R O O M 1 9 7 // Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson Edition

Two - Part II

~Sunday 18th December 2016~

16:29 pm

Louis stares at his laptop screen, reading and re-reading the same e-mail over and over again, unable to focus on his work, the frame of his reading glasses scratching the bridge of his nose. He abandons his efforts, leaning back in his office chair, removing his glasses and looking around the room.
The Magnolia Hotel was recommended by all of his colleagues and business friends, but sitting here in this 'luxury' room, he has no idea why. The red patterned wallpaper spanning the entire room makes him dizzy as the vulgar colour repeats itself in ugly shapes. Even the bathroom is bright red - the tiles glaring under the too-bright lights above. But, it's not home, Louis reminds himself. And, that's a good thing. Home is lingering with a thick and heavy tension that follows him into every room.
Louis can feel the familiar feeling coming, but he refuses to acknowledge it, with hope that distracting himself will prevent any oncoming episode.

Just as he is about to return to the computer screen, a knock sounds against the main door and he stands, brushing over his grey suit, in an effort to look presentable, despite the stress coursing through his veins. He quickly checks his watch as he approaches the door, noting that he called for assistance over an hour ago. Louis wraps his fingers around the cold door handle and takes a deep breathe, forcing the fake smile that he uses often onto his face, before opening the door.

The person standing on the other side of the door jumps at the sound of the creaking wood, brushing his hair to the side with his palms, before standing straight as a pencil. He's young - not much younger than Louis himself - but, the anxiety floods through the boy's eyes as Louis meets his nervous gaze. Louis opens the door wider, the door creaking even louder now, as the silence hangs between them.
This is not what Louis was expecting. A handsome, slim young man. Honestly, after seeing the state of the untidy employees in the lobby - including the manager Mr Peckham, who smelt like the back of a garbage truck - Louis was expecting a middle-aged woman, who had left all of her shampoo in the 1980s.

"Harry, the...bellhop you asked for.." the boy finally speaks, and Louis is surprised to hear an English accent. Harry seems guarded with his speech, as if he only has a few words left before going mute. A single drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, but Harry wipes it away quickly with the sleeve of his uniform jacket.
"Oh...right." Louis responds, gesturing for the young man to come inside Room 197. He closes the door behind Harry, noting the faint smell of alcohol that follows him, and walks towards his desk, closing the laptop and shuffling the loose papers that lay across the glass surface. "I thought you would be here earlier, but..." Louis says, but when he glances behind him, finding Harry stuck in his place staring at the floor, he trails off, not wanting the boy to feel even more uncomfortable or anxious.

"Yes...well, I had some car troubles. Erm...sorry.." Harry speaks, explaining, his voice croaking loudly, as Louis turns to face him. Harry looks to the ground again - a nervous habit, it seems.
"Sit." Louis says, wanting to ease his nerves and calls for Harry to come, taking a chair and placing it beside him. The legs of the chair squeak as Harry sits upon the rough fabric, and Louis cannot help but smile at the boy, his unease making him only seem sweeter, younger almost. More naive.

"Harry, I'm Louis Tomlinson." he says, introducing himself confidently, catching and holding onto his gaze. Green eyes look back at him, as he continues speaking. "You're a fellow Englishman, I see." Louis adds, smiling again, earning a small smile from Harry, accented by deep dimples as he nods. Louis explains the job that he wants Harry to complete daily, as the boy just continues nodding. He taps the surface of his desk in a habit that he picked up from his mother. Conversation takes an unexpected turn when Harry asks Louis what business he runs.
Louis just sighs, repeating the description of his company that is burned into his brain.

When he took over the company 9 years ago, he thought it was a dream come true. He was just 16 years old and still experimenting with the boys in his neighbourhood, but the way his mother had raised him made him older and wiser than his years. His step-father trusted him to look after his legacy and he took to the job like a duck to water, falling in love with his new life of cars and boardrooms and receptionists. It was at his 20th birthday party, with Caroline Scott's lips attached to his neck, that he realised that the fast-paced lifestyle just wasn't for him anymore.
But he kept at it, eager to keep his mother happy, eager to keep his step-father's legacy intact. So, he carried on - trying to find happiness and passion in a job that created nothing but stress in his day-to-day life. He invested into property. He bought and sold companies. He married a local girl. He moved to America. All the 'normal' life events.
The fake smile and the rehearsed words are just part of that routine.

The conversation continues, turning to Harry's car and Louis finds himself genuinely interested in what the young man has to say, listening to every word. It's been years since he met someone who actually wants to speak about something other than spreadsheets and deadlines.
Despite this, Louis can still recognise the anxiety crawling up his legs, into the pit of his stomach where it sets up camp, igniting a flame inside his veins. It's coming - what he has tried to prevent all day is coming. And, he acknowledges this in silence, ignoring it still, as he listens to Harry speak, holding his breath and clenching his fists.

After a while more of casual chat, Louis cannot force the episode away any longer. He dismisses Harry politely, showing him out of the door and asking him to return in the morning. Harry nods once again, and Louis gets another whiff of that alcoholic fragrance he smelt earlier. He chooses not to address it - everyone has their bad days - smiling at Harry once more, before he closes the door behind him, turning the lock. He'd rather not be disturbed again tonight.
It's coming.

Louis takes a deep breath, his shoulders tight, as he removes his suit blazer, throwing it onto the bed. He's sweating - despite the fact that it's late December and he hasn't turned the heating on. He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, grabbing roughly at the fabric, tugging it upward, before he fiddles with the top three buttons, tearing them open, and removing his tie, exposing his inked skin that lays underneath.
It's coming.
Stress makes it's self known again, replacing the blood in his veins. Sweat clings to his forehead, dripping down his face and pooling at his neck, wetting the ends of his hair. Louis grabs a piece of paper and uses it as a fan, shaking it in front of his red face in another desperate attempt to prevent the episode from taking over. It doesn't work, and he can feel the frustration growing inside his muscles.

He used to have attacks like this once or twice every year, but since taking on a new area of business six months ago, that number has increased to once or twice a week. His therapist calls them 'anger attacks' - like panic attacks but with dizzying rage instead of uncontrollable anxiety. Today's episode is his fifth in just three days. He frantically looks around the room for something to cool him down. The small balcony would be too cold, sending him into shock and making this episode much worse than it needs to be.
It's coming.

Louis scans the room once, twice, three times, turning in a circle, over and over. Nothing. Irritation and anger and frustration bubble up to the surface, ripping through his skin and making his ears numb from the pressure inside his head. His ears pop and his eyes water, his senses deciding they've had enough of the strain. A small china mug is the first thing that Louis' frenzied hands can find in the blur and unable to stop himself, he throws it across the room.
It shatters into small pieces against the red wall, creating a loud crash, as the fragments fall to the floor. Louis inhales and exhales, tears clouding his vision as his hands find his hair, pulling and stretching the strands. He bends over, kneeling on the floor and sinking into his despair. It's an old friend and it greets him happily, patting him on the back...

Chapter Image found on Pinterest