Parallel Lines » Larry Stylinson

Chapter 22 - Louis

I did it to save him. All I want to do is make him happy. He deserves to be happy. I don't want him to end up like me, with a girl I don't love, forced to hide. Heck, I don't even think he has feelings for me. Nevertheless, I don't want him with anyone else. I want him to wait for me. Maybe he does love me, I don't want him to go just yet. But after what I said, I don't think he does.

I don't know if it's hurt I saw, in his eyes just now. I needed to save the both of us, whether he loves me or not, because it sucks to be pushed and ordered around. I've been there, and I don't want him to go through that.

I scream into my pillow. The flight is in four more hours, to Sydney, the start of the tour, and I just ruined it. I ruined it for myself.

I'm miserable, like this. I want him to hold me again, bury his head in my hair, his hands on my waist, tickling me, while I sleep in his arms. I want last night to happen again, but after just now, I don't think it will.

I don't know what happened. I was just angry, I guess, at Tom and Ben, for making him go through that. Eleanor reminds me that he suggested it himself, but I still don't like the idea of him going to clubs and drinking with girls. I want him to be with me, going to clubs and drinking with me. Yeah, I prefer that.

But it's his life, and I cannot make him. I made a big mistake just now, blew my acting, blew everything.

I scream again into my pillow.

"Stop it!" Eleanor scolds. "You did the right thing."

"Oh what do you know," I snap. "All you do is shop and care about yourself. What do you know about anything!"

"Listen, Louis," Eleanor storms up to me. "I know about you and Harry, okay? So what if they separate you both? It's not like he wants you back anyways, you maybe you can stop acting like a love sick twelve year old and grow up for once. You already ruined it just now, by saying you didn't love him, and what good will they bring?"

I want to slap her. God, I want to shut her up.

"I was protecting myself! I don't want them to separate us! If they knew I love him then I'll be worse! Did you hear what he said? They'll make us board different flights! They'll sit us apart! Different hotels for crying out loud! I don't want that to happen! They don't need that to happen! I want to be with him!" I shout and throw a pillow against the wall. I will bloody tear this place down if I have to.

"If you want to be with him why did you say you didn't love him? Now they think you do. Now they believe that you don't love him," she says softly. "You're letting them win, Louis. By saying that, you're letting them have full access to whatever you do. Now, it doesn't matter if they separate the both of you, because you do not love him. Now, they know that it's okay to make us go out publically, because you do not love him. You just gave then the strings to your puppet, Louis."

I groan. "I'm so stupid."

"Yeah. You kindda are," she says.

"And I kind of don't feel like slapping you anymore," I state, and she rolls her eyes.

Eleanor resumes reading her beauty magazine.

"You don't think he loves me?" I ask after a while.

Eleanor looks at me like I'm some satanic dog. "What do I know about anything," she quotes, and goes back to reading.

I curse at her under my breath but she doesn't even bat an eyelash.

Screw that.

Just now, I swear Tom was angry enough to beat me up right there. And I don't know why I was acting like a bitch after he sent me outside. I was rude, I guess, andi didn't even know Harry was right behind the corner, listening to every word I said. Being rude doesn't make me any more attractive.

I'm so stupid.

He's better off without me. So many people are willing to be with him, date him, and I'm nothing compared to them. There are models, tall, blonde, and I'm nothing compared to them. I'm just the scrawny and short little boy, who just so happens to be his bandmate.

But I can assure him this. I will love him more than them. I can and I will.

Pouting, I order a tub of ice cream from room service and get high on that. I pick out my favourite flavour- macademia nuts. Turning in the television, I watch some football with the tub of ice cream in my lap.

"Stop eating that!" Eleanor scolds. "You'll get fat."

"I need the fats," I grumble, and turn the volume up louder.

"Suit yourself," Eleanor says and sits down next to me, on the floor and for once, she looks normal. Messy hair, an unpressed shirt with some cotton shirts, and mismatched short.

"Pass me that," she says and I hand the tub of ice cream over. She already has a spoon in her hand and she starts scooping portions into her mouth.

"What's up with you?" I ask.

"Same problem. Love of my life doesn't like me back and all that crap," she rolls her eyes. She continues eating, and I continue watching Donny.

"Sucks, huh?" I mumble.

"No shit, Sherlock," she passes the tub back. I spoon some ice cream out and shove it into my mouth.

"Aren't you going to get fat?" I ask.

"He wouldn't care, anyways," she says. "He doesn't even care about me. At least yours does."

"Bull," I say, leaning back so that the couch acts as a wall for me to lean on.

"It's true. He does care about you."

"Then why doesn't he love me back?" I grumble, but Eleanor doesn't say anything.

We make it through two thirds of the tub, and we just sit there, on the floor with our legs extended under the fee table, watching Donny win two nil.

I groan when I try to get up to use the bathroom. The ice cream's making me sick. I can tell Eleanor's sick of it too. Her face is a wreck. Her eyeliner is smudged, and most of her makeup has been wiped off.

"Ugh," I groan miserably. "This sucks. How long more till we check out?"

She doesn't even move her head when she mutters, "half an hour."

I'll probably not recover by then. Harry will hate me, for being a bitch, and Niall will probably be too engrossed in his own world to care. Zayn would just tell me to shrug it off and Liam probably wouldn't know. And I, I'll be alone forever, stuck with a fake girlfriend and an infinity supply of ice cream. What are the odds of recovering from that?

A/N: still on the flight! I'm soooo tired ugh the jet lag will fuck with me later :/

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