Buy Me Purple Flowers First | L.S [REWRITING]

02

Louis had just finished three bottles of beer and is now feeling looser and freer than ever. The Antique show is currently featuring a beautiful necklace from the 18th century. The diamonds, so clean and crisp that light drowns into the centre.

Louis stares in awe at the jewellery, wishing he had something somewhat similar to the heirloom. He has some jewellery that he bought on a whim, he doesn't think he ever wore it, for the sheer fact of how feminine it truly is.

His eyes drift away from the TV, noticing the curtain is still drawn into Harry's room. He hasn't seen him in quite a while. He's probably sending more emails or something. Seriously though, who is he sending emails to? I understand an email here and there- but he's been typing on that laptop for over an hour.

"Fuck," Louis groans, its only been an hour.

He feels like this trip has taken five years off his life. He's tempted to go to the driver and ask him if he could pull over so Louis can run into oncoming traffic. Since Louis is under the influence, he thought maybe that wasn't the best thing to do. Louis is far from drunk, but he can somewhat feel the buzz that the essence is creating in his stomach. It's warm, cozy and homey.

He sips his drink and notices that it's almost empty. He sighs and stands up, feeling a little dizzy, the bumpy bus ride not helping his balance either. Once he reaches the fridge, he decides on drinking one more beverage before sleeping for the rest of the trip. When walking back to the couch, he spots a clock that hangs above the door to the living quarters and reads the time. 6:40 am. Louis almost laughs; this is ridiculous; he needs to stop drinking so early.

He hates to admit it, but his drinking is getting worse. Drinking every day, envious and yearning for the feeling of letting go, sip by sip—the liquid draining his way of worrying by also consuming the dangerous liquid.

Louis stares out of the window behind the TV. Suddenly, Louis had lost all interest in the sparkly piece of jewellery on the television, just like his small attention span to anything. He admires the way the sun tries to talk to Louis, dancing in every direction in the sky, trying to catch his attention, one lumen at a time. Blazes of the sun melt off trees like rich honey and onto the grasses. Louis gets inspiration for a lyric, gets up unexpectedly, and almost falls over from the sudden movement. He giggles and scurries to his room to retrieve a piece of paper.

He places his beer on a table, hoping to god they don't hit a rock, and he searches around the room for a pen and piece of paper. He finds both and uses the bed to write out the following lyrics.

"I think I'm running out of time," He scratches down before humming a tune to it.

He slumps down onto his bed and thinks about some words that rhyme.

"Something deep inside me it's eating me up," He scribbles down, "So I'll bowl- foul," He stops to think, "role... roll- roll. So I'll roll, and I'll roll till I'm... out of..." He thinks. "Luck".

He hums again before writing down some chords that would sound nice with the lyrics; nothing, particularly, comes to mind the importance of a hit single yet, but he has hope. Louis rarely starts with the chorus first, then verses, but this one lyric sounded great.

"Cause nobody loves me, baby, so how could you," He sings, walking around his room, using the walls as stabilisers. Like how his mind restricts him from releasing his creativity, he is always stuck in a moving box, never escaping. He repeats the lyrics a few times before leaving to do the chorus.

"It's been so long, it's been so long," He hums, "Maybe I'm.... Fireproof," He chuckles at the lyric and writes it down anyway, already liking the way this song is turning out, though it sounds like a melody fit for his own secret collection. Louis turns around and picks up his beer again, drinking a large proportion of the bottle. He sings the melody and laughs at the way it sounds. So cliche and melodramatic, exactly what his fans love.