hostage || l.t ✔️

forty two

London Reed
Today, I found out Louis listens to Cigarettes After Sex, which is one of my favourite bands. He also told me that the boys and all their girls were coming over, meaning I'd see Erin and Amelia again, then I'd see someone called Niall — who I remember Ally hooked up with, and Liam's girl.

I didn't know who they were, I was only told their names. Louis helped me a little by cleaning the house up a little, he kinda just sat on the couch and texted while I tidied it up. I didn't care that much.

I changed into these short denim shorts, and a cropped purple hoodie with my pink converses. Louis was in jeans and a white shirt, with his white converses and I heard a knock at the door, about twenty mins before they were actually supposed to be here.

I opened it and I was embraced into a hug with Amelia, her familiar scent. I widened my eyes and hugged her back, Louis walking over and she pulled away from me. "Louis!" she squealed and hugged him so tightly, I just looked at the smile on his face as she hugged him.

"Mills," he breathes out, swaying them from
side to side. I watch in shock until someone tucks hair behind my ear.

"There it is," he showcased my neck to himself, clearly very proud of giving me hickeys and I got confused.

"Hi Harry,"

"Woah...I didn't do those," he softly turns my head towards the wall to get a look at the side of my neck Louis has been.

"Okay, we'll don't make it obvious," I cover the ones they both gave me with my cheeks red.

"How are you?" he asks me, coming in and we walk past them talking to each other because I knew they had things to catch up on.

"I'm good..you?"

"Yeah," he sits down and smiles. "I'm actually doing well,"

"Well that's good," I nod.

"Louis, can you get me a drink?"

"I'm busy," he waves off. "Just because you haven't seen your sister in forever, let me see mine," he fires back without looking at him which makes Millie laugh.

"You have a sister?"

"I'm a twin, my other one died,"

I widen my eyes. "Oh...I'm sorry..."

"She died in childbirth,"

"Oh, I'm sorry," I pity.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "She was 12,"

I drop my jaw. "12!"

"She was assaulted, knocked up and she didn't let anyone help her during labour, like she wanted to die," he explains.

"Oh my goodness,"

"Yeah, my twin sisters actually doing well, she had about three fucking kids with her owner and they're like...in love, but yeah,"

"You're a twin?" I ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "Her name is Poppy,"