Misadventure

68

Louis' POV

Weeks passed.

To put it mildly: I was declining.

I'd reached a new, all time low, one I hadn't realized even existed.

"Wow. I'm impressed." Zayn quickly closed the door to the driver's side, back seat of my car, putting a halt to the avalanche of bottles cascading out into the parking lot.

It was a sunny, clear but chilly morning.

I watched through the windshield as he walked around the front, then opened the door and climbed into the front seat beside me.

He continued, "I was sure it would've taken at least another week before the empties overtook your space." He paused, turning to me. "Want a ride to the redemption center?"

"Get out of my car," I said flatly.

"Can't. Sorry. I'm afraid if I open the door again, more of those bottles will spill out. You know, if you leave broken glass in the parking lot and someone pops a tire, they could sue."

"Fuck off."

"You clearly haven't been eating or sleeping well," he continued. "You look awful."

"Thanks."

"Your car reeks. If I closed my eyes, I'd believe I was already at a redemption center." Zayn shifted positions with a quiet sigh. He put his feet up on the dash, making himself comfortable in the passenger's seat.

"Thanks for the two cents." I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Next time you can keep it."

He continued anyways. "It's not just the bottles that reek." His nose crinkled as he leaned towards me over the center consul. "When's the last time you've showered?"

I crossed my arms, inching back slightly, so I was leaning against the driver's-side door. "There's not exactly a shower in my car, dickhead."

"Well, you haven't just been in your car, yeah? It looks like you've been out and about." To my absolute horror, he picked up a discarded condom wrapper off the floor. "Does Harry know about this? Does he know you've been pimping yourself out for heroin?"

"Piss off, okay!" I could feel my cheeks getting hot. "If you just came here to insult me, then fucking leave!"

"Sorry. No can do." He sighed for the second time, this time louder. "The recital is in an hour. Clearly you're in no shape to get ready by yourself, so I've come to help you clean up."

"Is this a joke?" I suddenly feared I was going to cry, and I wasn't even sure of the reason. "I'm not going to the fucking recital-"

I cut myself off.

"-and stop looking at me like that."

He feigned innocence, eyes wide. "Stop looking at you like what?"

"Like you're surprised... or disappointed." I drew in an involuntary, shaky breath. My face tensed as I desperately tried to fight the tears behind my eyes from spilling over. "It's pretty obvious that I'm not going. I'm not prepared. I haven't been to class in over a month. I don't even have a song. Besides, I don't care anymore."

The last part felt like a half-truth.

Maybe I cared. Maybe I cared just enough to hurt for everything I lost, but not enough to motivate me to work towards getting any of it back.

"I care," Zayn said.

"You shouldn't."

"Harry cares."