Feel Again (Louis Tomlinson)

{Book 3 - COMPLETE} All Marley Pennington wanted to do since her freshman year of high school was to turn her life around. To be someone she always wanted to be, and when she gets her dream job, everything seems to be headed in the right direction.
But Louis Tomlinson is another story. He's alone, afraid, and just wanting everything to go back to normal, before everything was ruined. Marley, a well-liked and cheery person tries to change Louis' look on life and love.

"Yeah with you
I can feel again
I'm feeling better ever since you know me
I was a lonely soul but that's the old me"


30. Louis

Chapter 30 - Louis

            I am a classic fool, a real fucking idiot.

            I know I seemed weak in the dressing room, but that’s what I am. I am not used to Marley not being there. She is always there, always making me feel…everything. I am pretty sure I am hurting more than she is. You never know what you have until it’s gone. And she’s gone. She doesn’t even want to look at me and without her I am lost, I second guess everything; just like I used to before I met her.

            We pull up to the hotel and I have to look over my shoulder to see if she is behind me. She is, but she’s not looking at me. I frown, wanting to meet her blue eyes that I have grown fond of, whether I know it or not. She is at her bunk, rummaging through her bag and I give up, getting off the bus. My eyes don’t leave the ground until I get to my room.

            I collapse on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I can’t do this forever. The door across the hall from me slams shut. That’s Marley’s room. I sit at the end of the bed and my head falls in my hands. Why did I let it slip that I read her journal? More importantly, why did I read it in the first place? It might sound a little insane, but I am slightly glad I told her. If I didn’t, the guilt would have driven me mad.

            I need a drink. I have been drinking more than usual lately but I have learned that getting pissed is the only way to have no filter in my mind, the only way to rid the pounding in my chest, even if it’s only for a little while. There is only so much you can take. My head is running a hundred miles a minute and I decide to go down to the hotel bar and continue to be a massive fuck up there. The woman at the bar doesn’t seem to know who I am. I pin her at about forty years of age. She is medium height with thick black hair and bright red lipstick. She is old enough to be my mum.

            “Can I see some ID please?” She asks me. What? Whatever, I am 22 years old.

            “Sure,” I huff and show her. She nods, but frowns.

            “What can I get you?”

            “Something strong,” I groan, running a hand over my face.

            No matter how long I stare at the brown liquid in my glass, I can’t seem to shake her from my mind. It’s fucking exhausting and I know the only way to cease this is to see her. She is everything; she is the thing that saves me from drowning. I hate it, I hate that I have to rely on her for most everything, but I can’t help it. I have come to terms with that fact that I need her. I need her more than I like to admit, but three months ago I wouldn’t consider it in a million years. I thought that I only needed myself. In reality, I was drowning in my own fucking self-pity and pain and loneliness that I didn’t realize I needed someone…someone like her.


            “Louis?” Marley gaps when she opens the door. I know I am drunk and at her door at one in the morning, but I don’t care. All I can think is how beautiful she looks with her messy hair and wrinkled pajamas.

            “Did I wake you?” I mumble. She just scowls and moves to close the door, but I block it with my foot. “Wait…can I come in, please?”

            “No,” she snaps, and I can see past her hard glare into her eyes, which reflect pain, pain that I caused.

            “Please? I am lonely and I want to see you,” I admit. It’s the alcohol; it’s always the alcohol that makes me tell the truth. I am glad; it makes me say things that I am usually afraid to say. Scotch is both my friend and my enemy.

            Her eyes meet mine and I know I look like shit right now, but I breathe a sigh of relief when she hesitantly opens the door. “Why are you drunk?” She demands.

            “What do you mean?” I snap back at her. Who is she to tell me when I can and can’t drink?

            “You have an interview and a show tomorrow, and a show the night after that and the night after that…” She explains as if it’s obvious.

            “Relax, you’re not my mother.”

            Her eyes widen with anger. “Really? How mature of you. You’re twenty-two years old and you’re drinking like you have no responsibility. I thought you were better than this, Louis.” She crosses her arms but doesn’t move from her place. I am between her and the bed and she is annoying me.

            “Well you thought wrong.” I say. Alright, I feel a little bad for snapping at her and for drinking, but I’m drunk and feeling so many emotions right now I don’t give a shit.

            I sit at the end of the bed, but she doesn’t do the same. Instead, she nervously stands by the door and watches me with unsure eyes.“Are you…are you afraid of me?” I ask. Of course I don’t mean I would physically hurt her, but I don’t want her thinking I would throw what she wrote in her journal in her face. I would never do that.

            She gulps and takes a step to me. “No…I am just…worried.”

            “Worried about what?” I slur.

            “What you’re going to say,” she admits. “It’s really hard to believe you when you say things, Louis.” Her eyes water and it hurts me. I don’t want her to cry.

            “Hey, don’t cry,” I soothe her, standing and bringing her to the bed. She scoots away and I frown. “Do you hate me?”

            “Did you not hear what I told you earlier, Louis?” She asks.

            “No, I heard you,” I say. She said she loved me. “I just thought maybe you changed your mind.” I look at my hands, anywhere but her captivating gaze.

            “No, I didn’t. I don’t think I ever could.”

            I look at her, and a tear rolls down her cheek. “I…”

            “No, don’t. Just listen to me, okay?” She says and I nod. “You reading my journal is not what I am most upset about, here. Yes, you reading that and invading my privacy is not okay with me, but the fact that you didn’t tell me is what I am upset about. Everything you told me could have been a lie. You played with my feelings knowing how I felt…feel about you and I don’t know if you were being truthful or if you were making me fall in love with you because you know you could. I know I am a fucking idiot for believing you could possibly feel the same way. I mean…it’s you. I want to give up on you, Louis. I have tried many times but I can’t.”

            When she is finished she is full on sobbing and I am frozen in my place. She wanted to give up? I am glad she didn’t.

            “I didn’t…I didn’t play with your feelings,” I whisper.

            “I don’t know that,” she cries, “because you won’t tell me. Why can’t you just tell me how you’re feeling?”

            “I’m scared!” I almost shout. “Can’t you see that? Since Eleanor I don’t know if you’re being truthful! I don’t know if anyone I meet is. Do you know what it’s like having to second guess everyone you meet because there is a possibility they’re only talking to you because you’re famous? That word has no fucking meaning and I hate it!” I shout at her and she closes her eyes, a tear escaping from under her eyelashes.

            “But you can trust me. I’ve showed you that haven’t I?” She snaps.

            My features soften. She has given me no reason to think she is unfaithful, but until the breakup, neither did Eleanor. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I choke, tears stinging my eyes as well.

            Marley walks over and takes my face in her small hands. “Louis. Look at me.”

            My eyes meet hers and she presses her forehead against mine. I am still completely drunk but in this moment, with her holding me against her, I am sober. Just for a second. Everything is crystal clear and she is all I see, because I don’t want to look at anything but her.

            “It’s okay,” she whispers, a hand running up and down my back.

            I lean in to kiss her and our lips almost touch but she places a hand on my chest and pushes me away. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

            “Nothing, I just don’t think now is the best time,” she says, stepping away. I frown but collapse on her bed. “You should go.”

            “Why? Can I please stay?” I whine. I don’t want to go back to my room and be alone. I would rather be here with her.

            “I don’t know…”

            “I don’t want to be alone,” I tell her.

            She bits her lip then says, “Only because I don’t want you wandering the halls like a drunk, you can stay.”

            I give her a weak smile and lay back, already feeling drowsy. “I’m sorry, you know,” I say after a few minutes of silence. Marley is seated in the chair by the window, looking through the glass at the busy streets.

            “I know,” she sighs, but doesn’t look over at me. Her gaze never leaves the window.

            “Do you, though?”

            “I would like to believe you did it for a good reason, and not just to be a dick.” A small smile pulls at her lips.           

            “I don’t really know what that reason is,” I reply and stare at the white ceiling. My head is spinning from the scotch I drank earlier.

            “You said you came to my room looking for me…is that true?”

            I put my hands over my head. “Actually…yes.” I can see her smiling from the corner of my eye but after a second or two it disappears. “Do you believe me?” It’s true.

            “I’m…I’m not sure,” Marley sighs.

            “You know we’re alike in that way,” I say and sit up, crossing my legs.

            “And what way is that?” Marley looks over at me.

            “We’re both not sure what to believe. We want to believe something is true but are too afraid to see if it’s the truth or if it’s a lie.” I explain, my words slurring together. I have never done this much thinking intoxicated.

“Yeah…I guess you’re right,” she whispers and looks out the window again.

I lay back down and my eyes close, the alcohol making me drowsy. I want to stay awake and keep talking to her, but I don’t get a chance to. I am fast asleep, and this time my dreams aren’t full of hatred and betrayal. It’s because of her; everything good that happens to me is because of her.

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