London [Louis Tomlinson]

6: Conflicted

A/N: heyyy look how quick this was omg

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Blue met brown in a fierce display of defence as we eyed each other down. Both of us were angry, without the other knowing the reasoning why.

          I was mad at him with obvious justification; he was being a complete twat, had broken up with me with the excuse that he 'had no time for our relationship', and then proceeded to date someone else after merely a month of separation.

          But the motivation for his anger was still inexplicit, and it left me with even more resentment.

          "What are you doing here, babe?" he asked bluntly, his voice sharp and scathing, causing for a chill to travel up my spine. He still looked so gorgeous, however, with his messy hair and his sea blue eyes and his god-like cheekbones which could almost prompt me to get down on my knees for him. And the fact that he'd just called me 'babe' – I knew it was of a different context; this time out of mockery and as a way of showing dominance, that he still had me wrapped around his finger, rather than as a loving, affectionate pet name – but the way the word rolled off his tongue, sultry and smooth, provoked a warm sensation to spread from my head to my toes. Every little thing he did induced such an effect on me, and it was dangerous.

          I opened my mouth, but found that words simply didn't want to exit. It felt as if there was a massive, restricting weight in my throat, and it nearly left me gasping for air as Louis eyed me expectantly, one eyebrow raised. He truly did possess an impeccable talent for leaving me speechless.

          Somehow, a tiny sound made it past my mouth, taking the form of a quiet whimper. "I—", I started, gaining the confidence to speak actual words, although stuttering through them. "I was invited," I told him, as that truthfully was the reason I was in his house; not because I wanted to be there, but because I was invited.

          He simply glared at me, eyes cold and face blank. His stare panned up and down my figure, taking in my appearance. The last time I'd worn this dress in his presence, he'd been ravenous; hands brushing over every inch of my skin, trying to claw at it and tear it off. Now, he looked smug – amused, even – that I'd worn it. He so knew it was a final, hopeless attempt to gain him back.

          Shaking his head with amusement, he ran his tongue over his lips before turning on his heels and walking towards the kitchen, probably in search of his mother.

          Charlotte and Felicity had been sat quietly on the sofa with held breaths, watching the scene play out before them, and following Louis' exit their gazes shot to me, wondering what I'd do next.

          I felt like I'd just been hit by a bus, really.

          Louis had such an immense effect on me, made me feel breathless and confused and like nothing made sense. I think I hated him even more. No, I definitely hated him more.

          His two sisters continued to stare at me like I was some animal at the zoo who they were hoping would do something interesting. I couldn't stand it; couldn't stand the tense atmosphere which Louis had left, couldn't stand knowing that he was off somewhere in the house, probably smiling smugly at my incompetence to take a hint and accept the fact that our relationship had well and truly ended.

          So I sat up, head held high with feigned confidence, and headed towards the bathroom. I couldn't push through the door fast enough.

          The closed lid of the toilet seat seemed like the perfect place to situate myself, so I sat there and combed my fingers through my hair, staring at the tiled floor. I'd been in this position before; locked up in Louis' bathroom, on the verge of a panic attack. But this time was different. Back then, I didn't have a habit of reaching into my bag for a cigarette.