You saved me from myself

Chapter Eighteen

A late merry christmas to those of you who celebrate that, I hope you had a great holiday.

Votes and comments are so greatly appreciated, I love every singe one I get <3

Enjoy x

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"I'm in the mood to do something chaotic for tonight," Delilah said suddenly. They where laid on top of Louis' bed, staring at the ceiling. "Chaotic, yet festive."

Louis snorted. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Delilah shrugged. "Like dye my hair red, maybe."

Louis rose up so that he was leaning on his elbows and looked down at her. "Dye your hair red?"

"Mhm."

"Lilah first of all, how in the hell are you going to do that? Your hair's the same colour as coal and I might not be a hair stylist but I think that's too dark." Delilah waved dismissively at him. "And second of all, where the hell are you supposed to get colour like that from?"

"That's when you come in, flower." Delilah smiled mischievously up at him.

"Me?"

"Yes you, idiot." She sat up. "You have all the Styles' around your tiny pinky, you could just ask them to—"

"I am not asking them that." Louis interrupted.

"Why not? Come on," Delilah urged. "Aren't you in the mood for something crazy? Nothing barely happens around here, anyway."

"No, Lilah. I don't want to ask them that, seriously. They're probably going to say no either way."

"You don't know that!" Delilah interjected. "And still, I'm antsy with withdrawal, wouldn't you want to help your friend feel better." She shuffled closer to him on the bed, smiling and putting her arm over his shoulder.

"You play so dirty, I swear to god." Louis groaned. "You know I can't say no when you put it like that."

Delilah kissed his cheek gleefully. "I can even let you help me dye it."

Louis rolled his eyes. "I'll go ask Marcel, but I can't promise to have it to you for tonight's dinner though, it's already noon and I doubt stores will be open for much longer."

"As long as you've tried I'm happy as can be," Delilah smiled sweetly and waved a sighing Louis out of his room to find the youngest of the three brothers.

As he walked down the hall, he surveyed all the tinsel hanging along the walls, the small little Santa Clauses that had been put on every available surface. Louis squeezed his hands into fists and swallowed hard. Being at the graveyard last night may have brought him some peace, but the steady reminder that his sister would not get to decorate again still made his heart ache. Well, at least she wouldn't here on this earth. But, he thought. Niall was right, they will always be with him no matter what he did. And feeling sorry for himself would not help him move on, he needed to face what had happened straight on, however difficult that may be. He needed to keep living, not only for himself, but for them. They were robbed of that chance, so he would have to do that for them, whether he liked it or not. And besides, Alice would have loved it if he carried her love for Christmas onwards. Her love for giving, not receiving. Her love for spreading joy and warmth, and what he had realised that night at the graveyard was that he was prepared to do anything for her. Even that.

As if his legs had steered him on autopilot, he had reached the door that read 'Marcel Styles, Doctor.' He swallowed again, and then knocked.

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