04. Louis

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**Disclaimer: This character shares a name and a face with Louis Tomlinson but it isn't a representation of him neither is based/inspired by him in any form. They're simply NOT related.**

When the doorbell rings for the seventh time, I delve my hands through my brunette locks, tugging at them in exasperation. Can't a girl have a moment of peace? My hair is mussed and my mind wanders around Izzy and Aaron, seeking a motive behind Aaron's threat. Ain't they supposed to be best friends forever or some shit? Why the hell am I not allowed to hang out with him then?

Aaron's behaviour suggests the problem resides in the afternoon I spent with Izzy as if our shared coffee and stories were some stupid mistake. A mistake that most definitely doesn't make any sense.

Energyless, I walk towards the doorway, shoulders slumped and head bowed. As the door opens I look up to greet the person behind it. It is wide open, giving me a full view of the soccer player-disguised boy, "What are you doing here?" I hiss. "Louise could've been here, Louis."

He walks in like a whirlwind, cleaning up the mud from his boots in the welcome carpet by the doorstep. He brings in a chill from the dying autumn air with him, his smile standing out against the tired features across his face, sweat drops along his forehead versus the glittering of his eyes, "I know she's got a shift at the library. I'm not that stupid."

"How on earth did you know that?"

"I follow her around," ever so casually, he replies. Then his voice drops to something sad and self-deprecating, stealing a quiet sigh from my throat. The Louis that can't live with himself is shining through, constantly shameful and all. "Just sometimes...When I miss her too much."

"You stop right there," I interject, seeking to sooth away his demons. Past is in the past, at least that's how I see it, and Louis is no longer the man who overdosed himself with LSD. He's got his quirks, like any other human, but now they dwell in being a huge pain in the ass. Especially when he sits --with his disgusting sweaty soccer uniform-- on my favourite coach. Like he's doing right now. "You listen, and you listen very well, Louis Harrington. You are the bravest man I've ever known and a brave man doesn't live in the past. You're way beyond it."

Eyes refusing to look up, he shakes his head, "I don't know, Harp."

"Yes, you do! Look at you, coaching a middle school soccer team and paying your bills."

"In fact, that's what brings me here," enthusiastic all of a sudden, Louis shoves a thick envelope out of his sweatshirt, the name Aaron written on the back. "Can you give this to him? He passed by the flat this morning but I totally forgot to hand it. It's the rent cash."

I arch an eyebrow, "You're telling me you're finally able to pay for the rent?" When he nods, I can't stop myself from jumping from my sit and throwing my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. "Congratulations, Louis! See what I was talking about? You make me so proud."

He shrugs it off, smiling sheepishly. Louis places the envelope in my palms, alongside a chocolate bar. The boy seems highly satisfied with his achievement, but I whirl my fingers away when I remember where Aaron and I stand at the moment, "Maybe is best if you make a deposit or something. I'm not sure when I'll see him."

A frown wave through his forehead, wrinkling it, "Is something wrong between you two?"

"I-I don't know," I sigh, limbs being dragged from Louis' proximity and melting at the other side of the couch. The occurrences sit harshly in between thoughts, words escaping almost involuntary, "We had a pretty big argument last night... and this morning... and he's hella pissed because I hung out with Izzy." My voice drops a note lower, whispering, as if I were saying a blasphemy, "He even called him Alexander."

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