One Direction Imagines

When You Call (Louis Tomlinson)

The glare of your cell phone lit up the darkness of your bedroom. You struggled to open your eyes and wake up the arm that had fallen numb some time in the past few hours. Your eyes rolled and a heavy sigh escaped your mouth as you squinted your eyes and read the caller ID. Before the last ring sounded you picked up the nuisance, already regretting it.

“You have 30 seconds to explain why you’re calling me at 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“He’s getting real bad tonight. He’s so drunk he can barely keep from drooling on himself. Usually I can handle him but he won’t even talk to me.” The voice on the phone was raspy and sounded much too deep to be Louis.

“What do you expect me to do, Harry? We’re not together anymore, aka he’s not my responsibility.” As the seconds ticked by you grew even more furious at the man who stole your heart and crushed it in his grimy, little hands. Your hands ran themselves over your face subconsciously and you sighed yet again. “Alright. Alright, I’ll come get him. But this is the last time.”

Harry chuckled and said his goodbyes, promising to keep his best friend from choking on his own vomit if need be.

Stumbling around in the darkness of your apartment you tried to find the essentials you needed — car keys, shoes, pants. You didn’t bother locking the apartment, knowing that it would be too much of a hassle to unlock while carrying the dead weight of an unconscious man. The drive to club was shorter than you had expected and left no room for you to back out last minute. 

Harry met you at the door with both hands in his pockets and an endearing grin on his face. 

“Where is he?” you asked, trying to glance around Harry’s tall frame.

“Hi to you too,” he said sarcastically. “Relax. He’s still inside.”

Your eyes widened. “You let him keep drinking?”

“He may be my best mate but he’s not my responsibility either.” Harry’s voice was muffled by the bass pumping throughout the club and the grunts of sweaty bodies dancing their dignity away.

“Fuck,” you groaned. Harry stopped at the flashing bar and looked at you expectantly. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand and watched, enviously, as he turned his back on the situation to go be apart of the dancing mass. The bar itself was surrounded by an entire mob all cheering at the couple that danced atop the counter.

Of course Louis was dancing on a bar at 3 o’clock in the morning. Of course you came to save him.

“Of all the things…Louis! Get the fuck off the bar!” you shouted to him. But over the noise of people chanting ‘Dance! Dance! Dance!’ your voice was drowned out. It took a lot of force to elbow your way through the throng of people but you managed. And now you stood front row to a disaster waiting to happen.

His eyes re-focused when he felt a tug to the bottom of his pant leg. He turned to face you, completely letting go of the woman in front of him. She stumbled a little but kept dancing as if nothing happened. He jumped (using the term loosely) down and let his eyes rake your body unabashedly, taking longer to soak in your tired, unamused face. 

“I missed you,” he slurred, bringing his hand up to your cheek and stroking it with the softest touch. You batted his hand away and moved from his close proximity. 

“No you didn’t. Now let’s go before I change my mind and leave your ass here.” 

Before you could turn from him he grabbed your wrist and froze you to your spot.

“Yes I did, ” he whispered. His mouth pulled up into a small smile but when you looked into his face you saw his eyes and the sadness seeping through them. 

He let you lead the way out of the club, pulling you to his chest every time couple danced by and flailed their limbs. When he did you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and squirmed in his grasp. It took a lot for you to be in the same room with him again, let alone touching him. You tried your best to keep him upright as you walked from the club door to your car, practically dropping him when he wouldn’t cooperate with being stuffed into the passenger seat. He giggled to himself watching you grunt and grimace and struggle with the excess weight he posed on you.

“Lou,” you huffed. “I need you to sit upright. And stop touching me.” Once again you knocked his hands away from your waist. 

The ride home was partially silent, save for the songs pouring out of your radio and the soft singing from Louis. He kept his gaze locked on the streets of Los Angeles that flew by. Every once in awhile you’d glance over to see a tensed jaw and droopy eyes. 

Getting him up to your apartment and through the door was another difficult struggle but this time he didn’t lean on you as much.

“Boxers or pants?” you called to him. Your hands dug through what used to be his section of your dresser. Unknowing to you, he’d already stripped off his shirt and threw it somewhere amongst the mess on the floor. He stared at the back of your head with an amused expression, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side.

“What about naked?”

“That’s not an option anymore, Louis.” You stood up from your kneeling position but refused to face him. Without looking, you threw an old pair of sweats in his direction and moved to your bathroom in search of Tylenol. 

While you were searching he moved closer behind you until your back hit his chest. The pill bottle fell from your hands and a sharp intake of breath fell from your mouth. His arms wrapped themselves around your body. He hesitated before splaying his hands on your waist. His hot breath fanned across the side of your face as he slowly nipped at your jaw, then the sweet spot on your neck. And the next thing you knew his lips were on yours and your eyes fluttered shut and you were sucking on his bottom lip. Fingers traveled into your hair, pulling at the roots.

It had been too long since he touched you like this, made you feel things like this. 

“We can’t…” you broke out from his hold and stepped away from him. “We’re not…this isn’t….I don’t-“

“Tell me you don’t miss me,” he interrupted. He moved closer ignoring the fact that you flinched a little. You just stared at him, not wanting to bring up the fact that you didn’t just miss him you craved him. For days after his absence you lay crying in bed wrapped in his clothing, playing his favorite songs, staring at pictures of him. 

“YN, tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see my face again.” You continuing giving him an empty stare and whimpered when he again took you in his arms. “Say it.”

“I can’t. I can’t tell you I don’t miss you because I do.”

His adam’s apple bobbed and for once in his life he didn’t know what to say. 

“It hurt being away from you.” His nose skimmed up the length of yours and he paused to kiss the tip of it. ”I only said those things because I was angry. I didn’t—I didn’t know what I was saying, I didn’t realize…”

His voice cracked and that’s when you reached up to place your palm against his cheek. 

“Say it again.” 

He looked at you in confusion. “That I didn’t know what I was saying?”

You shook your head.

“No. Tell me you missed me just as much as I missed you.” His lips turned up into a tight smile and his face got nearer and nearer to yours. 

“I fucking missed you and it hurt like hell.”

Your hands wound themselves in his hair and you let a hysteric laugh leave your lips. He peppered your face with kisses and small whispers of sweet nothings. 

“I love you too.”

He gave you a full-toothed grin and for the second time that night let his mouth drift onto yours to feel complete bliss.

CREDITS: http://whorangar.tumblr.com/