Louis Tomlinson
Man, did I just tell him about everything I feel for Patricia?
Do guys who are in love tell that to their best friends? Weird.
Stan and I shuffled back inside, and Liam, Niall, and Zayn were already outside, each one trying to hog the inflatable pool. Only Veena, Harry and Patricia were watching the movie. But the credits were rollings.
I slapped Stan in the head, “Now, look what you’ve done! I missed the movie, all because of a stupid, stupid talk about my lo—”
“Nuh, uh-uh,” Stan wagged a finger at me with an amused face. “Do you really want them to know what we were talking about?”
“Talking about what?” Liam entered the room with the other boys, all wet and dripping.
“Yeah, Louis,” Veena yawned. “What were you guys talking about?”
Stan smirked. “Basically, we were talking about him and Pat—”
He was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Pat. I treaded over to the couch where she was curled up. I felt a weird kind of feeling inside me, as if I was really guilty. Leukemic people get easily tired. Unlike before, Pat always slept around one in the morning. And it was still about 9:30.
Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and she was leaning on the side of the divan. My best guess was that she was dreaming about flying hamsters again. Like that time when we were twelve after her second hamster passed away. Aha.
I settled beside her, wondering if she was drunk from all the ice cream she consumed. I pursed my lips, and she opened her eyes as she felt the weight of the couch deepen. Her eyes were half-open as she muttered, “Louis?”
“Yeah?” I replied. Man, I wish I could see her eyes. “You wanna go to your room now?”
She yawned. “Mm-hmm.”
I resisted the urge to smile. I placed each of my arms behind her knees and on her back. Gently getting up as she snuggled deeper to my neck, I looked at the others. Stan was smiling and nodding, while Veena and the boys were in amazed expressions. Why do they have to be… so amazed, anyway? What’s to be amazed of?
I mouthed, “I’m going.”
“Night, Lou,” they whispered in unison.
Climbing up the stairs lightly, I sighed. Woo, good thing the door to her room was open. I pushed it lightly with my foot.
I placed her on her bed, removing her slippers as she buried her head deeper. And no: Pat doesn’t like using pillows when she sleeps. I remember the day when she told me she hated them during first grade. She practically grumbled every time there was one placed on her head. According to her, it was an “unpleasant parasite to the sensitive parts of the head”.
I slowly tucked her into the blankets while the light from the hall was illuminating the room. I kissed her forehead, “Good night, Pat.”
Each time she’s awake, there’s always that look in her that merely suggests she had some sickness, but I can’t point a finger to it. Maybe it was because of her paleness… or whatever. It was something that changed in her after I went to the X-Factor.
But now… now, it looked like she was in peace. Like she didn’t have anything that was called cancer. Her eyes were softly closed, and her mouth was in a position you would have thought was a smile, but it was angelic. Calm.Serene.Beautiful.
She’s always beautiful, but then again, she had a sick look all the time. If she could look this way –the beautiful, healthy way– when she wakes; when she faces that damned hospital; when she tries to keep fighting that stupid thing… then I would ask for her to look this way all the time. I’m her best friend.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Who Stayed (Louis Tomlinson)
FanfictionBecause of the three words that changed my life so quickly and so easily, everyone I loved in my life—except for my mum, of course—left. But there was one boy who didn't leave. He didn't even care that I had that stupid illness, and he promised to s...
