Eight Cakes and Two Eulogies

Chapter 9

Lunch time in the centre of Dublin brought out the crowds, even in late October. Still, it wasn't hard to pick Liam and Harry out of the sea of faces. Casually leaning against a signpost in the shade of some trees, the two of them were the kind of inconspicuous that, to the right person, stood out like a sore thumb. Unsurprisingly, Harry was utterly engrossed by the screen of his phone - playing Jewels 2, yet again, no doubt. The kid was seriously addicted and it got a little annoying at times. What was surprising was the way Harry's sunglasses and ponytail seemed to be actually working at keeping him incognito from the passing public. Not one person glanced his way - not even a group of giggling teenagers of whom one of them was wearing a flaming t-shirt with Harry's bloody face on it! If Louis had been in a slightly better mood he would have probably have taken a photo of the irony.

Unlike Harry, Liam was alert and on the lookout. He spotted them the instant they turned the corner, beckoning them forth with, perhaps, more gusto than the moment required. Then again it had probably been July since the guy had last been let off the leash for a good piss-up so Louis couldn't really fault him for his eagerness. Anyway, the excitement was sure to change the moment Liam got a good look at his face, he was dramatic like that. Always one for getting overly worked up when there was no need to be. Bracing himself, Louis trudged forward to confront the inevitable and Liam didn't disappoint.

"Oh my god. Louis! What the hell happened to your face?!" he yelped, as they drew closer. He reached out to tilt Louis' head into the sunlight for a better look. Louis pulled away sharply; a, because he didn't want the fuss and b, his face was fucking tender, okay. In the reflection of the shop window Louis caught a glimpse of Zayn shaking his head warningly - silently advising Liam to back off. Earlier, when it had been the first question his friend had asked upon meeting Louis at the station, Louis had uncharacteristically snapped at him - telling Zayn 'it was nothing, to drop the subject and to mind his own business'. Of course he had immediately felt bad – it had just been an instinctual reaction to the cringeworthy memory of the exchange. The last thing he wanted was to start this weekend having his friends disappointed in him. To his credit, Zayn had just held up his hands in quick surrender and apologised, albeit rather sarcastically, for being concerned but hadn't taken massive offence. In fact, he had quietly bought an ice-cold coke can for Louis to press against his burning cheek and that was that. For the first part of the journey, anyway. To either his bravado or folly, Zayn had later attempted another gentle probing as they boarded the plane, evidently thinking Louis had just needed some time to cool off. He was only marginally right. By that stage Louis had chilled enough not to snap at him but his tone had brooked no argument; he was not discussing it today, or, preferably, ever. He hated acting like that with his friends but he knew if he let Zayn have even a small edge then he'd grab it with both hands and prise everything out of him which would be against everything he'd been fighting for years. Don't get him wrong, Zayn was one of his best friends and a person whom he trusted beyond measure and someone whose opinion mattered a lot. But Louis wasn't sure he could handle Zayn's reaction to the sordid story of his past or of his exchange with Eleanor that morning. At least not today when everything was still raw and bound to infuse his words with bitterness and shame.

And shame was something he was feeling badly right now. He had never been that vicious to anyone before - not even towards Nick Grimshaw, and that twat had really tried his humanity at times. The words... the threats... God... what had come over him? Had he really threatened to hit her back - the thought left him cold and shaken. Never in his life had he ever hit a girl. Crikey, he had never thought himself capable - not even as a threat. Of course, he probably wouldn't have gone through with it, but still... No, he couldn't talk to anyone about this right now; the shame and humiliation would be too much.

"Nothing," he gritted out in reply to Liam's question, even though every inch of the perfect red handprint throbbed hotly.

Harry, with his usual bat ears for anything Louis related, had snapped his head up from his phone immediately. If it had been any other time, and Louis had been in any other mood, it might have been comical the way his eyes bugged out when he saw the mottled red finger marks.