Shift ☆ Louis Partridge

11 | Sinking Ship

☆

[y/n]

_

"WHO THE HELL DOES THAT?" Monica yelled, stomping around my room like a madwoman.

I didn't know what to think. After seeing the tea set on Louis' story I immediately wanted to cry, but I willed myself not to because I didn't deserve to. How was any of this his fault? It was his idea to give his girlfriend a gift, and it just happened to be a tea box. 

I guess I wasn't as special as I thought.

Not that I ever thought I was special to begin with.

"Maybe he doesn't know," Heather said, sprawled out on my bed, "besides, haven't you known him for less than a week?"

No, for longer.

I told them that I'd met Louis at the bus stop, but I failed to leave out the part that I was shifting currently. I didn't want to freak them out. They know about the other shifts, though. I couldn't keep that from them, even if I tried, and Monica would probably pry it out of me in the end.

"Good point," Monica said, "there's no possible way he would know about the tea set, unless you told him."

I blinked. "I didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am."

"And we're the only people who know about the shifts?" Heather asked, looking up from her phone.

I nodded my head, staring at the ground awkwardly. It felt weird talking about it out in the open. I felt like I was crazy. I knew I wasn't but something felt so personal about my dreams, that sharing them felt like my entire life was laid out for everyone to pick and prod at.

"Let's start from the beginning," Monice said, beginning to pace, "he started making references to a previous shift out of nowhere?"

I nodded nervously. "Yeah."

"And you're sure they aren't coincidences?"

"After the teabox, I'm almost certain," I said, "look, I can show you my shift notebook if you want. I can prove it."

My two friends agreed, and watched with beady eyes as I crossed the room towards my desk. My notebook...where was it last? I remember having it on the table when I first fell asleep, and when I woke up it was gone. Why was it gone?

Because when I shifted into another world, it went to the place it usually belongs.

So, the drawer.

Bending down to grasp the handle of my desk, I pulled out the cubicle to look inside. There was my notebook, laying tucked neatly inside. Pulling it out, I tossed it onto my bed for my friends to look at—to which Heather took the first sweep—and started to read.

A few moments passed, and finally they said something.

"Woah," Monica breathed out, "these are detailed."

I felt my heart start to speed up anxiously. "I try."

"But I'm not getting anything from this," she continued, "where's the thing about ice? Or Raspberry-Peach tea?"

"It's in there."

There was a pause, where I felt like the air in the room got thicker with each breath. I felt like I was being swallowed into a black hole, taking all the planets and the sun with me. Twisted, twisted, twisted (heh!).

"No, it's not in here," Heather said finally, shaking her head, "but what happened?"

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"

"Something bad must have happened in one of your shifts to make you do this," she said, handing me the notebook, "so what happened?"

I squinted my eyes at her. "I don't understand."

"You didn't do that?"

"Do what?"

"Rip out a page," the girl said, "there's a page missing."

Suddenly I felt my heart sink into the bottom of the ocean I couldn't stomach. As I pulled the notebook open, I flipped through the pages with the same rhythm as my slowly dying heart. Thump, thump, thump, it went as the pages turned.

And there, in the middle of the book, were the remaining strings of a paper removed from its metal spine.

The Cheeky page was gone.

And it all came crashing down to the bottom of the sea.

Sliding down the hallway, I regained my composure, and made an attempt to walk into my room calmly. I didn't want to seem suspicious.

But as soon as I made it through the doorway, I saw Louis flinch, slipping something into the satchel hanging on his shoulder. I didn't see what it was, but I assumed it was his phone. He was lingering near my desk, and turned to look at me when I walked in.

I knew what it was now. What he took, I mean.

It was a page from the book that kept my life, dreams, and heart on. By ripping out a page, it felt like he was tearing at my own soul. Taking a part of it. Using it against me. Making me seem like an unknowing fool who followed blindly after him.

But it was only a matter of time until I found out.

And now there was hell to pay.

"Louis," I said, tossing the notebook onto the bed, "he has the missing page."

Monica and Heather looked like they heard pure fabrication fall out of my mouth. Louis Partridge stealing something? Unheard of. I knew they wouldn't take it seriously—him being an idol and all—so I had to find his motive.

Mockery?

Maybe he wanted to make a fool out of me.

Curiosity?

Maybe he didn't understand.

Whatever it was didn't excuse the fact that he played with my mind this entire time, leading me along a string of useless clues, while he broke me apart piece by piece. A tea set for his girlfriend? How sweet.

I wonder how she'd feel once she finds out where he got that idea from.

"What are you doing?" Heather asked, watching as I shuffled in my pockets for my phone.

I mumbled a response. "Confronting him."

"What if he didn't take the page, though? Then you'd just expose yourself."

I stopped my vicious path, looking at her with understanding. She was right. I was letting my anger get a hold of me, and I was rushing into something I didn't quite fully understand. Thankfully, Monica had a better idea.

"Get him to admit it himself," she said.

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you have in mind, exactly?"

"Give him a taste of his own medicine and see what he does," she continued, "drop hints that you know what he did."

She was right.

I know what he did, and I'll use it against him, just like he used my dreams against me. Louis Partridge wasn't an angel—he was a thief—and I was going to steal my life back. Turning back to my phone, I ignored the beating of my heart, ready to put my plan into action.

He wanted to use Cheeky against me?

Sad.

It seems he forgot I'm the one who scripted it.