Two Floors Apart (Louis Tomlinson AU)

IX » Drunk Explanations

IX.   N I N E   //   D R U N K   E X P L A N A T I O N S

Pyper wasn't mad at him, was she?

            Louis was sitting at the small dining table in his flat, his elbows resting on the surface while his mouth was pressed against his intertwined fingers. He took another glance—six and counting—at the clock. It was 9:40 at night and Pyper still hadn't come by yet; he was beginning to get a little worried. She couldn't have forgotten in such a short time...could she?

            Before he left his place he decided to call her cell phone, surprised when she answered almost instantly. She normally didn't have her phone near her. "Mmmm...hello?"

            "Are you still planning to come over? I made your faaaaavourite," he said, the last word coming out in a singsong fashion. 

            "Ah, Lou! I knew your voice sounded familiar!" A long giggle bubbled out of her, making Louis' eyebrows furrow together. Was it just him, or did her words sound slightly slurred? 

            "Pyper, are you drunk?"

            "Not really.." She giggled a bit more. "Didn't even finish a Crystal Head. Can't be yet." 

            "Aren't those forty?" Louis asked, mentioning the percentage. She agreed and had begun to laugh again, which was when he hung up and made his way to her floor. 

            The door didn't open right away. When it finally did, an extremely tipsy Pyper threw her arms in the air and wrapped Louis in a loose hug. "Lou, I was wondering why you hung up on me! Come in, I have another bottle." 

            Louis was worried about Pyper and the amount she had drunk; she definitely wasn't a lightweight, but there was only so much her body could handle. It was normal for shorter people to be affected quicker, but he believed it was something that ran in her genes, that she could hold herself so well. Or maybe it was because he was the lightweight and never noticed. 

            They were just standing in her doorway, her inside and wearing sweatpants and a tight sweater and him outside, in dark jeans and the hoodie from earlier that day. Louis didn't know what to do, but he was curious when Pyper lightly grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie with her thumb and forefinger. He looked down at her hand.

            "Lou, stay with me? I-I don't want to be alone right now." Pyper sniffled. The giggling and drunken smile on her face was gone in an instant. It fell to a look where she was biting her bottom lip and refusing to meet his eyes. He knew that Pyper didn't like asking for these kinds of things and he could tell, even intoxicated, that it took her a lot of effort to ask. 

            "'Course I will," he said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her to her couch, where she sat down and curled herself into a ball. He could tell she wanted more alcohol but he didn't want to give her too much because he was afraid she'd feel it in the morning. He found cranberry juice in her fridge and mixed it with a two tablespoons of vodka (she was already close to being drunk; she wouldn't notice). He poured himself a glass that was less diluted and handed her the juice when he sat down. He watched her drink the new glass without complaint. 

            "Pipe." His voice was the softest tone he could possibly muster. "What happened?"

            A bitter smile slid onto Pyper's features and her eyes narrowed into space. It was as if she was purposefully refusing to make eye contact with him. "He was an arsehole, that's what happened. Seven months—it may not have been that long, but seven bloody months of my time always involved him. I always made time for him, and I even put him before things I shouldn't've. We started drifting, what, a month ago? On my birthday. I didn't think much of it until this past week. More distant, less time together, slow text responses... Then Friday came and I walked into his flat to see him shagging this–this fake, sleazy, cake-faced whore. He told me she was a friend he met at the bar, on the sixteenth."