Distance (Louis Tomlinson)

five

"I don't know, Louis. You tell me."

I wake up shaking in a small pile on the floor and curse.

Really, Louis? Is this what you've come to, dreaming about your ex-girlfriend and yourself trapped in a box?

Isn't there anything else you can think of right now?

The answer? Naturally, no. Not now. Not after that.

I'm not gonna lie- the supposed note from Eleanor scared the shit out of me. But that's pretty low, considering that I don't even know if it's real or not.

Who am I kidding, it isn't real. It can't be.

Eleanor is fine. She's safe.

I think.

See, that's the scary part. I don't know.

But if this is just a fan playing a joke on me, I will seriously kill myself. And them, too.

But I know that writing, as much as I don't fancy admitting it.

Eleanor did write that note.

And she said there would be others.

Others.

Without thinking, I reach for my phone to dial Eleanor's number, only to realize I deleted it post-breakup.

Dammit. I need to see if she's okay, crazy as it sounds.

I check the electronic clock on the bedside table- it says it's about 12:15. Everyone should be asleep by now, because of the time difference.

I wonder what's keeping everyone up.

I search Zayn's bags in the corner of the small bedroom for his cell phone before realizing A: He probably has it with him, wherever he is and B: He probably doesn't have Eleanor's number either.

I have no choice but to show my face to the general public (also known as my closest friends), even if they will ask why I am in such a frantic, unnerved state.

Slowly, I creak open the door and peer out. Anna is sound asleep on the couch with Niall and Zayn, Liam, Cassie, and Molly are crowded around the bathroom.

The sight of these two women and some of my bandmates is comforting. It reminds me that, whatever happens, I will never be alone.

Even if I want to be, I won't be.

As I approach them, their expressions appear more concerned and confused. Cassie's beautiful grey eyes follow mine as I take another step forward into the bathroom, glancing at me skeptically.

"Louis, I believe this is yours," she whispers, holding me a green sticky note much like the one in my toiletry bag.

My stomach is in a big, knotted wad as I open it cautiously, slowly. I'm not even sure I want to know what it says, not after the first one...

I let the worlds engulf me, too weak to fight them. I try to digest Eleanor's message and what it could possibly mean over the course of the next five minutes; everyone staring at me intently.

I have no choice but to try and decode the meaning in my head; as reluctant as my stubborn plea for innocence is.

Left her? No way, I never left her side when she needed me.

Lie.

While you were on tour, you idiot.

While you were off having fun, traveling, making money, and meeting girls, your girlfriend might have needed your help more than ever and you might've never known it.

What hasn't Eleanor told me in the last couple of years?

Because I now realize that it isn't about what she said when she was with me.

It's about what she didn't.

She always told me she was fine, and I was stupid enough to believe her.

Hadn't I thought it suspicious when I always got the same response, day after day?

My throat slowly closes.

I guess I didn't. I was too oblivious.

I turn the sticky note over and over in my palm, driven into insanity.

Number 8.

That means that there are still 1-7 to discover, let alone if there is any more she had the decency to leave behind for me.

But. Number 8.

If it's number eight, what are 1-7?

Which one was I supposed to read first?

I try to process this in my head.

I was obviously supposed to find the note in my bag first... Right?

I didn't see any numbers on it... Were those the rules?

The instructions on how to play her game?

I'm sure number one was strategically placed; somewhere she knew I would look next.

But either way, I didn't find number eight.

Cassie did.

Does that mean we messed up her order?

Because if that is how her game works, whatever I was supposed to find first, I didn't.

"Shit." I mutter, folding up the note into one tiny square. "Anyone happen to still have El-Eleanor's number?"

Liam and Sophia exchange nervous glances with Zayn and Cassie, looking kind of scared.

"I do." Sophia offers slowly, reaching across the counter for her Samsung smartphone.

"Thank God." I rub my eyes, pulling out my own.

A couple of taps to her white iPhone later, her mouth drops open. "I could've sworn it was here."

So... What does that mean?

I rack my brain for any possible explanation. None come.

Sophia tries again, sliding her finger across her screen frantically. "Umm, Louis, it's not here... It must have been deleted or something."

It's not here.

It must have been deleted.

Or something.

Those words repeat in my head, over and over. They won't stop circling and circling; it's exactly like in my dream.

But this isn't just a dream. It's a fucking nightmare.