Untouchable

Chapter 9

A/N

A little short, but at least it's on time.

Love you!!

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Louis's POV

A week later and we were traveling. It meant having to all but smother myself with a pillow when I cried at night to keep from screaming. I couldn't just go around breaking things like I could in my house.

I lost control one night and took a painting off the wall and threw it across the room. It was a stupid painting. It was cruede flowers in a boring vase and it made me irrationally angry, so I threw it. It was louder than I anticipated. I had to open the door for Zayn, whose room was next to mine.

"You okay? I heard some kind of crash?" he asked.

I let him in.

"Kind of knocked down a painting," I said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.

He studied me carefully, gauging whether or not to accept the lie.

Finally, after a minute of holding my breath, he nodded.

"Right. So, wanna do something tonight? You always stay here by yourself; it's got to be boring," he said.

I made a face. He noticed.

"Let me correct myself. You shouldn't always stay here by yourself because its not got for you, so you're going to spend tonight with me," Zayn said.

I glared at him.

"What if I want to be by myself?" I snapped.

"Suck it up," he said simply, "You don't do well when you have to be by yourself so much."

I sighed and sat down, flopping onto my back.

"What're we supposed to do? I can't go out, God forbid I get drunk like a normal person my age," I grumbled.

"Louis, there are other options other than getting smashed," Zayn drawled, sitting down next to me, "When was the last time you and I just hung out? Or the last time you hung out with any of us, really."

"The worst night of my life," I grumbled, turning over to bury my face in my pillow, "Look, I'm not up for anything. Just go away."

"Not a chance," Zayn said.

He kicked his feet up onto the bed.

We spent the next two hours watching the news. He did, at least. I lay on my side and pretended to sleep. He had to have known that I wasn't. I was too tense. I was struggling to control the urge to break down in front of him. He would comfort me and try to make me feel better, I knew. That's what I didn't want. I wanted to be punished and beaten down until I had paid the price my selfishness had cost and my guilt was gone.

Zayn stayed the entire night. For somebody so perceptive, he didn't realize how uncomfortable I was with him pressed close to me. I didn't sleep. I listened to his slow, even breathing for seven hours until we had to get up. I had to remind myself that it was Zayn next to me, one of my best mates, and not Ben.

At one point when the strain became too much, I cautiously crept out of bed and over to the mini-fridge. It was an upperclass hotel, so they had the fridges stocked as a temptation for guests to have to pay for the contents they ate or drank. I pulled it open and silently looked around in it for what I wanted. Three tiny bottles of liquor were arranged in a row on one of the shelves. I gasped with relief and pulled all three out.

I scampered to the toilet with my prizes and sat on the edge of the tub. I downed all three quickly before throwing them out and covering them up with toilet paper.