Stole My Heart- 1D Fanfic

Chapter 18

Liam's POV

I wasn't supposed to leave the house. Technically, I was still on the mend and the only way I was being excused from work was due to the fact that I hadn't left my house in almost a week. But, that was all shot to hell now, I thought as I determinedly walked into the tube station, late afternoon sun glinting off of the still damp sidewalks.  

Fuming, I slammed into the first available seat on the train, red-tinted thoughts swirling about my head, blurring my vision. At first, when I saw the headlines of every paper, magazine, and news channel in the country, I went into a sort of sick denial. Louis had to call me six times before I actually picked up, numbly sinking to the floor, staring, disbelieving, at the telly. 

"Liam?" He'd asked, voice unusually grave. Which is probably what snapped me out of my hazy state of mind. 

"Is it as bad as I think it is?" I whispered, cutting abruptly to the chase. The silence that followed answered for him. I groaned. We hadn't told anyone about Georgia and I. It was too new, too perfect and fragile to expose it to the harshness of logistics and ultimatums. We'd thought it was a good idea at the time, let the two of us find our way together and then ease everyone else into it. Looking back, I'd realized what a mistake we'd made. Now all of the lads were going to pay for it, and Paul besides. Not to mention what Georgia was going through. Our team had made it pretty clear that the longer all five of us were single, the happier they'd be. I'd put my head in my free hand, pressing the phone tighter to my ear. 

"What should I do?" Desperation, much to my chagrin, colored my tone. 

"Stay put, mate. It'll all work out. You never know, they may surprise you." I'd nodded before realizing he couldn't see me. 

"Yeah. You're right. I can do that." I'd choked out, glancing up at the telly, which was frozen upon a trashy gossip show, the bottle blond "reporter" spitting out rumor after rumor, each more ridiculous than the last. Louis abruptly clicked off, without any of the usual "I love you" antics. The came the anger. The boredom. All damn day I'd been sitting around, pacing and unable to take my eyes off the stories that escalated into new hysterics as the day went on. 

I'd received a text message from Paul around ten minutes prior to getting on the tube. My phone had buzzed, and I'd almost dismissed it because I'd been getting and ignoring calls from the PR team all day. By some twisted coincidence, however, I'd glanced at the screen, and upon seeing Paul's name, had immediately scrambled to read it. 

From: Pauly Wauly 

Picking up G from classes. Bad. Pls do something. 

I'd blanched. Bad. Bad? Thank you Paul, that's heart-wrenchingly specific please stop giving so many details I can't take it. 

Just after my increasingly sarcastic running internal commentary had run dry, I'd made a snap decision, and minutes later found myself sitting on the hard plastic seat of the train. A couple of young girls had started to approach, wearing hopeful expressions, only to take one look at my expression and body language and slowly back away. I counted the minutes, jiggling my legs, glancing at my watch, silently willing the train to move faster, still faster, and wondering good god why couldn't we just get there already?

After what seemed like three and a half eternities, the train squeaked to a jerking stop, and the sliding doors slowly rolled open. I rushed out, not waiting for the women or the elderly (very unlike myself, but desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say). I double checked that this was indeed the right station, then bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time and dodging the oblivious passerby, sparing only a moment to envy their blissful ignorance. I also, somewhere in the back of my panicking mind, knew that I was being quite dramatic, but nothing like this had ever happened to me, nor any of the lads, before. I told myself I was overreacting simply because I had no guidelines as to how to react.