Dedication to @Dance2012. Hope you like it babe! Thanks for adding this story to your library! You're a doll! :) xx
Remember Me? (Louis)
Okay, so while I wait here for the five most desirable men on earth, let me tell you the story of why I’m here. It’s a bit different from the reasons of these million other girls. See, they’re here as fans - or Directioners - as they call themselves. They’re here to see the boys, get autographs and pictures with them.
Me? I’m here for just one boy - Louis.
Louis and I, we were best friends, until I was eight. My father got transferred and we had to leave Doncaster. I remember crying, so very much, when I was told we were leaving. Because it wasn’t Doncaster I was going to miss, it was Louis. We stayed three houses away and met on the playground. It was when I was four, I went down the slide way too fast and bruised my knee. My elder sister, Marissa, who was supposed to keep an eye on me while my parents were out of town told me not to be a baby and went away with her boyfriend. She was 14, so mom allowed her to have a boyfriend, if she was open with mom. I sat there, grabbing my leg and sobbing when I saw a brown haired boy run past me. After taking a few steps again, he turned around to look at me and asked me what was wrong. After I was done, he held my hand and led me to his house, where his mom bandaged my knee. We played a few times together and Louis made me a get-well-soon card with an awkward, messy superman on the cover, saying superman would look after me (which I still have, by the way). Anyway, we became really close, and a year later - almost inseparable. My name was Sophie, but he decided it was too difficult to call me that, so he called me ‘Blondie’, not that I mind. I loved my blonde hair, it’s strawberry blonde and straight. I resisted in the beginning, nobody had ever called me anything other than Sophie, but soon, it grew on me. And seeing that it annoyed him to no end, I called him Lewis. Actually, I yelled it out as 'Lewwissssss.' I think it grew on him too though.
So after I moved away, we tried to keep in touch. We called each other and wrote letters, but slowly, it reduced, We both got busy in our own lives, and all that remained of our friendship was beautiful memories.
After they became popular, I beamed with pride. My best friend (yes, I still called him that. To me, he will always be my best friend) was somebody everybody wanted to know! Everybody loved!
And so when I heard that they were coming here, I couldn’t help myself. I baked his favourite choco-chip cookies, which my mother used to make. They were his favourite. A part of me just hoped he would come home - spend some time with me if he had any. Then I got dressed and my feet led me to the airport, where I stood, smushed between a swarm of loud - and may I just add, a few horny fans - to see my best friend.
The crowd went crazy when the five boys’ faces were visible. I saw them all walk out and smile at all of us. I looked for Louis, going on my tippy-toes (my “petite” frame didn’t help. I stopped growing the moment I hit 5’2”). There he was, that same mischievous grin he always had, plastered on his exhausted face. Those same eyes, shining brightly at all of us. But my view suddenly got blocked when a very tall woman came and stood right in front of me.
“Excuse me?” I shouted, tapping on her shoulder, gesturing for her to move just a little.
“I’m a fan too. Piss off.” She spat. Ouch.
“Look, I need to see Louis! Please!” I begged her.
“We all do.” she said all so friendly. Not.
“Please, you don’t understand! He’s my best friend!” I shouted over all the noise.
“Pfft. Yeah, right. Now, don’t waste my time.” She said with a murderous expression.
