Wet Eyes And Soul

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"You look tired," Mum observes, watching me as I fiddle with my fork the next day, barely eating. "Are you finding it hard sleeping here?"

I run my hands through my hair, pushing it away from my face.

"I guess I got used to sleeping in London." I offer, half lying.

"Why don't you get to bed then?" She coddles, her eyes warm.

Because I'm scared to dream of Louis again.

"I'll be okay," I reply, putting some pasta in my mouth, hardly tasting it. "I'll sleep later. It's too early."

She looks like she wants to argue, to make me sleep now, but she thinks better of it.

"Okay, baby," She replies instead. "Have you sorted out your University transfer yet?"

I swallow. I've barely done anything since I've been here. Cry. Eat. Sleep.

"I'll do it on Monday," I reply. It's Wednesday, but it makes sense. "Yeah, Monday."

She looks at me properly, frowning. She opens her mouth, but I flinch.

"Please," I stop her. "Mum. I don't - I really can't do this. I don't want to talk about it."

She closes her mouth, looking hurt, but I can't decide whether it's because I refused to talk to her about what was wrong, or whether she's guessed at how much pain I'm in. My heart is broken. Completely shattered.

I'm glad she doesn't press the issue further, eating her pasta.

"I'll - I've changed my mind," I make movement to stand. "I'm going to bed."

I choke on the need to cry, but I rein it in. She looks concerned, but doesn't push it.

"Okay, baby," She replies. "I'll leave the rest of the pasta in the fridge for you."

I won't eat it. I nod, and leave the room.

I close my door, before falling onto my bed, letting loose with my crying.

I've never been in this much pain, emotionally. My Grandad dying hurt, but it's nothing compared to this. It's like Louis died, and I'll never see him again.

Even if I did visit him, it wouldn't be right. He could easily find a boyfriend now I'm away and unable to mark his skin to ward others off. Yeah. That had become a thing I'd unknowingly started doing. I mean, he just loved receiving them, but I knew why I was doing it really.

I wonder if that's why Louis did them. Probably not. But I felt like his with the fading mark on my neck.

Before I know it, my exhausted body is caving in, forcing me to sleep.

"Where are you going?" I ask, coming out my room at the same time as Louis, who is also annoyingly only in his boxers. He yawns cutely.

"Shower." He manages, moving away from the door to pace to the bathroom.

"I need to shower first," I call to him. "I have Uni in an hour."

He turns to face me, scratching his hair.

"Why didn't you wake up earlier?" He grumbles. "I have work in an hour, so I need it more."

Why didn't you wake up earlier, Louis?

Oh right, because we're both fucked from our own sex last night.

"How does that make you need it more?"

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