Echoes of us

Chapter four

We stood there in silence, unsure if we should stay or go. But there was this unspoken understanding that we couldn't just leave him alone. Not like this. The betrayal had been brutal. It was public. Messy. Everyone knew the details—the cheating, the lies. It was splashed across the tabloids like some kind of soap opera, but it wasn't just a story for him. It was his life, and I saw how much it had broken him, even if he tried to hide it. Especially when he tried to hide it.

I had been there, watching him through the highs and lows. I saw how, some nights, the music seemed to be the only thing keeping him going.

A month had passed since Louis finished that last song on stage, and in all that time, I'd watched him slowly stitch himself back together. It hadn't been easy; there were still days where the weight of everything lingered in his eyes, but something had shifted. He pushed through the rest of the tour after that. He kept things together on stage, barely. Offstage, he was quieter than usual, but he seemed to be slowly mending. The cracks were still there, though. I wondered if this new calmness was just another layer of protection, something to keep us from seeing how deep the hurt still went.

The broken version of him wasn't the only one I saw anymore. Little by little, Louis was coming back, more like himself every day. But then there were moments that gave me hope. Like now, as we rolled into the city, I caught him smiling more, laughing with the crew. It wasn't forced anymore—it felt real.

We're on the bus, heading back to the city after the final show, and Isaac pulls out this silly, oversized hat that a fan gave him. It's neon green, with feathers sticking out of the top—completely absurd. Isaac, with his dead-serious expression, jams it on his head like he's about to walk down a runway.

The whole bus bursts into laughter, but what catches me off guard is Louis. I glance over at him, expecting maybe a small chuckle, but instead, I see it—a real, full-on, genuine smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he actually laughs, not the forced sound I've been hearing, but something real. It's the first time I've seen him smile like that in weeks

Maybe he really is getting better. He hasn't talked much about it, not in detail, but slowly, piece by piece, he's started sharing what he's feeling. He'll mention something in passing, or make a quiet comment late at night when the bus is dark and quiet, and every time he does, it feels like he's letting me in a little more. I'd been working with Louis for a while now, as his stylist and, sometimes, his accidental therapist. It's special, knowing he trusts me with these small, fragile parts of himself.

The bus pulls into the city, and everyone's ready to head home. The mood shifts immediately as people start packing up their things, talking about plans for the next few days.

"Hey, Layla, can you grab that bag?" Louis called over his shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"On it," I called back, and helping hoisting one of the heavier duffel bags from the pile.

"Finally home," Isaac grinned, stretching his arms above his head. "Time to sleep for a year."

"More like two days," Michael, leaning against the seats with his backpack slung over one shoulder, smirks.

Oli mutters as he grabs his bag from the overhead compartment. "We've got Glastonbury in a couple of days, remember?"

There's a buzz in the air—mostly about Glastonbury coming up. The guys are hyped, already planning outfits and talking about who they want to see perform.

Louis watches the scene with a genuine, if somewhat tired, smile. He's dressed casually, a comfortable hoodie and jeans that suit the more relaxed vibe. He seems lighter, his eyes reflecting a warmth that hasn't been there for some time.