Shift ☆ Louis Partridge

20 | Pinky Promise

☆

[y/n]

_

"BE CAREFUL!" I said to Heather, who was balancing a bouquet in her left hand, "that's the Cheeky one, don't drop it!"

After the spark of inspiration from Lou a few days ago, I spent most of my time holed up in my room as I designed four pretty bouquets. I had to tie in inspiration from four of the impressionist painters, but I kept the colors aligned with the stories.

And today was competition day.

I invited my friends and family to the BM—Louis invited his too—and now we were all loading the flowers from the car and into the museum. I had a lot riding on this event, and I was desperate not to screw anything up.

"A daisy for my darling?" Louis said, sneaking up from behind me. He had a small flower in his hand and a grin on his face. "I can sense your worries."

I smiled. "I'm just nervous."

"Don't be."

"Easier said than done."

As I went back to directing the movers, I failed to notice the look on Louis' face. He normally zoned out whenever he was planning something devious, his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted in thought, and he was doing so now.

But then he grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the room before I could let it click.

"Lou, what?" I said, stumbling along behind him, "what are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Fixing something."

"What?"

"Stop saying 'what', I'm not going to answer," he chuckled, "but if you must know, I'm going to make your worries disappear."

Knowing better than to argue, I let him drag me halfway across the museum and into a wing filled with landscapes. It was nearly empty, with the exception of a few stragglers, but my attention was focused on the walls. Frames of all shapes and sizes were pinned to the white background, displaying beautiful images of the world and of places I'd never seen.

"Why are we here?" I asked, looking around.

Louis grabbed my hand. "You'll see."

Leading me to the center of the room, I watched as he ran his free hand through his hair, a smile on his face. Whatever was going on in his mind must have been like a spark of fire to wood.

"Pick a painting," he said, smiling at me, "pick a painting and imagine us stepping into it."

I was a little confused, but I did as he said. There was a grassy field full of flowers, a small cottage on top of a hill, and a ship sailing across a small sea. All of them were beautiful, and all of them were lifelike. 

But what caught my attention was the painting on the far right of the space.

I wasn't sure who painted it, but it showed a bridge towering over a small pond, koi fish swimming below in shining waters without so much as a care in the world. The willow trees acted like the breeze, flowing through the air and wrapping the painting with a peaceful shade of green, and the specks of sunlight filtered through the space like pixies from another world.

Something about it made me feel tranquil.

At ease.

"That one," I said, raising my hand to point at it, "lets travel there."

Louis nodded his head. "It's beautiful."

"I know."

"Now imagine us standing on that bridge," he said, his voice softening, "imagine all the things you'd feel if we could spend a day inside that picture."

I could imagine it all. I could see the sunlight on his face, and the way his laugh would echo down the pond like skipping stones. And I could imagine feeling at peace. I could imagine the sound of running water along with the sounds of our conversation, and I could imagine the way the sky would look once it became night. I could envision it clearly, and I wanted it badly.

"See?" I heard him say from beside me, "you feel less worried now, hm?"

I nodded. "Yeah..."

"Whenever you feel like that, try to imagine us on the bridge. Maybe one day I'll take you there for real."

There was a moment where I let the silence sink into my skin, wondering how on earth I was able to know someone like him. He was caring, and kind, and he knew how to make me feel better just by existing. 

"Lou?" I whispered.

He glanced at me. "Yes, Tewks?"

"Thank you."

He didn't say anything, but instead held up his hand, holding out his pinky again. I didn't even question what we'd swear, and instead just linked our fingers. I trusted him.

"Promise me you'll win this?" He smiled.

I smiled back. "Promise."

I knew that the outcome of the event wasn't in my control, but that's not what he meant. By asking me to swear on it, he was telling me he believed in me. He supported my work, and he knew deep down that he could make a promise knowing the end.

And for a moment we stood there, on an imaginary bridge, loving each other. I wouldn't trade it for the world, because the world was nothing compared to what it felt like to be with him. Louis Partridge, with all his charms, and his smiles, and his cheeky phrases—he was perfect—but to me he was just Lou.

And that was everything.