SPACES [Editing]

Strange animal

First things first: HIT THE VOTE BUTTON. COME ON. THERE YOU GO.

Moving on....

Quick chapter reference: Half Strangers

YOU DON'T HAVE TO RE-READ THAT PART, I'm just saying that some parts of it will be incorporated into this chapter.

THIS IS LOUIS REMEMBERING POST-ACCIDENT. Not pre-accident. Just to make that clear. Also I hope it doesn't get confusing. The dialogue is the same but Louis is thinking into the memories. If that makes sense.

Also I'm aware that memories aren't that vivid and if you're a recovering amnesiac it's probably different, but THIS IS A FANFIC.

Okay, here we go!!!

Louis Tomlinson

[SETTING: Louis just left Hannah's house after finding out that she was pregnant with Greg's baby. At the end of the chapter reference, Harry was going to take Louis home.

"You listen to The Fray?" I asked as soon as I recognized the tune from the first few notes.

"I do. I mean, I didn't use to, but now I do." His voice changed.

"Which song converted you, then?" I tried to change his mood, but I realized that the topic itself was making him comfortable. It's too late now.

"Not... There wasn't uh... He used to listen to it. It's his playlist." He looked away.

It was my playlist. He was playing it.

"Oh. I'm sorry." I reached out to find another playlist, which, considering I've only gone back to driving, was dangerous.

"No. I mean, It's okay. I like listening to it." He replied, just when I realized that there weren't any other songs in his car.

How could I not recognise my own playlist?!

Three songs in and I noticed how cloudy Harry's eyes were. Don't get me wrong, my eyes were focused on the road, but everytime I'd look at the side mirror I'd notice the change in his mood.

I didn't know him that much back then, but it was obvious that I wasn't only one who needed an escape. I'd just broken up (again) with Hannah and it was my first time driving after the accident.

Harry was just as broken as I was, but he chose to help me instead.

Now that I think about it, it probably felt like torture for him to see me in that state again. He could've told me about him being my husband then, but he chose not to. 

"Your guy's got a great taste in music," I told him, careful not to be rubbing salt on the wound.

And I might have sounded absurd for praising my own taste, but I already said what I said, so.

"He does, yeah." He wiped his tears in a subtle way, and scrunched his nose.

"I like his songs, to be honest."

Of course you do.

"Yeah?" He said, looking away now. It's like he's a completely different person now. It was the first time he let me see the fragile side of him— the side that's been hiding behind his extraordinary facade.

He never let me see that side again after the car trip. He never wanted me to see how he was basically messing up his life before he left for Paris.