Beau & the Beast

u n e d i t e d (for now)

Louis’ exams pass quickly, and he leaves school not even caring how he’s done. He waits for Eleanor outside of her Biology class and leans against the nearest wall.

He watches as couples of all sorts roam the halls: holding hands, kissing, fighting.

Louis doesn’t really understand relationships. They’re always shit in the end. He’s dated his fair share of men and even a few women, but it’s never felt right. there’s never been that one person who made him understand what the purpose of relationships really are. And he doesn’t really have hope of finding that.

Louis things fairytales are great and all, but they just aren’t realistic. He’s just content in living vicariously through his favorite books, and through his writing, through characters that are clever, volatile, and exciting. Life just isn’t like that. You can’t expect to meet people who have the same mental capacity as you, and who find the same things funny, or who share the same outlook on life.

He’s just come to terms with all of that, but still hopes that one day he will find someone who is just a bit more enthralling than his stories and drugs.

“Lou!” Eleanor jogs over, scantron in her hand, “I got a ninety-five!”

Louis’ face lights up as he pulls her into a hug, “That’s lovely! You deserve it.”

She squeals, hugging him back while still jumping.

“We have to celebrate, Louis. Let’s go home and take naps, and tonight we’re going crazy. Deal?”

Louis smiles fondly at his best, and really only, friend, “Deal.”


..........

“C’mon, El. You can’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it!”

Louis holds out the two strips of acid that he’d been saving for a while. Eleanor shakes her head, taking another gulp of her fruity drink.

The noise at the rave is unbearable when Louis’ sober. It just reminds him of work, which is really depressing. The music booms, and Eleanor keeps looking around to make sure no one is watching them.

“You’re ruining the vibes, ma mie. Please, just do it! You’ll like it! Just don’t overthink it,” he presses, refusing to give up until the strip is on her tongue.

Call it peer pressure if you’d like, but Eleanor has grown as a person from being friends with Louis, and he takes pride in that. New experiences are what give a person depth.

She sighs, resting her hand on the table, “Fine, give it here,” she gives in.

“Nuh uh,” Louis tisks, “Tongue out.”

She looks around nervously again before sticking her tongue out at Louis sarcastically. Before she can change her mind, he places the psychedelic paper on her tongue and does the same with his own.

Once it dissolves, the pair of them sit back on one of the velvet couches, and wait for it to take effect.

.........

And take effect, it does. Louis doesn’t know where to look, and Eleanor’s eyes are glued to the lights on the wall.

Louis’ laughing on the inside, because this is Eleanor’s first time tripping, and she’s already in some sort of wicked trance that he has become so detached from over the years. His trips are scarcely intense, and sometimes just confusing. When he does have a good trip, it’s usually because he imagines a place that doesn’t exist, more than just the trippy visuals that usually come along with LSD. He truly escapes into another world.

Only a rave isn’t the best place to do that. Eleanor is doing it right, and Louis couldn’t be more proud. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to trip hard like that; not when the music is so loud, and the lights are so bright. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t focus, and that’s a problem when there’s so much going on around him.

So, Louis does all that he can to escape, closing his eyes and resting his head on Eleanor’s shoulder. Anything for familiarity as he drifts deeper into a comatose state that he wants to be far from. It feels like he’s falling, and the music starts to drown out. It isn’t the escape that he wanted, and he’s fighting it in his head. There’s little he can do, though, as everything goes black.

In the darkness of his mind, Louis begins to see shimmers of color glowing transparently; shades and hues that he’s never seen. It’s so unreal that it must be reality, because his brain could never form such beautiful colors without knowing that they exist. His skin tingles and burns as he feels his veins pumping. It’s almost as if the drug has completely replaced his blood, making him feel warm and pliant, so unable to move.

The colors dance in his mind so fluidly, as if they are intertwined, holding onto each other, and moving together perfectly. They form unfamiliar shapes, creating vague stories and ideas within Louis’ mind that he knows he’ll never remember, and that’s okay. They live for the time being, and will pass as they should.

By the time Louis opens his eyes again, the rave is only half-filled, and there is much more room to breathe. He glances over to Eleanor, who is staring at the ceiling, laughing distantly and mumbling phrases of obscurity, and all Louis can do is smile. He feels happy, but it isn’t the kind of happy that is long-lasting. He knows that, but he can’t help but to smile anyway. This is his release, his happy place.

“El,” he drags on, hopefully loudly enough for her to hear, “M’gonna go to the toilets. I’ll be back; don’t go anywhere.”

She just nods, her head lolling from side to side as Louis grips the material of the couch to push himself up. When he stands, the room spins, in a comforting way, and Louis pretends that he’s connected to the earth, and can feel it spinning around it’s axis. Somewhere deep down, he knows that’s untrue, but it feels right in the moment. He feels more important than life, yet so unimportant that it wouldn’t matter if he died. This is where his trips typically become confusing and random.

Louis makes it back to the restrooms with ease, checking that the door closes behind him. He doesn’t do anything, though, but lean against the cool tile wall, his arms behind his back and his head rolling forward. His eyes are fluttering open and shut, different things entering his mind each time that they do. At one point, he swears he smells cigarette smoke even though he didn’t think anyone was in the room with him.

“Hey, you got any extra cigs?” he asks, careless as to whether he imagined the smell in the first place.

“No, mate,” a voice responds, “Sorry, I don’t. Have to roll ‘em myself, and I don’t have enough tobacco to last me until February if I share.”

Louis thinks that this response is random, and a bit ambiguous, but he decides to go along with it. For all he knows, the voice is in his mind.

“Merde; I really want a smoke now,” Louis curses, kicking his foot back to the wall. His eyes roll open, and the lights seem a bit brighter. He looks ahead and sees a shadow in the mirror over the sink.

“What the-“ Louis stumbles closer to the mirror, arm outstretched. He falls over the sink, though, and his hand slams into the glass.

“Fuck, you okay?” The voice speaks again.

“Mon dieu; how are you- what are you-“ Louis staggers back, grasping his chest with one hand and feeling for the wall with his other.

“No, mate, it’s- um, don’t freak out or anything,” the voice says as he takes a step forward. He’s in the light now, and Louis thinks he’s really quite beautiful. His features are swarthy, his voice enigmatic and yet still welcoming.

Louis doesn’t know what it is that makes him approach the mirror again, but he tells himself that it’s because it’s all in his head.

He walks slowly, cautious of his surroundings, and stops at the sink, leaning against it warily, “Who are you?”

The man walks closer as well, so that he’s very easy to see, “M’names Zayn.”

Louis nods, still lost beyond all belief, “And where are you right now?”

Zayn smirks and shakes his head, “I can’t tell you that. Sorry, mate; there’s just some lines you don’t want me to cross.”

Louis gulps at the cryptic response, biting on the inside of his cheek habitually, “And if I do? Then-“

“Zayn!” Louis is cut off by another voice, “Where the hell are ya?”

Zayn drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out quickly before turning to Louis, “Look, just leave, okay? Don’t stay here.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow as Zayn disappears, a darkness falling over him like a sheet, “Wait!” Louis yells, but it seems futile. That is until he hears footsteps.

“Zayn,” he can hear still if he leans forward, but it’s muffled, “What are you doing in the West Wing, mate?”

“Oh, come off it,” Zayn responds, and Louis notes the difference in their accents.

“Were you looking at all the pretty things among the real world? You act all tough, but I know you wish your life was normal,” The voice draws closer, and Louis considers leaving like Zayn told him to. Only, if this is his created reality, then he’s going to see what his mind has come up with.

“Of course I fucking do,” Zayn responds, his tone short and heated.

“Oh, don’t be a git,” the other retorts, still getting closer to where Louis is, “Where were you peaking today?”

“Don’t-“ and before Zayn could say anything else, the darkness dissipates, and Louis comes face to face with a blonde fellow, bright blue eyes large in shock.

“Well, hello!” the man greets Louis with much more exuberance and cheerfulness than Zayn probably is capable of.

Louis clears his throat, still unsure of what is going on, “Um- Hi, I’m Louis.”

“And I’m Niall. Where might you be?” the blonde boy asks casually.

“Well,” Louis crosses his arms, a bit more confident now, “I asked the same question and got no response from your brooding friend over there.”

“I’m not brooding-“ Zayn is cut off by Niall shoving him away.

“Well, fair enough then,” Niall states plainly, “We are stuck in an enchanted castle in England, and have been for some time. You are the first person we have come into contact with in at least a year now, so good on that, mate.”

Louis had previously believed that he couldn’t be any more confused, but he’s now been proven very wrong. His blank stare is broken when Niall knocks on the mirror, “What? Don’t believe me?”

“Mon ami, I’m tripping on LSD, so I’m not too keen on what’s real at the moment,” Louis conveys hesitantly. The two boys in the mirror simply laugh, carrying on like children.

“Well, we’re quite real. In fact,” Niall says, “Why don’t I let you through? I’ll give you a tour; the whole bit.”

“No!” Zayn protests in a choked scream, “No, Louis. Don’t listen to him. If you come through that mirror, you won’t be able to leave.”

“Zayn, stop,” Niall practically whispers, “He could be our only chance.”

“It isn’t fair, Ni! You can’t-“

“Let him decide,” Niall raises a brow at Zayn before turning back to Louis.

His lips are parted as he listens to the two bicker, unaware of what they are really saying.

He contemplates his options, which are far away and unfamiliar. It’s in his head, he tells himself, it’s all part of the most realistic trip he’s ever experienced. If he stops now, who knows what he could be missing out on.

“I want to come through,” Louis asserts, “I’d like to enter your world, or whatever.”

Zayn immediately shakes his head, pacing behind Niall frantically, “Bad idea, Louis. You’ll regret it.”

“No, the master will like him; over time, I know he will,” Niall declares, more to himself than anyone.

“C’mon, Louis,” Niall directs at him pointedly, “When I say go, grab my arm and hold tight.”

Louis nods, his mind still jumbled and littered with colors and shapes, “Yeah, okay.”

“One,” Niall extends his arm as Louis holds onto the sink to balance himself.

“Two,” Niall flattens his palm on the mirror, a smile still plastered on his face. Louis feels the need to emulate his grin, if only to assure myself.

“Three, get ready,” Niall nods, beginning to push his hand against the glass. Louis places his hand over where Niall’s imprint is, mimicking his actions.

“Go!” Niall screams and everything goes white for a moment, as if a spark of electricity set off a storm of lights.

Louis doesn’t feel anything, though. It simply feels as though he’s floating, Niall’s hand around his wrist being the only thing that has him grounded.

After what seems like minutes, a faint voice enters Louis’ mind, “Almost there,” it echoes, “Just hold on.”

Louis does hold on, and Niall’s voice grows louder, repeating the same thing over and over.

The space around his goes white again, and Louis shuts his eyes tight until he feels his body thud against a hard surface.

“Jesus, Niall,” Zayn quibbles, “I can’t believe you.”

Louis’ eyes flit open to find Niall’s right over his, “Welcome to Cheshire Palace, Louis.”

Notes