you're cold and I burn (on hold)

They’re too caught up thinking they’re on top of the world <strong>and</strong> nothing can touch them, bring
them down. They don’t realize that no one is below them, they’re not better than everyone else.
“Louis,” Liam’s voice flows through the thin air with all the grace of a broken-legged gazelle,
“what the fuck was all that about, huh? Are you trying to embarrass us?”
“I have no desire to embarrass you, Liam, because I simply don’t care.”
“This is why dad never invites you anywhere, you know that? Because you can’t control yourself,
you don’t know how to be reserved <strong>and</strong> respectful.”
The sentence is enough to stir Louis’ stomach into a churning mess of annoyance, he clenches his
fist as much as he can in the pockets of his pants, “Is that what you call respectful? Them? That’s
how you want me to portray myself? They’re all stuck up assholes. They sit there <strong>and</strong> talk about
fucking someone <strong>and</strong> then degrading them, making fun of them. You expect me to sit there <strong>and</strong>
listen to that?”
“I expect you to keep your comments to yourself.”
“Yeah,” Louis scoffs, humorlessly, “your expectations are too high then.”
The silence that falls between them is deafening, it’s uncomfortable <strong>and</strong> thick <strong>and</strong> neither of them
make a move to break it. Louis can see Liam pacing from the corner of his eye <strong>and</strong> he can’t bring
himself to care that he’s upset. He keeps his main focus on the road, waiting for Harry to show up,
which should be any minute now. Louis’ at least thankful that it was Liam that came out here to
s<strong>cold</strong> him <strong>and</strong> not his father, or fists would’ve been thrown, probably, Louis’ patience is long
gone.
When Harry’s car comes into view, Louis can feel relief wash over his frozen body, immediately
shifting from his right foot to his left in anticipation, he wants out of this fucking situation. He
wants to be far away from Liam, his dad, <strong>and</strong> the pretentious fucks sitting at that table.
As soon as Harry’s car pulls to the curb, Louis throws Liam a smug smile, “Well, as much as I’d
love to stay <strong>and</strong> bask in each other’s anger, my ride is here.”
“You’ve disappointed us, Louis.”
“Yeah? Send me a postcard from where you’re residing up dad’s asshole, alright? I’m sure the
view is splendid.” Is the last thing Louis says before jerking the door of the car open, the rush of
warm air raising goosebumps all over his body.
Liam is still staring daggers at him through the window when Harry finally takes off. The car is
quiet, no radio, just the sound of the heat blowing from the vents. It’s a different atmosphere, a
thicker, heavier one than it was with Liam, which surprises Louis, to say the least. His mouth is
aching to open, to say something but his jaw is locked shut by the concentrated stare of Harry’s
eyes on the road. His face is set like stone, emotionless <strong>and</strong> Louis can feel himself staring,
deciphering.
It smells like mint, mixed with aged leather <strong>and</strong> deep thought.
Louis tries to look out of the window, refocusing on the blurred trees passing for a total of threeseconds
before he accepts that he can’t. He can’t stay silent, he can’t let this go. “ What’s
wrong?”
“Nothing.” Its short, its dripping with an emotion that’s stinging Louis in a harsh, bitter way.