Friends.

Chapter 55

I slump down on the bed, slamming my laptop closed as I cry against the sheets, my forehead resting on my arms.

A feeling of complete and utter devastation is trying to overtake me, and to my own disappointment, I'm letting it. I feel hopeless, absolutely betrayed and there's nothing that could possibly make me feel better right now.

I lean across the bed, stretching my arm out to grab my phone from where it ended up on the floor last time I threw it out of anger.

I angrily slam my fingers into the screen, typing out a message to the person I want to blame for all of this, I'm practically shaking with every emotion I'm currently feeling, there's too many to keep track off. I open the conversation and chills spread down my spine as I watch the 'typing' signal come and go from his side of the conversation...like he keeps typing but he doesn't have the guts to send anything. Coward.

Me: I know that you know.

I send, and the reply comes through almost immediately.

Harry: I'm really sorry.

Me: Doubt it.

This is what he wanted. He wanted Louis and I to break up, he's on top of the world right now, I just know it. The worst part is, I could really use my best friend right now, the worst part is, he hasn't been my best friend for a long time but I still need him.

Harry: No, I really am. I never wanted you to get hurt, this is all my fault. Can I call you?

Me: No.

I throw my phone again, angry that I didn't get the satisfaction out of that I thought I would. Damn it! Why did I text him? Stupid stupid stupid Lola.

I wipe away my angry tears, clambering up off the bed with the little strength I have left to grab my phone yet again.

I call Linda in between fits of sobbing, internally hating myself for being so depressed over the break up of a three week relationship. Who am I?

"Hello?"
"I. Could. Really. Use. A. Drink." I wail pathetically, trying to regain my breath that has been unattainable from all the crying.

"Meet me at Fabric in half an hour?" She says, no questions asked.

"Thanks." I hang up. Now I can focus on something other than Louis...and Harry and how fucked up my heart and head are right now.

I put all my energy, what little energy I have, into the routine of making myself presentable.

Fuck presentable, despite being emotionally and physically drained from this day in hell that just doesn't seem to want to end, I want to look hot.

After a steaming hot shower, I walk into my wardrobe, tripping over a piece of material on the ground. Fuck. It's a denim shirt of Louis...that he got when we went shopping together, that was a really good day for us. My heart falls into the bottomless pit that is my stomach, just the memory of actually being happy for once and knowing that I won't be that happy again for a really long time...if ever. I pick it up and throw it into the corner, resolving to burn it or throw it off my balcony or something.

Flicking through my closet is like one painful memory after the other, the checkered dress I wore when I begged him to forgive me for my Niall indiscretion, fuck that wasn't an indiscretion, not compared to what he's done now. I toss it into the corner where Louis' shirt is, before I keep looking for something to wear. The black dress I wore the night of the charity auction, the green jacket I wore the day we rode vespas, every item of clothing I'd ever worn around him is now in the pile, waiting for deliberation when I'm in a clearer state of mind.