Take Your Bows ~ L.S. AU

Act 1, Scene 3

TW: Brief mentions of suicide. Take care.

Disclaimer:  The events of this story are not true or real in any way. This is purely fiction; I am just borrowing the names of celebrities for the purpose of this story. I mean no offense to Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, or any other characters in or mentioned in this story.

Louis POV:

I finally make it out the door of the stuffy theatre, into the chilly air. I know I shouldn't have left Harry the way I did, with no explanation, but I could feel the tears coming and I never cry in front of people. Ever. There's only four people who have seen me cry, one of them is dead, and one is in jail. One is back in Doncaster.

And the other one is sitting in that room with Harry.

Fuck.

How did I get here? How did I get to the point where the mere mention of my mother, by someone who is essentially a stranger, provokes me enough that I cry? He doesn't even know she's dead, how would he know to avoid the subject? Why did it make me cry?

I never used to cry. Even when I was alone. Even when I should have cried.

I never cried from emotion. It was only ever immense physical pain that made me cry, like when I tore a ligament playing footie when I was 14, or when I broke my toe when I was 11.

The soft breeze blows across my face, my tears flowing steadily. I don't bother wiping them away, because the next wave comes as soon as I do. It's like a constant stream fed by the ocean, not stopping until the deep seas run out of water. I close my eyes, if only to block the world in some way.

I sense someone arrive next to me, and a soft, high voice.

"Loulou!"
"Lux? Hello, love."

The blonde girl is roughly four feet tall, her soft hair brushed back into plaits, pink lips breaking into a wide grin.

I wipe the snot from my nose, turning to the seven-year-old and picking her up under her armpits, swinging her in a circle before setting her safely onto the ground. Thank god for my footie fitness regimen, she's grown a lot since last summer. I used to be able to pick her up like she was a ragdoll.

"Oh, you're getting big! Who said you could grow?" I tease, tickling her stomach, as she giggles. This has got to be my favourite part of coming here every year... Lux's mum works for the camp so she's been coming here every year since she was three.

"Lou-Lou!" She pouts. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not." I lie feebly.
"Yes you are! You shouldn't fib, Lou!" She scolds, but being seven and adorable, it comes off as cute rather than stern. I pause, reluctant to tell the young girl about such horrible things as cancer and death, instead trying to find another method.

"Do you remember my mum?" I ask her.

"Isn't she the woman with brown hair? Who gave me cookies?"

I chuckle fondly at the memory of mum sneaking Lux cookies with every opportunity, the only time they got to meet at the start of last summer. Mum immediately took to the little girl, adoring her like the five of her own.

"Yes. Well, a couple months ago, some things happened. And she's not here anymore, so I miss her." I explain, trying not to say the word death. Or cancer. Or anything like that.

"Where is she then?" My heart shatters at the innocence in her voice, because she's far too young for this kind of loss. She can't comprehend the complexity of mortality.
"Heaven." I say softly, trying to make it at least sound pleasant. 
"When is she coming back?"
"She.. She's not."
"But I wanna see her! Why won't she come back?" The sweet voice whines, but I can't do this right now. I don't have the energy to pretend.
"She just can't. How about you go find your mum? I'm sure she's looking for you."
"Okay..." She says unsurely, skipping back to the theatre, with an adorable little wave.