Letters to the Author -Larry Stylinson

chapter twenty one

It smelled of sweat.

Louis wiped his forehead, focusing his eyes on the television hanging from the ceiling of the gym. He had his headphones in, but no music was playing. All he could hear was the redundant swoosh, swoosh as he ran at a steady pace on the treadmill.

The television was muted, playing a rerun of Friends. Louis was focused on it, due to the fact that if he focused on anything else he would probably break down from the physical exhaustion he was feeling.

Swoosh, swoosh.

"You alright?" Louis heard a voice beside him.

He ignored the person, letting them assume that he couldn't hear them over his music.

They walked away.

Louis took the chance to look over and see who it was. He saw a man in a purple shirt and black shorts, the outfit every trainer at the gym wore. Huh. He was probably curious as to why Louis has been running on this treadmill for the past two hours.

Swoosh, swoosh.

Of course, his legs hurt. Yes, they were burning quite a bit. Every step he took made his joints ache. There were only a few other people in the gym, lifting weights, using the leg lift.

Louis found that the only thing that could distract him from the pain he was feeling was the gym. Exercising. Sure, it hurt. Especially when he stayed up until two in the morning drinking coffee while listening to Niall sing karaoke to the small amount of people in the cafe.

Niall had received a guitar from his father for his birthday, encouraging him to learn how to play. Now Niall was obsessed with the thing, taking it everywhere he went. Louis'boss had recently agreed to let him play in the cafe, but only on nights. People tended to like entertainment better when they weren't rushing to get somewhere, anyway.

Swoosh, swoosh.

Louis had sat in the cafe, sipping on a mug of coffee with a bit of milk and resting his feet on a chair nearby. Niall liked to sing soft, pretty songs. The kind of songs that reminded Louis of rain. Louis liked Niall's voice.

There were only a few things that Louis liked nowadays. He liked Lucile, only one of two of his friends that had stayed loyal to him. The other one had left him. And Liam talked too much about himself to be a friend.

Louis figured that he should be getting to work. He checked his watch. It was 2:24. His shift was at 3:00, and he had quite a bit of ways to walk.

He turned the key on the treadmill to turn it off and threw his small white towel around his neck. He was wearing a grey shirt that was a bit too big on him and a pair of black gym shorts.

He walked over to the water fountain, taking some generous gulps, and then walked into the small bathroom. It was a family restroom, so he just shut the door and locked it. His legs were shaky underneath him, and he didn't really trust himself to work another five hours without passing out.

But he had to. The only reason he was able to go to college here in Doncaster was the money he made by working at the Donnie Cafe.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. His nose and cheeks were shining with sweat, his blue eyes bright under the white lighting of the bathroom. The muscles in his arms were much bigger than they used to be, but not so big that anybody noticed.

He stripped off his sweaty grey shirt and put it in his gym bag. He splashed his face with cold water and dried it before putting on a nice polo with a sweater over it. He would need it for the walk to the cafe. It was still cold outside.

He slid off his shorts and put on some jeans and his tennis shoes. He heard a knock on the door, and he rushed to stuff everything in his bag and throw it over his shoulder.

When he opened the door, he saw the same trainer that had tried to talk to him before. Louis awkwardly walked around him, ready to start his trudge to the cafe, when he heard the man speak.

"Hey. You didn't hear me earlier. I was just gonna ask if you were okay?"

"Yeah," Louis responded shortly, before quickly walking away and exiting the gym into the cold winter air.

And he started walking to work.

***

"Uhm. Hey. I miss you. Just wondering if you're getting my calls is all," Louis mumbled tiredly into the phone.

Louis had laid in the shower for about twenty minutes, his legs too tired to hold himself up. He wasn't quite sure if he had cried, due to the fact that the spray of the shower would have hidden it anyway.

His heart sure felt like he had.

He placed his phone on his nightstand. Harry never did answer, but he still remembered to leave a voicemail every few weeks.

Why didn't Harry have the decency to break up with him?

Louis bit his lip hardly, before burying his face in his pillow to breathe in the smell of clean linen. He was absolutely exhausted, so exhausted that he fell asleep a few minutes later.

***