Wake Me Up

He looked over to the other side of the bed, butterflies flapping around his stomach as he realised she was still there. It’s the sixteenth time that this has happened, that she’s stayed. It meant a lot to Louis, that she didn’t feel the need to up and leave in the early hours of the morning, when all was said and done and that was it. He hadn’t broached the subject yet. He was genuinely fearful of what she would say. He was scared to say the words himself, especially since anything other than a physical relationship wasn’t ‘allowed’ in the terms of what they had wordlessly agreed that night. Louis laughed to himself as he remembered the night they first met.

He remembers saying goodbye to Harry in the club, remembers the pretty blonde he left with. He wasn’t even sure if Harry really knew her name, the affectionate ‘babe’ came out every time her name should have been mentioned which revealed all, really. For the first time he could remember in a while, Louis was sober that night. Everything remained crystal clear in his mind. Her sultry voice in his ear when she realised he was alone, the way her hair rested on her shoulder and fell against her neck when she moved. They went home together that night. Louis thought it would help him forget, help him get over his break up. He wasn’t dealing well with the loss of his girlfriend by his side, didn’t see it coming. When she told him there was someone else, well, he really didn’t expect it at all. After two weeks of forcing himself into solitary confinement, barely leaving his bedroom, let alone the flat, Harry ordered that they go out to take his mind off of things. Louis had somehow managed to convince his best friend that he was indeed drinking Jack Daniels and Coke that night, rather than the straight Coke he had been consuming since they hit the town.

So, Louis really was entirely sober when she approached him and asked for his number, entirely sober when they got a cab back to his flat and definitely one hundred percent sober when she was screaming his name. He wished, however, that he wasn’t sober when she pulled her mini-dress back on only five minutes later as she walked out of the door, her high heels cradled in her arms and her bag slung over her shoulder.

He pulls himself back from the reflection, stops thinking about what happened six months ago and starts to think about the future.

Louis wasn’t sure when he had begun to notice every perfect detail of her body, when he memorised where the freckles on her skin were, but he was fully aware of them now, he knew that. Louis took his time in appreciating the way that his black bed-sheets looked, just loosely covering her tanned skin, appreciated the way her tiny tattoos peeked out from underneath her equally dark hair that almost always cascaded in waves.

When he started singing, the lyrics came out as a soft whisper, barely audible, but still there. His actions shocked even himself, though he didn’t want to stop the words falling from his lips in rhythm.

I should ink my skin, with your name,
And take my passport out again,
and just replace it.

Louis smiled at this point, his fingers grazing the tattoos on his shoulder.

See, I could do without a tan on my left hand,
where my fourth finger meets my knuckle.
And I should run you a hot bath, fill it up with bubbles.

He took her left hand in his and ran his finger down hers, rubbing a soft circle on her ring finger before releasing his touch at her fingertips.

'Cause maybe you're loveable,
and maybe you're my snowflake,
and your eyes turn from green to grey,
in the winter I'll hold you in a cold place.

He wanted to nudge his body closer to hers as those words fell from his lips, but he knew better than that. He stopped himself, admired from a distance in case she woke.

And you should never cut your hair,
'cause I love the way you flick it off your shoulder
And you will never know,
just how beautiful you are to me,
but maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up.

Louis sat back, his fringe falling gently on his forehead as he continued to watch her sleeping form, his gaze laced with wonder. Minutes had passed before she finally raised her hands to banish the sleep from her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered open and she took in his frame, wordless as always. He was always the first to speak.

“I… Um… What made you start staying the night? You never used to stay.” He was unsure of his words, wondered if he shouldn’t have said them from the moment that they left his mouth.

She looked shocked, her mouth agape as she struggled for words. This was physical, not emotional. It was never emotional but she couldn’t remind him of that, not when he lay there next to her, his bright eyes connecting with her sleep-doused ones. “Louis, I… It’s not for the reason you think. I never meant for it to get this far. I don’t feel for you exactly what you feel for me. I don’t love you, Lou.” She pushed her frame from the mattress, grabbing her clothes and throwing them on as she glanced in the mirror. Louis threw his head against the pillow, his hands falling against his face in exasperation. “I heard every word, Louis.” There was silence for a moment, awkward but reflective until she spoke again. “I can’t give you what you want. I’m so sorry.” He didn’t even bother to tear his hands away from his face, no, Louis couldn’t let her see him like this. He was grateful when he heard the door close without another word.

She had gone. She had gone for good and now Louis knew that he was meaningless to her, had always been meaningless to her. It was his own fault, he thought. She’d still be around if he hadn’t let his emotions get involved, put his heart on the line again.

He regretted it, regretted allowing himself to fall. He knew he’d hit the ground harder than he ever had done before, but there was no way he could stop it from happening. He had no control, he trusted too easily.

And that’s why Louis Tomlinson doesn’t do love.