An Eye for an Eye **LT**

Chapter 21

Louis' POV-

I stopped before opening the door to my apartment, my face growing a little red. On the metal doorknob, my hands were frozen.

"What?" Cecilia asked, standing a foot back with a look of confusion on my face.

"I forgot how messy my place is since we've been gone, so...."

"Lou, I don't mind" she weakly smiled.

I took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob. As soon as the door was open, you could smell beer, cigarettes, and my cologne. It wasn't pleasant, and I felt nervous with her seeing and smelling it. However, when I glanced at her after she stepped in, too, she didn't seem to mind...at least not too much.

After closing the door behind us, I stood at the doorway, observing as she looked around.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled, scratching the back of my head.

She didn't respond, but instead cautiously walked over to where my coffee table sat in front of my sofa. She leaned down and straightened it out. I hadn't even noticed it sitting crooked. She gathered up some of the cans that were tipped over into her arms and cast me a small smile before heading toward the kitchen.

Confused, I trailed behind her. I was surprised to see her dumping them into my empty recycling bin. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm cleaning" she shrugged.

"You don't have to do that, Love" my eyebrows crinkled.

"Maybe I want to" she walked cheerfully over to the dishwasher and opened it up. 

She started getting some of my week old dishes out of the sink and loading them in.

"I don't want you to feel like you need to clean my apartment" I joined her, hovering over her shoulder.

"I don't feel like I need to" she hummed. "But cleaning destresses me"

I rested my hand on her shoulder, making her jump and whiz around at the sudden touch. Her knuckles gripped the edge of the countertop-her knuckles white under the pressure.

"Sorry" I dropped my hand back down to my side.

Her eyes flicked between mine, slightly crossed in that adorable way that I loved. They were sad, but there was something sparking inside of them that I hadn't seen before. Possibly fear?

"What's wrong?" I started to reach up to touch her face, but stopped-my fingers mid air.

She took a step back. "I'm still trying to process everything"

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head and turned back to the dishes. I once again let my arm relax. Maybe she had been thinking harder about what had happened tonight and the trauma was finally hitting her?

"Alright, well I'm here if you need anything" shrugging, I went to the fridge and opened it up, pulling out two beers.

I opened them both with my teeth and set one on the counter beside her before walking back into my living room to give her some space.

Sinking down onto the couch, I set my own beer onto the coffee table. I propped my elbows on my thighs and put my face in my hands, scrubbing them up my face and through my hair. Looking around, I took in my hell hole of an apartment. The beer cans may have been off the coffee table, but it was still a total catastrophe. Like a tornado could've blown through, or something.

The carpet was a sort of off white shade, which was more than likely due to the cigarette smoke residue, and a pile of cigarette butts and ashes were in piles on the coffee table along with sticky beer stains. Also on the floor were a few pairs of shoes-none of which seemed to match-and more empty cans. No wonder my place smelled like beer and cigs.