Wide Awake (One Direction / Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 20

I DO NOT OWN THIS STORY! ALL RIGHT GOES TO *IamADirectioner*

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/3941498/IAmADirectioner Go check her out :D

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Louis Pov.

I scroll my phone, and go onto my song list. I press Play, and hop into the shower.

I actually like listening to songs in the shower better then I like singing in the shower. I do sort of like singing in the shower. I'm weird that way.

I rinse all the sticky juice of myself, and give myself a quick scrub, to remove and traces of stickiness. I like feeling clean. Well, I like the fluffy, fresh feeling when I pull on a freshly washed hoodie over my freshly washed self, if that makes more sense.

I rub the shampoo into my hair, untangling the messy bits of my hair. Harry always suggests I brush my hair before the shower so I can get the shampoo in and out quickly, but that's just long. Harry HAS to do it, with his unruly hair, but not me.

I close my eyes peacefully as the water runs over my hair, down my body, tickling me in all the right ways. I quickly finish up, and step out of the shower cubicle, huddling into my towel. I quickly dry off, shivering at the cold draughts coming through the door. I pull on a pair of trackpants and - you guessed it - and old hoodie. I cuddle into it contentedly.

I shuffle into the living room. I can hear the other shower running, and I know Haz is taking a shower too. He better hurry up, because the hot water is going to run out.

I feel bored. And a bit sleepy. But I want to watch a movie.

I quickly scribble a note to Harry. It says;

Wanna watch a movie? If I'm sleeping, wake me up.

I stick it to the inside of his room door, where he's sure to see it. Then I curl up on the couch, and begin watching some TV.

My eyelids are closing. I force them open so many times. God, I wish Haz would hurry up...

I gaze at the view beyond me. The infinite lights flickering in the distance of London. I'm not feeling cold, strangely enough. I spread my arms, self-consiously.

Are you worth this?

I shiver at the voice that comes at me like a spring breeze, but more poisonous.

Are you worth living to see this?

A little core of cold pokes me inside.

Actually, are you worth life?

Ofcourse I am, I think, uncertain.

No, you aren't.

Well, I am living, I say mentally, defensively.

But you can change that.

I shudder.

Louis, who do you think REALLY cares about you?

My parents.

Right, that's why they divorced.

The cold core enlargened.

My sisters...

When was the last time they talked to you?

I... I don't know...

And the band? They care about YOU?

But - they must, I think weakly.

That's why you get barely any solos in the songs, isn't it?