If I Could Fly

Arrivals

I wonder through the hallways at the arrivals lounge without really knowing where I'm going, trying really hard to not look like a pitiful lost child, but also feeling a little more teary every time I go up to a middle aged brunet woman and it's not my aunt.

In fact, by the time I actually do find her, I'm dangerously close to handing myself in as a lost person and just taking the humiliating name-call over the announcer system. I thank the heavens that I spot her before it comes to that. The humiliation it would cause very well might have been the last straw.

"Louis! Hi sweetie, how was the flight? Are you excited to be here?" She says, all in one breath, holding me way too close to her cleavage.
She's way too excited, way too loud, and weirdly exactly like my mother just- American.

It just makes me more homesick.

I don't have time to be sad though, as she starts talking again before I can even get a word in, walking away from me with the confidence of someone who knows what the fuck they're doing.

I follow behind with my suitcase in tow, and (try not to) think about Lottie and the twins and my mum, I wonder what they're doing, if they're in bed yet, it must be getting quite late back at home. Home. Oh how I miss it already.

Both my thoughts and Andrea's loud rambling alike are thankfully interrupted by my phone ringing.

"'Ello?" I mutter, not bothering to check who it was. It could be a scam call and at this point, I'd still take the call.

"Heyyyyyyyy, how's my best mate doing? Are you there yet? Actually, that was stupid. You must be, you just answered the phone." It's Harry. Of course it Harry. The goofball stayed up this late to talk to me. He's a legitimate angel.

"M ok thanks. We're still at the airport, why are you up so late? Haven't you got school tomorrow?"
I'm a good, responsible friend if nothing else. He can't concentrate when he's tired, he has school tomorrow, so he should be asleep.

"Yep" he says, popping the p " buuut I missed my best friend and I wanted to hear his cute little voice!"

"I am NOT cute, or little thank you very much. I am manly and handsome and rugged." 

"Mmm ok" he replies, but I can hear the grin in his voice and he lets out a breathy laugh, like he's trying to hold in a whole belly full.

"Harry Edward Styles" I chide in what I try to make a stern voice but end up grinning like an idiot when he replies.

"Louis William Tomlinson"

We stay like that for a few seconds, grinning in silence together. Maybe he can feel how much I love him from the other end of the phone.

"I have to go now Haz, we're about to get into the car" I mutter, and I can't be arsed enough to sound less fond than I do.

At least he knows I'm thankful.

He sighs before answering quietly.
"okay, I miss you Lou bear"

"miss you too" I reply just as soft, slamming the car door behind me with a little too much force. I've always been messy with emotions. "Bye Haz" I call, and its the last thing I want to do.

"Love you" He answers "I love you too" I reply

I end the call with a warm feeling in my heart and buckle my seatbelt.

Sometimes, but seldom enough that I still have my doubts, I feel like he could love me the same way that I love him.

It's in his gaze, in the way he'll look at me like there's no-one else in the room, in his touch, in how he kisses my cheek when he thinks I'm asleep.

Most often, it's in his words. It's in his countless double meanings and his vague answers during late-night truth or dares, in his 'top-three-things-I-look-for-in-a-partner' (because he'd never use a fucking gender pronoun when describing his 'dream girl').

It's in his jokes, in his complements, in his jealousy, in his fierce protectiveness. It's in his everyday and its in his once-in-a-while.

Sometimes I feel it in glimpses, hidden and shy in few and far between comments, and other times the actions and words come bold and frequent, like he's found his voice again.

More than once we've been mistaken for a couple.

The last three weeks he's been particularly heavy-handed with it (I've been glad to return), and regardless of his real intentions, it had me almost certain that he felt the same.

I was near sure that we were on the edge of something and the three-word phrase is certainly not new between us, but the last few weeks it seemed to hold a weight that it never had before.
It had become (wonderfully, spectacularly) more than just a phrase I'd pine after, and frustratingly less than something real.

In this moment, sitting alone in a car in a foreign country, I feel like I could be loved.

~~~

I jump awake, slapping my phone in effort to stop the bloody alarm from ripping out my ear drums.

I roll over for a few minuets of blissful darkness with my face buried in the pillows before hauling myself up and grabbing my phone off my bedside table.

I've been in LA now for 4 months, 4 whole, excruciating months, and I really should be used to the warm, humid days by now. I'm not. Even now, sweat rolls down my back in beads and I'm forced to throw the window open to let in some cool air before I melt into the floorboards.

Once I'm happy with the breeze coming in my window, and I no longer fear melting, I go back to my phone, seeing a few texts from back home, three from my mom, and one from H.

I call my family every night practically, whether it be to talk to my mom or my sisters, the perks of a big family is that there is always someone to talk to when you're lonely.
It doesn't stop them from texting me with every little update though, and every time the twins do something remotely cute, I'm the first to know.

This time it's Daisy that's been cute, adopting a caterpillar that she'd found in the park and making a home for it out of cereal boxes.

After replying with sufficient emojis, I open the text from Haz, smiling when I see the extensive amounts of exclamation marks and happy faces, as he tells me he got through the first round of auditioning for the x-factor.

Becoming a famous singer is something he's dreamed of doing since forever- one of the first things he ever told me was that he wanted to be a singer when he grew up, and even back then I knew he'd be perfect for the roll.

He was kind enough and strong enough to make a real difference in the world, is breathtakingly pretty and just cheeky enough to entertain a crowd.

My thoughts were proved true earlier in the year, in fact, when I took his band to a competition that they really wanted to win.
His band- White Eskimo- went up against others in the area for a small cash prize, and they won of course, just as I knew they would, they did so well in fact, that they were asked then and there to play at a wedding in a few weeks.

I told him he was practically a rock star. He giggled.

What I said was true though. It was clear to see that he was a natural up on stage, and was perfect for the job.

I always knew he'd be big one day, and I guess this X-factor success is where everything will begin.
I just hope the fame doesn't change him.