Fine line (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 24

TWO DAYS AFTER THE EVENTS IN CHAPTER 22.

Trigger warning /// sexual content, depression, alcohol.

I still had the ring.

I don't know why I kept it, considering I had thrown away just about everything else in that small New York apartment.

I couldn't sleep on the sheets he slept on and I couldn't eat off the dishes he ate off of. I wouldn't dare sit on the couch where we'd spent so many nights rewatching old movies and it felt a crime to wallow in the things he'd left behind.

But I kept the ring.

And as I held it my hands now, it felt so small. How could such a small piece of metal carry such a heavy burden?

It was a quiet, silver band. No engravements, no diamonds, nothing special. When I had picked it out, I remembered thinking that was good. It was quiet, it was simple. No one would know. It could just be a ring, because god forbid it be anything else, at least to the public eye.

Just a ring. On just a man.

I was so niave back then. To think that all our problems could be melted away with a simple silver band. That if some way were were tied together, he couldn't run anymore. To me, the ring would be a promise. To him, it would have been a shackle.

It was cold in my hands, rigid and so full of every broken promise we had ever made. My eyes stung looking down at it, glaring at it. For the first time in years, I didn't feel the sorrow. I didn't feel the pain. I just felt angry.

Angry at myself, angry at Louis. Angry that for years I pined after someone so unwilling to change. Angry that even after so many years of healing and self preservation, he had still found a way to slither back into my heart and break it all over again.

"You're so fucking stupid." I spat under my breath, hot tears colliding with the cool of the metal in my palm. I didn't know who I was saying it to - myself, Louis, or to the ring itself. I suppose any of the options were true.

Almost unwillingly, I snuck the ring back into the bathroom cabinet, and trudged away. I sat on the sofa and wiped my eyes raw with exhaustion.

I could just stay here, I thought to myself, on this couch forever. I wouldn't even have to move. I wouldn't have to do anything. I could just stay here.

I imagined myself doing so, sinking so deep into the couch that no one and nothing could ever find me. Sinking so deep that not even my own thoughts could be heard.

Fixating my eyes on the empty beer can from this morning, i thought of other ways to numb the pain.

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"Gin and tonic please."

It was my fourth of the night, but no one would ever know. I'd been racking up quite the tolerance these last few months, whether it be in my best interest or not.

The bar had a busy, exciting, crowd, mostly people around my age or slightly younger. I wore a ball cap to disguise myself, but now looking around I'm pretty sure no one would be sober enough to recognize me anyway.

Although I wasn't quite drunk, I could feel a heavy buzz, and my body was starting to relax itself. It felt good, getting out. Although I wasn't quite drinking with anyone at least I wasn't doing it alone.

The corner of my mouth turned up as I saw a woman dance with her friends. She was smiling and laughing and so full of light. I saw a memory of myself in her, dancing in clubs across the world on tour, drinking with the guys and trying to find a corner of a club where no one could see lou-