Snapshot » l.t.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12


Louis' POV


"Louis, wake up."

I ignored whoever was talking to me and shrunk underneath my comforter.

"Seriously, Lou. Rise and shine!"

I put a pillow over my face.

"GET UP!!"

I was pushed off the bed. I fell on the floor on my shoulder.

"Ow!" I groaned. "What was that for?" I demanded of the two figures above me.

Harry was the first. He rolled his eyes. "You weren't getting up," he said, like it was obvious. Which it kind of was.

"Hurry up and get dressed, Louis," Zayn, the second one, told me. "We have a photo shoot to go to."

I groaned again. I didn't want to go back to that studio. I would just be reminded of the stupid accident.

"If you don't get up, Paul will make you," Harry said, and I stood up. "Alright, alright, I'm moving," I grumbled.

"Good. Niall made breakfast, so don't be surprised if you happen to find a wooden chip in it."

I was confused, but the two left before I could ask them about it.

I put on my usual (the stripes and red pants) and went into the kitchen.

"There you are, Louis!" Niall sang. "I made omelets!" He sounded pretty proud of himself. I looked at him dubiously.

"And Harry allowed you?"

"Of course! He was busy waking you up!"

I rolled my eyes and ate it. I didn't find any "wooden chips", for which I was grateful.

"Let's go!" I heard Paul bark, and I was literally pushed out the door by Niall. I was hopping on one foot trying to put my shoes on. I sat in the car between Harry and Paul. I pulled my shoes on properly.

"Who's our new photographer?" Liam asked Paul. Paul shrugged. "We'll see when we get there," he replied smoothly. Everyone seemed to glance at me. I ignored them.

Geez, I'm not completely torn up about the accident! They don't have to act like I'm about to burst into tears any second.

We didn't talk much on the way. I wondered if I would see Renee there. I could apologize and get it over and done with.

We went into the lobby after parking our car. We were directed to go back to the same studio. This time Harry and I didn't wander around and play with anything.

The broken light was still there. Guilt weighed me down.

Harry, Niall, and I got our makeup done first. Whoa, that sounded really wrong. But we'd gotten used to it by now.

"What's that?" my makeup artist, a woman around her mid-forties, asked me. "What's what?" I asked.

"This mark on your cheek." She was talking about Renee's slap.

"Oh, it was just an accident I had. I ran into a door." I didn't need Renee getting a bad rep around here. She might get fired, and that wouldn't help her love for me.

She blinked, and I bit back a smile at her expression. "Oh, okay," she said uncertainly, and covered it up.

Next we had to go the dressing rooms, where some stylist gave us our photo shoot clothes. They weren't completely jazzed-up, which I was happy to see, but rather normal. Almost nothing was normal for us anymore.

Zayn and Liam were finishing up with their makeup when Niall, Harry, and I exited the dressing rooms.

"I wonder where our photographer is," Niall mused as he looked around. He didn't have to wonder long.

A smaller girl with short curly blonde hair ran up to us, a camera clenched tightly in her hands. She had a huge grin. "Hi, I'm Elise!" she said enthusiastically. Her voice was pitchy. "I'm going to be your photographer today!"

"There's your answer," I murmured in Niall's ear. He nodded.

Elise was pretty, but not really my type. Harry, on the other hand, was stripping her down with his eyes. But he did that to every girl he met.

"Hey, do you happen to know anyone named Renee?" I asked Elise. She nodded. "She's my photographer best friend!" she chirped. "She went to the hospital yesterday...." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

"Do you know if she's here today?" I asked. Her eyes widened. "No, she's not," Elise replied. "But why do you want to know?" She wasn't being defensive, but her voice implied something I didn't like.

Before I could ask her, Liam and Zayn joined us. "Hello, there," Liam said. "Who're you?"

"I'm Elise," Elise said. "And I'm your photographer!"

She turned back to me. "Renee was supposed to be photographing you guys today," she told me. "But, um, she had an accident...."

"Yeah, I know," I muttered. She raised her eyebrows. "You know?" she exclaimed. "How?"

Didn't she know it was me who sent her photographer best friend to the hospital? Apparently not, but before I could say anything, she checked her watch.

"Uh oh!" she gasped. "We're running late! We better get started!"

She hustled us towards the stage and readied her camera. We sat on the couch and put on bright smiles.

I wondered if mine was the only one that felt fake.


*~*~*~*


After the photo shoot, I snuck up behind Elise and reviewed the pictures with her. "Hello," I finally said. She jumped and spun around, but smiled when she saw that it was me.

"Oh, hi, Louis," she said. "These are great shots, aren't they? You guys are amazing!"

I immediately labeled her as a Directioner. "That reminds me," she said, and dug around in her pocket. She brought out a slip of paper and a pen. "Can I have your autograph?"

I chuckled as I took them from her and signed the paper. "Here you go," I said and handed it to her. She took it and bounced a little, grinning widely.

"Anyways," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Do you have Renee's address or her number?" Elise stared at me. "Um, yes...." she said slowly. "Why?"

"I just need to talk to her."

I wanted to add on more to that, but I didn't know how to without making it awkward. Elise took that upon herself.

"Do you like Renee or something?" she blurted out. Now I stared at her. "What?" I exclaimed. "No way! Of course not! I just...."

Elise put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me, trying to stare me down. "I don't like her like that," I said flatly. "I just need to tell her something."

"Okay," Elise said doubtfully, but picked up her pen and grabbed my arm. "But if you start getting feels for my BPFF, I'm gonna know about it."

As she scribbled on my arm, I looked at her oddly. "What's a BPFF?" I asked.

"Best Photographer Friend Forever. Duh."

"Oh. Of course."

She let go of me and I stared at my arm. I had the address, but not the number. I didn't question it.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she said brightly. "I have some autographs to collect." She skipped off happily.


*~*~*~*


"What's that on your arm, Louis?" Liam asked me.

We were sitting in the car, on our way home. I curled my arm so that the pen marks were hidden.

"It's... nothing," I said.

"Don't lie."

"I'm not lying!"

"Yeah, you are," Niall piped up. "You wouldn't look Liam in the eye and you hesitated. Obvious clues."

I glared at him, but he looked back at me cheerfully.

"Well, whatever it is, it's none of your business," I retorted.

"What's gotten into you?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "You're unusually grumpy."

"What's with all the questions?" I mumbled, glaring out the window. "If I say it's nothing, it's nothing."

At home, I got on my phone and tapped Google Maps. I typed in Renee's supposed address, and I found her place. It was an apartment building, so that meant she lived in a flat. I would find out more when I got there.

I tucked my phone in my pocket and grabbed the keys to the car. I was barely out the door when a familiar voice asked, "Where are you going?"

I groaned inwardly before turning around. Harry was staring at me suspiciously. "Nowhere, somewhere," I said, struggling to come up with a decent place. "Why do you care?"

"That's a stupid question."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to see Renee," I admitted. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You have her address?"

"Yes."

"And her number?"

"No."

"You're a stalker."

"Am not!"

Harry chuckled. "You will be if you keep showing up unexpectedly," he told me. "Warm up to her and get her number."

"Are you sure you don't fancy her?" I demanded, just annoyed with him. He rolled his eyes. "Just go already," he sighed. "I'll cover for you here. Obviously Paul won't like where you're going." I nodded and left.

I put my phone near the windshield where I could glance at it easily. I started the car and pulled out.

As I drove to her flat, I couldn't help but think about her color-blindness. Did this mean that driving was difficult for her? Could she tell the difference between the lights? Green and yellow must be hard to identify....

The light above me turned a bright red. I felt more guilt.

Surprisingly her flat wasn't too far from where me and the boys lived. It wasn't walking distance, but still close.

I parked the car and entered the lobby. I had the foresight to wear a dark hoodie and bring big, dark sunglasses.

I went up to the front desk and the doorman looked up. "How may I help you?" he asked kindly.

"Does Renee live here?" I asked, and I realized I didn't know her last name. Who knows, maybe this was the wrong flat! Maybe Elise lied to me to protect her friend!

"Do you mean Renee Wilson?"

"Um...." I faltered. "Yes?" It sounded like a question.

"Well, Ms. Wilson does live here. Are you a visitor?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Can I have your name, sir?"

I was surprised that was all. No demanding why I looked like a convict. No rule that it was rude to have a hoodie up when someone was talking to you. That came up a lot.

"Uh, actually, I'm here to surprise her," I said. I did not need anyone swamping me at the moment.

"Alright then."

I nearly laughed aloud. This guy was so easy to bend! He didn't care what I looked like, or that I was nameless! This was just awesome. Why couldn't all doormen be like him?

He picked up his landline and dialed a number. He held up a finger. I had to wait. Take all the time you need, I thought. I was still reveling in my luck.

"This is Renee Wilson's residence?" the doorman asked. He paused. "There is someone here to see you."

Another pause.

"He says it is a surprise."

After a moment, the doorman hung up. "She says it's alright for you to go up," he said. "Her room number is 306. Take the elevator up to the third floor and she's the sixth room on the right."

"Thanks, sir," I said and went over to a nearby elevator. A few minutes later I was standing outside Renee's door. Supposedly. For all I know, this could be an old woman with forty kids or something. I knocked.

"Coming!" someone shouted from the inside. I'm pretty sure it was a female, young.

The door opened.

A girl was standing before me, and I instantly knew it was Renee. It was the same hair, the same face, the same... you know, I'll just stop there.

I grimaced. The color of her clothes clashed together, and she had bags under her eyes. Her hair was slightly tousled. I didn't know how color-blindness affected that, but apparently it did.

"Um, can I help you?" Renee asked. I took off my hoodie and my sunglasses. Her jaw dropped slightly, but then her expression hardened. Yeah, she still hated me.

"Hi, Renee," I said. I remembered Harry's advice of getting closer to her, and I forced a tiny smile. It didn't help much.

"What do you want?" she demanded. I exhaled and ran my hand through my hair, stalling. How should I start? In truth, I think I was actually--

"I'm waiting!" Renee said snappily. I blinked, coming back to the present.

"I wanted to apologize for your... accident," I said quickly. What am I saying? I was the one who caused it! "It was my accident, I mean, but you had to pay for it." I sound like an idiot. "I'm really sorry and I'm hoping you'll forgive me and--"

Renee held up her hand, cutting me off. I thought she was going to slap me again, but she didn't.

"Oh, is that all?" she asked, smiling brightly. I was surprised. She forgave me? Really? Well, that was easier than I thought.

I sighed in relief. "Yeah, will you forgive me?" I asked.

Her happy expression suddenly turned. Now she was spitting mad. She had faked me out!

"Of course not, you idiot!" she yelled. "You destroyed everything that was dear to me! Because of you, my friends think I'm a retard! Because of you, I might have to get fired from my job! Because of you, I'm half-blind!"

She was crying. Tears ran down her cheeks, and I felt like she had thrown a ton of bricks on my shoulders. Was she telling the truth? I ruined everything.

She wiped away her tears, still glaring at me. "Renee," I tried again. "I'm--"

"Save it," she muttered, turning away from me. "I don't want to hear it. I know you don't mean it."

"I do mean it! I--"

"Just leave me alone!" she shouted and slammed the door in my face.

I groaned and stepped away from the door. I wanted to kick it, but instead kicked the floor. I raged for a while.

Why wouldn't she just listen to me? Just for a second! Why couldn't she accept my apology? I did mean it! Did she think I enjoyed inflicting this upon her? Didn't she know I was suffering, too?

Not as much as her, my subconscious retorted. She's half-blind. Not to mention those other things.

Did her friends seriously turn on her? For something I did? But just this morning Elise told me that her and Renee were BPFFs for life! Renee needed to get her facts straight. Unless Elise was lying....

And she might get fired? Well, isn't that just great! More things on my conscience.

I wasn't giving up. If Renee wasn't going to listen, I'd make her listen. I don't just walk away from stuff like this. She needed to know that.

But for now, I just needed to go back to me and the boys' flat and have a meltdown. I was seriously frustrated.


......


I parked the car and stormed into our flat. Harry looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. No one else could be seen.

"Hey, there," he said, grinning at me.

"Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Out. Niall and Paul are getting pizza, Liam and Zayn are bowling, and you supposedly just got back from the grocery store."

"Thanks, mate," I muttered. I wanted to go to my room, but Harry wasn't done yet.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked.

"Fantastic," I replied sarcastically. "She recognized me, hated me on sight, and practically screamed her lungs out at me."

"I'm guessing she didn't accept your apology?"

"Good work, Sherlock."

"Well, you're just going to have to keep trying," Harry said, ignoring my tone.

"How do you--I mean, why do you care?" I demanded. He smirked at me. "I know you, Lou," he said. "You're not going to give up until she listens to you. You're stubborn that way."

He walked away before I could protest.

He was right about me, though. But I wouldn't call it "stubborn". More like, "persistent". Continuing firmly in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.

Yep. I'm smart like that.