Status: complete;;

Right Now

Say Something, I'm Giving Up on You

I gape open-mouthed at Liam’s words. Why is Louis in trouble with management? Niall stretches out on my bed, poking at my thigh; I swat his hand without taking my eyes off of Liam. A door slams down the hall, and all of us turn our gazes toward the door. Louis appears and stares at me, points his finger at me. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark and cloudy. Anger sharpens his features. After a long moment of him staring and pointing in eerie silence, I begin fidgeting as I grow uncomfortable. Finally, he speaks.

“I don’t give a damn what anybody says about you. Don’t ever change.”

I glance at Harry from the corner of my eye before looking back at Louis. “Uh, okay? What?”

“That tweet? Bloody brilliant. I know it’ll get you a lot of hate from others, but ignore them. Don’t let anyone making you think you can’t say that shit, because you can. I appreciate everything you said. Also, if someone from management comes by and tries to force you to leave, tell them to bugger off. You’re here in my house, as my guest, and you’re allowed to stay here until you make the decision to leave.” His grin is sharp, victorious, and he turns to Harry. “Haz, is Brianna still at your place?”

“Erm, yeah, I think so.”

“Good. I’ll be back. Remember what I said, Koty.”

He pivots abruptly on his heel; his footsteps echo in the quiet corridor as he thunders down the stairs, and the front door shuts with a bang. I continue staring at the spot where he stood for a few seconds, blink owlishly, then turn to the others. They merely shrug in response. We’re all so confused.

[Bri’s POV]
The clock on the wall is stuck at 1:49 - the same as it has been since the first time I ever came to Harry’s flat almost ten months ago. Though none of the hands move, I remain staring at it from my spot on the couch, wrapped in a heavy quilt. My mug of tea is stone-cold on the table, but I just really don’t care. The pain in my chest has rendered me frozen to the point that I’ve only moved from the sofa to use the bathroom and go to bed. Not like I actually sleep. Every time I try, the memory of yelling at Louis, him yelling back at me, and realising that he isn’t ever going to understand… it haunts me. Harry, the poor kid, has been desperately trying to cheer me up, to make me talk. It’s unfortunate for both of us that his efforts consistently fail; I’m not ready to feel better.

And it’s all stupid Louis’s fault. He has confused me since the day we met. I thought when he offered me a room in his house after a few months of incessant flirting that it would push whatever we had into something more. But it didn’t. All it succeeded in doing was blurring the lines between what was real and what could be. I hate to admit it, but somewhere in the time I’ve known the guys, I fell in love with Louis Tomlinson. I let myself fall so damn hard for him, there is no rescuing me, and all he’s done in return was hurt me, no matter how inadvertently it was. He hasn’t even tried to contact me since we fought in the kitchen. He avoided looking at me in the studio. I think that’s what hurts the most - not having those beautiful blue eyes of his finding mine and sparkling with whatever mischievous plan he has forming in his mind.

I sniff through a stuffed nose and huddle deeper into the blankets. I made a vow to not cry over him again. It isn’t helping to solve anything, and it certainly isn’t going to help me get over him any sooner. Maybe things just aren’t meant to be, whispers a voice in my brain, and I snort. It isn’t as much of a surprise, really, once I have that thought; all I have to do is look at my parents’ joke of a marriage. They tied the knot only because my mom got knocked-up after a one night-stand with the man I called my father until I was fifteen. The nights I spent under their roof were nightmarish at best; more often than not, it was a living Hell. My lullaby was constant screaming and fighting and slamming doors. The only reprieve I ever got was with DJ. If it wasn’t for her and all the times we ran away to “our” cabin in the woods, I would have left that town long before I did.

A knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts. I stare at the wood, unspeaking, hoping they’ll go away. Luck isn’t on my side, though, and they continue pounding on the door. I stagger through the apartment and, with the sole purpose of finally getting the visitor to leave me alone, pull open the door.

[Louis’s POV]
Brianna looks, well, she looks awful. She’s wrapped up in one of Harry’s quilts; her eyes are red, swollen from tears. Her brown-and-blonde hair is pulled back in what not barely resembles a braid. I can see how much she’s hurting just by looking into her eyes. I curse myself mentally and drag in a deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” she croaks out before turning away from the door, shuffling to the sofa.

I step inside and close the door behind me. I hesitate but then sit in the armchair. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. She keeps her focus on the clock on the wall. I clear my throat. My heart breaks at the way she flinches at the sound.

“Look, please hear me out. You were… you were right. About everything you said in our kitchen that day. I, well, I didn’t see what was right in front of me because I was - am - an idiot. I can never apologise enough for the Hell I’ve put you through. You deserve better than that. I know I’ve no right to ask this of you, but can you forgive me? I asked Koty what you meant, because I couldn’t figure it out myself, but she refused to tell me. She said if I ever wanted a chance in Hell of you forgiving me, I had to figure it out myself. Then it hit me.

“You asked if I even knew what I wanted. I didn’t understand at the time what you could possibly be talking about. But now I’m here, right here, to tell you that I know. I know what I want. It’s you, Bri. It’s you, and it has been since we met. I’ll go to the ends of the furthest galaxy just to show you that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, to show how much you mean to me. To show you how much I love you. Please believe me, I’m a complete idiot, but there is no one I’ve ever loved as much as I love you. I’m so sorry it took so long to figure out. I’m sorry that I hurt you so much because of it. Can you please forgive me and come home?”

Her eyes are wide, mouth dropped open slightly. In any other situation, I would love to have her attention solely on me. But right now, when she isn’t speaking after I basically monologued to her about the emotions I had ignored for so long, for her to not look away from my face is terrifying. My heart races in my chest, beating wildly against my ribs, and my hands tremble in my lap. The lump in my throat grows thicker, harder, the longer she remains silent. I mentally plead for her to say something, anything…
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title credit say something a great big world ft christina aguilera