you're cold and I burn (on hold)

with him <strong>and</strong> supported him, which was something he just wasn’t quite used to. “Starved, yeah?
Hopefully a croissant will fill you up, they don’t really serve much more than that here.”
“I enjoy a croissant.” Louis shrugs, walking past Niall <strong>and</strong> pulling the door open. The smell is
almost orgasmic, <strong>and</strong> he can’t help but flutter his eyes closed <strong>and</strong> letting the aroma of warm bread
<strong>and</strong> coffee grounds engulf him. French vanilla, mocha, hazelnut, more than Louis can even
pinpoint.
“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach, that’s why this place fills you up, like an appetizer for
me, if that.” Niall scoffs, immediately walking to the glass case <strong>and</strong> eyeing the variety of pastries.
A buffet would suit him better, but Louis can admit he’s more than scared he wouldn’t be able to
drag Niall away before he cleaned the place out.
Ignoring the comment (<strong>and</strong> silently agreeing, but not eating much for the past few weeks shrinks
your stomach considerably) he heads up to the counter, with pursed lips scanning over the menu,
finally deciding on a bagel <strong>and</strong> macchiato. “You can get everything in the case if you so desire,
but not all of us eat like a cow.”
“Rude.”
“Truthful.” Louis shoots back, fighting back a small smile at the offense on Niall’s face.
Louis gives himself one more hour before he has to go home <strong>and</strong> make the call. Only sixty more
minutes left before the worst moment of his fucking life. Three thous<strong>and</strong>, six hundred seconds
before Louis admits he couldn’t do this by himself. He’s failed. This night is going to end with a
bang, how exciting.
****
He’s nearly full <strong>and</strong> ready for a nap by the time he’s walking up to his door. With each step closer
his heart is beating quicker <strong>and</strong> his breathing can’t seem to keep up. Louis had successfully
ignored Niall’s pleads the entire way home, begging to know what was going on <strong>and</strong> why he
seemed so “off.” Talking about his problems sounded like the worst possible thing to do. He
didn’t even want to think about how this would go, let alone talk about it. The air is whipping
around, <strong>and</strong> it feels angry, impatient, like the time ticking by is mocking the situation. He really
should’ve started selling cocaine or something on the side of the fucking road, maybe get involved
in the black market.
He has an ass for a male stripper, but he also has morals, so.
With a deep breath <strong>and</strong> a click of the turning key, he’s pushing open the door of his flat. The one
he can no longer afford <strong>and</strong> his self confidence is taking a bit of a hit. It does really suck to know
that he’s pretty much helpless, <strong>and</strong> the worst part is, he’s gotten himself into this mess. But art has
always been so much more to Louis, he see’s it as something to be surrounded in, <strong>and</strong> he wasn’t
going to be happy unless he was. Career <strong>and</strong> all. Fucking excuse him for wanting to be happy
with his life. But, content was about as far as possible from what he’s feeling right now.
He couldn’t care less if he’s disappointed his father, but he’s disappointed himself. That’s what he
can’t seem to accept.
Each <strong>and</strong> every c<strong>and</strong>le throughout is lit, in hopes that the comforting scent will be enough to help
defuse him just a little. The flickering of each flame is the only thing providing light, <strong>and</strong> it’s