Part One― Prologue; Post-Chasing Harry

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I understand how Harry did it.

How easy it was to run away.

It's actually almost too refreshing for me to even put into words. It was like everything was open to me, new senses arrived and it's like I was alive once more never realizing I was somewhat dead until I left.

I don't care that I left.

I changed my number and I wasn't planning on actually going back anytime soon, well, maybe in time for the Take Me Home tour. As much as I didn't want to―being in the band was my job and I couldn't just drop it and do as I please.

At least, not forever.

Harry never really came to mind―hell, I'm lying. He always does, almost ninety-nine percent of the time; he is the only person I think about. Though, I don't think about how I miss him and how I want to have his arms wrapped around me securely forever holding on to me―no. He's in mind because it is what drives me to do what I am doing at this very moment, he's the one who drives my body into the actions I play and the words I say. It's as if he's influenced everything I do only because I can't forget the fact that I am walking without a heart in my chest as it's been cut out and thrown out somewhere; it doesn't beat blood through my body the way it did, filled with compassion, caring and vulnerability―no.

Not anymore.

If it weren't for Harry, I'd be back home with him―cuddling.

I wouldn't be here in a different man's apartment with a cigarette between my lips, proving that I can be someone more rugged, manly and stronger than I have ever been.

Though, I'm starting to think this is more than just a cover up but a new me.

Louis Tomlinson 2.0.

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