Midnight Memories

f i f t e e n

"Perhaps it's impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be." - Orson Scott Card

"What are you doing out here Louis?" I took a deep breath, trying to regain some self control.

"I don't know." He said, lighting another cigarette. He was out of the shadows now, so I could see him more clearly. He didn't look any better than the last time I had seen him, as a matter of fact, he looked worse. Gone was the boy I had known in high school, one who was handsome, and happy. The man in front of me looked as if he survived off a diet of alcohol and nicotine, getting about two hours of sleep a night.

"I guess," He continued. "For the same reason you did. I wanted to be alone."

"I'm sorry then, for coming out here and interrupting your silence." I said softly.

He took a long drag of the cigartette clutched in his shaky hands, then shrugged. "It's fine, I suppose. It's not like the fire escape is my personal property."

"How many of those do you smoke a day? You're killing yourself you know."

He glared at me. "Why do you even care? Maybe that's the point."

"Louis..." I trailed off. "Please stop."

"Stop what, Parker? Telling you the truth? My fucking bad nobody's ever had the balls to give the princess a reality check."

"Are you really going to go there with me, Louis?" I said angrily. "After what you did to me?"

"What?" He retorted. "You mean fuck you? Stella, I hate to break it to you, but i'm not the first person you've slept with, and I wont be the last. Maybe you should learn to keep your legs closed."

I stared at him in shock. "What happened to you?" Was all I could manage to say.

Louis violently stamped out his cigarette, shoving his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket before turning to face me. "What did I tell you Stella, the first night we ever met."

For the first time in months, I allowed my mind to travel back to August 17th, a day I held so sacred, yet thought about so little. "You made me promise not to fall in love with you."

"Exactly. I warned you who I truly was at the very beginning. It's not my fault you chose not to believe me."

"You were a hero." I whispered. "You know you were."

He shook his head. "I've always been the villain. Quite frankly, I find heroism to be overrated. Boring, even."

"You don't mean it Louis. This, whoever it is you've become, this isn't you. It's like you're dead."

"On the contrary," A shadow of a smirk played on his lips. "I've never felt more alive."

I scoffed haughtily. "Are you sure that's not just because of all the cocaine you snort on a daily basis?"

He looked at me, furious. "Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, sex, and tattoo needles all make me feel like more of a man than I ever was when I was with you."

I had to admit, that hurt, more deeply than I imagined words ever could. "They're demons, Louis."

"No." He shook his head once more. "You are."

Before I could say anything more, the door to the fire escape opened, light flooding the small space. Derrick, flanked by Ryder Hartley, did not look pleased in the slightest to see either of us.

"You." I could hear Louis yell from next to me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here Hartley?"

Ryder looked taken aback, but maintained his usual slick composure. "Tomlinson. Good to see you too."