You Again? » l.t. au

Prologue

~A/N~

Just so you don't get confused, the prologue is set two months after their breakup, and the rest of the story is in the present, aka two years later when they meet at work. That's it, happy reading! xx

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Louis' POV

I groaned quietly as I heard the doorbell, again. Whoever was in front of the door, sure as hell wanted to see me badly. If I'm lucky, it's a murderer.

Sighing, I placed the bowl of chips on the coffee table in front of me, before standing up as slowly as I could manage, and walking to the hallway the same way. I swear it took me a minute to get to the door.

"Louis!" I recognized the voice as my friend Stan's, who was now knocking loudly. "If you don't open the door, so help me God-"

"Alright! Don't piss yourself!" I shouted as I unlocked the door, and gave him an icy stare. "What do you want?"

"Mac and Ross just told me you're ditching us again," He said sternly, looking at me with disapproval.

I rolled my eyes and headed back to my living room, knowing he'd follow me. "Yeah, I am... so?"

"So? Lou, mate, are you really asking me that?" Concern had replaced anger in Stan's voice, as he walked across the room, looking around like I had Martians there. All of a sudden he sighed and fell down on the couch next to me, and picked up the few sheets of paper that were next to the bowl of chips. I didn't even have the energy to stop him.

"Please, tell me you've stopped doing this." He gently waved the papers in my face, and I just gave him a vacant glance and a barely noticeable shrug. Enough for him to notice, though.

"I don't believe this... how many more of these are there?" He asked, and I could tell he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I dunno... twenty, maybe twenty five." I shrugged again; it was no big deal to me, but a massive shock to Stan.

"I actually don't believe it... Louis, she broke your heart." Ugh, here we go again. "The least you need right now is to write songs for and about her."

"It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?" I raised my bottle of beer as if toasting, and took a few gulps as I watched Stan stare at me in awe.

"I don't understand, you never did this with Monique." I cringed at the mention of her name.

"Monique was a bitch," I said simply. "She didn't just break my heart. She ate it."

"And Lorena didn't?" My eyes screwed shut at the mention of the other girl's name. When the little rock of pain that struck my chest whenever someone said her name went away, I shrugged again.

"She had a decent reason." There I was, sitting in my living room and acting like some sort of a divorced housewife; surrounded by food, alcohol, and countless sheets of paper on which I'd been wreaking my anger and misery. And in the meantime, defending the girl whose fault that was.

"No, she didn't," Stan said, for the umpteenth time since I told him what had happened. "And you need to stop defending her! She's an uptight bitch who's got her head in the clouds and doesn't see what's right in front of her. You've changed, Lou, and I don't care that she's the reason for that, because she doesn't see it. You deserve someone who does."

I didn't say anything; I never did. He dumped the few sheets on my stomach, the worried look in his eyes not leaving. "Please, for the love of God... tell me that I'm not just speaking to the walls."