tried calling ten times now, but the arsehole won’t pick up his phone.
Louis dials one more time and smacks his head against the wall. “Zayn, I have an exam today and I ran out. Can you please pick up your phone in the next half hour and call me back?”
Zayn should really take Louis up on his offer of becoming his own Jesse Pinkman because he would be aces at calling back clients and making sure they got what they needed, Christ.
He falls back on his bed and a cloud of dust appears, causing him to cough violently. If he actually took the time in his day to go out and find a flat instead of trying to get more weed then he could have probably found his way out of this hellhole awhile ago, but he’s sure that if he found something even just a couple of pounds more than this place charges, he wouldn’t even be able to afford his weed.
He’s about to get up and do some last minute studying before he leaves when his phone goes off. Louis practically leaps across his bed to reach his phone and answers it immediately.
“It’s a miracle,” Louis says breathlessly. “You actually answered your phone.”
Zayn grunts and he hears rustling sheets. “It’s eight in the fucking morning, Lou.”
“Welcome to the real world,” Louis grumbles. He heaves himself up from his bed to grab his sweater from the floor. “Can I stop by?”
“No, I have exchanges to do,” Zayn replies. “But I have someone who can meet up with you.”
Louis’ mouth drops open as he pulls his head out of his sweater, nearly dropping his phone. “What?”
“Yeah, he can come meet up with you whenever,” Zayn explains tiredly. “Can I go now?”
“What are you talking about, you have someone? You have me!”
Zayn scoffs. “You can’t handle this business, Lou.”
He doesn’t have time to fight with Zayn because he has an exam to fail. He sits on the floor and tugs on his shoes before standing up, leaning against the counter with his hip and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, fine, but I’ll deal with you later,” Louis says threateningly.
He can practically hear Zayn rolling his eyes. “Right. He’s this tall bloke and has legs like a girl, so you can’t really miss him.”
Louis shrugs on his shoulder before leaving his flat and trudges down the stairs because the elevator has been out of order ever since he moved in. “Can you at least text me his number so I can tell him where to meet up since I’m just going to assume that this is how we’re going to be doing exchanges from now on. You got someone, what the hell. I’m offended, Zayn.”
“I think you’d make a better Saul anyway, you can talk someone’s fucking ear off,” Zayn mutters. “I’ll text you the number, I’m off to go back to sleep.”
The line clicks dead and Louis sits in his car, letting it warm up. When his phone goes off, he texts the number and says meet me at greenwich park under the swirly slide.
He’s about to start his car when his phone vibrates.
i love that slide but can we meet behind the tube slide it makes me feel like im in the twilight zone
Louis stares blankly at his phone, reading it over and over to make sure he’s not high and that it actually says what he thinks it says because what the fuck. He doesn’t know who this person is or how Zayn even found the guy. He’s about to text him something along the lines of them not actually using the slides and that it’s going to take all of thirty seconds, but he texts back okay ill be there in ten.
When he gets there, the park is empty just like Louis suspected. He makes his way over to the slides and when he walks around the tube slide, he sees a guy sitting crossed leg in the sand, drawing pictures with his finger. Louis looks around the park just to double check he has the right guy because this person is no way the right person. He has a fedora for starters and he has on jeans so tight they look as if they’re sucking the life out of his legs and he rolled them up so his ankles are showing. His plaid shirt looks two sizes too big, making it slouch on one shoulder and if that’s not all, he buttoned it only halfway so Louis can see down his shirt and wow those are nice abs. He’s also tan and has tattoos all over his chest and Louis finds himself ogling before he snaps himself back to reality.
Louis coughs to make himself present and the guy jumps, banging his head on the slide.
“Ouch,” he groans. “Sorry, I thought you were the cops.”
He wants to ask him why he’s the one apologizing when he did nothing wrong, but he just sighs heavily.
“So you’re Zayn’s, er, friend?” Louis asks.
He nods happily, a dimple appearing on the left side of his cheek and no way is this the guy who’s selling him weed, for fuck’s sake. He looks like he just came back from vacation from the Bahamas. “Yeah, met him a couple of days ago. He’s a nice bloke, but I’m still pretty new to all of this.”
Louis tunes him out after yeah because he really doesn’t care about his life story. He needs to get to class, so he taps his foot impatiently. “Alright, well, do you have it?”
He nods his head and- Louis swears to God- takes off his fedora and takes out the bag that’s sitting on the top of his head. Louis looks at him as if he landed from a fucking UFO because who is this guy. Louis wants to laugh at the fact that Zayn thinks this guy could be a better Jesse Pinkman than him.
Louis extends his hand with his palm up and the guy gently places it on his hand as if it’s a ticking time bomb. He stuffs it in the bottom of his backpack and takes out his wallet.
“Eight pounds,” The guy replies, smiling up at him with squinted eyes. He holds his hands up over his eyes to block the sun out.
Louis stops counting the money to look down at him with a puzzled expression. “Eight pounds?”
The guy frowns slightly and looks down at the sand to contemplate for a second. “Er, I think so? Or was it twelve pounds?”
He really doesn’t have time for this so he huffs out a breath and pulls out eight pounds because it is twelve pounds, but he’s sure as hell not going to spend the extra four pounds if he doesn’t need to. “Actually, yes, my mistake. It’s eight pounds, so here you go.”
The guy slowly takes it as if he doesn’t even know why he’s receiving money in the first place. He looks down at the money like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it.
Louis rolls his eyes, pulling the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Alright, it’s been a pleasure. See you.”
He slowly spins on his heels to turn back, looking at him with raised eyebrows and silently saying what.
The guy scrambles onto his feet and it’s like he doesn’t have control of his limbs. He stumbles on his own feet and Louis checks his watch while he makes his way over to him. This time, Louis is the one who has to look up because this guy is tall. And he really does have legs like a girl.
“I’m Harry,” he says, holding out his hand.
Louis looks at it blankly and then back up at Harry. “Louis.”
Harry just continues smiling like the fucking sun, not deterred by the fact that Louis didn’t return his handshake. He just drops his hand and adjusts his fedora. “So how do you know Zayn?”
“Jesus,” Louis mutters under his breath. “Look, I’m going to be late for an exam, so I have to get going. Thanks for waking up this early to do an exchange with me, I guess.”
Louis doesn’t wait for him to respond, he just gives him a nod farewell and walks to his car.
“Bye, Louis! See you soon, hopefully!”
It would be really unfortunate if Louis had to see this guy again, but he pushes away the morning’s events aside because he has an exam to attend to, which he’ll most likely fail. When he gets in his car, he glances back at Harry who’s kicking his feet on the swings.
Jesse Pinkman his arse.
Louis makes it to school with just enough time to smoke before he has to take his exam, so he parks all the way in the back to avoid professors because a wave of students could pass him and wouldn’t even blink if they saw him smoking. Some might even ask if they could join him.
He reclines his seat and breaks up the bud, rolling it up and lighting it. He has it up against his lips and is just about to inhale it when there’s a knock on his window. Louis jumps up, dropping the joint in the process. He angrily picks it up and looks out his window to see Niall smiling widely. He sighs and rolls down his window.
“Christ, you fucking scared me. I thought you were the dean or something,” Louis hisses angrily.
Niall smiles and shrugs unapologetically. “Can I join? I was in a rush and didn’t have time this morning.”
Normally, he would be more stingy about sharing because he only bought a smaller amount than he usually does, but he saved himself four pounds thanks to Harry being an idiot in the weed-selling business, so he nods his head and unlocks his car. When Niall gets in the car, Louis finally takes his hit and passes it over to Niall.
“Your car smells like weed,” Niall states. He coughs violently into his elbow and hands the joint to Louis.
“I wonder why,” Louis replies dryly.
They sit in silence, just passing it between them until it gets so small that Louis eventually has to toss it out the window. They’ve all been friends long enough to know that they just don’t talk during a session. It’s become an unspoken rule that Louis appreciates because he just wants to fucking relax and can’t stand it when someone wants to make a conversation. The other day with Zayn was a once in a lifetime sort of thing because he had a brilliant idea that he so rudely shot down.
“How I’m not crawling into school these days is beyond me,” Niall groans as they walk into campus. “I have class until fucking six, Obama needs to fix this.”
Louis hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder and adjusts his beanie. “Wrong country, mate.”
Niall just shrugs. “The Queen is getting old. I feel bad for asking her to do things.”
“Did you know that Zayn got some sort of assistant?” Louis asks, avoiding a group of theatre kids.
“Oh yeah, I introduced them,” Niall replies.
He abruptly stops in his tracks and it takes Niall a couple steps to realize that Louis stopped walking. Niall turns around and sees Louis looking at him disbelievingly.
“Where the hell did you even meet this guy?” Louis asks. “Never mind that, I don’t even care. Why did you introduce them?”
Niall raises a confused eyebrow. “Harry’s nice and was looking for a job.”
“Wouldn’t the normal thing to do be look for job openings in the paper or something? Not go into the business of,” Louis lowers his voice, “selling weed.”
“Why look for something when I already knew that Zayn wanted someone to help him?” Niall says, adjusting his snapback. “I gotta get to class.”
Right, he has an exam to get to. Louis should really prioritize his life better, but he’ll do that sometime later. At the top of his list at the moment is to kick Zayn’s arse.
“Zayn Malik,” Louis announces as he barges into Zayn’s flat and drops his backpack on the floor, “average best mate, weed aficionado, and bona fide liar.”
Zayn groans from his spot on the couch and pushes himself into a sitting position.
“You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, you never know who will come in,” Louis says and falls back on the couch beside Zayn.
“If I knew it was you, I’d keep it locked at all times,” Zayn grumbles, rubbing his eye.
“Why would you fucking hire Harry?” Louis asks. “Do you even need him?”
Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls the blanket higher on his lap. “I may not be in school, but I’m not a moron. I know when business gets too much for me to handle on my own.”
For a moment, Louis feels bad for Zayn. In the four years of knowing him, Zayn has only talked about his family once. He said they’re in Bradford and he left when he was sixteen because it was like living in a prison. Louis suspects that there’s something more going on, but doesn’t want to ask him about it. On one particular night where they smoked a little too much, Zayn confessed that Louis is the first person he’s met that feels like family.
“So are you the new Heisenberg of London?” Louis asks.
Zayn cracks a sheepish smile. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s word of mouth, you know? Not a lot of people selling now and I have good prices. Speaking of, I heard you only paid eight quid, you twat.”
“Blame your new assistant!” Louis exclaims. “He doesn’t know the prices.”
“He’s still learning,” Zayn replies. “He’ll get the hang of it.”
Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn and leans in so close that their noses are practically touching. “Strike one, Malik.”
“Okay so two grams is…” Harry trails off. He looks away, furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration while tapping his chin with his forefinger.
Louis has done at least half a dozen exchanges with Harry now and every fucking time, Harry takes a good five minutes trying to remember the prices. He also tries to befriend him, but Louis doesn’t have it. He runs off before Harry can get his next sentence in, leaving him standing alone in the park.
“I bought two grams just last week,” Louis snaps, annoyed. “It’s twelve pounds.”
Harry smiles, dimples and all, and nods his head excitedly. “Right, I forgot. That’ll be twelve pounds, please.”
Louis immediately hands the money to him because he already had the money ready long before Harry tried to remember how much it was. Harry pockets it and Louis is about to walk away when he grabs his shoulder.
Louis looks at Harry’s hand on his shoulder and then at Harry. Back at his shoulder and then at Harry once again. Harry only looks back at him with a serious gaze.
“Louis,” Harry begins, “would you care to join me on the swings? I can push you if you want.”
Louis looks at him unimpressed. “Okay, I guess I haven’t made myself clear the seven other times. You’re nice, Harry but you’re just the person who sells me weed. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Harry smiles easily, as if he was expecting this. “I can be more, though. I’ll make you tea on Sunday mornings, I’m pretty good in the kitchen and I’ve been told that I give phenomenal blowjobs.”
Louis is really tempted to ask him if this is some sort of package deal special. Buy two grams of weed, get a cute boy and apparently everything he has to offer.
When Harry sees that Louis is just staring blankly at him, he takes it as a sign to keep going. “Have you ever been eaten out before? I’ll throw that-“
Louis lunges forward and clamps his hand around Harry’s mouth. Harry looks at him with wide eyes as if Louis is about to kidnap him, which would be nearly impossible because Harry is a giant.
“Shut up,” Louis says in a low voice. “For fuck’s sake, just shut up. I’m going to take off my hand, will you please not say anything?”
Harry nods obediently and Louis sighs heavily, dropping his hand.
“You seem stressed, do you want some more weed? Or we can go on the jungle gym.”
Louis drops his head into his hands and groans loudly.
Even if smoking pot were a problem for Louis, which it isn’t, the problem would be how frequent he does it, not the actual weed itself. Because if the president of the fucking United States could smoke weed, Louis thinks that he can too. Hell, most of Jay-Z’s albums probably wouldn’t be as good if he wasn’t high when he wrote them.
But that’s just Louis’ opinion and Harry disagrees with him, which isn’t a surprise at all.
Harry pushes Louis gently and sighs. “I mean, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I just wonder why you do it because you really don’t need to.”
Louis holds his feet up when he comes back down and Harry pushes him again. “It just relaxes me. The world is a pretty stressful place to live in, I’ll take what I can get. You’re not telling me that you sell it, but you don’t smoke it?”
He doesn’t even know how he ended up on the swings. All he remembers is that he came here to do an exchange and Harry somehow talked him into sitting on the swing while he pushed him.
When Louis falls back and doesn’t feel Harry push him, he looks over his shoulder to see Harry crouching down and petting a dog. He sighs heavily and kicks his feet against the sand, swinging softly until he hears Harry coo his goodbye to the dog. Harry’s pushes him again and Louis dangles his feet in the air and draws them up when he goes back.
“I did it a couple times before I started selling, but I don’t do it anymore. It just makes me sleepy. I might as well take Nyquil. It’s cheaper anyway,” Harry explains.
Louis turns his head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re weird.”
He expects Harry to push him, but instead his hands are on top of Louis’, gripping the swing by the handles and causing Louis to stop swinging. He feels the warmth of Harry against his back and the next thing he knows, Harry’s leaning to the side, turning to Louis’ face with a smirk on his lips.
“If I kiss you, will you stop?” Harry asks, his voice rough and low.
Louis gulps and grips the handles tighter. Harry’s hands are still on top of his and he wants to move his hands, but he keeps them in place. “What kind of proposal is that? I don’t gain anything from it.”
Harry smiles easily and leans in closer. “You gain me.”
Before Louis can reply, Harry leans back and huffs out a breath, removing his hands from Louis’. His hands feel suddenly cold and he drops his hands into his lap, watching Harry move in front of him with his hands on his hips.
“It technically doesn’t make a difference because you already have me but,” Harry smiles widely and shrugs his broad shoulders, “you get the point.”
Louis gets the point, but he doesn’t get Harry. He’s wearing another unbuttoned plaid shirt- surprise, surprise- and it’s a little windy at the park, causing it to poof up Marilyn Monroe style. Replacing his dumb fedora is some sort of head wrap and his fucking jeans. They are so tight and Louis really doesn’t know how anybody takes him seriously, especially someone who smells pot.
He’s just so use to Zayn and how dull their exchanges were. They would sit in silence for the next hour or so with the only sound being their soft breathes. It was mundane and now that Louis looks back, just boring.
And now Harry’s in the picture and it’s criminal how annoying he is. He’s relentless and just keeps pestering Louis no matter how many times he shoots him down. His clothes shouldn’t work on a person on him, but it does. Even his name is something Louis can’t quite get over. Harry Styles. Say it soft and it’s like praying. This six foot, fedora-wearing, weed seller in front of him is the most ridiculous person he’s ever come across and somewhere in the process of trying to get rid of him, he somehow found himself craving for Harry’s hand in his.
“Very tempting offer,” Louis says, “but I’ll have to refuse.”
Harry just ducks his head and grins. “We’ll get there someday.”
It’s the most common thing that leaves Louis’ lips whenever he’s around Harry. There are probably nicer ways to tell Harry to just stop talking, but he has to be forceful because he just doesn’t give up.
Another reason it comes out a bit harsher than usual is because he’s lying on his back in the sand because Harry somehow talked him into smoking at the park just so he wouldn’t leave. Louis has willpower, he does, and would have said no because he just doesn’t smoke in public, but the park is empty except for the occasional runner who doesn’t even spare them a second glance.
Harry also persuaded him into lying in the tube slide and Louis only agreed because the alternative was to sit in the sand and he really doesn’t prefer getting that everywhere. So Harry sits crossed legged at the bottom of the slide, hunched over while Louis lies on the inside, facing the ceiling. The slide gets less steep as it nears the bottom, practically horizontal to the ground, so he can lie comfortably without his back at an angle.
“I’m just saying, the kids won’t like the smell,” Harry continues. “You’re probably ruining their fun day at the park.”
Louis takes another drag and exhales. “I’m the one who wanted to go on the swirly slide, but we just had to go into the tube slide. So really, this is your fault.”
Harry laughs and pokes his calf. “That’s because I thought you were going to smoke before we went into the slide!”
His voice echoes throughout the slide and they sound so loud it’s as if they’re talking through a speakerphone. Louis just shrugs his shoulders and when he takes another hit, he holds it in his breath to let it burn his throat. When he exhales it, he coughs loudly and Harry pats his thigh comfortingly.
“Are you okay?” Harry asks. “Want to go to the water fountain?”
Louis leaves on his elbow to toss the end of the joint over Harry’s shoulder and into the sand. “No, I’m fine. Do you always talk this much?”
“I don’t know,” Harry replies, smiling. “I didn’t think I talked that much.”
Louis peers down at him, crouched down because he’s too big to be in a slide that’s meant for kids. His legs are so long that even when they’re crossed, his knees are drawn up and touching the each side of the slide.
“Just for future reference, I don’t like talking during a session,” Louis replies. “I thought Zayn or Niall would have told you that.”
There’s a loud thump and Harry muttering ouch and before Louis can look down to see what’s happening, Harry is looming over him with a huge smile, his hands on either side of Louis’ head. His hair is tied back so there’s a small and stupid ponytail on the top of his head and he looks ridiculous. Louis is kind of endeared.
“What the hell are you doing? Get off of me,” Louis grunts, shoving at his chest. Harry doesn’t move, in fact, he leans closer and Louis needs to get out.
“How about a kiss?” Harry asks.
Louis rolls his eyes and tries to wiggle his way down the slide to no avail. He huffs out a frustrated breath and glares at Harry, who’s still grinning down at him. “How about I shoot myself in the foot?”
“Please,” Harry begs. He juts out his lower lip, full out pouting like a five year old. “It’ll be fun.”
He’s never heard of someone describing a kiss as fun to try and convince him to kiss him, but it’s Harry so he just ignores it.
Louis scoffs. “Could you get off me? I’m suffocating.”
Harry just laughs softly and eventually moves. "Louis, I will get you to kiss me one day and it'll be the greatest thing in your life."
"You're setting yourself up on a high pedestal there."
"Yeah, well, kiss me and you'll find out why."
Louis is tempted to take out another joint, but he shakes his head and leans up on his elbows. "Shut up."
It’s Saturday and he’s in fucking school. To make it worst, the class is at night for three hours because it’s only once a week and apparently all the other times at night on the weekdays were already taken. He didn’t think it would be this bad because he doesn’t do much during the week for it to be much of a bother, but this is just overkill. Louis slumps in his seat and takes out his phone to text Zayn.
one more hour until im off
He barely sets his phone down on the table when it vibrates.
I know!! So excited for the pub tonight :)
He furrows his eyebrows together because Zayn would never use an emoticon, he barely shows emotion at all. He suddenly realizes that he texted Harry and he rubs his temple irritably.
oops sorry that was for zayn
His phone vibrates a second later.
Louis doesn’t even want to go to the pub because he has a paper due in a week that he barely even started. He props his head on his hand and tries not to fall asleep for the next hour even though his eyes feel heavier with each passing minute.
When the teacher finally excuses them, Louis is so tired that he shoots Zayn a text saying he can’t make it to the pub and heads home. He trudges up the stairs and practically collapses on the floor as soon as he walks into his flat. Louis drags his body onto the couch and wraps himself in his frayed blanket. His couch isn’t the most comfortable place to sleep; the cotton is coming out in some places and there are probably some chips in the crevices, but his bed isn’t that much of a better alternative and he’s just too exhausted to move.
And that’s when there’s a knock at his door.
Louis’ eyes slowly open and he groans, stuffing his face into the pillow and letting out a small scream before heaving himself up to open the door. He sees Harry and Louis is so grumpy that he begins to close the door, but Harry slams his hand on it to push it open.
“Do you need something?” Louis grunts.
Harry shrugs and makes his way inside. “You?”
“How do you even know where I live?” Louis asks as he watches Harry walk around his flat, looking around. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that Louis’ flat is basically a shithole and instead, he smiles when he wanders around.
Harry stops looking at a picture of Louis’ sisters and mum to glance at Louis. “Zayn told me.”
His nostrils flare and he immediately reaches into his pocket and texts Zayn.
strike two you fucker
Louis takes a deep breath and leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I’m exhausted and I just want to sleep.”
“Okay,” Harry shrugs.
Louis wants to drag Harry out by his ear like some sort of dog because what kind of person doesn’t take that as a hint to get the fuck out.
Harry must sense how annoyed he is because he walks up to Louis with a soft smile. “Would you mind if I stayed? Say the word and I’ll go, but there’s Sunday morning tea with your name on it.”
It’s strange to see him not only in his flat, but somewhere that isn’t the park because that’s the only time they see each other. Even though they were alone every time they’ve met, this time is different because it’s in the comfort of Louis’ flat. He doesn’t have the energy to be annoyed with how Harry just doesn’t give up and definitely doesn’t have enough energy to put up a fight.
He nods his head slowly and even gives Harry a small smile before trudging to his room and falling onto his bed. He falls asleep to the sound of Harry’s footsteps padding around his flat and with the knowledge that he’s here in the first place.
The sun glaring down on him wakes him up too early for his liking. He stretches and sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He jumps when he hears his kitchen cabinets opening and closing only to remember that Harry is here. Louis scrambles out of bed and into the kitchen.
Sunday morning Harry is tired eyes with a lazy smile. It’s his hair pushed back and a sweatshirt with a hole in it. It’s a warm cup of tea on a cold morning and Louis can’t really think of waking up to anything better.
“Morning,” Harry replies happily, his voice full of sleep. He hands a mug to Louis, who takes it gratefully. “Sleep well?”
“I should be asking you the same. Sleeping on that couch is hell,” Louis says.
Harry just leans bag and smiles over the brim of his cup, sipping his tea slowly with his eyes on Louis.
Louis narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What?”
“Nothing,” Harry shrugs. “It’s just- who would have thought that I’d be sleeping over at your house and making you tea?”
“Shut up,” Louis says, but can’t help his smile. “Don’t get used to this. You caught me at a weak moment.”
Harry walks in front of him and leans in close. “Looks like I’ll have to make you weak more often.”
Ever since then, Harry brings him a plastic cup of tea every time they do an exchange. They’re at the park and Louis is sipping his tea while slowly losing his patience.
He watches Harry stare at his phone in confusion for a second longer before he breaks. “What the hell are you doing?”
Harry looks up at him and smiles. “This one guy wants five grams and no one has ever wanted that much before, so I can’t remember how much it is.”
There really is no hope for Harry in this business. Louis slaps his forehead and shakes his head slightly. “It’s twenty two pounds. Even I know that.”
Harry just beams and begins tapping on his phone. “Thanks! And that’s not something you should be proud of, by the way.”
“Oh, I wish.”
Two weeks later on Saturday, Louis allows Harry to sleep over once again because mornings suck, but mornings with Harry suck a lot less. There’s knocking on his door before he wakes up and he just grunts to let Harry in. He slowly opens his eyes and sees Harry sitting at the foot of his bed, picking at the tear in his jeans in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. When he sees Louis looking at him, he smiles brightly and extends the cup of tea. Louis pushes himself up and grabs it, smiling.
“Why don’t you just give up?” Louis asks, setting the cup on his side table.
Harry frowns and it’s the first time Louis has ever seen him not smiling. “You’re slowly giving in, why give up now? Why give up ever?”
Louis laughs. “You have a lot of faith in this relationship for someone who barely returns his feelings.”
Harry’s smile is back again and he bites his lip. “Yes you do, you just have a different way of showing it.”
“Enlighten me,” Louis says, settling back into the headboard.
Harry takes a deep breath and nods. “You’ve gotten more patient with me, for starters. You move in front of me to block the sun out of my eyes when I’m sitting down on the sand and you’re still standing up. You put your hand on top of the slide so when I get up, I don’t hit my head anymore.”
“Well then,” Louis says. “Someone’s been observant.”
The thing is, Louis didn’t even notice himself doing all of these things. When he thinks back about all of their exchanges, he doesn’t remember doing any of these things so he’ s doing it unconsciously. Louis doesn’t know when he began to things for Harry just out of instinct.
Harry crawls up the bed so he’s sitting by Louis’ side. “So, I’ve made you Sunday morning teas. How about that blowjob?”
“I’ll pass,” Louis murmurs.
Harry just smirks at him and uses two fingers to slowly run up Louis’ thigh and stopping just at the top of it, his fingers so close to his cock that his hips cant up against his will. He pulls the blanket down an inch and looks up at Louis, silently asking permission. Louis’ breathing has gotten heavier and when he doesn’t say anything, Harry grins and his hand disappears under the blanket. His hand slips under Louis’ briefs, grasping his cock and he can’t help the moan that escapes his lips.
Harry, the little shit, just smiles widely at his reaction, stroking him quickly until he’s hard. Louis tries to muffle his moans into his arm, but Harry pulls it away, kissing his wrist. He shuffles his way around the bed until he’s sitting between Louis’ legs and he pulls down his briefs. Even though all the blood is in his hard cock, he feels his face flush when he sees Harry staring at him like he’s God’s gift to mankind. Harry leans down and presses a wet kiss to the head of his cock, making Louis’ hips jump up.
Louis squeezes his eyes shut and suddenly his cock is enveloped in the wet, hot heat of Harry’s mouth. He moves his hips up, but Harry’s hands grip them tightly.
“Oh-“ Louis pants.
He peeks open one eye and sees Harry staring back at him and even though his mouth is wrapped around his cock, Louis can still see the smile in his eyes. He hums around Louis’ cock, his head bobbing up and down and his tongue sliding along the length.
Louis’ hands fly to Harry’s hair and he pulls it, causing Harry to hum even more and the vibrations on his cock make him want to buck up into his mouth. “Fuck, Harry-“
Harry stops at the head to tongue at his slit and that’s when Louis’ body tenses up as he comes hard into his mouth. He moans loudly, gripping Harry’s hair hard. His muscles finally relax and he pants heavily. Harry presses his lips against his hip and crawls up so he can hover over him.
“Can I kiss you now?” Harry asks with a playful smile.
Louis tries to regain his breath and turns over on his side to face him. “Nope.”
Harry’s mouth drops open and he laughs loudly. “I can suck your cock, but I can’t kiss you?”
He shrugs his shoulders unapologetically and presses his lips together to hold back his smile. “Take what you can get when I give it to you.”
Louis is about to roll over on his back when Harry leans over to kiss him on the cheek. He glares up at him and smacks his shoulder lightly.
Harry just smiles. “I might just have to steal some things along the way.”
For the next few weeks it’s Harry at his flat making tea or lying in bed together. They still meet at the park to do exchanges at least once a week and Louis was foolish to think that after at least three months of doing this, Harry would remember his schedule.
“I think I have to meet Ed in an hour,” Harry mutters more to himself than to Louis.
Louis kicks his feet on the ground to keep them swinging. “Why don’t you just write it in your phone or something?”
“No, I can remember it, just give me a minute,” Harry shakes his head.
Louis sighs because he’s given him twenty minutes. He’s getting a slight headache from the tire swing, so he leans his head on Harry’s shoulder and closes his eyes.
It’s not often that he’ll show some sort of affection, but it’s hard not to give in every once in awhile when he knows what Harry looks like when he first wakes up in the morning. There are some mornings where Louis will wake him up with a blowjob and the look on Harry’s face is like Christmas morning.
Harry turns his head and softly kisses Louis’ forehead. “Can I kiss you now?”
Louis muffles his laugh into Harry’s shoulder. “No, you have more important matters to focus on. How has Zayn not fired you yet?”
“The clients love me too much,” Harry replies.
Louis scoffs. “You can’t even remember how much one gram is. Last time, you gave me a bag for free.”
Harry leans away and Louis almost topples over, but catches himself. “You were stressed for your exam!”
“You don’t go and give away pot for free, are you mental?” Louis asks incredulously.
Harry just kicks his feet along the sand to keep them swinging. “One day I’ll kiss you and you’ll want to smack yourself for rejecting me all of these times.”
Louis really hopes that isn’t true.
“Why haven’t you fired Harry yet?” Louis asks once Zayn opens the door.
He tips his head back and groans. “Not you again.”
“We were doing an exchange yesterday and he gave it to me in this plastic seashell box because he wanted it to look pretty,” Louis explains. “Did you know one of your clients is an ex-convict? Because Harry smoked with him a couple of days ago while the guy told him his life story. In the end, Harry didn’t even charge him because he felt bad. He’s a terrible salesman and you know it. You wouldn’t put up with his shit.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t put up with his shit.”
Louis waves his hands around frantically. “Then why are you?!”
Zayn shrugs carelessly. “I’m putting up with his shit for you.”
Louis pulls back with a puzzled expression. “What the fuck does that mean? How does any of this have to do with me?”
Zayn stares at him as if he doesn’t quite believe what Louis’ saying. When Louis just stares back at him blankly, he laughs disbelievingly and shakes his head. “Louis, I don’t know if you’re aware, but he fancies you. The blowjob or I don’t know, spending nights with him might have given it away, but-“
Louis smacks him on the shoulder furiously. “I know how he feels, you twat.”
“Well, if I fired him then you would convince yourself that there isn’t any other reason to keep seeing him,” Zayn explains. “Which would be really fucking idiotic of you because you like him just as much.”
And well, Zayn’s not wrong. Louis likes Harry and he’s known it for a while now. It’s just that what they’ve been doing has been easy and he got caught up in keeping him on edge and teasing him that he never really thought to take the next step.
Louis grabs Zayn’s face between his hands and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Strike three, Malik. Strike three.”
meet me at the park
He’s been texting him those words countless times so they could exchange, but this time it’s so much more. They’re not just going to exchange and Louis isn’t going to turn down Harry. Louis grabs his coat and runs down the stairs so quickly that he nearly falls. Once he’s in his car, he zooms off and he’s pretty sure that he breaks the speeding limit and even runs a red light, but all he can think about is Harry.
It’s the first time that Louis arrives earlier than Harry. He sits on the sand and draws random patterns to distract himself from the possibility that he could be killed any second because it’s dark with only one lamppost to light the park up. He’s about to call Harry when he sees him walking up with his hands in his jacket pockets. The difference of how Harry looks at night almost takes him by surprise. His hair is stuffed into a beanie and he has on joggers and a jacket. He looks so comfortable that Louis fights the urge to tackle him right then and there.
Harry grins as soon as he sees Louis and sits in front of him. “Difference in scenery, sort of. I don’t have-“
“You’re weird,” Louis says. He wants to have the courage look him in the eyes while saying all of the things he’s about to say, but he keeps his gaze down instead. “The first time I met you, you annoyed the hell out of me. You still do, by the way. I’ve only known you for a couple months and we meet at this park at least once a week and you even spend the night with me, but I feel like I know you, but I don’t.”
Harry pokes his knee to get Louis to look up at him. When he does, Harry has a soft smile and tired eyes. “I don’t know you, but who cares? I like you and I’m sure I’ve made that clear.”
“I know, sorry,” Louis laughs quietly, dropping his gaze again. “I can’t get my words right. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know you, but you’re like an umbrella that fits two people. I feel like there was always room for you and I guess I never realized it until you came along.”
Louis finally looks up and Jesus, there isn’t even any need for the lamppost because Harry is smiling so brightly that makes him want to close his eyes because he refuses to believe that he is the reason.
“I knew you’d come around eventually,” Harry beams, leaning closer. “I would say a million other sweet things to you, only I’ve been doing that for the past couple months and I really just want to kiss you. Is that okay? Can I kiss you?”
Louis laughs and nods. Harry immediately surges forward to press their lips together. The impact knocks Louis backwards a bit and Harry laughs against his lips, pushing him until he’s lying flat on his back with Harry hovering over him.
Harry presses a kiss to the tip of his cold nose before pulling away. “So, what does this make me?”
“You sell me weed,” Louis smiles. “Amongst other things.”
Harry mouths along his jawline, his breath warming his skin when he laughs. “There’s no time to be vague, Lou. I finally got you to this point and I’m going to milk everything out of you while I can. Define ‘other things’.”
Louis pulls Harry in for a chaste kiss. “You make me tea on Sunday mornings.”
“You give average blowjobs.”
Louis throws his head back in laughter and Harry takes the opportunity to kiss along the expanse of his neck. It’s hard to concentrate with Harry’s fingers trailing underneath his shirt and his insistent hips rolling against his. Louis tugs on his hair to pulls him in for another kiss, slipping in his tongue this time. He doesn’t even know how it’s possible, but Harry does everything with such excitement. It’s not just lust or passion, but he can tell how happy Harry is even when he fits his fingers into Louis’ hips. It’s some sort of new adrenaline rush that’s impossible to find anywhere else but with Harry and he’s all Louis’.
His mornings consist of his limbs knocking against Harry’s and it took him by surprise the first time for a split second. Now he relaxes into his arms and buries his face into his neck. He’s used to turning over and having his pillow that reeked of weed and he never really minded it until he found out how much better mornings could be when he got to turn over next to Harry with a scent of fresh morning dew, mint, and cinnamon. It’s a strange combination if he ever voiced it out loud and he couldn’t really think of anything better to describe Harry if he tried.
And weed was never a problem. He doesn’t feel as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders or as if he just got out of rehab. He just doesn’t see the point in it anymore. Louis would just prefer Harry’s arms to relax him. He prefers the taste of Harry’s lips over the taste of food after he smokes a joint.
He just prefers Harry over anything else, him with his stupid fedora and his ripped jeans and his dorky smile. And yeah, he might have a joint here and there, but he can’t be blamed. His boyfriend does sell weed, after all.