Boyband Rebound [Editing]

n i n e

Louis isn’t an organised person – he has about a million people who can vouch for that – yet, he finds himself sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, a pen and notebook in hand. He has a project to do: and he’s going to make sure that he has everything planned out to the last detail.

“Operation Birthday,” he mumbles as he scrawls it down on the top line. Adding 24th December to the title, he unconsciously places the pen in his mouth and nibbles. It’s a terrible habit he has.

Louis spends a few minutes glaring at the paper. He can’t come up with anything. “What does Sara May like?” he asks himself, stretching out his legs in front of him. He tries to remember any little things he knows about her, and suddenly remembers a conversation he had with her.

“Well, I like sleeping around all day, I like Gestapo’s Ice Parlour, blue’s my favourite colour, and little new-born penguins are my favourite animals. I like the rain, I like getting wet in the rain – and still eating ice cream afterwards, I adore classical music and I love pop and dance music. I like to sing as well, and my favourite pastime is to curl up in a quilt and read books.”

“Brilliant,” he mumbles to himself, parts of the conversation flashing before his eyes like lightning on stormy nights.

He jots down everything he remembers. Sleeping. Gestapo’s Ice Parlour. Blue. Penguins. Rain. Ice cream and rain. Classical music. Pop. Dance. Sing. Read. “That’s quite enough,” he declares, capping his pen.

“Now, what to do with all this?” he asks himself. Louis hums. He has to find a way where all of her favourite things come together. It’d make her happy.

Was it going to rain on his birthday?

He pulls out his phone from his pocket (it’s a new habit of his; having his phone in his pocket at all times – even when he’s in the loo.) and taps around until he gets a weather forecast site. He scrolls down until he finds what he’s been looking for.

London, 24 December 2014

6⁰C, partly rainy with light snow

“Drat.” He shuts his phone in annoyance and buries it in his pocket again.

Blue penguins with ice cream. He doesn’t know where he gets the idea. But it’s a damn fantastic idea. Once again grappling for his phone, he speedily searches for a special number and presses call.

“Hi, yeah, this is Louis Tomlinson. I wanted to order something?” he pauses. “Yeah. Alright. I’d like an ice cream cake. On the 24th – yes, yes, this Saturday – and it must be a blue penguin. Can you do that? You can? Wonderful. Yes, thank you. Bye!”

Clicking off the call with a satisfied grin, Louis writes down his idea and places a small tick next to it. When that’s done, he checks his list again.

Read. Maybe she’d like a bunch of books? He doesn’t know what sort of books she’d read, though. He tries racking his brains again. He must have seen something, anything – his brain delivers him images of her flat (it was nice and cosy, and Louis thoroughly enjoyed his sole visit there) and her never-ending shelves of books.

Adventure and mystery, he decides. He elects to order her a set of Sidney Sheldon. Writing that down as well, he makes another decision to order her books right away.

He glances around his bedroom in hopes of locating his laptop, and finds the silver equipment lying a few feet away. Not wanting to go through the bother of getting up, he simply throws himself, stomach down, onto his floor and stretches until he can reach the laptop. Pulling it towards him, he heaves himself up again.