Hotel Ceiling (Larry Stylinson)

Don't you leave me lonely

(partially based on 'hotel Ceiling' by Rixton)

I hope you guys enjoy reading! :) x

The lights flashed as I made my way through the crowd. Five years in this life and I still cannot get my way around like this, I'm still not used to all the cameras, all the attention, all the fame. Show after show, venue after venue, and night after night. I consider myself lucky if we get at least a week off of this crazy train of promotions, concerts, and signings. Normally, we go out on nights like this. The night is young, it's Friday, a day to get wasted. But right now, all I want is to lay on a bed and think. I can't seem to do it clearly, these days. It's not like I have too much on my mind, truth be told, I only have one thing-no, one person on my mind. Harry. My Harry. If he's still even that. I don't know what happened. It was all an explosion of stress, of everything, and he was there in my line of sight when I lashed out. I drove him away. I know the pressure is getting to him, too. But I chose to be a selfish prick and blame everything on him. And now, he's-.

**Tuesday**

I stepped into mine and Harry's shared flat sighing after plopping down onto our living room couch as I finally got away from all the cameras and Eleanor. Don't get me wrong, she's beautiful, nice, even. But my heart simply longs for my boyfriend. I long to be able to go out of the house with him without being scrutinized like we're doing something mortally wrong. I guess that's mainly the reason why I'm feeling tired and pissed as hell right now.

"Hey, Lou...? You home?" I heard Harry call from the kitchen, I think. I only groaned in response. I hadn't even realized that he's right behind me until, "How's my Louis, today?" he asked, putting his hands on my shoulders. I sighed contentedly as I felt his hands massage my shoulders. "Same old, routine, Hazz. Photos, photos, and more photos," I groaned. "You must be tired. Want me to run you a bath?" he soothed. "Yes, please, love. If you will?" I answered. "Okay, be right back," he said and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. I have the perfect boyfriend.

I had the perfect boyfriend. I just had to be a dick and fuck things up.

**Wednesday**

I didn't know where I was. I woke up in someone else's bed. As far as I know, I had too much to drink last night because my damn head is throbbing. "You're up. Advil's on the nightstand," a feminine voice said. I was startled to say the least. Had I just slept with a girl? Harry mustn't know. It will break his perfect little heart. But what can I do? It's probably all over the news right now. I sighed once more trying to figure out how I can get out of this mess. What about Harry?

I decide not to go home today. Maybe I will tomorrow, I don't know. I need to think of how I can explain to Harry. I checked myself in at a hotel and think. About me and Harry, about everything.

I laid on the bed in my suite, staring at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into? I let my mind drift to sleep as I refused to face my problems now and just-just lay here.

**Thursday**

I stood outside mine and Harry's flat door once more. I slowly pushed in my key and opened it. "Harry?" I called out. No answer. "Hazz? I'm home," I called once more. "Where have you been, Louis?" Harry asked. By his tone, I knew he was pissed, but tried to remain composed. "Do you know how fucking worried I was? Huh? You didn't even think of giving me a fucking call to tell me where you were! Damn it! Or were you too preoccupied fucking your new brunette to call me? Was that it?!" he lost it, and yelled. I flinched but held my ground.