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~*Chapter 1*~

LA is exhausting. The people are exhausting, the traffic is exhausting, the unfamiliarity and sense of not belonging is exhausting. Louis should have spent enough time in LA in his life as a multimillionaire pop star to become accustomed to the place. To the heavy, hot air that sticks to your skin like a sheet. Yet it still feels otherworldly to him, a million miles away from the grey skies and homeliness of London.

Louis tries to bring a bit of home with him wherever he goes. Whether it be some old friend in need of a holiday like Oli or Calvin, or just something as small as a 6x4 picture of his mum in his wallet. He never used to get homesick, back when the band was first gaining momentum. Back when he was going to places for the first time, too absolutely distracted by the absurdity of the reality he found himself in. Thrown into something he didn't even realise he'd wanted, with four boys he barely even knew.

That's another reason he finds himself out of place in LA, unable to get at an itch that's been bothering him for years. Back in the early days, home hadn't been a place. It'd been a person. He'd etched it permanently into his skin for fucks sake. It was always him and Harry. Stuck to each other like super glue. Pulled together by some magnetic force, existing in their own bubble. Everyone could see it, but that was half the problem, wasn't it?

It's not like Louis can pinpoint the exact moment in time when him and Harry fell out of sync. There wasn't really one at all. It had been a gradual slip, like the tide wearing away at a sandstone cliff. Chipping the solid foundations until there was nothing left to stop the structure falling to the waves below.

It's not like he spends all of his time sitting around moping over a lost friendship, he's good at distractions. But LA only seems to accentuate the distance between them. Two separate planets, not even in the same solar system.

Harry is so at home here, spends every second he can basking in the California heat, networking with music moguls and rubbing shoulders with Kardashians. Harry glows in LA, like the city was built for him. Louis spends most of his time inside luxurious, air conditioned villas, too clean and un-lived in for him to feel comfortable. Sprawled on the sofa Googling his name and seething at the shit that follows it.

The latest stream of articles are depressingly hilarious. Pictures of him falling out of clubs, surrounded by a mob of beautiful, leggy blondes.

'Newly single Louis Tomlinson takes five lucky girls back to a hotel.' One article reads, Louis scoffs. He's always been a clingy drunk, desperate for attention and overwhelmed by the feeling of just wanting to hold somebody close.

He can't help but feel sorry for the girls he latches onto at clubs. Going back to Louis from One Direction's hotel room sounds great in theory. In reality it involves little more than sitting on Louis' bed whilst he rolls sloppy joints and passes them around before calling cabs for the girls and letting them borrow his warm clothes for the ride home.

The most intimate thing he's done in months is grab Liam's dick on stage so he fucked up his high note. Eleanor and him had fallen into nothing more than friends a long time ago. It'd been like a safety net, she was one of the best people Louis had ever met and although their relationship had been little more than platonic for a long while, she meant a lot to him. They'd ended it officially months ago. Even though Louis knew there was nothing there, it'd still hurt like hell to hear it. "I'm seeing somebody else, Lou. I can't keep calling myself your girlfriend, it's not fair on either of us. We need to start a new chapter. "

He's brought back to the present when his phone buzzes noisily against the arm of the sofa. He checks it and groans.

'Cars coming @ half past, be ready to leave. Tight schedule'