How To Change A Life - A Short Story [One Direction]

24th

argh, this one's so short :(

one more chapter and one more sleep to goo

happy 21st birthday lou! xx

- georgiaaa

Christmas Eve; 2013

- what didn't kill me 

it never made me stronger at all

On his birthday, Louis wakes at half two in the afternoon and sits on the living room floor, surrounded by presents and a bottle in his right hand. Alone.

Again.

He's been sitting there for almost an hour now, staring at unopened presents because he know that not one of them will be from the person he really only wants something from. Phone in his other hand, feeling it buzz every now with another text wishing him a happy birthday, but it's never Harry's name that comes up. 

Happy birthday, Louis! x

Letting his head drop into his hands, he sighs.

How did he get here? 

It's his own fault, really. He should never have said those things to Harry, never should have been such a jerk to Eleanor, never should have been so proud and arrogant when really what he should have been doing was apologizing to his best mate, because then he wouldn't be sitting alone in his flat  right now drinking away tears that will come soon enough anyway.

And maybe he shouldn't have expected to Sophie to stay, anyway.

"I'm sorry that," He says to the empty flat, taking another swig from the bottle. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Lou?"

Sophie stands there, tired and cold, clutching at her jacket. Her eyes are worn, more worn than yesterday, and Louis should be smiling, because she's back, but all he really feels like doing is crying.

So he closes his eyes, resting his head on the edge of the sofa, slumping against it. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks weakly. 

"I left my hat. Are you okay?"

Nodding, Louis waves vaguely in the direction of the spare room, feeling his heart sink because she's not really back, not for him. "M'kay." He mumbles. His eyes are prickling again, stinging tears threatening to make an appearance.

"Louis?" She says again, and he just thinks, if you're going to do this, just get it over with already, please.

"I set a house on fire, got kicked out by my parents, and watched my boyfriend get run over when we were both drunk." She says suddenly.

Oh.

He opens his eyes in surprise to see her kneeling in front of him, her own eyes glistening. She takes the bottle from him and instead of putting it on the side like he thought she would, takes a swig from it, sitting beside him.

"He died." She says quietly.

"I accused my best friend of being in love with me and ruining my relationship with my girlfriend, before calling him a fucking fag."

He can remember it, remembers crying into an empty glass over a broken heart and feeling light headed and angry. Remembers his best friend, dancing and looking so happy and alive, and then remembers making a cold remark that made Harry swivel round, eyes blazing with fury. It was hot under those lights, burning bright and harshly as the beat pounded, fuelling a rising argument while they both yelled.

He remembers lashing out, remembers Paul dragging him away, remembers crying bitter tears.

Remembers throwing his phone across the room.

Niall watching him with blue eyes that burned into his soul, practically screaming disappointment and anger.

Management telling them, quite simply, that they had to at least act like they didn't hate each other's guts.

A short, jerky nod, words that he didn't say, unspoken apologies radiating between him and the curly haired boy.

He also remembers feeling alone for the first time in a very long while.

But it wasn't the last time.

Sophie sniffs and hands the bottle to him. "And then I broke his nose." Louis adds, rubbing at his eyes. A moment of silence passes before Sophie sighs, green orbs meeting blue ones as she says simply; "We're fucked, aren't we?"

Louis nods. "Yeah, we are."

And then they're staring at each other again, and maybe this time Louis's drunk too much to feel anything but sadness, yet he wants to feel happy again, wants to love and hold someone tight because he misses her. Misses her brown eyes and her laugh and her smile and Sophie's not the same but it doesn't matter because maybe she can help fill the hole in his heart.

Maybe he can help fill the one in hers, too.

So he doesn't think anymore, only leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

He can taste bitter alcohol on her and feel warm tears dripping down her cheeks, sense pain and anger and loneliness and misery and heartbreak practically radiating off her skin and maybe his own, reflecting and swimming between them, and then they're drowning, slipping away into each other's unhappiness.

She pulls away after a second, wiping away yet another tear that falls . "I think I'm gonna need more to drink if we're gonna make out." She jokes, breathless. Louis reaches over to grab the bottle from where Sophie dropped it, tossing it towards her, and she drains the thing, pouting when it's all gone.

"Damn."

"I'll get some more," He says, moving to get up as she calls out behind him; 

"Lots more!"

And then he smiles, despite it all.