The Blindfold » l.t au

thirty four

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A short but an important update! The story is coming to an end soon. 

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That feeling came to me last night that something was wrong and Louis didn't want to tell me. It was nagging at me, but I ignored it the best I could, trying to comfort him and offer him distraction and pleasure and—fuck even love. But now, hearing what he just told his father, made me realize I should've asked before I felt sorry for him last night. I should've pressured him to tell me.

...and she kissed me.

The words were like a hammer on my head, pounding.

I looked at him with venom and pain in my eyes, seeing his struggle and even his shame. His dad was there and this wasn't the right time to talk about this or flee out of the door, not while I was practically naked and only wearing his shirt. I suddenly wanted to tear it apart.

"Lola—" he took a step forward. I recoiled.

My voice was colder than ever. "I'm getting dressed. When you're done talking, I'll be in your room."

I turned around and walked slowly, calmly, while I was anything but. The door shut behind my back and I heard my own pained cry before I collapsed against it, tears streaming down my face. It wasn't the betrayal that hurt the most—she could've kissed him when he didn't want to after all—and it wasn't the sick image of her lips on his. It was the moment I was having now, the one that reminded me of how weak I felt. Louis hadn't made me weak like Ian did, but now, in this moment, where I sat and with how my tears fell, hot and pained, Louis made me weak in the same way.

I didn't know how much time passed, but I finally got up, took off his shirt and threw it away, getting dressed in my last night clothes. The dress I loved, the dress Louis loved, was now a dress I wanted to burn. I wore my heels and wiped my tears the best I could, my hand curling tightly around my phone. I wanted to leave, but I knew I had to listen to an explanation, maybe then, I'd realize I wasn't so weak.

When the door finally opened, I straightened, willing my shaking hand to stop shaking. Louis inhaled a sharp breath and I wasn't sure if it was the sight of the dress, or the reason I wore it for. We both knew I'd leave anyway, even if his story said he made no mistake.

"I..." he paused, and I looked up, but he was looking at the floor, struggling visibly. "I need to know if you're going to stay after we talk."

"No." The word cut through the silence like a whip. Louis stiffened.

"Then why do you want me to explain?" his voice was hurt.

I let out a humourless laugh. "Because, you have to. You see, Louis, last night, when you stumbled through raking of alcohol and looking like a homeless, miserable guy, I should've let you sober up and talk about it. But I did what my heart told me, I comforted you, I loved you; I tried to wash away whatever memory was haunting you. If there's anything you owe me, it's a damn explanation."

He was utterly stunned, maybe even elated that I said the L word.

"Don't be so cold," he sighed, looking beat. "Angela's father passed away last week, and that's why she sought me. She told me that his death was a wake-up call, and she looked for me everywhere to...apologize."

"When she found out I had a girlfriend—a lover—her pain turned to anger and she was determined to ruin that. It was stupid of her, bloody stupid. She thought she'd come back after years to find me waiting for her?"

I snorted.

"Exactly," he nodded. "So she tried to do it her way. She cried, bared herself, thinking I still had a soft spot for her. I felt sorry for her father's death and how it affected her, but I didn't buy it. Her tears weren't real. In a flash...I don't know, she kissed me."

My heart stopped, even though I anticipated that.

"I didn't kiss her back, Lola, I couldn't. She wasn't you, and I felt as if I wanted to vomit. I left her there and found another bar, drinking and drinking until my lips were numb and free of her fucking taste."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I was so fucking guilty then, and furious. I was also fearful of your reaction. Angela's purpose was to sabotage my happiness and, judging by the way you're looking at me right now, she had succeeded. The choice is yours, Lola, you can leave and break me—break us—or you can stay and be mad at me and let me show you that I'd do anything to make you mine."

The urge to cry was overwhelming, and I gave up, letting the tears fall down my face. My eyes caught movement, his hand moving and then stilling. I knew he wanted to wipe my tears, I believed, with all my heart that he meant what he said. The thing was, I had made the decision before said what he said, now, I wasn't so sure I could ever leave.

I wasn't the only weak one here, and my brain screamed at me that it was okay to be weak, as long as I'd find someone who'd give me strength unconditionally. Wasn't that what love did? Broke us down and then made us stronger? Weren't people in love supposed to be weak and strong in an equivalent way?

Stay, everything inside me screamed. I looked at him and found him fighting to stand still. My phone buzzed in my hand, and the expected call was both welcomed and dreaded. With each vibration, I realized the pain that would wait for me if I left.

I picked up the call. "I'm on my way." I said no more.

Louis's face fell, practically crumbled, but he didn't stop me when I moved out of the room. I wanted to make my escape quickly, but Charlotte stood in the kitchen and called my name softly, sadly. My heart squeezed.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, and she looked like she wanted to smack me.

"I was," she sighed. "Now, I'm not so sure I like you. I heard everything. You're a fucking coward."

She shouldered past me and into her brother's room, slamming the door so loud I jumped. I had no tears left, and had nothing to say, so I left, but not before leaving the spare key on the kitchen counter.

I managed to keep myself together until George pulled the car away, surrendering to the wrenching sobs that shook my body. I wasn't sure if Louis would ever forgive me after I chose the easy way out. I think he was convinced he meant nothing to me. I cried harder at the thought, uselessly trying to muffle my sobs by placing a hand over my mouth. I stretched on the backseat and hiccupped pitifully.

"Is it over?" George asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"I-I'm such a coward," I mumbled, sniffing. "He hadn't done anything wrong..."

"Then why did you leave?" George tried to keep the chiding from his voice, but failed.

"Because I'm an idiot and I...I don't know. I just made a mistake. I want to go back, but I can't."

He said nothing more, sending me a sympathetic look in the mirror before looking away. The rest of the ride was silent, and so was I. My sobs quieted, and the hollow inside my chest intensified. I was sure that I had lost the one thing I wanted the most. 

..

Lola you bitch! Why did you leave?!

Is it weird to hate my own character? I guess I hate her right now. 

Speaking of hate, I have a new story and I'd like you to see it, maybe vote if you like it. It's a dark, twisted story, if you're into that kind of thing. You'll probably hate every character there. It's called Bound, check it out in my profile. 

Bye bye doves ^^