Fine line (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 13

I took in a breath, the biggest I had taken in years, and reluctantly pushed myself from off the cold, tiled ground. My lumps felt like jelly, wobbling with every step. My head felt clouded, so overdrawn yet so empty.

I pressed a clammy hand to my damp forehead and slinked gracelessly into the kitchen where I poured myself a glass of water and rooted through the cabinets for Advil. As I gulped it down, I felt the cold liquid hit my empty and raw stomach, calming it instantly and filling me with subtle serenity. I swallowed four Advil and pressed my fingers once more to my temples, willing the blaring to cease.

I knew I should probably eat something, but the thought of food at the moment made me queasy and unnerved. Plus, there was still more to do, and I knew if I had any sort of substance in my stomach it would come back up in an instant.

So for now I would deal with the screaming g out in my torso, and instead took another large gulp of water as I made my way back to the living room.

Apparently, in my breakdown I had let my phone clatter to the floor, and even from a distance I could see a large crack moving diagonal through the screen.

"Shit," I mumbled as I picked it up.

Well, I guess that's what I got for refusing to buy a case.

I pushed the thought of my screen away and focused on the matter at hand - it was just a crack right?

Can we talk?? - L

The words burned on the screen, searing into my mind. I felt nauseous butterflies start to riot once more, but I willed them away as my fingers began gliding across the keyboard will no real destination.

I hit send and read my reply once more.

yes. where ? H

I studied both messages and unwillingly found familiarity in the meaning they held. Louis has always messaged with uppercase, and I with lowercase, when it can't to him. He always dashed his exits and I always ended with one simple letter, although we both always knew who the messages were coming from. When it came to punctuation, he always doubled the marks, where I left space in between. It was just another habit between us, and at the moment where I should've found disgust in that, I found solace unwillingly.

My heart jumped as he replied almost immediately, and my eyes flew to the screen.

2695 N Beachwood dr. An hour? - L

I felt that feeling again, that rush of familiarity. This was an address I knew all to well, and as did he. My mind couldn't decipher his intentions, whether this was a civil meeting or one made from the heart. Honestly, I didn't have time to dwell on it. I knew if I waited a moment longer, I'd start to regret my decision and turn back before I'd even began.

But I knew deep dish that I wanted this. If nothing else, I craved an explaination. A reason as to why - why now? Why after all this time had Louis chose to confront me, to blame me?

see you then . H

I sighed and drove a shaky hand through my curls, cringing at the unwashed product and sweat intermingled from last night. I made my way back to the bathroom (less wobbly this time - my legs at grown less Jelly like) and began peeling off my clothes, stripping myself of the suit I'd tarnished.

My body was covered in sweat, basically Holstein g at the sight. I stood for one moment Infront if the mirror, shying away as my eyes caught on the sweat clinging to the ridges and curves of my body.

I turned on the water and stepped into the shower, the water running over my body, cleansing it, healing it.

I reached half heartedly to the knobs and tried to turn the water hotter, but it was at its capacity. Only the hot water knob was turned, the cold left untouched.

Steam rise off my body, and the water was sure to be burning my skin, but I couldn't feel it.

The water was blazing, but apparently not hot enough to burn away sin.

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As I got dressed, I tousled my curls, still damp from the shower.

I chose to go more than casual today, a pair of running shorts and an oversized hoodie as I forced my damp hair half up into a small pony tail on top of my head. It wasn't an attractive hairstyle by any means, but attractiveness had lost all hope for me after losing last nights beverages not five minutes after waking up.

Rushing, I slipped on a pair of shoes and made by way out the front door, hopping in an Uber I had cake only five minutes before.

On the drive over I looked out the tinted window, studying the faces and exoressions of those who had chosen to walk today. I wondered where they were going, who they were seeing. We're any of them in a situation like mine? And if so, would they be taking the same route? Wound they be shoving their pride in a file cabinet and throwing away the key like me? Maybe others would pay attention to the sirens in their head, view them as a sign of danger as I'm sure they were intended to be.

Maybe some people had a perfectly healthy sense of what was good and what was dangerous.

But not me.

"Here man."

The driver was only a kid, somewhere in the early twenty's, and just from his diction I could tell he passed time by smoking and listening to underrated garage bands.

"Thank you," I smiled politely. "Have a good one."

As I exited the car, I heard him call out once more.

"The beachwood cafe huh?" He looked up at me with his displayed pupils and red twinged eyes. "I could've sworn I've heard that in a song before."

I looked back at him blankly, my heart thudding in my chest.

"Yeah," I spoke halfhearted you, "me too."