crystal beads of frost edged their way up the front-screen of louis windshield, the layer thickening every few seconds only to be swept away by the blades of his car's wipers. the old heater, imbedded in the machine's system, struggled under the weight of time, but, after some careful fiddling; it's exhaust is directed up to louis face, providing the slightest hint of warmth. this means that while the rest of his body bares the chill of the particularly crisp january morning, his cheeks remain toasty and flushed.
with each stop sign passed, the dreary-eyed, rosy-cheeked boy's headache worsens. the time is barely past eight in the morning and he is making the painful journey back home.
this time with a surprisingly large quantity of alcohol in his system and fluffy bed-hair set from sleeping on zayn's lounge room floor.
none of this had been planned. in comparison with some of the others, last night, louis drank barely a whisper; however this presumably was still enough to pass out in a tangled mess of limbs with four more boys. either way, the events of the night before are still clouded and he certainly isn't looking forward to when the effects of the booze rubs off.
zayn was the only one he spoke too before he left. it was never his intention to stay longer than an hour, an hour and a half if his friend brought out the puppy dog eyes.
surprisingly there were no puppy dog eyes given, no bribery, and thankfully no death threats, and he made it willingly through the night.
unfortunately, this wondrous achievement did have the smallest of repercussions; hence why he was now scaling the unfamiliar icy roads in lead to his scheduled morning shift.
the mere thought of work sends louis hungover brain into a series of frantic disapprovals but he keeps his eyesight remained firmly planted ahead despite this. logic tells him that he shouldn't be driving, however he chooses to ignore this with the friendly reminder that he's required to serve lukewarm coffee for the next four hours.
the streets ahead of him slowly begin to turn familiar; his building emerging through the grey abyss of fog.
its with a lump in his chest and a wave of confusion that he notices the silver mercedes parked at an unfortunate angle in his regular place in the bay. ghosts of memories haunt the car ahead; visible through the clouds of frost and cold.
louis' foot slams downwards, aiming for the brakes but nearly missing in his moment of panic. he contemplates his options.
his mother is inside of his building;
granted on a regular day he would be able to grit his teeth and greet her in spite of his distaste for the woman, but the rather awkward fact remains that he has been spending the past few months trying his hardest to break all contact from his family.
an unusual turn of events compared to most 'recently-moved out nineteen year olds' who are remain dependent on donated meals and leftovers to survive.
louis runs through his options. the most obvious solution, he contemplates, is to fake amnesia. to simply keep on driving, in search of an apartment which doesn't exist, not stopping until every street, twist, turn and corner there is on any map, has been crossed.
just as this plan starts to sound rather exciting in his mind, a quick check to the petrol tank however deflates the idea before louis can even begin to take action. the arrow is hovering directly over the 'empty' indicator.
rather than being let down though, he can't help but allow a small smirk to arise; feeling awfully pleased with himself for making it all the way home without running out. trapped in the middle of no where, without transport or a jacket would not be louis definition of fun,
four tyres turn sharply on the ice below, pulling him closer to his driveway.
the sound of clicking metal fills the void of silence, juggling his keys between both hands, louis walks through the empty morning air, apparently too crisp for anyone other than a tomlinson to bare. melted snow and earth seep into the cracks and crevasses of louis shoes, sending a shudder down his spine which he prays works as effectively as an ice-cold shower in sobering him up a little.
his face crinkles up in a pathetic attempt at a grin, lips pressed together in greeting when he rounds a corner to both his apartment's door, and mother's waiting figure.
jay tomlinson, a woman of middle-age with hard features and manicured qualities; remove the slightly overdone make-up and you're left with your typical motherly figure, leave it remaining however, and the remnant is a somewhat foreboding individual. tight lipped, cold-eyed, with eyebrows raised expectantly at every move made before her, this was louis' mother.
as the lady in front of him looked up, the faintest flash of surprise washed over her painted face. it was gone in an instant, as soon as her handbag began to swing against her body, pushed up from its resting place against the wooden door.
jay knows better than to try and hug her son, opting instead for a curt nod of her head his way. established, she may not understand that boy for the life of her, but jay at least understands the boundaries their relationship has reached.
much to her son's annoyance, she decides to voice her dissatisfaction towards having to wait for over a quarter of an hour for him to arrive home. her impatience cutting through clear. all rather unfair louis believes, especially considering she hadn't even the decency to let louis know she'd be coming by.
then again, it may have been in one of her weekly voicemails that louis has grown to habitually ignore. he pretends that that isn't the case and continues grimacing ever-so-subtly at her whilst he struggles with the key in the ageing lock.
the boy can sense that on the very tip of his mother's tongue is the question of whether the reason he is stumbling home now, washed up and slightly disoriented is because he spent the night out fucking some girl. of course jay wouldn't phrase it quite so, but that's beside the point. regardless, louis is also certain that she is holding back from asking him this in fear of hearing words of reassurance that still; he continues to be gay.
while his mother walks in past the door he holds open, inspecting the house, one heel clicking against the wooden floors at a time, louis pulls out his phone, needing to text liam a word of warning to not rush home.
given he isn't still verging on unconsciousness, spread out across the loveseat like the others were when louis had left.
earlier, when he had quietly left the scene, whispering a word of thanks to a sleepy zayn, he'd turned his head a moment longer than necessary to simply watch, and smile, at the dangly body of the youngest boy there. brown hair a mess, soft snores escaping his parted lips, harry was stretched out the length of a sofa, a crumpled crown of now torn paper still sitting forgotten amongst his curls.
louis chest coils slightly, heaviness spreading quickly through his chest like vines intertwining through wire. he should be there still, he realises. dismay weighing in on him, heightened by the cold and wet weather wrapping around his building, and the woman observing a painting of trees against a blank canvas.
"why are you here mum?" he asks as simply and straight to the point as he can.
louis never became accustomed to cries of delight from strangers as to the resemblance between his mother and him. he never was given the opportunity because upon first glance, their features simply didn't align with one another. that, and whilst louis frame remained petite, his growth spurt never quite hitting, jay always towered over him, looking down on him from every angle.
now as louis edges the old door to lock properly, and his mother stands, heels and all, over him, he can physically feel the separation between them.
"is a mother really not allowed to drop by the visit her son? you may want to keep distant but that's just because you're young." she states. while what jay says is truthful, it nonetheless hides the actual truth.
a mother and son, joined together only by guilt and money.
jay herself wasn't supposed to be keeping in contact with louis, banned from doing so by her husband; and certainly louis felt no desire to ever have to speak to her again. however still, as though it would help to clear away the shame gnawing at her stomach allowing her only boy to be homeless days after he turned eighteen, jay makes sure to throw louis' father's wealth his way making sure that he sees the best psychologists out there.
where is the point in fixing a problem yourself, when there are specialists out there to do it for you?
the doors metal hinges fall into place, rubbing against the wood in an array of rust and splintered dust. for most people, an acceptance that the door was locked would be made, but a seed of doubt sparks in louis mind.
because what if it isn't?
and so, while jay speaks to him, carelessly dragging her feet along the boards, louis unlocks his door, fiddling with the keys, slotting them into the hole, before closing it again; repeating the process while staring out past everything. wishing he was anywhere but here.
snippets of her words get to him, enough for him to understand that this is a lecture and that he needs to keep into contact with her more. awfully contradicting. she speaks and she speaks, and with every word it worsens because she is here and she needs to just not be.
just as louis is opening up the door for the fifth time in a row, double-checking for the others didn't feel right, jay's tone takes a drastic turn; her voice rising and snapping as she looks in horror towards him.
"it's locked?" she so much as spits, "it's locked god damn; it was locked the first time, it was locked the second time and i can assure you, it is locked now." her head shakes in scorn, "sit down, stop acting crazy."
with a deep breathe and a carefully diverted attention to biting the inside of his cheek, louis carefully stops, staring straight ahead to distract himself while he goes to sit by her.
he knows this time for sure that the door is still open, louis knows that he is unsafe, but still, he finds some comfort in the conclusion that if anybody does break into the house, he would feel no responsibility to protect his mum.
"your father doesn't know i'm here." jay breathes restlessly.
louis eyes flicker with emotion. "he's not my father." he states before sucking his lips into a pout.
"well at least there is something that you both agree on." her red fingernails drum against the table.
"it's not even biological." the boy adds as a final statement before drawing back into silence.
moments pass between them both, stretched out into spaces of silence.
"are the girls safe?" louis needs to ask this. it's been playing on his mind for the past few weeks, keeping him up until the night is so late, it's morning again. he knows the answer to this, he knows that they are, and that he was merely an exception in his mother's mind, but still, he craves the reassurance.
the woman's face contours in confusion, "why wouldn't they be?"
ah right. they're not insane. they don't breakdown when a door is left open, when somebody touches them, when their shelves aren't kept in perfect order. and rest assured, if his sisters do voice their interest in pretty pink things or a boy's lips, they'll be rewarded with a pat on the head rather than a slap across the face.
louis gives a nonchalant shrug before shaking his head. she may not have been very vocal when it came to her husband trying to brainwash the straight into him but he just hopes that if he ever tries anything she'll do something rather than just focusing on their joint bank account.
be it lottie deciding to experiment with her friends, or that prick catching daisy making her two dolls kiss each other instead of the prince (louis taught her that last year, he also used the words "ew, het," around her toys a lot, but thankfully she never knew what he meant) louis will be there.
his family made him the way he is; the anal retentive, mentally unstable, absolutely uncertain person is. though, it may not be all down to his family, the world definitely had some sort of a play too. as though his mind developed into some sick, failed science experiment.
and so, as his mother left soon after, with an empty promise to call, louis vowed to himself that though the world may ignore him, he would not ignore the world. he fears not being safe, being exposed to a repeat of all he has already been through; but louis heart is not empty. tattered slightly and worn down on the edges, yes, most definitely, but still what he fears most is being alone.
because a world where nobody loves you, not even yourself; now that is scarier than any distorted nightmare louis' ever been tricked into trying to escape.
author note; not too sure about this one, anyway, i just want to say a huge thank you to every one of you beautiful people reading this right now, i love writing this and hearing some of your feedback is so wonderful!