Louis doesn’t have a lot of clothes to pack- well maybe he does (he definitely does) but just doesn’t want to admit it to anyone, not even to himself – but he had to buy a new and bigger suitcase. He never moved out, at least not like he is about to do now. Even when he went to the University seemed to be easier than this.
He was okay with the fact of living with his family almost having twenty four years old – he was not – but he needs to get out from this place full of good memories and do what he thinks is the best for him. “Good memories” he says to himself. Good memories are worthy but not when they make him feeling weird; a mixture of happiness, amusement, sadness and loss. He wants – he needs – to stop them.
He is focused on starting his life. But for Louis, starting his life, starting a new life, doesn’t have the same meaning as normal people usually think it has. For Louis, changing is constantly thinking about the past and the influences its might have.
“You need to do what makes you happy” he repeats his mother’s words, the ones he’s been listening since he is ten. And he heard them a week ago when he asked her mom’s advices about what he should do with his life and with his mixed and messy thoughts.
In result of it he is in his old bedroom looking for stuff that he might need to take to his new house and looking for trash that it’s not really necessary to have here anymore. He’s making his mother a favour cleaning this place up, it’s not like he’s not coming back here anymore but does he really need his old school books? Clothes that don’t fit him anymore? And what else? A damaged football? He is in the spirit to do it so let’s make good use of it and throw away all this old trash.
The draws from his desk are the worst. He has old tests, small pieces of paper, pens that don’t work anymore, old notes and even those documents he’d bring home to ask for parent’s permission to study visits from high school. He hated that school but he can’t deny that he spent some good years of his life there.
He found a folder right in the back of the drawer. He knows it too well. He opened it a million of times, he read all the papers he had there another millions till he memorised its words, he analysed the tickets and small gifts till he found a new detail or remembered something forgotten, he looked at all the pictures with that so familiar tear at the corner of his eyes… he never got tired of looking at that folder, with episodes of his childhood playing on his mind, lies and whispers being heard on his ear.
But it’s been three years since he doesn’t look at this shit – it’s not shit, it’s a piece of art, sentimental parts of Louis’ heart that become something touchable, but Louis doesn’t want to remind himself of that – so he grabs that with his soft hands, carefully as if that could vanish on them and sits on the end of his small bed.
His lips form an instant curve. A proud smile is written upon his face, it even reaches his blue eyes, he was feeling cold but his body warms up with the fond. He is so proud of himself. He is so proud of doing what he did in the past. Maybe he regrets some stuff, but those stuff are things he always took care of to make everything better.
He watches attentively every picture and he remembers every moment is shown there. He remembers how he felt when that picture was taken, he remembers how the weather was in that day, he remembers the reason behind his different smile in every picture.
He just can’t remember the voice of the boy who is beside him in every one, which is sad. It’s really sad and everyone would feel pity of his sad blue eyes if knew the story behind him and his best friend.
“My best friend is beautiful” he remembers saying to himself every morning he would have the opportunity to wake up and see the boy laid down next to him. Curly hair spread down in the pillow, plump and parted lips, and slowly green and lazy eyes would crack open to meet Louis’ smiley face.
He finds himself already in tears and he needs to stop and think what his mother would think of him if she found out that her twenty four years old boy is crying in his room over some memories that he swore to her that the episode would never happen again since the last time she found him out like this. It’s been three years since then, he should have grown up and be more mature towards this subject. But Louis was always a drama queen, he always loved dramatising what he doesn't need to. Although, unlike what he thinks, it’s not the case now.
He makes that hard and harsh move of his, maybe it’s on purpose to reach his limit or see till where he lasts this time, and takes the familiar letter. He reads it twice and when he’s about to go to the third one he hears the door.
Fuck, not again.
~*~
[an:/] HEY GUYS! kinda missed you all. so here's the prologue from my third book. i've wrote some chapters and i'm kinda enjoying the story and somehow proud of it so i really hope you like this one as much as Say Something!
At first it will be a bit confused but you'll get used and understand better. Tell me your opinions because yeah it's important.
