Be Like You (Louis Tomlinson)

Chapter One

**Louis' POV**

I sway back and forth with the metro as the lights flicker dimly overhead. Listening to the creaking of the rails below me, I can feel the rumbling friction of the tracks underneath my feet. The underground is almost deserted save for the raggedy homeless blokes riding just to have some shelter from the disheartening English weather.

I'm returning to London from up north- Yorkshire, where I'd gone to visit my family. It was a much needed break from the recent tension of my break-up with Eleanor, the perpetual intensity of our fans and the screaming crowds. At home, I could just be Louis Tomlinson. I could be a goofball-the shrills of my laughter authentic. I could be a brother and a son-caressed by the tenderness of my family. I could break free from the chaining restrictions of fame and be who I was before the X Factor. At least for the most part. Just like seasons and the ever phasing moon, everything changes. Lots of things and people have changed since before the X Factor, including myself. I wouldn't say I've changed for better or for worse, I've just grown and matured with the fast pace of fame.

The underground screeches to an eventual halt and I click the home button on my phone to reveal the time: 3:22. Heaving myself up from my seat, my Vans scuff against the ground and the bottom of my joggers trail along the floor of the metro and then the platform. Turning to exit the station, I force myself to trudge up the steps onto the ground floor. Usually this floor is bustling with the chatter of busy commuters and the wail of poor musicians singing to earn a meager living off of tips from the thousands of Londoners traveling through these corridors daily. But now I only hear one voice, a delicate one that sounds tragically broken. Deciding against the part of my brain urging me to head back to my flat and get some sleep, I follow my ears in the direction of the voice. Eventually I see a girl leaning against a tiled support beam that climbs up to the ceiling. She's singing to herself as her slender fingers lightly pluck at her guitar strings, her own eyes watching her slim hands as they glide across the neck of the instrument and from into chords. Soon enough she senses my gaze fixed upon her and looks up in my direction, her steady eyes watching me watch her. Rapidly, her eyes dart back downwards and she quickly, almost desperately packs her guitar up into a beaten up case and lifts a duffle bag that I didn't notice was next to her. Hurriedly, she tosses it over her shoulder as she she speeds towards the exit. Adrenaline floods through me as I begin clamber after her. When I'm close enough, I reach out and wrap my fingers around her shoulder, forcing her to not only stop, look into my sapphire eyes.

"Don't touch me." She snarls as if she's a lion defending her cubs. Her voice is guarded, cold and ferocious-so different from the one I heard singing moments ago. She turns away once more but I reach for her hand this time, grasping the cold, callused skin in my warm one.

"Touch me again and I scream, scumbag." She drips venomously, ripping her hand from mine. Knowing she's going to flee any moment, I speak up.

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I think your voice is amazing. If you're looking for a career in the music industry, I can help you." This catches the girls attention, stopping her in her tracks.

"Oh really, Mr. Hot Shot? And please do tell how you could 'help me'?" She says signing air quotes around help me.

"Let's just say I'm in a band and we've been looking for an opening act. I reckon I've just found her." I report, beaming. Although I've been nothing but friendly and gentleman-like with her, her face remains completely guarded, refusing to show any emotions to my proposition. It's understandable though, considering I'm just a peculiar man at an underground station around four in the morning.

"Let's just say I was interested. How do I know this is legit?" I smirk at her obvious trust issues.

"You'll just have to trust me, I suppose." Still, she seems suspicious of me.