Louis was tired .
Tired , being a drastic understatement of the exhaustion and fatigue he felt taking over his body .
It'd started from the moment he'd gone home .
Louis exited the restaurant in a flurry of anger , picking a cab . Of which he'd come to regret , as the driver , a forty-year old man , was tipsy and gone beyond reality. Over sharing about his life , from his recent divorce, which was because of his gambling issue , to him living in a rundown apartment corroded with rats that were dusted with a whitish powder , and tissue for walls .
He usually wouldn't have paid much attention to a drunk man's rambling but , the rats dusted in white ?
That was something you didn't hear everyday , then again it wasn't anything big, just probably a leakage of chemicals somewhere nearby .
But , he listened . All the way , even offering his unwanted advice and pointers , as well as his own experience with the complicated word called love .
The endgame was , they ended up exchanging telephone numbers .
Louis still in shock but reeling with joy , questioned Why he didn't have many friends if making them were this easy .
Surely his isolated childhood self would've been in a frenzy of anxiety and panic at the prospect of talking to someone else .
He had mastered having an "air" of energy around him , but he really was quite the introvert . He just learnt how easy it was to fake confidence , but never , in his life did he ever feel for a moment that he was brave . He doubted every glance they spared , searching for scrutiny in their voices , watching for disgust in thier movements.
He was a little boy built on every opinion but ...... he's own .
Built on every perspective but his own .
Built on every perfection that they saw as imperfection regardless of whether it was his own.
He's a man forced to see himself through their eyes but his own .
He's someone who lacks character. Only a personality that shifts at the pace the crowd changes.
This was a grown-up Louis who escaped from that terrible dark place all by himself . Who became a law enforcer through hardwork and rounds of his face meeting the fists of his superiors . The one who managed to buy a two-story house with a beautiful view of London.
He proudly did it all without his brothers and father .
Because all he had left to prove and commit to was everything , but his own life to himself .
So who was he ?
Who was he, to condemn Maddison for being caught in the hands of his father . His father rarely touched someone without thier permission, one of the few qualities he admired of him , then again rarely didn't mean never , it just wasn't often .
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I didn't build the castle on my own , I did however choose to live in it , a metaphorical home of lies , judgement and grudges that I held deep,a collection of everything I was unwilling to let go. It is my past and present , the doors that block my future . I stood by as everything became a brick that weighed heavy . And in that heaviness , I saw the perfect defense , something that could withstand every curated , judgemental glance . The bricks built walls, and the doors marked the threshold of my capacity to hold agony .
I decided it would be another day I confront myself . My home right infront of me , offering a place to vulnerable in my fragile state .
The interior was up to par with my standards , which stood high .
The kitchen islands made of dark marble , the lighting a bright white with soft plush couches in the lounge and a coffee table made of Oakwood infront .
He of ofcourse had the standard rich teapot set imported from China made with porcelain with two pure Jade teacups , that were exclusively ordered ( courtesy of his father's Chinese friends) and the standard white plates with gold rimming.
The second floor had three bedrooms , the main being exclusively his .
A king-sized bed with a royal frame and white big pillows of every size , the duvet a rich cream colour with gold threaded tassels . A yellow soft mink blanket from Arabia sitting atop the large storage unit by the foot of the bed .
Small yellow lamps at the bed side tables , intricate designs reflected onto them . White rugs splattered across the bedroom floors .
His bathroom had a large white tub with golden taps , exotic and fragrant soaps and oils lining the shelves nearby .
Louis took of his shirt and stepped into the steaming hot water , his muscles that were tense throughout the week , being worked open by the water , the Rose oil seeping into his skin .
Once done with his body , Louis took a handful of his favourite shampoo , berries with a tinge of musk . He had bought it when a stranger complimented him saying he smelt "Awfully sweet like an apple !" He quotes
Drying his hair , he changes into a pair of black silky pyjamas with gold threaded lining .
His hair still dripping wet across the sheets , Louis pays it no mind dozing off to much needed sleep , praying that even through everything, Maddison remains his friend.
Though it seemed his prayer was heard by the wrong person , as a certain priest took great interest in the name uttered by such a devoid man .
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Hey guys 🥰
Decided to give my Louis fans thier favourite character. He'll start having more mentions going forward as things are starting to happen 😏
Look out for the next chapter or else the priest will for you !
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and then Add to home screen.