Room 317

Chapter 15

Two and a half months later…

Louis grinned, his step bouncing a little, as he rounded the corridor into the arrival lounge. He was home; finally back in England and he could not wait to see the lads! He couldn’t wait to see Harry, because the first thing he was going to do was make good on that promised kiss. No more interruptions, no more delays, no more excuses. Enough was enough. He was no longer afraid of what they were and what they could become. Harry still wanted him that much had been evident when he’d tried to kiss him in the hospital, and Louis wanted Harry - by god he really wanted him! He now saw his excuses for what they truly were; cowardice and only hoped Harry could forgive him for it.

He pulled his hat down low on his head, hoping nobody would recognise him - as he had no bodyguards to protect him from fans today and set about looking for the exit.

Stopping for a moment in the lounge, to get his bearings, his eyes caught something that made his blood run cold. Dropping his small rucksack to the floor he hurried over to the businessman seated casually on the bench.

“Excuse me,” Louis said urgently, tapping the man on the arm, “but could I possibly see your paper for a moment… please?”

The man looked up at him, his expression annoyed but then his eyes widened as he recognised Louis. “You’re… one of them,” he gasped, automatically holding out the paper and looking genuinely sympathetic. Louis didn’t answer him but hurriedly flipped the paper over so he could see the front page and clapped a hand over his mouth in horror.

Hands trembling, he flicked through the pages looking for one particular piece of information. The only piece of information mattering at that moment; he found it on page 6. Shakily, he thrust the paper back into the man’s hand with a muttered thanks, retreated back for his rucksack and then sprinted for the underground as fast as he could.

~*~

It felt like the longest journey he had ever taken – including his flight from LA back home. He had to take the tube to Leicester square, swap to the Northern Line to get to Euston, which took over an hour. From Euston it was a straightforward hour and a half train journey to Birmingham New Street. Then from Birmingham New Street it was a speedy 7 minute train ride to the University Station. He kept his hat pulled low and his shades close to his eyes. As his rucksack only had one change of clothes and some toiletries he really didn’t have anything to disguise himself properly with. The last thing he wanted was fans asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to. Or worse; telling him something he wasn’t prepared to hear – certainly not from a stranger. Stopping to buy something better to disguise himself was not an option either. He had to get to the hospital right away. He didn’t want to regret anything by being a few minutes later than he had to be.

The fact that he was in public helped him from doing anything stupid, like crying or screaming. Neither of those would do him any good because he had no idea how badly his friends were hurt. Throughout the whole journey, he forced himself to think about their songs instead of the state of his band-mates, reciting most of their last three albums in his head – anything to stop himself losing control of himself. It was with shaky fingers that he pressed the button to open the train doors and stepped down onto the sunny University platform. As soon as he had a clear path, he sprinted for the hospital, cutting across the University Campus. He was going to be eternally grateful for the intense fitness programme the clinic put him through. It took him only five minutes to reach the main entrance and skid to a halt, without being the slightest out of breath. The whole front area was swarming with reporters with cameras. Shit. But then, suddenly, he didn’t care. His friends were in there, hurt, nobody was going to stop him reaching them - nobody.