CHANGE

THIRTY SIX

LOUIS

Gravel crackles under Louis' Nike trainers as he traipses across the path on his way home, dim lights only just showing him the direction he's going in.

Greece is beautiful, especially the part they're staying in, but it's difficult for Louis to acknowledge whilst his body screams in pain.

He limps through the patio doors into the luxurious villa the band are currently staying in, wincing with each step but trying his best to remain quiet.

A small wave of anger overcomes him when he sees Harry approaching him.

"Lou, are you okay?" the younger man questions.

Louis' heart almost softens as soon as he hears that deep, beautiful voice, but his mind is quick to remind him that Harry is the reason for his pain.

"Fuck off, Harry" he spits through gritted teeth, pain shooting through his body. "I don't need you".

He continues to limp down the hallway until he reaches his bedroom, and he almost cries when he feels the soft brush of his sheets, having walked the entire way from the bleak studio.

That's the problem with recording once the boys have gone. He doesn't travel back in the car with them, and Simon's not likely to offer him a lift. So he walks.

He doesn't even care that he hasn't had any input on the new album due to him not being there. He's written some music and written lots for it of course, but he records his parts alone, and doesn't care what they do with it. He's too tired, and hurting. Today especially.

As he sits up on the bed, his abdomen burns and he pulls his t-shirt up, flashbacks littering his brain as soon as he sees the fresh burns and lashes across his stomach and chest.

He pulls the t-shirt off and throws it to the corner of the room, deciding a lukewarm shower will ease his pain best.

He makes his way to the bathroom he's currently sharing with Zayn, and switches on the shower. Unlike his normal showers, he doesn't wait for this one to steam before he steps in, knowing that will only exacerbate his pain, and that is not what he needs right now.

He leans against the cool tile as the warm water splashes against his wounds, and his mind immediately swarms. As much as he tries, he can't fight it, images of the past three hours overcoming him.

"No please" he mumbles, running a hand over his sweaty forehead. "Stop".

He lets himself sink onto his haunches in the shower and covers his eyes, preferring to get lost in the darkness instead of the memory.

But it doesn't work, and a memory from seven years ago invades his mind.

- Flashback -

"Louis, son" Simon drawls out, welcoming Louis into his office with a flick of the wrist. "Come on in, there's someone I'd like you to meet today".

19 year old Louis steps into the room hesitantly, acknowledging the smart looking man stood in there with him. So so unaware and naive, with no idea of what's coming next.

"This is Martin Blake, he's going to fix you".

- End of Flashback -

Louis shivers, shaking under the lukewarm shower and lowering himself until he's sat on the floor.

He hates that face.

The face of a man so evil, Louis had hoped to never encounter him ever again.

But now look, he was willingly spending time with that face every day now. That was his level of desperation.

He runs a light finger down a scabbing burn on his chest, wincing at the feeling.

"You need this" he whispers to himself. "It's the only way forward".

But is it really worth it, Harry is just next door. And Louis is sat alone in the shower, how pathetic. No wonder Harry cheated.

"Stop" Louis cries, wanting his thoughts to leave him alone, just for a moment.

He sobs quietly to himself, not wanting to alert anyone else in the house.

After about ten minutes he drags himself up and washes his hair in coconut scented shampoo, ignoring the feeling of agony when it reaches his chest and stomach and makes its way into the burns and gashes that cover him.

Once his shower is over he dresses in a grey tracksuit that is way too big on him, and he burrows into the mountain of duvet and blankets on his bed, damp hair tickling his face as he squashes his face into a pillow.

He drifts off to sleep, taking comfort in the stinging of his wounds, knowing he deserves the pain.