Sinister - Larry Stylinson

Part Fifteen

--

Idly Louis wonders what life would be like if he had never met Harry. Or perhaps if he had under different circumstances, such as a long glance held through the window of a bakery. If he would have the courage to go and talk to him, ask him out for a cup of coffee, kiss him sheepishly before he turns for his apartment. A simple life would have bloomed into late nights on the phone, or tucked into the arms of one another watching some cheesy 70s horror film. A simple life, a simple love, no questions asked.

It's these thoughts that worm their way up into his mind when he's weakest- at night, trying to sleep away the ever present pain in his chest. They bore into the very marrow of his bones until he feels as though he's rotting from the inside out.

He misses him so much, more than he can take.

-

Zayn is gone for majority of the day, and Louis still can't bear to think of going back to work, having to listen to people drone on about their horrible lives when his life is a pit of its own.

He invites Gemma over to keep him company, and he finds himself digging helpless hooks into her, constantly asking her to just hold him. Somewhere in his heart, his conscience laughs at him, yet the feeling of her, the only thing he has left of his boy, is enough to suffice from fully capsizing.

Louis wakes up to a soft voice cooing to him, his eyes blink open, wide and bleary with dreaming tears. His mouth is dry and he clears his throat as he sits up to Gemma gazing at him holding a cup of tea. A solemn smile is creased into her features, and in the dim lighting flooding in from the hall she looks so much like him. He stiffens, diverting his eyes to keep from breaking again.

"Hey," she sighs, patting his thigh, "dinner's ready-"

A brute knock comes at the front door of Zayn's flat, and Louis jumps, craning his neck to glance at the door as though he expects it to fly open. Gemma sighs, brow furrowed before shuffling to unlock the bolt and swing the door open.

Louis shrinks back at the sight of an officer, who's expression is anything but welcoming. "Is Louis Tomlinson here?" He questions as he shows her his badge, "LPD, we'd like to bring him in for some questioning."

She looks over her shoulder, she's stiff, but she sighs and moves away from the door. The officer slowly enters, his eyes trained on the man shrunken into the couch.

"You're Louis, correct? I need you to come with me." His voice is low, his grey eyes stern.

Louis clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably, not even sure his voice will work with the ever present ache in his throat, "What for?"

"Questions about... Styles."

The tinge of resentment, loathing, in the man's voice is enough to bring a ragged breath of offense to Louis, "He's innocent, you know."

The man just stares at him, before motioning for the man to follow. And very slowly, he does, giving a slow glance to Gemma, who just nods as reassuringly as she can.

-

Louis is used to interrogating people, but hates being interrogated himself. He's sat in a cold room with one of those double-sided windows and a fluorescent light that washes out everything. He hates it, and being alone in this room has him drumming his fingers on the metal table, trying to hold in heavy breaths to keep from sobbing again.

He feels so numb, an empty shell just shuffling about with a fear growing in the pit of his hollow stomach.

He's studying the scratches in the metal of the table when the door swings open and in comes a thin, wiry looking woman with graying hair and a surprisingly subtle kindness in her blue eyes.