omg babies i missed you guuuuys. applying for college is HARD OKAY.
anywho this is short because i'm tired. i'll do the rest of october soon though :3
shoutout to @vampire-weakend and her AMAZING STORY
LANA DEL REY // american
it’s after one in the morning when we get back to lou's flat.
louis throws himself on the couch and demands to be brought beer along with the good crisps from niall’s stash.
niall makes a fuss about it, but tosses a bag at louis’ and presses a cold bottle into the exposed skin on his neck.
louis yelps and niall settles on the couch with louis’ feet in his lap.
niall looks sweet when he’s tired, much younger than his age and even younger the way he hesitates before he asks, voice low,
i shrug and reach across the space between us,
take a drink from his bottle.
“fine. we were good tonight.”
that gets a smile, but niall is always persistent.
“i know that, but...”
louis rolls his eyes and cuts off whatever he’s about to hear.
“..your roots need sortin’ out. want me to fix you up?”
niall runs his hands through his hair, letting the previous conversation drop.
“yeah, okay. not tonight.”
i sigh and get up in search of what happened to the six pack liam picked up
lou's looking at me like he knows exactly what's on my mind.
"oi, bugger off." he flips me the bird. whatever.
the six pack's already empty so i make for the spot on the floor where mac and zayn are laying, liam's sitting on the old armchair, his feet on the small of zayn's back.
"room for me?"
harry's smiling his shy little english boy smile, so i roll over and let him settle between zayn and i.
zayn makes a fuss because he has to roll over some too and harry just grins,
“it’s not my fault i’m mac's favorite,” harry teases, hiding his grin in my shoulder.
that leads to zayn doing his spot-on impression of harry -
involving lots of shrugging, mumbling and pouting -
which has everyone in hysterics, as usual.
“you were lovely tonight,” harry whispers in the middle of it.
i make a bit of a face. "was nothing haz."
we'd gone to a club after their show -
harry had looked like a young jim morrison, wild curls and dark clothes,
and of course, everyone wanted to sleep with him.
the thing about harry is that after show's he's running only on manic energy
it's what's left of him and he doesn't last long.
liam had said to me earlier to enjoy the night,
he'd watch zayn, make sure he didn't f'uck up.
go looking for the hard stuff.
so i stuck by harry and niall.
louis was dancing with some boy.
niall had gone in search of beer, armed with liam's id.
a girl with wild blonde hair had come over,
taking harry's hand and dragging him, stumbling onto the dance floor.
i'd followed them, acting out a familiar scene
(although i used to do it more with zayn,
back in our new york days)
cried something about "f'ucking my boyfriend."
and the girl had left.
harry nods, if only to have something to do and turns his head, catching zayn's eyes in the process.
zayn has that brooding look on his face that drives louis absolutely mad.
"are we going home tonight?" zayn asks, across harry, who's closed his eyes now, resting his head on zayn's shoulder.
harry shakes his head, groaing.
"noooo. everyone stay here."
louis laughs and says "thanks for inviting everyone over my flat."
harry grins, stupid and loose like he always is when he's exhausted and a little drunk.
"welcome lou. love you."
harry reaches over and twists his fingers into the fabric of my shirt.
his eyes are closed and he's laying across zayn's shoulder like he's about to fall asleep.
i try not to think about it and focus my attention on the movie liam turned on twenty minutes ago.
i wake up sore from sleeping on the floor with a very heavy harry spread across my stomach.
he looks infinitely younger when he's a sleep that i almost feel guilty for waking him up.
"haaaaaz. get off. i have /work./"
he blinks. once, twice.
(he's got these huge green eyes, like saucers.)
"oh. sorry mac." he pauses and looks pensive. "what time is it?"
"time for you to get off."
and it's a badly worded sentence ending with harry trying to suppress his giggles as he stands up.
he stretches like a cat,
shirt hiking up and exposing the pale line of his stomach,
the hint of his underwear.
(when zayn and i first met harry he looked much younger
child-like with a sweet face and flying curls.
he's grown quite a bit in the last year.
i used to call him "tummy styles"
but now even the girls at the magazine are making comments about
how fit he is.)
i follow him up and push my hair out of my face.
"shi*t. i didn't bring clothes."
it's almost 8 and the offices open at 9.
i don't have time run across the neighborhood and find clothes.
heIl, i don't even think i have clean clothes at home.
(i have to remember to write that on the list stuck to the fridge
L A U N D R O M A T.)
harry shrugs. "borrow something of lou's he's got better taste in fashion then some of the girls at our shows."
mostly because he's right.
"c'mon," harry says and tugs on my wrist,
pulls me into louis' room and he starts tearing apart his dresser.
"he's going to kill you."
harry grins, impish and like he's gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "no he won't. louis loves me."
i roll my eyes and harry throws a shirt at me.
"i'll walk you to work, yeah?"
perhaps the most surprising part of my day is when lo breezes into the offices on time.
she doesn't even have a beer.
and she looks like she's showered.
franks looks at lo like she's got three heads.
i love frankie,
but i have to bite back a laugh.
“g’day, staff - or should i say slaves?” she's got a grin like harry's, as if she's gotten into trouble and it's the greatest thing in the world.
i look up at her over my laptop, rolling my eyes. "journalism is pretty much a form of unpaid cotton picking."
lolita smiles and sits down next to me. i'm absently scrolling through my twitter feed, looking for updates on the election.
"what's up?" she asks.
"are you high?" i wouldn't be surprised.
(when we were younger, zayn used to sometimes get an odd job.
he'd come home bright and early with food for the week, smiling like i'd never seen him smile before.
he always reeked of weed. but those were also some of the best weeks we had, growing up.)
she laughs and i grin back. we get shot a look from lula and it only makes us giggle more until i shake my head, clearing my thoughts.
"no but really..."
“why you assumin’?” she asks.
"you’re on time.”
lo smirks. "in that case - no, i wish."
i nod, look back at my screen and see something about colbert's new site about "mention of ra pe".
i jot it down in my little book.
"hey mac?" lo asks and this time her voice is quieter.
“tell me,” she pauses and looks - confused? conflicted? “what are people sayin’ about me around here?”
i smile a shi*t-eating grin
"since when does lolita marie presley care what others think about her?”
in fact, lo's ability to not give a shi*t is one of the things i admire most about her.
she's very strong.
lo rolls her eyes and gives me a look. "just answer the question.”
so i shrug, not sure of what else to do. “you’re infamous, always were.”
"is jj real mad?”
ah. so that's what this is all about.
he walks in, like the devil himself.
yawning and he looks exhausted.
“depends,” i say, slow and smooth. i take a drink of coffee. i brewed it in the kitchen, still a little hungover. lo reaches over and takes the mug from my hands and takes a drink.
"are you two a thing yet?”
lo's eyebrows shoot up.
"don’t be so /modest/, lo."
i shake my head, grinning.
"you have to know jj’s crazy about you.”
she pulls a face. “oh, please,” she says, biting her nails
“i’m not his type. and he’s not my type—“
is she really the blind?
oh, poor girl.
jj could do her good, if she'd let him.
“/everyone/ knows it - heIl, i was with him when that lover of yours came in the party, asking for you that one night."
i shook my head, remembering how lost he'd looked.
“never seen him so pale and frightened. all for you. he’s such a sweetheart…”
“exactly,” she whispers and i wonder if she's talking to me or to herself.
“he’s just sweet. too sweet. he’d never—“
"but he does," insist. "and you do too."
lo gives me her evil eye and it's a sign for me stop.
"is he really upset though?"
still, i'm terrible at obeying orders.
"why don’t you ask him yourself, baby?”