; adjective; attractive or appealing in appearance or character.

Time flew by; figuratively and literally (Zayn may or may not have threw an alarm clock at the wall when he was informed of the text messages Louis was sent by Him). Harry's shift was changed at the pharmacy, Louis picked up a part-time job at a thrift store. The dust settled but nothing was forgotten when it came to what had happened between the two boys.

Before anyone knew it, it was the week of Zayn and Liam's three year anniversary party and to say things were chaotic would be an understatement. Liam did not do well under pressure, Zayn did not do well when Liam wasn't doing well under pressure, Niall didn't know whether he should supply beer or wine or both, and Louis? Well, Louis was everything but under pressure.

Since The Meltdown (Niall refers to it as 'The Acockalypse'), Louis began taking his college courses online and working at the thrift store when he wasn't studying. He also credited himself to being a part-time dad in his free time. He did everything he could to occupy his time so he didn't have any to think. When he thinks, he remembers and when he remembers, he cries and it takes him half a week to get back on his feet.

The thrift store wasn't his first choice. Zayn tried to teach him how to paint ("Just paint what you feel," is not the best advice), Niall tried to teach him how to professionally drink (Louis was tipsy half a bottle in), and Liam suggested dog walking or babysitting on the weekends but things didn't work out (Apparently you can't babysit and walk dogs at the same time if said baby has a rattle and said dog wants it).

In The Closet was a small thrift store across town that caught Louis' eye at first glance. Though it was a bit stuffy, dusty, and a pretty cluttered place to work, it was just what Louis needed. He found comfort in going through things like old books with hand written footnotes or toys with names written on them.

Plus, who could ignore the irony in a name like that?

He was doing good; more mature than he was when he met Him. Louis only fully relaxed and slipped into his head space when he was in the comfort of his own bedroom, taking His advice and quitting his immature antics in public. He didn't mind. He quite liked being an innocent, little adult and meeting other adults, some more innocent than others.

And as for Him? His number was deleted and blocked, and His name was never thought of again (Liam, Zayn, and Niall didn't have to know that not all of that was true).

"Louis, I'm not wearing a pink suit, much less a pink dress," Zayn chuckles from inside the dressing room, shaking his head in amusement.

Louis huffs, digging dirt from under his unpainted nails, "Niall says I should wear one but I don't wanna stick out like a sore pinky."

"I'm not sure if I should correct you or if you were making a pun."

It's good to hear Louis giggle through the thin dressing room curtain. They were in a small boutique in the local mall. Niall had taken Liam to a place out of town to get his suit from the dry cleaners' while Zayn, being the procrastinator he is, waited until the last minute to find a suit. He'd been given a few suits by a tailor and sent to a dressing room to try them on while Louis mulled over his suit dilemma.

On one hand, pink is definitely his color and dress pants make his bum look nice and voluptuous. On the other hand, however, this anniversary party was a family show and he did not want to look like a gay hooker. It was bad enough he was going to take his paycheck and treat himself to a manicure and pedicure.

"Be right back, Zayn," Louis says, standing up from the bench outside of the dressing rooms. Zayn gives him a hum of approval and the shorter boy of the two makes his way into the front area of the store.

Louis looked out of place in his grey sweater, black skinny jeans, and weathered down dark grey converse. He wouldn't dare lay a finger on the expensive suits, afraid he'd ruin something. It was bad enough Zayn was paying for his suit in the first place. Sure, his dad was sending him money for support, but suits are expensive. Louis just didn't want to be a burden.

"Do you have any idea of what color you'd like, Sir?"

Louis jumps, frightened by the voice behind him. He turns around to find the tailor that had helped Zayn pick out his suits: Mr. Barrymore. With his hand pressed against his chest, Louis relaxes and smiles at the man behind him.

He takes a deep breath before responding, "I've no clue. I'm not much of a suit guy, as you can probably tell." Louis looked like a commoner, a peasant compared to the man in front of him, who was dressed in what was probably one of the finest suits the company had.

Mr. Barrymore reached out toward him, resting a hand on his upper back as he led him toward a section of dark blue suits.

"I'm sure we'll find something of your taste by closing time, Mr. Tomlinson."

After two hours and a quick stop at the dry cleaners', Zayn and Louis were on their way back to the flat. Zayn anticipated the conversation that was soon to come. He'd discussed it with Liam and Niall for nearly an hour. Any wrong word, phrase, or sentence could send Louis into a downward spiral. Despite his valiant efforts, Zayn knew Louis too well to think that a job and the big step to begin taking online classes would all of a sudden destroy the part of him that was too innocent, too pure for the world.

Louis was struggling. He was adjusting well to his newfound adult life, but it didn't take an expert to notice the dark bags under his dull eyes.

It was in the way he didn't yell at the television while watching soccer, the way he didn't talk to his stuffies and Floyd as much as he used to, the way he didn't cry, didn't laugh, didn't express himself the way he did before The Meltdown (Zayn prefers calling it The Acockalypse, too). He was changing himself and no one could figure out if it was for the better or the worse.

"Do you think he'll come?"

It comes out as a whisper, as if he's afraid for anyone but Zayn to hear his question. His leg is bouncing at a rapid pace and his arms are inside his sweater, wrapped around his waist. He'd been trying to tell himself that He wouldn't, that He had better things to do. But somehow and some way, every excuse He had to come continued to trump the reasons He had to not come.

Niall isn't talking to Him anymore.

Niall is His best friend.

He told Louis that He didn't want to be friends a month ago.

Louis invited Him.

Zayn might actually kill Him if He shows up.

Zayn and Liam were His friends.

And then there was the voice in the back of his head that wouldn't quit the mantra of, "He probably looks good in a suit, he probably looks good in a suit, he probably looks good in a goshjam suit."

And it would be good to see Him because Louis misses His laugh and he misses His curls and he misses His dimples and smile and he misses Him. Out of Niall, Zayn, Liam, Floyd, and every one of the stuffies Louis owns, none of them could fill the Harry-sized hole in his heart (Quite frankly, none of them were tall enough).

"He would need balls to do that, Louis, and from former events, we all know he doesn't possess a pair of those," Zayn grunts, his tattooed knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. His anger gets the best of him as he adds on, "And even if he did, I would change that real quick."

"Zayn!" Louis gasps, grabbing his sleeve from inside his sweater and swinging it in the direction of his best friend. He didn't have to talk so violently about His... Area.

Zayn leans toward the window closest to him, letting go of the steering wheel to block the sleeve. His attention his taken off the road and they both forget they're in a car for a split second as they tussle, but that's all it takes for the car to start veering off to the side of the highway.

Louis panics first while Zayn rants about how, "You can't distract a man driving a car! Do you want to get in a car accident?" He points at the windshield, the trees on the side of the road becoming closer and closer.

He screams.

Zayn's rant is abruptly interrupted and is replaced by his own screaming, as well. He looks back and forth between the windshield and the steering wheel and to Louis and back to the windshield, his foot ceasing to let up on the gas pedal.

It takes Louis shouting, "Grab the hecking steering wheel!" and reaching over the center console to grab it himself for Zayn's shock to wear off. He brushes Louis' hand away, the both of them still screaming, as he presses the breaks and pulls off onto the side of the road. Luckily, the highway is close to empty but they do earn a very expressive car horn aimed at them.

"Jesus!" Zayn pants, running his hands through his hair. Louis reclines his seat, heart racing as he presses his fingers into his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. He curls his knees up to his chest the best he can and imagines that this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real. Please wake up self because this dream just took a turn for the worst.

And then a hand grabs his ankle and Louis knows he's in the zombie apocalypse now and he knew he should've watched The Walking Dead with Zayn because a boy like him has no chance of survival.

"--okay? Louis? Fucking shit, man. Come here, Bud. I am so sorry."

Then the zombie is unbuckling his seat belt, Louis didn't think they were that intelligent, and pulling him up, he didn't know they were that strong. But the zombie isn't a zombie, it's a Zayn, and Zayn pulls Louis into his lap. Of course he isn't a zombie because Louis can hear his heartbeat through his shirt.

And he doesn't smell bad (Okay, that's the debatable).

Slowly, he lowers his fingers from his ears and peeks one eye open, looking up at his captor. Zayn's eyes are dark and around his eyes is dark and... Wet?

Louis' dainty fingers wipe away the tears on Zayn's cheeks as he moves around until he is straddling his lap, "Oh no, Zaynie. Please don't cry. I'm okay. I'm not a zombie yet and neither are you."

Louis didn't even have time to think about how dirty the position they are in is.

"Louis, you and I would have to die to becomes zombies. You'd know that if you watched TWD with me more often." Chuckling wetly, Zayn rubs his hands down his face, sighing loudly.

"It's too scary. You already saw me pee my pants once when he were watching Transformers."

Louis' pout is almost audible as he plays with the neckline of Zayn's shirt, their heartbeats at identical, normal paces by now. Looking down his body at the position they're in now, Zayn sets his hands on Louis' waist, pushing him back slightly so he wasn't so close to his, as Louis calls his own, "princess parts."

"I don't think he'll come. He'd have to be mad to show his face," Zayn wipes his eyes and bops Louis' nose, smiling sweetly. "But if he does show up, he's gonna have a real hard time after seeing you in your suit."

Louis' cheeks flush pink and color as he looks down at his lap nervously. Just the thought of Him seeing Louis in a suit and vice versa was nerve wracking, exhilarating, and gave Louis the jitters in his tummy.

"Promise not to hurt him?"

"Louis..." Zayn drawls out reluctantly.

Louis mocks him, sticking out his tongue childishly before he says, "Zayn... Pinky promise me you will not hurt him."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. C'mon, Z."

"What if he provokes me--"

"He won't."

"But what if--"

Louis jabs his pinky finger into Zayn's side through his shirt, grinning is satisfaction as he feels the older lad squirming under him, "Gimme your pinky finger."

They hook pinkies and Louis climbs back into his seat, laying back in his seat as Zayn starts the car again. He buckles himself in before getting comfortable, rolling onto his side and tucking his legs into his chest the best he can. He had half a mind to pull his sweater over his knees but he didn't want to stretch this one out.

Easing onto the road, Zayn glances down at the smaller boys and sighs, biting his bottom lip, "Don't get your hopes up, Lou. Don't let the fact that he doesn't show up ruin your night."

But it was hopeless. Louis was already fast asleep, dreaming of Him showing up and apologizing and jumping into his arms and living happily ever after.