⟨⟨ ᴇʟᴏʀᴀ ʀᴀʏɴᴇ ⟩⟩
A wannabe writer studying Psychology in London far away from home. As her time in the great wide world comes to a close, she is left feeling as though she has done nothing with it. That is until she's in the right place, playing t...
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Time passed in anguish and the last day of January 2016 left the world with the official end of One Direction. Well, end or momentary lapse, that was the debate. Louis Tomlinson didn't like to think about the semantics; he especially didn't feel emotionally equipped to. The worst part of it all was that he wasn't certain what was ripping his heart into shreds more: the completion of his journey with the band or the incoming departure of the girl he'd known for three months. Hypothetically, the answer was obvious. However when he thought about the hiatus he felt a sort of begrudging resignation with pangs of betrayal. Entertaining the idea of never seeing Elora Rayne again? Now that left him with a mournful grief that ached desperately in the very essence of his being.
Louis was being dramatic, he was well aware of that. It didn't change anything though. The thought of pretending to be alright was so draining that he could sob. He remembered how he felt that same pressure to maintain a façade of normalcy a few months prior and it stung to realise that the person who helped him through it was now the cause of it.
It was unfair to put that weight on her, he knew that, but as he watched her glow under the ambiantic lights, he sensed it pressing on his chest. The days had been slipping through his fingers in a very ABBA-like manner, except he was the sand falling through the hourglass - weighted down by gravity and the inability to change his inevitable collapse on the desolate floor. He wanted to cling to their last few days together but was reminded that it was his fault that his band mates had befriended her as he watched Harry parade her around the crowded room.
Harry had developed the tradition years ago to have his birthday party the day before his actual birthday so that when his special day rolled around, most people had exhausted their excitement over the affair and allowed him a serene day with family and close friends. Ever since Louis had met the younger lad, he had been invited to both occasions and always enjoyed the smaller gathering much more. Louis wouldn't hide the fact that he loved a good party: the music, the dancing, the drinks flowing as people lost themselves in one another. Yet for some reason, the time spent laughing over sentimental stories whilst sipping tea and teasing Harry with his mother and sister was always far more satisfying. This year was no different, except it was heightened by the desire to run away from the sight of Elora being spun under Harry's arm as he guided her through various introductions and confusing conversations.
Louis had found out about her invite when she mentioned not knowing the attire required. Attempting to conceal his surprise, he helped her choose an outfit whilst lazing on her bed. He had been staring at the blank interior of her room, pushing off the remorse that rose up when he recalled the miscellaneous trinkets that had once littered the surfaces. When she emerged in her red summer dress, black blazer and black heels, Louis had to physcially restrain an audible gasp. Keeping his rampant feelings at bay at been wearing him thin the last month but seeing the beauty that she normally hid under large sweaters displayed so elegantly threw him off kilter. Obviously he found her attractive (stunning, gorgeous, magnificent, jaw-dropping) but he did his best to not focus on it too much for fear of letting something slip. Which is why after giving her a stiff nod and stuttering out an excuse, he nearly sprinted out of her apartment.
