Chapter 22

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Author's Note- How many times have the boys got mobbed in like a week? It's becoming a bit of a joke now, I emailed Modest about becoming Harry's stunt double to protect him but I didn't get a reply. I think they hate me.

LOUIS' POV

I take in my surroundings quickly. The cottage is a reasonable size, and looks like quite a nice place to stay. But, I know I won't enjoy one second of my time here.

I head along the passage and it leads me into a fairly modern, and big, kitchen with a breakfast bar and a dining room attached. I walk back out of the room and enter the room opposite. The living room has huge TV hung up on the wall, with an Xbox and PlayStation set up. Normally, I'd love this. But what's the point? There's no one to play with and there'll be no wifi here anyway.

I exit the room and start searching for the stairs. Turns out I passed them on my way in. I head up the stairs, dragging my suitcase along behind me. There's a few bedrooms but I just go in the nearest one and dump my suitcase on the floor. Exhausted, I flop onto the huge bed and wait. 

I wait for this nightmare to be over. But I don't think it ever will be.

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Thunder rumbles through the cracks in the walls, awakening me. 

Typical Scottish weather.

Lightening flashes through the window. It takes me back to when we were on tour, and Harry came in my room. It was one of them moments where we were actually happy.

I sigh, trying to push the memories out of my head. I decide to get off the bed, I'm not even inside it...I guess I just fell asleep last night without doing anything. I'll never sleep through this storm anyway, I hate them. As I'm leaving the room, I trip over my suitcase. 

I hate unpacking. Harry usually does it.

I head downstairs, with both the cold in the air and booms from the sky sending shivers through my body. Maybe I should change into something warmer, I'm still in the clothes from yesterday and they're creased and crumpled. But, to be honest, I don't care how I look and I'm too lazy to go back upstairs and find something else.

I find my way into the kitchen and search for the kettle. I fill it up with water and flick the switch on, waiting for the water to boil. I prepare myself a cup of tea. The cupboard's are all stocked with loads of food, which is always a good thing. I pour the steaming water into the mug and head into the living room. I slump onto the sofa, sipping my tea; not caring that it's burning my tongue.

I can feel a draught sneaking it's way through the windows, causing me to shiver once again. I clasp onto the hot mug, letting the warmth seep into my hands. It helps, but not enough to make me warm. I place my tea on the coffee table and go in search for a blanket. I would put the heating on but I have no idea how to. I'll figure it out when I can see properly. Come to think of it, I don't even know the time. I didn't bring a watch, I usually depend on my phone telling me. By the darkness outside I'm guessing it's 1 or 2 in the morning.

I carry on my search for a blanket, feeling colder as I go along. I discover new rooms downstairs; a bathroom, a games room and a conservatory but still no luck with the blanket. Tiredness and coldness soon take over and I resort to climbing back upstairs, pulling the duvet off my bed and dragging it downstairs. I enter the living room once more, wrap the duvet around me and resume drinking my tea. It's cooled down a bit now, just nice to drink without being burnt. My eyelids soon start to flutter shut and I try to think of nice things, like our upcoming tour and album.

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