One Direction Preferences

Ghost Of You (Louis)

It's been around three days and you haven't seen Louis, not once. You had thrown your phone against the wall when Harry had tried to call you a third time to tell you to call Louis. You had told him that if Louis really did care for you like he should and says he does, he wouldn't have to get one of his best mates to call you. After that, you were done and you knew Harry thought you were too. When he called you a third time, you just got sick and tired of hearing it ring and ring, so you picked it up hastily and chucked it at the wall across from you. The screen cracked and the phone quit making the ringing noise. If Louis really wanted to talk to you, he'd call you himself and talk. Laying back down, you felt the weld of tears pucker up and start cascading down your reddened cheeks. You always thought Louis cared for you, but you can obviously tell that he doesn't if he gets someone else to do his dirty work . . .

And I'll never be like I was, the day I met you.
To naïve, yes I was.
Boy, that's why I let you in.
Wear your memory like a stain, can't erase none of the pain.
Here to stay with me, forever.

On the fourth day, you decided to make some food instead of being a lazy bum like Louis was probably acting. Knowing that you and Louis were probably going to break everything between the two of you off, you sighed and fought back on the tears that were wishing to pour down your cheeks. You were scrambling up some eggs in a skillet over the stove whilst letting the bacon cook inside the oven. You had thrown your phone on the coffee table, not really caring about anyway. Louis got you that phone. If he didn't care, why should you care? If he really cared, he would've made up with you by now. You sigh, leaning your weight all on one foot and run a hand through your messy hair. Just as you were getting out the milk, you heard a knock at the door . . .

I'm breathing in, breathing out.
Ain't that what it's all about?
Living life, crazy loud.
Like I have the right to, know my words in my mouth.
Nothing left, to figure out.
But I don't think I'll ever break through, the ghost of you . . .

Walking over towards the door, you sighed, praying that it wasn't Harry. As you opened the door, you gasp and slam it back in his face, breathing hard with your back on the door. It was Louis who showed up and now he was banging on the door, trying to get up to open up. After a few shakes of your head, you take a deep breath and open the door to find lips standing there, looking at you with sad eyes.

You clear your dry throat, getting his attention. "What do you want Tomlinson?"

He was taken aback. You had never talked to him like that, not even when you two would fight. Your voice was hard and cold, giving no emotion whatsoever. His adams apple bobs and he takes a breath. "Can I come in?"

You were about to immediately reject his question, then thought of your breakfast. You didn't want to eat burnt toast. You scoff and then away from him, grumbling a "shut the door" as you trudged into the kitchen to finish your cooking . . .

One of these days I'll wake up from this, bad dream I'm dreaming.
One of these days I pray that I'll be over, over, over you.
One of these days I'll realize that I'm, so tired of feeling confused.
But for now, there's a reason you're still in my heart . . .

You took your time cooking as Louis' had shut the door and was now still standing in the front of your kitchen. You motion for him to take a seat and he hesitates, but does as said - well, motioned. He sat there, just sitting and not talking. You took out two plates, not really feeling that rude anymore, and sat some food on each plate, keeping quiet. No one did anything for a few seconds as they ticked right on by. Without meaning to, you sighed and looked up right into his eyes, and that's when he broke down . . .

I'm breathing in, breathing out.
Ain't that what it's all about?
Living life, crazy loud.
Like I have the right to, know my words in my mouth.
Nothing left, for me to doubt.
But I don't think I'll ever break through, the ghost of you.
Breathing in, breathing out.
I'm breathing in, breathing out.
Like I have the right to, know my words in my mouth.
Nothing left, to figure out.
But I don't think I'll ever break through, the ghost of you . . .

Honestly, you were shocked. You didn't know what to do. The only time you ever saw him cry was when he got news of his grandparents dying. Tears poured out of his eyes as he broke down right in front of you. You wanted to comfort him, but you had broken up with him, so you had to go about this carefully.

Getting up, you managed to make your way to him slowly. Still not knowing what to say, you crouched down to look up at him. "Louis, are you . . . Are you okay?" you tried to get words out of him as he sat there, bawling his eyes out for an unknown reason to you.

"I just," he sniffles. "I just miss you so much (Y/N). It hurts to know you're not with me anymore," when he turns to you, you see his blood shot eyes and red noise, reminding you of that one Christmas where he dressed up as Rudolph to make you laugh.

You gave him a weak smile and stood up. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him and whispered into his hair, "I miss you too, Lou."

That got you a hug as he snuggled into your stomach. He said something, but you couldn't quiet hear him. When you didn't answer to his question, he looks up at you, his chin on your navel.

"I said, why don't we try again?"

At first you were shocked at what he had said, but then realized what caused this whole thing was just a stupid little argument. You smiled down at him and kissed his forehead. "I think that would be a great idea."

Automatically, he sprung up and kissed you full on the lips. "What do you say we go do something?" he asked, hugging you to his chest.

You thought about it for a moment, and then smiled at him cheekily. "Nah. I think I'll stay in and watch some movies," Louis couldn't help but smile and laugh at you . . .