Coming Home

"I don't really feel like talking to you," I had a full day planned. I'd wake up around noon (Because on days where you have nowhere to be, nothing to do, you sleep. That's just a rule.) maybe eat a bit of something left over in the fridge from the previous day, and then I'd sulk, because I am inevitably a loser, with only one friend. "You're not letting me run from my problems and that's not okay."

"Presley Jude," I cringe. Only Ben could make my name sound like a curse. Only he could make me feel like I'm in trouble. "You are no weakling. You do what you have to, to get better. I'll have none of this 'I'm too tired to deal with it' type shit."

"Fuck. When did I agree to have you motivate me? You're shit at it," or maybe I'm shit at being a human. Maybe I'm the problem. "I'm nineteen, I think I'm still entitled to be stupid."

"You're entitled to a lot of things. Being stupid is not one of them." And when Ben uses that tone, I know he means it. "Stop bitching. We're already here." Ben shrugs, his fingers curled around the flowers he instead we bring, 'Because as good guest it's our job to bring a thank you. Even caveman know that.' apparently I'm lower on the brain scale.

"Ben, I'm not ready for this," is anyone ever ready to deal with their demons? Do we get to pick a time? Because if so, I wouldn't be doing this for another few decades. "I don't want to be here."

"You're nineteen Presley, not four."

"You're fucking right," that's the most sense Ben has made. "And since I'm nineteen, I'm leaving." With a shrug I turn to walk away when his hand grasps my blouse.

"Don't make me throw you over my shoulder," Ben warns. "Get a grip. It's dinner, not a fucking satan worship." Ben growls, pulling me back to his side, straightening out the wrinkles he caused. "Three hours, that's it."

"Five minuets." I argue.

"Shut up. Two hours and I won't tell them about the time you set the microwave on fire." That's not a very appealing story. Not when it ended in white foam drowning the floor and half my eyebrow missing.

"Okay, twenty minuets then."

Ben arches his brow, and makes a face. "Presley. Please be pleasant. If not for you then for me."

"Why? Why does it matter anymore?" I've been trying to figure that out since Ben woke me up. Why he wanted to come. Why he thinks it's benificl in any way to have me tag along. I don't understand. Can't fathom, why it would help me remember a part of my life I've tried so hard to forget. Almost ruining my liver in the process.

"I don't know," Ben sighs, shrugging both shoulders. "I guess I miss the guys? S'been a year Presley."

"You miss the guys, or Eleanor?" And when Ben's eyes flicker down and his breath hitches, my question is answered. "Then fix it Ben. You don't need me for that. I'd rather watch from the sidelines."

"I'm cold and I want to go inside. We've been standing here for the last ten minuets proving you're an idiot." He grumbles. "If it gets to be too much, take my hand and squeeze it okay. We'll leave then. But try."

I don't answer. I knock instead, slightly panicking as the footsteps get closer. "Two hours." I say, turning slightly to look at him.

"Two hours." He nods, with a slim smile. "Love you babe."

"Love me too." Because when the door opens I feel everything. Love for anyone isn't on that list. Not for Ben who dragged me here. Or for Eleanor who looks like she just stepped out of a magazine, making me feel underdressed and cheap. Not for this giant flat that is bigger than any flat should be.

"You came," Eleanor gushes, wrapping her arms around me, surprising me and my frazzled state of mind.

"Ben Mathews you handsome lad." She turns to my only friend in question, with a lazy grin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Ben using his free arm to wrap around her waist. It looks sweet, but it feels so awkward.

A hundred levels of awkward.

Especially when Ben pulls away, eyes dim and dull. Same face he used to make, when he pulled my hair back as I heaved.

Eleanor doesn't notice. She takes the flowers from the saddened Ben and motions for us to follow. I was expecting to grab Ben's hand more around the time Louis made an appearance, so you can imagine the way my heartbeat quickened when Ben's hand entwined with mine and squeezed.

And it doesn't feel like I'm nineteen and Ben is twenty. It feels like we're four and starting kindergarten.

****

"Is this even considered a flat? S'more like six mansions put together." It's huge, and it makes me not want to touch anything, or sit anywhere. It's just that nice and expensive looking.

"It's a bit much, I know," Eleanor shuffles around, grabbing drinks and wine bottles, placing them on the fancy table. "It's private and Lou can unwind without having to worry about the fans or press."
With the gate around it he also doesn't have to worry about any zoo animals wandering inside.

"Dinners almost ready," Eleanor announces, chipper and giddy. Too chipper, really. "Made your favorite," she mumbles, and because I can't focus-- because my mind likes to make me look bad, I make a face Eleanor and Ben laugh at.

"Me?" I ask with a pointed finger.

"Yes," she utters, with a slight nod.

"We're having cake for dinner?" While that sounds like a dream, I never expected to have desert before dinner. Actually, I didn't think I'd make it to desert...

"No," she frowns, "bacon and brie sandwiches. I even got sourdough." Eleanor's voice trails off.

"Oh," I mouth.

"She loves those. I remember that being her favorite," and that was the voice I didn't hear a goodbye from. The same one that made me realize, sometimes it's better to have no friends. "S'only been a year. She can't be that different." Seeing Louis, being so close to him makes me want to curl up into fetal position so I can cry an ocean. My throat constricts and my hands clam up. Including the one being held by Ben's. The tight squeeze on my fingers bring me back to reality, and Ben's curious eyes help me breathe.

"Ben!" Louis exclaims, arms already open wide. He climbs the rest of the way down, practically skipping until Ben is in his arms and he's patting his back. "How are you buddy?" And I'm trying not to grab Bens hand again, because that won't look right. And, I look bad enough.

"I'm good," Ben chuckles, "how are you? Being a superstar still fun?" They pull away, and I sometimes wonder how Ben got so lucky being himself. How he can hide his emotions while mine act like a second sweater.

"Obviously." Louis mutters.

He finally turns to me and I swear time stops. I forget I'm here and a giant black cloud is covering any source of light. I feel blind, and stupid.

Utterly and completely stupid.

"Presley." My name doesn't sound like it used to coming from Louis. Of course, Louis and I used to be able to read each others minds. Now it feels like I'm from Mars. I only get worse when I dodge his hug and go for his hand. His eyes flashing with an emotion my shuffled mind can't process. His right arm is still high in the air and his hand is awkwardly in mine. "Um, okay," he mumbles shaking my hand.

It's awkward. So freaking awkward with a side of embarrassing.

Eleanor looks my way, while Ben presses his lips in a tight line and walks slowly over to my side, taking my hand, squeezing it. As Louis frowns. "Well let's eat." Eleanor says with an awkward giggle. I pull my hand from Louis' and move past him, accidentally brushing my shoulder against his.

"I'm leaving," I whisper, leaning towards Ben as he pulls back harshly. "You stay." Because I don't think I'd be able to handle his speech about me giving up. Now wouldn't be the right time.

"You promised. Two hours." He whispered back against my ear. "Don't leave me alone." And I don't think that's fair. Not when he had forced me to come here, or when he had decided on us staying here for two hours. It just didn't seem fair. A lot of things don't seem fair. Like Louis being able to move on without a single doubt. How he's okay with leaving and not saying goodbye. How was anything fair anymore?
"Presley, I can't do this without you." And somehow I believe him.

It's the only reason I sit down and heave a deep breath in.

"So I hear you bought the local café? How's that working out?" These aren't the kind of questions you ask your friends. Maybe your acquaintance. But not what Louis and I used to be. No, because if we were still like that he'd know exactly how the café was doing. That Ben had named it after my brother, and that every Wednesday George (a poor homeless man with a heart bigger than the sun) will wait outside greeting the customers, Ben offering a large coffee with a strawberry scone-- the freshly baked one, because George is nice and he reminds him of his grandfather.

"Really good," Ben smiles proudly. "I have a loyal customer base, and working with Bae over here isn't such a bad thing either." His shoulder collides with mine.

"Oh? I didn't know you worked together?" That's what I mean. Louis would know if we were friends. But we're not. Not anymore. "You're not writing anymore?" His question is innocent. And it makes me uncomfortable because Louis is completely oblivious to the meaning behind it.

I shrug and shake my head, "not feeling it anymore. Besides, Ben needs someone to keep him on track, and he's total shit at working the steamer." The scar on his bicep proving my point.

"That's nice," and somehow I don't think Louis actually means that. "Babe is dinner ready?" I know that tone of voice Louis is using. I know how it's a defense mechanism he uses when he has his guard up, when he's trying to keep himself from being hurt. Except he shouldn't be using it with me. There's no reason to. I'm too tired to hurt him.

"Yeah," Eleanor says, balancing two plates on her hands. Placing one in front of me and the other in front of Ben. We mumble our thanks, as Eleanor nods, retreating back with Louis' and hers. "I hope you love it." And sometimes Eleanor is too pretty, without trying.

Another thing I can add to my list of things being unfair.

"Oh wait," when you've lived with Ben for a year, you learn things. Like the way he can't eat cheese, because his stomach is sensitive. "S'got cheese." I silently pluck his top slice of bread from it's body and peel the white cheese to my best ability. I set it on my plate and place the top back on. "There."

"Thanks," Ben mumbles with a small smile.

"I didn't know you didn't eat-- I can make you another?" Eleanor's about to stand when Ben stops her.

"No, please, it's fine. Presley fixed it, so it's all good." She sighs and nods her head. I look at Louis-- wondering why he's quiet, because Louis is never quiet. Always has an opinion, or an idea. But now, Louis' glaring at his sandwich and maybe he didn't like how his turned out either. Maybe he feels as uncomfortable about this as I do. Maybe he was forced to come here also.

It's quiet. Everyone chewing, Louis thankfully only asking Ben questions. Eleanor joining in conversation with them, Ben tensing slightly at first and then relaxing. That's another thing I'm not sure about. Why Ben reacts that way, why he only gets that way when Eleanor speaks directly to him. Second on my list is why Louis will absentmindedly glare at Ben or down at his sandwich.

"Presley?" I look up, heart racing at the sound of Louis' accent. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" I'm a lot of things. A mess, quiet, an over-thinker, sometimes comical.

"Seeing anyone?" I frown at his question. I can barley keep a friendship. Ben being a lucky chance.

"No," I don't think I'll try that again. Not after the last time. My liver is still recovering and my credit is still crying. "I'm a loser." I shrug.

"Well this makes what I'm about to say a bit harder," Louis sighs.

"Lou, you didn't." And obviously Eleanor isn't out of the loop like Ben and I are, so I'm confused as to why she's upset. "I told you not to." She hisses slapping his arm.

"I-- it was impulse. Didn't think, okay? I'm sorry." Louis grumbles rubbing his limb. "Presley, do you know Harry's seeing someone?" I've known for a while now. Still not sure how I feel. Still feel ridiculous for even caring.

"Yeah," I squeak, looking down at my half eaten sandwich. This is the most grateful I've been for Ben's hand. Never needed it to keep me grounded as much.

"Okay," Louis sighs, "I don't want to ambush you, so I'm giving you enough time to leave if you'd like." And that's a thoughtful idea. One I may take up. "Well Harry's proposed and they're on their way."

I don't need to hear if she's said yes. I know she had. He wouldn't be telling me all this if she hadn't. A small 'O' sound leaves my lips. See. This is probably worse than being told my puppy is dead, because even though it'd be sad, I'd buy a new one and train it to be like the other. But when it comes to Harry, I'm fucked. Because there isn't another Harry. There's no one close to him, because only Harry is like Harry, and now that I don't have him, it's like I'm left alone in the dark.

Alway in the dark.

"Presley?"

"Okay, I'm going to-- yeah, I'm going to go. Thank yo-"

You know the movies where the lead character is trying not to get caught so she hides in the bathroom, escapes out the window and somehow with a few bruises and rips they manage to get away? Well, that's not me. I didn't get so lucky, because the doorbell is ringing and someone is giggling. Someone is here. Someone who I couldn't find. Who didn't think twice about me, when they disappeared. The same someone who fucked me up and didn't give two shits about it.

"You're not the same girl from a year ago, Presley. Don't let him see her." Sometimes she's the only one I see. Sometimes she's exactly what I feel like.

"We don't have to answer?" And how I wish that were true. But it's not. It's not that easy.

"Yes you do," I utter with my heart beating in my ears. I don't have a choice. I don't get to decide when I face my demons. No, the time was chosen for me. "It's fine." Even if I'm not.

Louis doesn't try to change my mind. He walks to his front door and opens it.

That's when I see him. When I'm pretty sure my heart stops and my mind freezes, because he's here. He's here with someone else. Someone who's not me. Someone who's worth staying for.

I don't pay much attention. Can only focus on getting my heart to beat normally and willing my eyes to stay dry. "Presley." My name coming from his mouth doesn't sound the way it used to. Doesn't make me feel warm and happy.

It sounds painful and I'm damned, because everything seemed like a giant circle, with one beginning and one end.

Harry.

Notes

Happy Christmas! Happy holidays (\^.^/) xx