Chapter Text
Louis took another modest sip of his vodka. Neat. Just how he liked it these days. Ice? Mixes? Not necessary. They would just slow down the job. The job he needed doing. Every night.
Still, he’d learnt to pace himself a little. The days of slugging it back only, black outs, vomiting, different stages in between… Those were behind him. Thankfully. He was – they had a word for it he thought – a ‘functioning alcoholic’ now. He knew his pace, knew his limits. He knew what he wanted and needed from the devil drink. And he took it. Every damn day.
This was his fourth drink of the night. Three had at home. To stop the trembling, take away some of the raw edges of his pain. The pain he lived with every day. This poor excuse for a human being he had become. It was what it was. What did the kids call it? Pre-loading. The kids had a name for everything he reflected. These days.
He hadn’t hit the bar until a bit after midnight. Knew from long experience now, that was the best timing for him. For his wants and needs. About the time that other people started to get messy. Horny, some of them. More than a few. Started to lose their judgement. Lose their inhibitions. That was how he needed it. The hours of preamble to that? An unnecessary investment, he’d come to decide. Of his time. His energy. His emotion. All of the things.
Louis lit up a cigarette, took a long drag. He knew, there were some that would dissuade. Too bad. There were plenty who would come for him regardless. And... an interesting thing… Despite his intent, his sense of purpose, his conscious choice, he still painted himself in the role of the hunted. The prey, not the predator. Was that fair? Accurate? ‘Doesn’t matter’ his brain told him, so he let it go, and he took another sip of his vodka.
He saw a boy eyeing him from further along the bar, anything but subtle. He slid his own eyes sideways. Checking him out without being clocked. A core life skill that had become now. Not that he was fussy mind. Not chasing ‘Worldies’, ‘perfect tens’, ‘hot as fuck nines’, aspirational sevens and eights. Nah. Just after a warm body rather, the feel of skin against his own. Some small sense of connection. Some kind words to comfort his aching soul. All of that ideally…but just the one would suffice, in the absence of all three. He’d learnt now, over time, to set his expectations low. Anything else – how did they say it in that new-fangled/new age way? (They, the ones with all of the answers and the wisdom…) That didn’t ‘serve him’. Having high expectations.
A homerun? Nah. Not needed. Just slide into first only, if he could. Keep himself on the field of play. That was all.
He drummed his fingers gently on the bar, as he finished and stubbed out his cigarette. He chanced a glance to his left. Yeah. The kid was still looking at him. Bit younger than he was, Louis evaluated. Not too young though. (Sure, he was a bottom feeder, but he wasn’t an animal. Had some moral standards still.)
He inclined his head only, the most tacit of acknowledgements. Still, it did the job. The boy, up off his barstool now, making tracks over to him. Too easy.
Louis threw back the rest of his drink, raised a couple of fingers to the bartender, who made his way over to him too. Both then, the boy, the bartender, arrived to Louis simultaneously.
Eyes to the bartender first. “Gimme another double vodka please. Neat. And ah…” he gestured to his new neighbour. “Whatever he’s having…”
“Oh hey thanks.”
The boy had a pleasant voice. Not deep and gravelly though…not like… Louis shook his head, shook away the thought.
“Gin and tonic please. Just a single. Plenty of ice. Slice of lemon.”
Louis grimaced a little inside. That didn’t bode well. He could read the punters like a book now, after so many nighttime escapades, strung together. A positive human barometer he’d become now, of the ones that would fly, the ones that wouldn’t.
This kid was giving off all the wrong vibes. High maintenance. Watching his alcohol intake. Little bit OCD maybe even. Louis shrugged it off. Give him a chance anyway he thought. No harm no foul.
He turned his head now to properly engage. Never in any rush. Not these days. He had nothing but time. Free time. Spare time. Dead time. All of that and more.
The boy had dark blonde hair, one of those new hairstyles that Louis couldn’t really make sense of. Undercut, fades, some extra length on the top, at the back. It was a lot. Still, the boy was beautiful all the same. Dark grey eyes, in this half-light anyway. Dark, thick lashes framing his eyes. A slightly haunted look. That appealed too.
Louis took a deep breath for energy, for the will to engage. Necessary evil this, for the other. The things he had to have. (See earlier). He licked his lips, turned his head towards the boy, looked up at him through his own eyelashes, slowly, before letting his eyes come to fully settle on the boy’s face. Unleash the power that his baby blues still had. Apparently.
“How do?” he muttered, by way of greeting. “And who might you be?”
The guy was in his mid-20’s Louis guessed, so he had a few years on him. Not too many though. A bonafide adult he determined. Old enough to drink. Old enough to choose. Old enough to consent. Old enough then.
The boy smiled, his eyes lighting up a little with it.
“Hey. I’m Simon” his voice clear, like a bell. Mellifluous.
Louis swore under his breath. Muttering “That’s unfortunate.” That was another mark against the kid, God’s honest truth.
The boy didn’t appear to have heard him though.
He self-corrected. “I’m Louis.”
The waiter now, back with their drinks. No exchange of pounds, no wave of his card. Louis was on a tab already.
The kid waited until they were alone again before answering. “I know. I recognise you. My Nan used to watch you on that show.”
‘Ufff.’ Louis took that one like a gut punch. Took another sip of vodka, steeled himself.
“What’s your game then Simon?” And this was the heart of his M.O. now, cutting straight to it. No tolerance for timewasters. Romantics. Philosophers. Journeymen. None of that.
The boy shrugged, looking slightly nervous. “Just out with friends. I kind of lost them somewhere after the second drink. There was talk of going somewhere else. Most of ‘em were drunker than me. Anyways, went to the loo, came back, they’d scarpered. I was just working out next steps, but then I ah…saw you. So yeah.”
“Cool.” He slid a hand onto the boy’s knee. Gave it a comforting squeeze. “I mean, sorry about your friends, but cool for me.”
The boy gave him a nervous little smile, taking a careful and not very big sip of his drink.
Time to turn on the old Tomlinson charm then, Louis thought. Get the kid to relax a little.
“What do you do for a crust then? Simon?”
He’d long ago worked out the amateur psychology of it all. These random hook ups. Build a personal connection as soon as possible. Use their name. More than a little. People responded to that. Made them feel ‘seen’ or whatever new age bullshit the kids said these days. Slip in some compliments too. That never hurt the cause. Louis knew, people were all narcissists to some degree, deep down.
“I’m an Architect” the boy answered. The earlier nervousness of his smile segue-waying into one that held a little pride now.
“Very nice. Clever then are you?” Louis, squeezing his leg again.
“Dunno. A little. I guess.” Simon looked down and away bashfully, before looking back up to Louis. “I can hold my own.”
Louis dropped his eyes to the boy’s crotch. “Is that right?”
The boy shifted uncomfortably. Too soon then? Shame. More effort required then?
Louis was already losing interest. Impatience dripping into his psyche.
That only became more of a thing, with the next from the boy…
“What is it you’re doing for work these days?”
Not how you talked to a ‘has been’, Louis thought. He shrugged. Answered anyway, as best he could. “This ‘n that. Living off my ill-gotten gains a bit innit?”
“Must be nice” the boy responded.
Louis tilted his head, went to shake it, shook the whole direction of this dialogue off instead. Thinking ‘Fookin naïve.’
He'd almost finished his latest vodka. Five was that? He was meant to keep count. That was one of his deals, with himself. Yeah, five, he recollected. He was starting to get a little of that nice warm buzz. A little bit of that ‘don’t really give a fuck’ vibe. And by that he meant, don’t give an emotional or intellectual fuck. But simultaneously bleeding into the ‘really ready to give a fuck’ vibe, physically speaking. Sexually speaking.
It always settled on him like this. Like a restlessness. An itch that needed scratching. It didn’t run very deep. And so what? he thought. We humans, we’re just animals at the end of the day. He’d come to reckon, he knew the truth of it. The rest of ‘em, trying and failing with their romances and their naïve pursuit of happily ever after, they were just fucking kidding themselves.
Louis didn’t do naïve. Not anymore. What Louis did, was this…
He slid his hand up Simon’s leg a little higher, his warm paw resting on the boy’s thigh now. He said something inaudible, knowing that the boy wouldn’t be able to hear him. Would need to lean in for the next. And he did.
Louis moved his mouth to the boy’s ear, whispered into it, all warm breath and innuendo.
“You’re gorgeous. Wanna get out of here babe?” He accompanied the ask with a movement of his hand, the adventurous one. The one that had simultaneously made its way further up the boy’s leg, sliding down to his inner thigh now. Resting there, heavy with promise.
He felt the boy stiffen. Not his dick in his pants. Unfortunately. Nah. His whole body rather. It had become rigid. The boy shifting out of Louis’ not subtle grasp, call it a grab rather.
His beautiful grey haunted eyes were wide in his face. Then they narrowed a bit. Kind of judgy.
Louis sighed, to himself only. He knew what was coming next. Colour him unsurprised though. He’d had that hunch, just as soon as the kid had ordered his drink.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
Louis shrugged. Eyes wide in his own face. Soft though. Aiming for ‘Shucks. Lil old me?’ Aiming for vulnerable. Aiming for harmless. Aiming to reroute this little seduction scene. He could feel it slipping away from him. The boy too. Running away, truth be told.
He pursed his lips, considering the statement. Gave it to him, straight between the eyes.
“Guess not. Life’s short innit?”
Though to be honest, his life felt too fucking long to him lately. Long and slow. One day, just like the next. Every night too. Same vibe. It pained him. He embraced it all the same. It was all he had to offer himself. Others. That only.
Simon seemed to be recalibrating. He’d absorbed a bit of his shock Louis reckoned. His indignance. (Oh, the luxury of that emotion, Louis thought. He’d daren’t give off indignant for quite some time now himself. He knew that emotional response wouldn’t - nah couldn’t actually - wash with anyone. Anyone at all. Not considering how he was living his life...)
The boy, reaching for his hand now. Kinda sweet really. He ran his fingers across Louis’ knuckles gently. “I was kind of hoping for a few drinks. A bit of conversation. I’d really like to get to know you a little. Y’know…first.”
And there it was, Louis thought. Up front the truth of it, but at the back end, the hook, the promise of more to come, physically, if Louis would only play by the rules. Make the effort. Make the boy feel special, as if he mattered. As if he was more than just a pretty little something to fuck. Well, Louis wasn’t his guy. Clearly. Wasn’t that guy. Time to shut this down already.
He removed his hand, shifted his whole body to face back to the bar. He picked up his drink, took another slug. He grabbed his cigarettes, tapped out a fag, extracted it, lit it, took a drag. That little ceremony, even though, all too familiar, took 100% of his energy and attention. Hands still shaking a little, when it came to fine motor skills stuff. Not helpful.
Simon cleared his throat. Louis, honestly, was halfway to forgetting he was even there. His brain moving quick to dismissal, onto the next. By necessity.
He slowly turned to face the boy again. And look, he didn’t set out to be cruel, but he’d already wasted too much time and energy on this dead-end interaction.
“Are you still here?” he asked him.
Simon’s mouth dropped open. Aghast perhaps at Louis’ so casual cruelty. “I ah…”
Louis reached a hand to his shoulder, gave it a gentle pat, to try and soften the next a little. “On your way lad.”
He saw the boy register the dismissal. The brief sting of rejection wash across his face, quickly replaced by a less welcome look. Moral rectitude. And Louis thought, ‘you can take that and shove it mate. I don’t need it’.
The boy looked down, then quickly back up at him. Already moving to stand, making to exit. One last jibe though. For his pride Louis knew. He could take it. He was bullet proof.
“Prick!”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I met you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“M'gonna tell my Nan about this.”
Louis couldn’t help but let out a guffaw at that.
“Fill your boots mate.” It settled on him in that moment, mid 20’s or not, adult or not, this kid was definitely too young to fuck. Just as well then.
He watched Simon’s retreating back. ‘Que sera sera’ the sum of his thoughts. That only.
He looked down at his now empty glass, then across at Simon’s, still ¾’s full. He picked it up, downing it in one go. Next, he plucked out the lemon slice. Folded it neatly in half and popped it into his gob. He sucked out the juice and the pulp of it with his tongue and teeth. He blanched at the sourness. His face twisting up in a visceral reaction. Biggest emotional reaction he could recall having had to anything, in the best part of a week. He grimaced at the truth of that.
He dropped the remaining rind into the glass. Pushed it away. Pushed his own empty away too.
Home then? Admit defeat? Nah. He was just getting started.
He motioned for the bartender as he simultaneously let his eyes sweep the room. For the next…