you're cold and I burn (on hold)

Two
It’s the most repulsive admission, the worst possible end to this scenario <strong>and</strong> as the time
approaches closer <strong>and</strong> closer, his skin is crawling. He really, really doesn’t want to do this. He
doesn’t want to speak to his father, doesn’t even want to hear the sound of his voice, let alone
actually ask him for money. Or help, or anything. He’s essentially crawling back on his knees, all
the way up his father’s pristine stone steps <strong>and</strong> hanging his head in defeat. Because of all the times
Louis was told, “This won’t work, you need a true job, you’re going to regret this decision.” He
never thought it would be the truth. Everything apart from the regret, of course.
Is he exaggerating? No, absolutely not.
Knowing it's his only saving grace is making Louis want to take a long walk off of a short pier.
Maybe take a relaxing bath in hydrochloric acid, perhaps. Taking a screw <strong>and</strong> sliding it up
underneath his fingernails <strong>and</strong> popping them off individually. One by one. All of that, sounds
considerably, monumentally better than dialing his father’s number <strong>and</strong> knowing he’s looking at
his phone with the smirk of someone who knew they were right. All fucking smug <strong>and</strong> it makes
Louis sick, positively sick. Maybe if he had been blessed with parents that actually supported their
children (what a crazy thought?) instead of a dad whose never impressed <strong>and</strong> a mother who has
jello for a spine.
Either way he’s screwed <strong>and</strong> he can’t image how much worst this could get.
Niall looks miserable sauntering over to the same sculpture he’s been vulture-circling for an hour
now. But what can Louis say? Of fucking course he’s going to procrastinate this shit as much as
he possibly can. Squeezing out every blessed minute before he has to go home <strong>and</strong> hope the
exquisite lavender decorations are enough to keep him from popping a blood vessel during this
phone call. He’s been religiously checking his email <strong>and</strong> hoping any one has sent him a message
about a prospective business enquiry, but it’s nothing but spam <strong>and</strong> Bath <strong>and</strong> Body Works
coupons.
Go fuck yourself, Bath <strong>and</strong> Body Works.
“Louis, as much fun as I’m having, I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can look at the
same things for over four hours now, it getting a bit redundant.”
“Stare at each piece <strong>and</strong> try to tell a story using the imagery.” Louis shrugs, taking a seat on the
wooden bench <strong>and</strong> re-checking his email. There’s the same messages that that were there when he
checked two seconds ago. Son of a bitch.
“You told me that an hour ago. Louis, let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay.” Niall’s essentially
begging now, <strong>and</strong> he has this uncanny resemblance of a child whose mother’s been at the grocery
store a bit too long. Louis’ a bit scared he’s going to throw a temper tantrum here soon <strong>and</strong> he’s
too damn big to be making a scene in an art Gallery, so dinner it is.
“Sure, sure, sure.” Louis nods, “Where were you thinking?”
“Anywhere but here.” Niall says under his breath, which earns an eyebrow raise from Louis that
he seems to brush off without a second thought. “Let’s just hit up that cafe that’s a few blocks
from your place? You like that one right? Said something about rich ambiance or some shit.”
“Not shit Niall, it’s an observation, you should learn to be more involved with the environment
around you.” Louis explains, looking off into the distance <strong>and</strong> ignoring the annoyed blue eyes that