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A Beginners Guide On How NOT to Stage A Pseudocide (Larry Stylinson)

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TW: Sensitive mental health hints/topics

Louis woke up to the smell of chocolate and strawberries drifting through the apartment, a complete feast for his senses. Normally he wouldn’t budge out of bed this early, but something smelled really good, and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He walked into the kitchen, only to see a plate of Pancakes with a piece of paper beside it.

Good morning. The note read. Thank you for having me last night. Had to go get some work done. I’ve been writing down some notes for the staging, we can meet up later. Once again, I had a great time.

Underneath the paper, there was a number, which Louis immediately typed into his phone, then named the contact Sir Fuckface, because who named contacts normal things any more, then skidded off to work.

The drive to work was lengthier than Louis would like, but it allowed for a nice cup of iced coffee and a pumpkin bread, and a wave to Liam and Zayn, who always paid on the house.

 

He opened the door to the awakening smell of espresso brewing, and the sight of Zayn trying to manically pump vanilla into some drink. Liam waved.

“Hiiiiii!!!” Liam said, handing him his usual, a yorkshire tea with milk and a sugarcube. “How was Ash?” He asked, a little absentmindedly.

Shit.

“Left then ghosted me.” Maybe he’d tell them what actually happened, sometime, but now wasn’t it. The real answer still completely confused him to say the least...and he wasn’t sure how many others wondered the same.

“Shit man! I’m really sorry. I’ll set you up with someone else…” Zayn said.

“Not on finder, preferably. That’d be great though.” Louis smiled. The thought of having a partner that wasn’t going to murder him was comforting, but that was a completely normal thought.

“I got you.” Zayn said. Louis paused for a second, sipping on his tea.

He thought of last night, and all the euphoria, and the fantasies, and...Harry. Harry, who hated how much his locks mussed to his head, and how happy he’d get when Louis would fix them. Harry...who said felt the only place he could be raw, and vulnerable was when Louis was in his presence. Harry, who also just saved his life, and was willing to start a completely new one with him...which was honestly beautiful. He couldn’t really explain anything right now, yeah maybe he wanted him just a little bit, even though he hadn’t known him for long.

Scratch that, he wanted Harry, so fucking bad.

“I may or may not wanna be with someone else.” Louis said, quietly.

“You want some Harry Styles dick you little shit!!” Liam said from across the room. Louis blinked, then stared at him, dead in the eyes. “Course I do.” He replied, a bit too bluntly.

“Can’t blame you. The man’s smoking.” Zayn said. “If I were gay I’d want him.”

“You’ve made out with me and Niall multiple times! ” Liam exclaimed. It was honestly not a very valid point, it was senior year, and a point where the both of them were drop dead drunk...but it was some kind of fun to watch. The fact Zayn was practically screaming obscenities, made it about 10 times better, and it wasn’t a subject they dismissed to this day.

“Yeah, When did I say I’m necessarily straight either? Labels suck ass.”

“True.” Louis glanced at his watch. “Shit, I better go.” He said, then waved goodbye, and whisked himself back into the city..off to the terrible world of work and adulting.

-

Harry had finished the book’s first draft, which released an entire world of chaos. His editor, a dick named Kyle, was effectively notifying him everytime he made any form of mistake at all, and frankly, he was tempted to jack off in the coffee he instructed him to bring him.

“You work for me, asshole.” He murmured under his breath, then stomped off to the building's coffeeshop.

He was so terribly cranky that day it was terrible, probably because of the ridiculous lack of sleep he’d gotten, and the amount of sex deprivation in his system. He’d been coming down from a complete high for the past morning, and he was fucking despising every second of this day. He should have stayed with Louis, slept in and pushed through the yelling he would endure, but he didn’t, and wanted to throw himself into a coma at the moment.

“Kyle being bitchy again?” Someone said, then Harry turned over to see a mess of overgrown and faded pink hair, then realized it was Kai Finely, like he’d stated a while ago, the only member of the team he could put up with...to say the least.

“Yeah, the man’s been an ass since I started the book.”

“No shit man. Wanna come in?”

“Would it be okay?” He asked, a sigh of relief in his voice. He needed a break from the shitshow that was backdropping the day.

“Of course! I could show you the cover I started. on” Kai was a really fucking talented artist, probably one of the most talented Harry had seen in a long time. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something about the way he stylized it, the way he broke down each shape, filling them with color, bringing them to life, Harry hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

They’d been talking for about an hour now, Harry laying on Kai’s office floor, watching as he painted, each stroke bringing a bit of life to the cover. He wasn’t sure if he was watching the painting or Kai at this point. The man had such fluffy hair, and he couldn’t help but want to touch it.

“Kai?” Harry croaked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a partner right now?” He asked, genuinely curious. Kai was honestly anyone's dream, with the ringlets, and the brown eyes that almost popped. They’d been running a few times, just when Harry got too tired of the team's jackshit, and he was really fit, all abs and feminine hips; a body Harry would dream of having. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was married at this point, because god, he’s such husband material.

“Wish. It’s against policy to date here. It’s a bullshit rule.”

“You wanna date Clarissa?” Harry asked in shock. Clarissa was the only somewhat attractive person at the publishing firm, and he wouldn’t be confused if she wasn’t constantly lazy and got under Kai’s skin. He’d send him texts sometimes reading off things like ‘Send me encouragement so i don’t murder clarissa.’ It was a shock, but it wasn’t terrible. She was pretty and besides the work ethic, she was nice.
“Oh fuck no! I can’t stand her. One time…”

“No! Tell me who you wanna date, NOW!” Harry said. Kai backed up for a second, covering his face with his hands, then giggled. “Please don’t tell me it’s one of those douches in there.” He whispered. Kai laughed again. “Course not!” He said, popping a mint, or something into his mouth. Harry couldn’t help but notice his rosy, pinkish, plump lips, then turned his eyes parallel to Kai’s.

The air somehow intensified that moment, and Harry tensed, almost knowing in the very back of his mind what was about to happen. He couldn’t deny what was happening, and he didn’t know what to do...more like it.

“Harry, I’ve been in love with you since we started working together.”

The words send chills down his spine, each intensifying, but he wasn’t feeling anything, weirdly enough. He was thinking, big, booming, thoughts through his brain, but he still didn’t know what to feel like.

At this moment, he wanted to disappear more than ever.

But the only thing that came out of his mouth was laughter.

It was weird, honestly, but he couldn’t help anything at all. These loud, choking, paradoxical laughs came out of his mouth, each intensifying by a bit. It wasn’t funny at all, and the fact his coworker had been in love with him...plus the fact he was 9 years younger than him, was honestly revolting. It felt so fucking funny at this point, because he was numb.

He really couldn’t feel anything anymore!

Kai looked him dead in the eyes with looks of..sympathy, even though he could tell deep down he was mad, but was pushing it back as far as he could right now. He bent down, Harry still laughing probably harder than healthily, then tapped his hand on his shoulder.

“Harry…” He said, an absence of words falling out of his lips. “What’s going on?” Kai said. Harry was smiling, some type of grin on his face.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, too quietly, then it intensified to him almost screaming. “I don’t know anymore!” Harry blinked, feeling hot, wet, maybe tears streamed through his eyes, then completely collapsed back onto the floor. He would be overthinking if he felt normal, or trying to plan a way to make Kai feel better about it, but he didn’t, and as much as he should’ve wanted it to be, it wasn’t, and for some reason, the feeling was...somewhat insatiable. Something equivalent to all those fucked up little increments of his life, was the only thing that was making him feel just...enough. It was a high, a personal drug fueling him by the moment, obviously enough to make him black out.

He really was as insane as everyone thought he was growing up.

-

Louis pecked at the keyboard, each key helping form another stupid word on the description...and it was driving him crazy.

Work sucked, and what made it worse was the fact he wasn’t working his own job at the moment...for the sole reason Carson Mackowitz was fucking the tech girls mom, and while he’d like to punch them both in the face, their argument was quite entertaining, as much as he hated it. Plus, all he had to do was type a brief description on the spotify homepage.

“You’re being fucking groomed! She’s not sophisticated, and neither are you! She’s a stripper! Her entire job is pretending to be in love with people, and you’re gonna end up getting your stupid ass heart broken or cheated on.” Delaney said.

“I am too sophisticated! So I like older women! Why do you care?”

“Because I wanna fuck you.” She screamed. “What’d you think? It’s because she’s my mom, asshole!’

Heatstroke

We sing Punk with a purpose, basically meaning if you take a second out of your day to stream one of our songs, we donate half the profit to a charity, at the moment being Various LGBT Youth Funding Organizations.

Come see us on tour!

In reality, there was no purpose. Streaming services barely pay even the biggest headlining artists any, revealing how cruel the music industry could be, but it was part of the branding. The band were all nice, down to earth guys, who are completely corporately owned, when they were seen by the label, but have created a brand based on an alternative it factor, with complete sugar daddy material to be viewed by the fans by. Tour was coming up, which would be a total workload, and if he was being honest, he’d rather be “dead” by the time it started.

He was getting pretty decent at the whole writing thing though.

“You think I care about you? It’s not you I want, it’s her.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered.

“Yeah! Louis said you should shut the fuck up Carson, just like everyone else in this building wants you to!”

“Suck my dick Louis!” Carson said, screaming back to him. He smirked, then turned over to him.

“Why me? You’ve got Delaney’s mom, after all.” A fit of screams emerged, then Louis looked back at Delaney screaming into one of the office pillows, when a thought popped into his head, then he pulled out his phone.

Sir Fuckface

Start withdrawing cash by small amounts