A Second Chance - A Larry Stylinson Fanfiction

Chapter 6

Alright, I've figured out a routine that I think everyone will be fairly happy with. Every other Sunday I will update this fanfic. Each Sunday between updates, I will either make my status or make a message on my profile a quick excerpt from the upcoming chapter, kay? Let me know how that sounds to you guys, because I don't want you all irritated with my sporadic updates, so I think this will be beneficial all around.

Enjoy(:

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Chapter 6

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I don't lift my feet as I slowly walk down the carpeted hallway, staring at the patterned floor. Fatigue has finally hit me, and it's hit me hard. It's been roughly 28 hours since I've last had sleep, but I couldn't stand sleeping in the same house as my mother after what I learned, so I called up a cab and got away from there as quickly as possible.

With a yawn, I slip my key into the lock and let myself into my dorm room to see Zayn tying up his shoes at the foot of his bed, all ready for the day. His head snaps up at my arrival and his face hardens, warning me I'm in trouble. "Where the hell have you been, Louis?"

Dropping my unused bag and my borrowed suitcase on the floor, I drag myself far enough across the room to flop on my bed. "At my mum's."

I can hear the anger Zayn's trying to suppress as he says, "Do you want to tell me why you were there?"

The way he said it puts me slightly on edge and I feel myself become defensive. "I had to talk to her about something important-"

"Yeah? And what might that be?" Zayn snaps, making me wince and force myself into a sitting position to face my room mate.

"I don't think it's really any of your business, Zayn," I say slightly timid, scratching the back of my neck.

Zayn rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, picking his mobile, wallet, and cigarette pack off his desk, placing each into different pockets of his trousers. "Whatever, Lou. I was just concerned 'cause you up and left in the middle of the night."

I sigh, defeated. "I'm sorry, Zayn. It's just something I'm not quite ready to talk about yet."

Scrubbing his hands down his face, Zayn sighs into his palms. When he speaks, he's much more calm, "Yeah. Alright. We'll talk when you're ready." He removes his hands from his face and meets my eyes with a steady, unsettling gaze. "But we will talk eventually."

I shakily nod my head and Zayn turns to the door. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Zayn looks back at me and shakes his head sadly, "That poor bloke that shoved me into the pool last night was arrested. I'm going down to the station to tell the police I don't want to press charges."

"Can I come?" I question as soon as Zayn gets the words out of his mouth. After everything I've learned in the past twelve hours, I don't want to be alone. Not to mention, I want to apologize to the lad for my girlfriend getting him arrested. And maybe, just maybe, I want to formally meet my old best friend.

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The ticking of a clock. The popping of bubble gum. The loud slurp of tea. The squeak of shoes walking across the linoleum. The jingling of a key chain. The pounding of my heart. The scratching of pen on paper. The creaking of an old chair. The dripping of a sink not completely turned off. The gasps of my shallow breathing. The rhythmic tapping of a pencil. The click of a door knob turning. The static buzz of a walkie talkie. The shrill ring of a desk phone. The gentle thudding of my bouncing knee wobbling the metal chair I sit on.