you're cold and I burn (on hold)

He misses it, having a car. Being able to sit alone <strong>and</strong> drive, without worrying about anything but
the road in front of you. He never really understood how good he had it until he didn’t have it
anymore, <strong>and</strong> so to speak, he misses it so fucking much. Being dependent isn’t really Louis’ thing,
he likes to have this control over his decisions, his life, what happens next. Which is odd,
considering the position he’s in now. He wanted to be independent <strong>and</strong> maybe shove a successful
career down his father’s throat, watching as it forces him to eat his words. It makes his mouth dry
out <strong>and</strong> his teeth clench knowing that wasn’t a possibility. And after tonight, any success Louis
has will be partially because of the help he received from daddy-dearest.
He’s so fucking aggravated.
Hoping the gentle <strong>and</strong> soft aroma of the cafe will help, Louis climbs (yes, climbs) into Niall’s toofucking-big
truck. Honestly, there is no need for a truck this huge, but Niall had to have it <strong>and</strong> it
makes Louis feel like he’s going on an adventure just getting in the stupid thing. Maybe Niall
liked the sound of the engine, or the paint color, or the height from the ground. Or maybe he’s
over-compensating. Whatever.
He looks pleased as a peach with Louis’ annoyed huff <strong>and</strong> stern grip on the seat as he struggles to
pull himself up. Okay, he’s not gifted with a nice amount of upper body strength. Or any upper
body strength, for that matter. But he’s an artist <strong>and</strong> they don’t have to heavy-lift, so it’s excusable.
But it still doesn’t stop Niall from chortling like a damn child when Louis gives up. “I can’t get in
the fucking thing.”
“Y’need a step stool, maybe a ladder?”
“I need you to shut up before I take my foot <strong>and</strong> shove it right down your fucking throat.” Louis
sasses, trying once more to haul himself into the death trap Niall fonds over for no apparent
reason. He hates this thing. Fucking hates it.
"You gotta reach my mouth first though, don’tcha?”
Louis has to fight, mentally hold himself back from taking his shoe off <strong>and</strong> flinging into Niall’s
stupid smiling face. He couldn’t care less about the short jokes, but he could use a bit of help here
<strong>and</strong> Niall throwing his head back in a fit of laughter is doing absolutely nothing for the cause.
He hates this truck.
With a valiant effort, <strong>and</strong> maybe the gods are tired of watching Louis struggle, he’s able to finally
hoist himself up, immediately smacking a hard h<strong>and</strong> to Niall’s shoulder. Which just earns more
laughter. He’s a child, literally a child. The truck thunders to life, obnoxiously loud <strong>and</strong> grabbing
the attention of everyone within a one mile radius, he’s sure. It’s painted bright red <strong>and</strong> screams
rickety, but it gets them where they need to go, so Louis is neutral. He wants to cringe at the fact
that he can’t even hear himself think, <strong>and</strong> he is silently sending his condolences to Niall’s old (<strong>and</strong>
quiet) car that had to be replaced with a hunk of metal that screeches whenever they come to a
stop.
May you rest in peace.
Niall’s talking, Louis can tell by the way his lips are moving, but he can’t hear a damn word he’s
saying. Not feeling the desire to shout over the engine, he just nods along <strong>and</strong> hopes this isn’t
some heartfelt story while he breathes out a generous laugh. Niall laughs in return, so it’s a safe
bet. It doesn’t take them long to get to the cafe, but Louis wants to enjoy all the scenery around
while he can. London is such a beautiful city, with it's low casting lights <strong>and</strong> quaint stores huddled
between crowds of people. It looks even prettier at night, when the atmosphere is calming from
the previous chatter <strong>and</strong> voices that once filled the space die down to a faint memory.