A Dance With Death

|| Chapter 45 - Return ||

A/N -  comment your reactions as you read because this chapter is a roller-coaster ride.

         

"Zayn?" Louis asks. "Are you ever going to talk to me?"

He'd come to visit me that day, the month following our last concert. He'd tried to reach out to me before too, but I kept my distance. I knew Louis would bring it up – the fact that I'm hiding something from everyone. He was the only one to have noticed.

"You can't stay like this," he stresses. "I can't see you like this. Speak to me."

"There's nothing to say. He's gone. He'll stay gone no matter what I do."

Louis' concern grows at my words, but at the same time, relief flashes across his face for having me at least speak a few words. "You sure?" He leans forward, trying to meet my lowered gaze.

I look at him for a split second, before looking away and saying, "Yes."

He drags the chair he was sitting on closer to me. He crosses his arms and says, "Please, look at me."

I do as he asks. There is a softness in his approach, the one of understanding. An attribute that not many people who visit me possess. He holds my gaze for a long moment and says, "Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You don't have to let me in. Just let me be there."

Like everyone, he tried so hard to get through to me. He was the only friend who was determined to make me feel better about myself. He knew I, for some reason, had felt responsible for what happened. I hadn't realised earlier how hard it must've been for Louis himself, struggling through this trying time as well as trying to help me out. I never appreciated him for what he'd done.

"How boring."

I snap my head upwards, finding Caius, still disguised as Niall, leaning against the wall behind Louis. He's leaning against my bedroom's wall – we're in my old bedroom. The bed that I'm sitting on is against the wall with a huge window, with maroon curtains tied to its sides. There is a shelf in front of me with books and framed pictures. This is my old house. But this is not the real world. That is not the real Louis.

This is another memory.

"I thought that if he's such a good friend of yours, you might have some good memories of him." Caius picks up a photo frame placed on the shelf beside him, the one with me and Safaa. "Oh, I never asked. How's your sister? Alive, I presume?"

"What is all this?" I sceptically examine everything around me. I know this is a memory, but something doesn't feel like it. It's like when you're dreaming – everything is there in front of you, but you can't quite distinguish one thing from the other. Some parts remain hazy and undefined.

"Look, if you're going to stay silent, I wouldn't know whether you need me or not," Louis says, his voice reflecting how hurt he is.

I blink at what he said. Did he not just hear me speak?

Caius puts the frame down and chuckles. "This is not one of those memory bullshit that you souls go through when you're about to die," Caius says. "You're dreaming. I'm in your dream."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Totally not here and totally unaware of what's going on. It's just me, you and your mind." He pushes himself away from the wall and treads towards Louis. He stands behind his chair and waves his hand in front of Louis' face, who doesn't seem to be affected by it. "He's just your memory. Nothing will change."

Louis is tapping his foot, worried, yet impatient.

"So this is how you'll kill me?" I try to act unfazed by his presence.