Turquoise (L.S)

XI

A cold, hair-raising breeze caused Louis to shudder and burrow deeper into the soft linen sheets and mountains of pillows. He breathed in their unfamiliar scent and frowned. Vanilla, tobacco blossom, and mixed spices surrounded him, both comforting and reminding him that this was NOT his bed.

Louis's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, dazed and concerned. He was definitely not in his bedroom.

The room was big, too big, and sparse, and lacking in any personality. The walls were white and clinical, too clean and matte to be lived in, and the hardwood floors gave a sense of coldness. There wasn't much furniture in the room, apart from a huge king sized, four poster bed, some nightstands and a few plants. No artwork donned the walls and no unusual artefacts sat on the windowsills. It was hard to grasp that this was Harry's room, especially when the rest of the house seemed so personal and homely. This seemed like a hotel room, one that Louis was apparently a guest in.

He could not help but wonder why Harry chose to keep his own bedroom, the most personal room in the house, so bland.

He would have asked the Cheshire lad, but after taking in the scenery, the second thing that he noticed was that he was, in fact, alone. Replacing Harry's warm body was a handwritten note addressed to Louis in beautiful, cursive handwriting. It read:

Dear Louis,

I'm writing this whilst you sleep next to me. Did you know that you are a light snorer? It's very endearing. You also dribble slightly. That's slightly less endearing, but I'll let it slide because you're pretty.

Thank you for last night. You staying here meant more than I can express. Sleeping alone has always been a great struggle for me, as embarrassing as that is to admit. I am not one for opening up, so be grateful that I did. I guess I don't hate you that much!

You're probably wondering where I am, and the answer is well.. not where I want to be. I'm most likely on a flight to Amsterdam, ready to play the starring role yet again. It gets so tiring, but I guess that's what happens when you sell your soul to the devil (yes, I'm referring to Simon). Taylor is probably already in The Netherlands, saying farewell to her boyfriend, Joe, and being debriefed on how to act and what to do. This is my fate as well.

I'm not like you.

I wish I was.

I wish I was able to say no and argue, and fight my way out of problematic situations.

But I'm not.

I'm too vulnerable and too easy to manipulate. I guess that's why the higher powers in the music industry like me so much haha.

Here's some advice: DON'T wear your heart on your sleeve. They'll take it from you and rip it to shreds, until they smell blood. And once blood is spilt, they'll circle like vultures, crowding and pressuring you. There's no escape, until they've ripped every piece of meat off of your bones.

I'm a walking skeleton right now, Louis, and they still want to tear me limb from limb.

Do me a favour? Don't look at any pap photos from tonight and don't read any articles. Please remember that is all an act. We're just very good at hiding the truth (we've both done it for long enough.)

Please continue to practise, in prep for the live shows. You're incredibly talented, and I know that you'll go far in life, without interference from a creep like Simon.

I'll see you soon.

With love,

Harry Edward Styles