World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

36.0

“Are you mad?” I give him a puppy face.

“I should be mad,” he avoids the eye contact.

“Are you still mad?” I pout.

“I’m not decided,” he doesn’t look at me so I just stay in silence, staring at his pretty face.

“Has bum reached a verdict yet?”

“Stop trying to be cute, you are not cute right now,” he cuts me off.

“I’m always cute,” I make him face me, “Look at me. I’m cute, right?”

“Meh, you are okay,” he tries to act tough but I know he is not capable of resisting me.

“We are leaving for Rio in a few hours, I’m sure we’ll find the hottie there and I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“I can’t believe you,” he sighs, “Why were you gone for so long? Didn’t you think about me?”

“All the time,” I sigh, “I thought of you the whole time but…”

“But what?”

“I got carried away with stuff,” I try not to look at him, “You know, the model, the ginger, the drinks.” The cutie, just say it already.

“Okay,” he gives up, “It’s all good.”

“What?”

“It’s all good, I’m not mad,” he replies.

“How can you not be mad? I left you alone.”

“Yeah but,” he shrugs, “I was having a good time.”

“But Louis…”

“What is it?”

“You can’t be real,” I sigh, “Why are you real?”

“I don’t know. God made me.”

“He must be so proud.”

“Stop,” he laughs, “You seem sad.”

“I am sad,” my voice breaks a little, “Can we go out?”

“But I wanted you to sing too,” he pouts.

“What? I’m not going to sing,” I’m seriously feeling so guilty right now. I wanted him to yell at me, I wanted him not to talk to me for days; I needed him to teach me a lesson. This way, I’ll never learn.

“Can we go out for a while? I need to tell you something,” I insist.

“Sure,” he grabs my hand and we walk to the street, “Should I be worried?”

I just stay in silence during the walk. My heart starts beating faster at every step we make and I keep trying to convince myself that telling him the truth is not a good idea but I need to do this. I might regret it but I need him to know who I really am.

We are on the street already and I point to a corner that seems empty and silent enough for us to have this conversation.

“Hey, are you okay? You look weird.”

“I’m not okay,” my voice breaks again.

“What is it? Bubu? Are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!” I cover my eyes with my hands.

“What happened? You are done drinking,” he takes my glass out of my hand, “Seriously.”

“I suck, Louis! I suck!” I yell out of nowhere.

“Why are you like this? What is it?”

“I don’t deserve someone like you,” I am crying right now. I am officially a very girly girl.

“Hey, calm down. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Come on, don’t cry,” he grabs my face and kisses my forehead.

“You are everything I always needed someone to be,” I sob, “And I didn’t even know it until I met you. And yet I act like a little shit and I do stuff that I regret.”

“Bubu,” he wipes the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs, “You are not that bad.”

“I am that bad,” I insist, “And I’m worse. You don’t even know!”

“What happened?”

I walk around him like a mad man for a few seconds, trying to gain the strength to tell him what I did tonight. I breathe in and out a few times and he just stares at me with a huge frown on his face.

“I lied to you,” I finally say it, “I cheated on you.”

As soon as I finish the sentence, I sit on the sidewalk and I bury my face in the middle of my knees. I don’t even want to see what his reaction is. All I need is to cry. To cry and to hate myself as much as I can.

That’s it. I screwed everything up. I really did it this time.

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