HARRY'S P.O.V
"Louis? Harry?! What's going on?"
We spring apart from our extremely close proximity to each other as if an electric shock has run through both of our bodies. My face floods with red and my limbs untangle themselves from the intricate mess of our embrace. I shuffle awkwardly away from Louis, my heart galloping at a feverish pace. He casually leans against the wall that I had just pushed him against in avidity seconds ago and sighs as if such events never took place. I shove a hand into my thick curls as the door to the secret corridor swings open, revealing a confused looking Niall holding a half eaten cookie. Crumbs fall down onto the patterned carpet below from his slowly chewing lips and his eyebrows are raised in a mixture of perplexity and anticipation. His eyes flick back and forth between me standing timidly on one side with my cheeks flushed in exertion, to Louis panting against the wall on the other, making the connection to the obvious answer that hangs in the air unspoken. I break out in a nervous sweat from his piercing blue eyes boring into the side of my head, as I'm refusing to look anywhere but at him. My mouth is exceptionally dry and I feel as if I haven't dranken in days. I draw in a shaky breath and pull my gaze slightly upwards from its resting point trained on my converse.
Just as I'm opening my mouth to explain, to conjure up some kind of bizarre explanation or excuse as to why the situation looks the way it does, my words fall short from the beaming smile that's planted itself on Niall's face. I sneak a glance at Louis' blase expression, but I see right through his cool-as-ice demeanor. From the way his pupils dilate when Niall's lips turn upwards and the slight twitch of a muscle in his cheek as he continues to smile, give away his true emotions. I focus on Niall now, taking in the joy that threatens to burst through his very seams. His mouth creates a large "O" of excitement and it pulls open and closed like a goldfish chewing.
"Niall, just spit it out already lad!" Louis blurts out in exasperation, breaking the tense excitement that crowds the small hallway.
"They were...they were right?" Niall asks in a confused daze, his eyes sparkling.
"Well, um..." I push a few stray curls out of my eyes "Uh...yeah? I suppose so?" I squint at the ground in an attempt to divert any more of the awkwardness that's rippling through my emotions like a wave.
"Oh my...these fans, these...these fans never lie, do they?"
Louis bows his head, mimicking mine. "No Niall, I don't believe they often try to lie to us..." Louis explains, his voice resembling one of humbleness and apologetic tones.
Niall shuts his eyes in content, his fluttering lids covering the sky blue orbs that shine with exuberance. His lips move slightly as if he's muttering another language to himself, foreign to everyone else but himself. Muffled sounds escape his mouth and sound as hushed tones, their meaning to quiet for me to understand. I take a step forward, the lines scrunching up on my forehead in confusion.
"Come again?"
Niall's eyes open once again and immediately lock with mine in an disoriented gaze.
"Niall. I didn't understand. What were you just saying?" I ask nervously again for clarity, worried that he would suddenly explode with fury. After all, what Louis and I had just experienced was an event of...well, homosexuality. Although we didn't do anything to prove a valid statement, the way that my heart beat wildly like a horse galloping at a furious pace when he was close to me said something completely different. And I was deathly afraid, terrified even, that Niall would jump to conclusions and disapprove of what we might of done, given the chance to be alone for a second longer. I was worried that he wouldn't accept us anymore - for what looked like happened.
Niall just stares back blankly at me, his eyebrows almost pushed into a dumbfounded expression. Instead of responding to my question, he simply raises his jumper clad arm and points to something down the hall.
"Yes Niall," I say sarcastically "A corridor with a dead end. Ever fascinating."
"No! Look!" He urges me, jabbing his finger in guidance again.
I twist around to face the bleak caramel walls of the hotel and the scruffy carpeted flooring that had bizarre patterns engraved into its design, nothing in particular capturing my attention like the way it had grabbed Niall's. I sigh and turn back around to face his eager expression.
"Niall there's noth-" I'm cut off by the obnoxious clattering of metal reverberating in the quaint corridor, the loud echoes causing my ears to ache. "What the..." I wince and cradle my head in both hands, while turning to face the source of the commotion.
An overly cheerful lady is bustling through a side door adjacent to the end of the hallway, her large figure barely squeezing through the opening. She has curly hair like mine, apart from the fact that it's thin, blond and tamed down from what I infer to be about an entire bottle of hairspray. My nose wrinkles as it catches the aerosol can scent that wafts down the corridor as she approaches us. Infront of her is the cause of all the racket, a massive silver-grey hunk of metal cart carrying sparkling room service dish covers and what I presume to be food underneath, considering the way Niall was reacting.
Louis and I look at each other and breathe a collective sigh of relief. The nerves that had been bouncing around my stomach like a birthday party of kids on a trampoline calmed down and I could finally relax.
"Good morning mysterious three young men, I'm Anette and I've come to bring this load of food to someone by the name of..." she glances down at a piece of rumpled paper in her chunky hands "Neil, N...Nail Horain? Would you happen to know anyone named Nail Horain?"
Once again, Louis and I meet each other's eyes at the same time and try not to laugh. His face is reddening, the flush travelling up from his neck and pinching his cheeks with colour and his mouth is curled upwards into an adorable, toothless grin. I cover my hands over my mouth and smother the laugh that threatens to escape my humored lips. Niall, noticing our muffled laughter, turns around and shoots us a glare. Louis reaches out and slaps Niall repeatedly on the shoulder, his giggles resounding throughout the corridor.
"Yes...ah, Anette, this is the Nail Horain you're looking for," Louis pauses for breath, regaining control of his laughter for a bit, but fails seconds later and surrenders to the hysterical thought of Anette's voice as she said Nail Horain. Niall and I join in a couple moments later, my chuckles releasing the stress from minutes before.
~~~~
LOUIS' P.O.V
"Bye!" the lads and I chorus, before waving our good-byes to the camera sat infront of us. We had just finished our final interview of the day - which was a part of our promotional activities in New York.
"And...that's a wrap boys!" the producer hollers and the room breaks into an excited chatter. Paul motions for us to get going, as our scheduled lunch at 21 Club is in 15 minutes and we need to arrive on time. Paul's all for being courteous and despises being late for anything - especially expensive restaurants that set up lunches for us. Knowing this, I pull myself up from the plush suede couch and lean on Zayn for support. Smiling, he rests his weight on me, pushing back with his shoulder. Zayn ruffles my fringe playfully and fingers the gelled strands, pulling them gently. He raises his eyebrows questioningly at my hair as if I was supposed to understand exactly what he wants to know. He tugs on my hair more forcefully this time and gives me a look.
"What?!" I exclaim and remove his wandering hands from my hair in annoyance. Zayn chuckles and runs his hands through his own quiff, rearranging the blond highlights that add a pop of colour to his raven coloured hair.
"The quiff movement is no more?"
Confused for a second before I understood that he was referencing to the name of our hairstyle change that the fans had coined "The Quiff Movement", I stared blankly at him. My brain finally registering what he had just inquired, I opened my mouth to respond, but he beat me to it.
"Did Eleanor not like the new style or something?" he asks tentatively, his eyes slightly squinting in preparation for my possible outburst.
Eleanor. She and I had scheduled a lunch date today, in hopes that we could iron some kinks out of our relationship - as we hadn't seen each other for a while and the short disputes we were having over trust issues we'rent exactly helping our case. I was crossing my fingers that this would benefit our status with one another, as I don't want to lose her anymore than I already have. Suddenly remembering that Zayn was still patiently waiting for an answer, I refocused my gaze on him.
"No...I don't know, I guess...it happened?" I let out a half-hearted laugh, my mind still mulling over the case with Eleanor. Paul calls for Zayn and I to get a move on, denying him any chance to respond to my lame excuse for my hair being disgruntled. I start to walk once again over to the door, only turning back to shout out a quick thank-you to the people involved with our latest interview.
~~~~
The lads and I pile out of the van at the exclusive back entrance of Club 21, to avoid the massive crowd of fans buzzing around the restaurant's front area. It's not like any of the lads or I didn't want to greet the fans or sign any of their memorabilia to do with us, but we had a scheduled lunch to attend and the amount of them that had arrived at the restaurant posed quite a threat to our safety. As much as we love them, there are some real nutcases out there, and we don't know if they'd do something to hurt us or not. We stealthily sneak into the side door, the metal creaking open quietly as we make our way into Club 21. I'm enveloped in the soft light of the restaurant as I step inside, stunned by the completely different feel from what I had thought it would be; hence the name with "club" in it. Elegant yet modern, the different rooms of the place merge into one another, somehow coinciding with their various styles. To top it all off, I can barely hear - but still manage to recognize - the hushed melody of a classical song playing in the background. I try to catch Harry's eye, but he's too busy staring around the place in bewilderment like I suspect how I was doing a minute ago.
We're met by a lanky Italian waiter, who introduces himself as Arturo and leads us down a back corridor, away from all the people eating their opulent meals. Still amazed at the refined class of the club, I continue to look around like a tourist viewing Big Ben for the first time. Arturo halts us at door somewhere down the winding hallways and fishes some keys out of his pockets. After fiddling around until he finds the appropriate key, he unlocks the grand oak door and opens it. The very sight of the room stuns me. Soft, warm light illuminates the polished maple table with precise edging and makes the silver plates and cutlery shine with lustre. The high back chairs are adorned with plush red velvet cushions that look so comfortable I'm contemplating whether or not to fall asleep in one, and the scent of fresh flowers invades my nose with a crisp, yet pleasant smell. Yet, my favourite part of the room has to be the racks of wine, rows and rows of them decorating the walls with their warm red liquid. Now, I'm not an alcoholic, but this room could turn anyone into one.
"Euh...this is Mister Tomlinson's room?" Arturo reads off of a folded manila paper card, "Reserved for Mr. Tomlinson and Ms. Calder. The other men, follow me this way please."
The smile that spreads itself across my face is one of delight, astounded at my good luck to have snagged the room. And from the jealous gazes cast my way from the other lads, I know I wasn't the only one hoping. As they walk away, I hear the boys - Niall in particular - mutter some rude words underneath their breath.
"Why does he get that room?!" Niall whines to Liam, tugging on his shirtsleeve and looking up at him with a questioning look.
Liam laughs humorously and pats him kindly on the shoulder like a little kid. "Well Niall, given your Irish temperament when influenced by alcohol, I don't think they exactly trust you to be in there, especially after the time at..." I don't hear the rest of what Liam says, as the door is closed and they're lead further down the corridor by Arturo. But I'm assuming that Niall wasn't too pleased by his answer, as I know exactly what story Liam was reminding him of. Let's just say that Niall isn't the most...well, careful of all lads when he's had too much whisky. I chuckle quietly to myself as I reflect on the events of that night.
"Sir, I have received word that Ms. Calder will be here in a few minutes, so if you'd like to sit down while you wait?" a younger looking waiter, with the gleaming gold nameplate that read Brandon, suggested while gesturing with his pale hand to the array of comfortable chairs. I nodded in response and sat at the middle part of the table, while sighing at the comfort that the cushions gave me. Maybe they'd help somehow unrealistically help with Eleanor and I's relationship struggles. I was really hoping that we could work something out...maybe. Honestly, at this point, it was more stress than relief she brought me these days and I can't lie and say that the possibility hadn't crossed my mind. But still, the obscure thought caught me off guard every time. Eleanor and I had been together for so long, been through so much, that the mere consideration of not seeing one another anymore was almost impossible.
A gentle knock at the door brought Brandon back to life, straightening his body from the concave slouch he stood while readjusting the flowers. Turning the handle so the wide-set door opened, Brandon pulled until Eleanor was revealed. She looked beautiful. Stunning even. With her smooth, wavy chocolate hair falling in all the right places and her perfect conformation, Eleanor was anything but ugly. But the butterflies that would normally erupt with nervous pleasure in my stomach failed to make an appearance. I stood up, walking towards her automatically and she did the same, meeting me halfway. She cupped my chin in her delicate hands and brought her thin lips to mine. Smooth and soft, her mouth moved familiarly against my own, but there was no regular explosion of fireworks; not even a mere spark. It was like kissing your sister on the cheek. Passionless and frigid. When we pulled apart, my mouth curled into a half-hearted smile to respond to her large, toothy grin.
"I've missed you Louis," she whispers and I draw her into a hug as she rests her head in the crook of my shoulder.
"Missed you too," I murmur unconvincingly; at least to my own ears.
I can feel her smile into my shirt and I bite my lip. I couldn't possibly break up with her. She was Eleanor; the only one who made me truly happy. But, I had to. It just wasn't what I wanted it to turn out like. This relationship, this supposed connection, was simply not there anymore. And that in itself, was why I must end things. It was official. I didn't love Eleanor.
We pull out of our embrace, her familiar parfume tickling my nose with its sweet scent. My eyes water as I thought about how that was most likely our last hug. If I didn't snap myself out of this state soon, the deed would be done and we would be no more. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to find another solution. I squint my eyes, preventing the flow of water and sit down in my chair. Instead of crying, I reach across the table and envelop my hand in hers, playing with our fingers. Eleanor grins, flashing her perfectly straight white teeth at me. My lips pull upwards bittersweetly as I smile back and clench my other fist underneath the table. Eleanor explodes into conversation, completely disregarding the polite small talk and begins to furiously recall her adventures while I was away from England, pausing only to take occasional sips of her water when she ran out of breath. I would miss this. Miss her fearless confidence and sweet charm. Miss our crazy conversations late at night or early in the morning - depending where I was. Miss all the crazy times we had running through a park away from fans, the break of dawn mini golfing, the ice cream stops at night after particularly good dates, ringing up each other at the most random times to tell each other we loved and missed one another - all the fun events that we had endured together. I would miss the love we once had.
Abruptly standing up, I drop her hand as the tears well up in my eyes. I couldn't look at her anymore. I couldn't do this to her. But I was. It was happening.
"Louis? Louis sweetheart, what's wrong?" she asks, standing up as well. She places a hand lovingly on my cheek, which I gently remove. The confusion registers on her face, disorientating her features. "Louis...what's going on? Why are you being like this?"
Through my watery eyes, I look up at her now concerned expression.
"Louis! Goddamn it, what the hell's going on?!" Eleanor grabs my face in between her petite hands and shakes it back and forth. Sighing, I push all of my worries aside. It was for the better.
"Eleanor..." I start, my voice breaking.
"Yes Louis, what is it?" she's almost crying now, with desperation to understand why I'm being this robotic and cold to her. From her perspective, she's probably lost her mind trying to think of reasons why I'm not functioning.
"I'm breaking up with you."
~~~~
ZAYN'S P.O.V
I'm in the middle of eating a spoonful of my curry when a blood-curling scream echoes down the hall. As our door is slightly ajar, I could tell that the awful sound was coming from somewhere near Louis and Eleanor's room. The lads and I glance at immediately each other before jumping up from our seats and running towards the cries of anger.
~~~~
HARRY'S P.O.V
As we push open the door to their room, the cringe-worthy sound of glass smashing on hardwood floor welcomes us. Surrounded by a pile of blood red liquid seeping from the scattered smashed wine bottles, sits Louis, cowering in terror at Eleanor. She's grabbed five large bottles of luxury shiraz in her hands and is throwing them across the room at the other wine racks and fracturing their bottles as well, pulverizing them with sheer force. Wine has spilt all over the once-white table cover and is splashing everywhere, staining anything it touches with the menacing maroon liquid. Her high pitched screams resound around the room, hurting my delicate ears.
The lads don't hesitate and push past me standing stock still in the doorway, Liam and Niall restraining Eleanor from doing any further damage. Zayn grabs a indifferent Louis who refuses to do anything but stare at me blankly. I return the gaze, locking eyes with him. I try to understand why he's staring at me so intensely, why his expression is so emotionless and completely blase. Shouldn't he be crying, showing any sign of hurt or sadness? I'm glued in place by his eyes, even when Paul and extra security arrive to fix matters. I'm completely engrossed in him, in the blueness - that I've lost everyone and everything around me, and the only thing I can see are those blue eyes, staring back at me.
Author's Note
Hello! First off, I would like to state that I adore Eleanor and I completely approve of her and Louis' relationship! The events that take place in this story are 100% fake and fictious, all made up by me. I do not hate Eleanor, but for the purposes of this story, her and Louis have to break up. Okay, mini rant over. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for all you lovely people fanning and voting! You guys rock! And a shout-out to all that leave comments; it really brightens my day to know that people are out there, reading my story, let alone enjoying it!! Thanks so much for dealing with my crazy random uploads, but at the moment, it's quite hard to find time. I would explain, but it'd take too long :) Hopefully I can write soon for you guys - I hate not being able to! Thanks so much!
Cheers,
LarryisEdtastic x.