Two of Everything | louis tomlinson

.15

again from my phone. ignore the mistakes if you can.
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Louis' Point of View— NEXT DAY

I drink another bottle of vodka, and hear in my head Laneece's voice telling me stop. It's only nine in the morning and I'm already fucking drunk. Surrounded by paintings, my legs give out and glance up at the painting of my dead wife. She's staring right back me, the paint really captures her. I stare back at the portrait and sigh.

"I wish you were here, Lan." I rub my eyes, "You'd be supporting me and telling me what to do all the fucking time. You'd take this bottle away from me and slap me across the face." 

I take another sip, and this time move the liquid inside my mouth, savouring it all. I swallow it and the hot acid goes down my throat.

"You were very annoying," I add, "Hated it, but now I know you were right all the time. I'm sorry I failed you and our daughter, but I swear — I'll- I'll make it better somehow."

"My uncle went to an asylum because he used to talk with objects," a male voice says and I turn around, helping myself up.

"You're that asshole from the bar." I say with anger. "The one who was tormenting Mia. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Is this your secret place?" Ian walks further into my place. "A special place Mia and you share?"

"Oi! Get the fuck out of here!" I push him and he raises his hands, laughing.

"Oh I didn't come to fight a drunk British dude." He squares up, "I came to warn you. Stay away from Mia if you don't want this place destroyed."

"Mia dislikes you."

"You're wrong, lad." He turns around, mocking my accent. "She dislikes you. I mean, come on, rat. Do you think a woman like her would be interested in you? Compare. She has money, and you're what again? A nobody."

"Is this what money and fame does to a brain? You look so fucking stupid." I raise my voice. No one comes here and insult me. "Are you this desperate to get into a woman's pants? You'd do anything stupid to sleep with a married woman? You're fucking wrong, mate... about her. It's so funny that you New Yorker guys have been with her for so long and think you know her while I met her couple of weeks ago and feel like I've known the real her all my life."

Ian shoves past me and stares at the portrait I painted of Laneece. "Is this the dead? She was hot."

Anger boils the blood in my veins and pull him to the floor, beating his face up as he tries to get away from me. "You fucking asshole!" I get up and kick his face.

And when I'm done, after all his bruises in his face, he stands up to spit blood and mutters, "You just cut the string, Louis. You don't know who you're dealing with."

Blood is covering his teeth.

He leaves and I stay standing with my fast breathing, my fists shaking for more. I slump down on the floor and bring the bottle to my mouth. I want to drink to forget my failures.

A long, silent moment later, there's a knock at the door and I see Mia through the glass. I look away, ignoring her and stand up, taking out a canvas to paint away the pain. She gets inside anyway.

"Just came to grab my coat and leave," she says behind me. "I stopped at Lawrence's house to check if you were there and I took that as a chance to bring her clothes I borrowed and pick up mine." She explains. "Please say something? You can't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad," I push my hands into my pockets. "Not with you. Not with your husband. Just with life!"

"So you're drinking again," she gestures at the bottles spilled on the floor.