Two of Everything | louis tomlinson

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"I think in this point in time, I just want to focus on art." Louis replies, gesturing his surroundings. "I lost my wife and I don't feel like seeing someone else, you know? I think I'm too sensible for that now. I feel like I will compare my next girlfriends to Laneece, and then maybe, talk about her to them. I'm not ready yet." He continues to clean up and I stand still, watching him. "I chose this opportunity to do something for myself and for my daughter. I want do something good for once in my life."

I wanted to ask him about Claire. Who was that woman I saw in the bar with him? He obviously spent the night with her. I need in this moment answers, but I will give it time. I don't want to seem like an intruder to him. I'm just trying to be his friend.

"I think that's great," I ran out of words. Great? I should've said something else. "But maybe eventually you might fall in love with someone and she could be a good mother to Kelsey." I say, mentally pointing my thumb at me.

"That will never hap- how do you know my daughter's name?"

I nervously, chuckle, "What do you mean? You've mentioned her before."

"Have I?" He stands still, and turns his face to me. He gives me a serious look as he starts walking toward me, slowly and intimidatingly. This is not good. "I know you're lying. Don't you think I know the truth?"

"What?" I turn pale.

He pokes my nose with his finger, "Boop. That you're a mind reader, love."

Again, I nervously laugh and walk past him, picking some of his few brushes up and putting them all together on the table. I glance at him, and he's staring at me with a little smile. "So, since you have amnesia, I won't interview you about your life since I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just want to know about you. Let's start with the basics, all right?"

"Okay."

Only if he knew, he's going to meet me all over again.

"Favorite color?" He asks and I laugh.

"Blue."

He stays quiet for a moment, and crosses his arms against his chest.

"Black is the best color to ever exist, Mia."

"Black is just black."

"You just have to look at it with your creative side."

My lips part. Actually, I'm getting to know Louis for the first time. Not all over again. I never knew he could speak like this. The fact that he kept his creativity and secrets away from me because thought art couldn't 'make us rich', is killing me. Louis doesn't do it for money; he does it because he loves it. I hate me. I hate myself.

I learned my lesson, God. Can I return to the day of the surgery and pretend nothing happened?

"Point taken, so black is a creative color, right?"

"Yeah. I will teach you why, but not today. Can you do me another favor?"

"Anything." I say, vaguely.

"Buy at least three buckets of black paint and bring them tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"At what time?"

"I'll be here all day." He says.

He looks cuddly with his sweater and fringe covering his forehead. I just need him to hug me for at least once, so I could get rid of my homesick.