the traveller // louis tomlinson

chapter thirty-four // growing up.

Mia's POV

I walk out of the bathroom feeling slightly better than when I had walked in. After scrubbing my face clean of the makeup that had stained my cheeks, I feel more refreshed. Though my eyes still feel puffy and swollen from my tears.

I can't believe how awful of a human being I am. I just allowed Shiloh to hold me close and shower me with comfort as I was crying over how I still have feelings for Louis. Like, how much lower can you get than that?

The fact that I'm hiding something so horribly important makes me want to shrivel up and die. Shiloh and I never keep things from one another. But I still can't bring myself to tell him the truth. I can't imagine how hurt he'd be.

No matter what I do; not everyone's going to be happy. I just have to figure out whose happiness is top priority.

Emerging from the hallway, still incessantly rubbing my eyes, I'm greeted by a smiling face. Shiloh holds out a bowl, it's contents steaming.

"I figured you were hungry," He explains, leading the way back to the bedroom, "It's only ramen noodles, but I know you love this crap," He lets out a soft chuckle as I plop down on his bed tiredly.

A smile forms on my lips as I take the steaming hot bowl from him, inhaling the microwaved noodles with nostalgia. These bad boys are about the only things I'm capable of cooking, so I learned to love them quickly.

"I'll accept these, but no more doing nice things for me, okay?" I tell him, giving him a stern look.

He laughs it off, not seeing that I'm being absolutely serious. My conscience can't take another nice gesture from him. I don't deserve them.

Shiloh's probably beyond confused as to why I'm crying with a guilty conscience, when he's the one that left me in the first place. Knowing me, he probably expected me to start swinging on him when he saw me on his front porch.

That's what the old Mia would have done.

Blowing on my noodles before forking them in my mouth, I watch as Shiloh falls back into old habits. He incessantly cracks his knuckles, just as I remembered, not even realizing he's doing it. He leans forward to plant a kiss on my forehead before he gets to his feet.

I watch as he tries to tidy the place up; folding his clothes neatly and placing them along the wall, not even having hangers to hang them up in the empty closet. He starts to talk quickly, telling me the story of how he ended up getting this house in the first place. I try my hardest to listen, but my mind is elsewhere.

Just looking at his sad piles of clothes, not hanging up in the bare closet makes me really sad inside. And the way he just talks with this enthusiasm as if he didn't have a worry in the world now that I was back.

I glance down at my steaming hot bowl full of noodles, wondering how much damage I could do if I just poured it all over my face.

Probably not enough...

"Um..." Shiloh's upbeat voice takes a turn for the bad, sounding rather off.

I look up to see him opening my duffel bag and holding up Louis' 'Doncaster Rovers' sweatshirt that I stole from him. He glances at me, confusion in his eyes. But the part that makes my stomach drop is the look of pain behind his eyes.

I feel as if I'm falling too quickly for me to grab on to anything. Everything seems to come crashing down, rubbing it in my face what I knew all along. I can't keep Louis and Shiloh in two different worlds. It just won't work like that.

"I'm guessing there's a story behind you getting here, isn't there?" He asks, knowing me far too well for my own good.

He folds the sweatshirt neatly, returning it back to my duffel bag before approaching the small mattress. He sits down - this time not as close to me - and gives me his most patient and sincere eyes.