I LOVE IT WHEN WE PLAY 1950 (L.S)

Paris

Louis POV

Today's Friday. Sigh. This means there is only two days left of 'freedom' before having to sit in a meeting with Management and the boys.

It's raining.

I'm in bed and I haven't opened my eyes yet. I can hear the rain though. The soft pats on the balcony outside the window. There is not a draft so I'm guessing the window isn't open.

Trust the English weather to be sunny one day and raining the next. To be fair my mood matches the weather entirely.

After El and I had gotten home yesterday with the dogs we had a mini argument. I thought Eleanor had planned with management for the paparazzi to find us yesterday lunchtime to get herself relevant again. She usually gets bigger and better job offers for modelling if she is linked to an A list celebrity.

See, after the band split, I wanted nothing to do with fame, the band, singing, concerts, award shows and at my lowest point... the fans too. It was all too much, and I needed to find myself. To my close friends I was always 'Louis, with his boyfriend Harry, members of the biggest band in the world'. I didn't know how to be just me. It was hard.

So, I hid, found happiness again. Most importantly found myself. Yes, I miss singing terribly. If I didn't, I wouldn't have agreed to get back together with the boys. But this time I know it will be different, I know how the industry works now. I'm 28, not the same 18-year-old boy who would do anything to please his management team and others. The only thing that stopped me back then from being a complete doormat to management was my sass.

My sass saved my ass from so many bad contracts and promo shoots. I thank my mum for that.

I know I upset Eleanor last night, I was in the wrong, I blamed her. She has been by my side for almost 5 years. Attending to my every need and desire, and yet I still blame her as soon as something complicated appears.

She was hurt. I don't understand why I can't trust her. I have no reason not to trust El, but for some reason I've never been able to one hundred percent trust Eleanor or open up to her about how I feel. The worst part of this is, she knows it too.

I groan. Toss myself off the soft bed, damn I'll miss this bed.

I begin my search to hunt for Eleanor to apologise.

Hurriedly walking down, the cold steps ''I should have put some clothes on first, I'm cold'' I state, mainly to myself. The house is filled with awkward silence, tension, and regret. I make my way to the kitchen, hoping I'd see Eleanor making herself tea, or reading some kind of model magazine on the counter while she was waiting for toast.

As soon as I reached the oak door frame. She was nowhere in sight. I was almost about to turn on my heels and search the office and the gym but a piece of pink paper on the counter caught my eye.

I stride over to the note and reach my hand out to grab it, my heart quickens in pace... has she left and broken up with me? Was I officially too much? Was she just down at Waitrose getting bread and god-awful avocados?

I realise the easiest way to find out is to actually read the note. I gaze my eyes to the pink paper with her cursive handwriting written neatly in black ink.

Dear Lou,

I know I probably should have woken you up to talk to you and not written this note. I did not know if you were still mad at me.

I hope we are okay Lou, really, I do love you. I'm not breaking up with you either, I know how you think, you'd be panicking thinking I left you even before you read the letter.