Doncaster [Louis Tomlinson]

18: Not Over Yet

Happy Valentines Day!! Hope you enjoy this chapter

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When I first woke up, my immediate thought was ‘what happened last night?’, followed by a swift “oh, that’.

            I rubbed my eyes excessively to the point where I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Once I finally managed to hold myself back, I took in a sharp breath before slowly exhaling. It seemed as if the thoughts of what had just occurred a mere twelve hours ago had been turned on pause for the duration of my slumber, only to be helplessly continued seconds after I regained consciousness. In my dreams I’d contrived to escape the demanding judgements that I failed to barricade. But the only divergence was that now, I was seeing the picture from another perspective.

            Last night I’d been outstandingly fixated on myself that I floundered to acknowledge the boy who had it worse: Louis. He was probably feeling awful -- far more than I was. He’d even admitted himself that he was to take all the blame.

            It was painful to imagine him in this state. I winced at the thought of him muttering to himself the same things that I had to me; swearing and repeating ‘stupid’ multiple times. It distressed me to such a high degree because I knew for a fact that he wasn’t stupid -- a little wide-eyed and childlike, perhaps, but certainly not stupid.

            As he’d previously expressed, he possessed an immense affection for me. He’d frequently pine for my company by calling me up the minute he got home from school and making a great effort to ensure every moment we spent alone together counted for something special. There were occasions when I’d zone out for a few moments, only to be bought back to earth and find that he’d been watching me for an unaccountable amount of time; not particularly beaming, but with his the corners of his turned upwards in this sort of amused, yet admiring smirk. It was hard to ignore the signs -- he, without a doubt, had some sort of infatuation with me. And it’s a well-known fact that partaking in stupid acts is a symptom of liking somebody deeply.

            That was it; he just liked me too much to wait another second. Perhaps impatience was an additional side effect. He couldn’t bear being out of the river so immeasurably, that he dived straight in without considering the consequences.

            And maybe that was my excuse too.

            One thing was for certain; I had to see him.

            At this definite conclusion I shot out of bed, ridding the covers off my body as they obstructed me from reaching him as soon as I desired (which was right that second. In that moment I wished he would just appear out of thin air). I jolted open my drawer and pulled out the first outfit I saw. He’d seen me with bed hair after a night spent in yesterday’s clothes, and that didn’t seem to shy him away, so the urge to impress him with appearance wasn’t felt.

            When I reached the kitchen, it was apparent that mum had beaten me there. I’d been confident that she’d still be asleep, as it was a ridiculous hour to be awake on a Sunday morning, but she’d proved me wrong. My plan was to leave a note to inform her I’d gone out; that way by the time she read it I wouldn’t be present and ready for a questioning. But now leaving the house would be a far more difficult task.

            “You’re up early.” she commented from the breakfast table “And you’re dressed. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

            “I’m off to a friend’s house.” I explained as I pulled open the cupboard which contained the cereal and poured myself as generous bowl of Coco Pops.