By The Hillside

Chapter 1

"Miss, could I have a beer?" Louis asked the stewardess as she walked past his seat. He looked up at her with a hopeful glint in his eyes, batting his eyelashes.

"What's your age, sir?" she asked, kindly.

"Nineteen," Louis answered easily.

"I'm very sorry," she spoke—she didn't sound sorry at all. "But we are in the States now, landing soon. You're underage." Damn it.

"Right, sorry," Louis said, leaning back in his seat. His skin was crawling, his fingers drumming against his armrest. The need to forget anything for a while filled his whole being.

The man next to him nudged his side. "Kid, are you alright?"

Louis turned his head toward him. The man was around fifty, with greying hair and a beard. "Yeah, I'm fine," he spoke.

"You seem a little fidgety there," the man said. "First time on a plane?"

"Yeah," Louis lied.

"Want something to chew on?" the man asked. "I have some candy in my bag?"

Louis wanted to break down crying over the man's kindness.

Not long after, the plane landed by Clarksville Field LBR airport, and Louis let out a breath of air, still munching on the candies the man had offered him.

The plane slowed down and drove toward the airport, parking there.

"Thank you so much for choosing Ryanair," came the pilot's voice through speakers that Louis had no idea were located. "I hope you enjoyed your flight."

People began making their way out of their seats, taking their suitcases and bags, but Louis stayed seated for a little.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to stay on the plane and demand the pilot take him back to England. Even more, than that, he wanted a drink. And some cocaine.

"Ey, kid, will you get up so I can get out?"

Louis looked to his side, startled. The man was still sitting there, smiling kindly.

"Oh, right, of course." Louis scrambled to his feet, quickly grabbing his suitcase and backpack. He made his way down the aisle, exiting the plane by the front. He followed the mob of people into the airport, through one last security check, and then into the entrance hall.

It was filled with people, drivers holding up signs, and kids crying loudly. Louis felt slightly claustrophobic and tried to make his way through the mass.

Harry will wait for you outside the airport with his truck. He won't be inside, so just go out.

Louis' father's words played in his head as he made his way past all the people, and, mentally, he flipped him off. He was so angry with him for sending him to Texas—among other things, he was angry with him about, but right now, mostly that.

He made his way to the exit, stepping out. The hot air hit his face like a wave, and he, completely unprepared, stopped walking immediately. England had been cold when he left, so he was wearing a hoodie and jeans, but now he regretted it. He could already feel sweat forming above his upper lip and lower back.

He let out a breath, looking around. Many cars were parked, and people standing by them, holding signs.

Louis had absolutely no idea where to go. He looked around, his eyes landing on a man not so far away, walking toward him. Louis immediately recognised him from the pictures his father had sent him, but he was still taken slightly aback by the man's attire.