Work Text:
Same lips red.
The same blue eyes.
Same white shirt, couple more tattoos.
But it’s not him. Neither do I.
The hotel room looked stifling. Sitting across from me, his lost gaze urged me to get up and hold him by the shoulders, understand the problem and, who knows, kiss him. But no, I wouldn't do that.
It’s not him. It was not me.
Louis moistened his lips. The low light, coming from the moon and illuminating the room, gave me a partial view of the tears that were forming in the corner of his eyes, and I felt that he was trying hard not to let them fall. On the other hand, I didn't know what to do. What should be said?
Nothing was right. For fucking days. Our conversations summed up to work, short goodbyes and lonely nights. We should talk, sit down and settle it like two adults. The relationship of years could not end like this, our love would overcome this, I was convinced.
Or at least I did, since ...
It wasn't Louis.
I, on the other hand, was not Harry.
I tried to get up, but he scolded me; gazing me, blue eyes filled with hurt, confusion. Anger. That was not right, we needed to talk. What had I done? What was wrong?
“Louis…” I started, the voice slightly cracked.
“No. No. “
The harshness and the slight change in tone touched me somewhere deep. I was losing him, it was clear. But how would I make him stay? My heart was torn every time he took a deep breath, focusing on anything but my face.
I could did not accept that his touches were now icy. There was no affection in his voice, much less sweet hugs and stupid fights at night over pillows. No, because it wasn't Tomlinson. He was not my boyfriend, nor the person I fell in love with when I was sixteen.
The person I loved most, admired. Who held my hand and promised me eternal love, who whispered the most beautiful things and faced few and good ones by my side. My confidant, work partner, my only and most beautiful love. But now all those memories were being displayed like a movie in my head.
We were so happy. Where the hell did we get lost?
Louis was leaving me.
“Tell me at least the reason.” I said, staring at the shoes and praying that my voice would not deliver the sadness I was feeling.
A smirk escaped from his lips. That was not a good thing. Louis bounced his head and crossed his arms over his chest, revealing the tattoos that we planned together.
“I don't need to, Styles. You know well”
“I don't know, that's why I'm asking. Don't go without justifying it, babe…”
“Don't call me like that.”
And only then I cried.
A little tear. I made no effort to dry it, took a deep breath, hoping to prevent others from doing the same. In the same position, in the damn hotel room.
But it wasn't him.
It was not me.
No, there was no more sweetness. There was no more heat, like a heart that stopped beating. I no longer knew what the heartbeats were, nor did he.
We lost our heartbeat. Just as I had lost him.
Like two ghosts.
I looked at the glass, but the sound of his feet touching the ground when he stood up startled me, and he took all my attention. Oh, how I loved him. Shit, I loved him.
Love him. Love like hell.
“Goodbye, Styles.”
Without even looking back, Louis walked to the door. His smell was all over the place. How the hell would I go on without him? And as much as my feet had taken me to the door, it had been shut in a loud bang.
No, that was not Louis. Not mine, my Louis.
I stared at the door, biting my bottom lip and letting myself cry like a frightened child. A hole formed in my chest, which had taken my heart without mercy.
Because it wasn't him, it wasn't me.
Only two, two ghosts.
Two ghosts, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.