Louis' P.O.V

The notebook rested on his desk, and his fingers itched to open it up, and read the words he's been curious to know. He knows there is a chance he won't like what he'll read--scratch that, he's sure.

He's nervous, and he knows he deserves every mean word, and every mean thing Presley has written about him. Still, while others would rather not know, Louis' needs to know. He chants his name out loud, and claps his hands together. He needs to do this. He needs to know what he caused, and what he has to fix. What he's going to fix.

He opens up the first page and smiles.

Presley not only seems to be a drunk who loves to write, but she draws too. Not very good, but Louis appreciates the effort. There is a small figure at the bottom corner, and a sheep on the top. She drew various shapes, bubble words, and crooked flowers.

Louis grins and shakes his head. Of course Presley drew the most random pictures that made no sense, or went together at all. Of course.

He turns a few pages and finally comes up to the first entry.

There is no title, and Louis' has to remember Presley was drunk. 'Tuesday', is scribbled in messy lettering and Louis' surprised Presley was drinking at beginning of the week.

Tuesday
I feel sad, Louis. Like really, really, really, really sad. Four 'really' sads and it's because it's Tuesday and you're not here, and Harry's not here. My new friend Ben says it's not my fault you left, but I think it is. I'm mad at you and Harry. I hope you two are having horrible times together and I hope you wish you never left me. I wish you never left me. I wish they hadn't of cut me off after six daiquiris. I wish they hadn't of called Ben because he likes to coo at me and you would never do that. You used to make fun of me and I miss it.
I miss you and it's Tuesday. It's stupid Tuesday and you're stupid.

Louis thinks this is adorable and at the same time it's making him feel like the scum at the bottom of muddy shoes. Louis' missed her on this Tuesday. He knows he did.

He sighs, heart already feeling heavy and flips a few pages until he comes across the next entry.
Again; there is no title, and he decides Presley has horrible print.

This one has Thursday in messy chicken scratch-- also, it's misspelled. Louis' blames the drinks, however. Blames the fuzziness in her brain.

Thrusday
Louis I'm still sad. Ben keeps saying it's because my heart is broken but it's not just my heart. My head hurts, and my tummy hurts, and I have this loneliness in the middle of my chest, and it's not okay. What you and Harry are doing to me is not okay. And it doesn't just feel like a broken heart. It feels like I'm broken all over and you're supposed to be my best friend and you're not even fucking here and I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I didn't know what I was supposed to do when this man started to feel me up at the bar, and I didn't know what to do when he lead me into the restroom, and. It's not okay. I'm not okay and I miss you.
I'm not even sure it's stupid Thrusday but I miss you, and Harry, and it's not okay anymore.

These aren't very long, Louis' notices. Yet, they still make him cringe when he reads it. When he learns that Presley hooked up with a stranger, and that she followed him into the restroom. Louis hates himself right now. Hates that she did this because he left. Because he was selfish.

Saturday
I'm not sad Louis. I don't fucking need you, and I defiantly don't need stupid Harry who has this pretty girlfriend, and I hope they're happy and I hope you're miserable and I hope, I don't know. I can't lie Louis. Not even when I'm a fucking mess, sweating rum, and trying to make the pain in my body go away. I don't know What I'm supposed to do anymore Louis. I went to L.A. I went and Ben told me I was stupid. He told my mom and she yelled at me and Caleb told me-- fuck Louis. I let Caleb down. He said I did and I feel like a pathetic excuse for a life who's hung up on a friend who doesn't care and boy who could give 2 fucks about her. I'm sorry Louis. I'm sorry i miss you and that I can't tell Ben he's my best friend because I feel like I'm betraying you and. Every Time a guy finishes with me I see Harry's face and I hate myself because I know he's going to find out. I know he's never going to want me back and that's not okay. It's not what we planned and my stomach hurts Louis. It hurts so bad. And Caleb, Louis. I let Caleb down.
I miss you and I think it's Saturday. I miss Harry but I'm dirty and he's with another girl. A really pretty girl and I'm sad. It's getting bad Louis.

Monday(I think)
I had to go to the hospital yesterday Louis. Conor (that's my doctor) says my stomach is getting weaker and the insides are attacking each other. Like the way you and Harry attacked me with leaving. You should've just killed me Louis. That would've hurt less and I think I'm drinking something with strawberries. I don't know, the guy I was just with, gave me the bottle and left. I stopped picking up Caleb's calls because he just makes me sad, and you make me sad, and Harry's breaking my stupid, invaluable heart. I don't even think it's working anymore and Ben says I need to stop crying and spending all of my money on tickets to come find you guys. He said that if you wanted me you would've stayed and you didn't. How could you do this to me Louis? You said I was your best friend and you lied. Harry said he loved me and he's with another girl. That's not love. It's cruel.
I miss you Louis. And i miss Harry and I wish I could tell you that, but I can't cause, you're a cruel bastard.

Louis doesn't want to read anymore. No, Louis wants to go find Presley and hug her, and get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Beg for her to kick him, and beat him, until he stops feeling dirty. He wants to find all of the guys, she's been involved with and murder them, and he's feeling irrationally mad at Ben for what he said to Presley.

He's amazed with the correct spelling, and semi okay grammer. He's disgusted with himself and Harry. And Louis wishes he could go back in time and tell Presley he missed her too and that he wouldn't have left at all if he could do it over.

He feels a breeze on his face, and he realizes he's crying, and that his hand is clutching where his heart is beating rapidly against his chest. His phone is buzzing with Ben's name, and he has to finish this before he talks to anyone. He has to get himself together before he faces the world.

Wednesday(or Friday)
It's my birthday you stupid bastard and you're not here. Harry used to love my birthday, and this is the first one I'm spending in two years without him. That's not okay, and I've had like three Apple sours. Caleb called and he says he's worried and that I need help, but all I need is for you and Harry to come back. Bens brother came over and gave me a hug and we kissed. We kissed a lot. He's nice to me and he thinks you and Harry are douches. I told him you weren't and that you were my best friend and Ben got mad at me Louis. I think he hates me every time I say that. I hate me every time I say that and I hate you and Harry. You both did this to me. You both left and it's my birthday and my wish this year was for you to call at least. For Anything. It's 3 am and nothing happened. It's not my birthday anymore. I didn't get what I want, and you and Harry are probably having the time of my life.
I hate that and I miss you and I miss Harry and I'm getting really bad Louis.

He remembers that birthday. Presley turned nineteen, and him and Harry spent it moping. He thinks Harry cried and he remembers having to drag him home, fucked off his face, from a dingy club. Jasmine didn't care what Harry was doing, only yelled at him because he had embarrassed her. Louis had scoffed, called her a wench, flipped her off, and walked away.

Even to this day, Louis' absolutely hates Jasmine. Wishes she had never been a part of their lives, or that Presley got to meet her, because Presley didn't deserve that. No one who is that stupid, and selfish, and snobby, should ever meet someone as soft, and caring, and giving as Presley.

Louis knows he doesn't deserve to know Presley. And still, he's so glad he does.

He moves to his couch, flops down on his sofa, fingers already accepting Ben's twelfth call.

He swipes under his eyes, " 'Lo?" He sniffles trying his best to sound normal, knowing he doesn't.

"Lou? Why haven't you been answering my calls? Have I already scared you off?"

Louis' chuckles wetly, "No, m'still going strong on your gorgeous, fucking face."

"Good," Ben laughs despite the anxiousness Louis' can pick up on. "What's keeping you away so long? Was hoping to cuddle the shit out of you."

Louis wishes he was being held. Wishes Ben could comfort him, and tell him the past isn't relevant anymore. But he promised Presley, and he's already let her down once. He won't do it again.

"I'm taking care of a few...things. Maybe in a few hours?"

A few seconds go by and Louis worried Ben's not convinced. He won't be too surprised if he's not. He's shit at acting. "You're lucky I'm a patient man, Louis."

Louis' eyes crinkle with warmth and an abrupt laugh bubbles from his chest. "Fuck, I miss you."

Ben makes him happy. Happier than he's been in a while. He feels bad for hurting Eleanor. He loves her. Glad he got to share those four years with her, sad that he has to let her go. But Ben is his and that feels better. He's Ben's and that's great. Really, really great.

Louis' can hear Ben making a weird noise, and he's not sure if it's a good or bad noise, until Ben giggles (actually giggles really fucking cute) and says. "I miss you too, bear." He says softly, and low. "Come back soon, yeah? Presley, Harry, and I are making cookies, and I'm third wheeling and it's not cool if I've got you now."

"Be there later." Louis promises softly, knowing he'll show up with soft, pink eyes and stuffy cheeks. He gathers up a bit of courage and whispers into the receiver, "I like you, bun. I really like you."

Ben's throat makes a content noise before he says. "I like you too, bear. I like you a lot."

They haven't said I love you. Louis knows it's too soon. Knows he's not sure what he's feeling, only knows it's pretty freaking close to whatever love is supposed to feel like. Close to what he felt for Eleanor in the beginning.

It took a while for Louis' to admit he liked Ben. It took a long, long time, and now that it's out in the open, he'll say it until they're ready to say 'I love you.'

He hangs up with flushed cheeks when he hears Harry and Presley start to coo at them. He's glad he won't have to deal with that yet. And even when he does, he doesn't think it will be too bad.

First he's going to read two more and try his best not to hate himself. He'll read the rest when there's time and he doesn't feel like hell emotionally.

His fingers flip the pages rapidly and he settles for one of the last few entires. It has water marks on it, and words have been scribbled out, harshly.

Sunday (worst day of my life)
Caleb's dead. Caleb's dead. Caleb's dead.
And you know what Louis? I'm not sad. I'm fucking angry. I'm mad because don't you fucking think 'God' or whoever the fucking hell is supposed to look after me, has taken enough away from me? Don't you fucking think I've had enough? I think I've had enough to kill me a hundred times over. Everyone came over a day later. Ben said he was surprised I was sober. I slapped him and then cried for three hours after. They all keep saying that Caleb didn't leave me and that he's in my heart and other useless shit like that. Well guess what? I don't want him in my stupid, invaluable, useless heart. I want him fucking here. I don't want him in my memories. What the fuck is that going to do when I want to hug him, or talk to him, or just be around him. What the fuck is happening. Why didn't you or Harry call? Why do you both hate me so much? No. Today is not about you dicks. Today is about me trying to figure out how I'm going to make it without my.................I don't want to do that, though. I don't want to think about making it without Caleb. Fuck! I wish it were me. I wish Caleb was okay.
It should have been me, and I should stop missing you and Harry by now. I should be mad at you two and Caleb.
I think I'm only mad at myself. And that makes me sad. Sad because I don't want to miss anyone and I do.

Sunday (same Sunday)
Louis, I'm not mad. I'm so sad. I'm alone, and sad, and Caleb's dead. It feels awful and I'm so over feeling awful, and miserable. I can't go to Caleb's funeral. Even if they keep calling it a celebration of his life. It's not. We're putting my brother in the ground. Underneath fucking soil, and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves the world, and life, and he deserved better than to have died in a measly car accident. Caleb is dead and i love him. I love him so much. He was my brother. He was only 26 and he was perfect. He was my friend, and fucking hell I loved him so much. You loved Caleb, Louis. I know you did, because you used to tell him. Harry did too. Harry said Caleb was one of the best people he knew, and he didn't even say goodbye! Why? He deserved that! Caleb deserved that little much of your time you stupid fucks! You know what?
Everyone's right. Caleb's dead. He's not coming back. He's dead and as far as I'm concerned. So are you and Harry.

Louis' sure his heart has just cracked into serval pieces. He's sure he has never felt such guilt, and sadness before. Louis' sure he has never felt this way and it's painful. Like, everything Presley was feeling back then is now attacking him. And he knows. He Knows what he's feeling is nowhere near to what Presley went through, and he hates that. Hates himself for causing someone that.

Louis' a blubbering mess as he slips on his shoes, and grabs his keys, wallet, and phone. The drive is messy, and his shaking hands aren't helping at all. He punches in the code for Harry's security gate, and practically sprints inside, ignoring that pending bright flashes, he really should have been more concerned with.

He hears them laughing and runs until he sees them. They all look at him wide eyed, and dare he say-- afraid. No one says anything as he walks in front of Presley with (and he called it) pink, soft eyes, and stuffy cheeks.

He can see Presley studying him. Can see the way she is trying to figure out the situation until Louis sees it click; and the wheels in her head stop turning. She drops the dish towel on the counter and sighs, her arms opening. Louis jumps into them before they're fully out. He's muttering apologies, about how he didn't know. About how he wishes he could turn back time. Presley is doing her best to shush him, hand on the back of his head, as she holds him tightly.

"I told you I didn't want you to read them," Presley whispers.

Louis' sniffles wetly, "I needed too." And even though that's true, he still feels like shit. "I missed you, too. I did."

"I expected nothing less," Presley says softly. "It's okay, Lou. I'm okay." He doesn't know why she said that, only knows he appreciates it so much. Presley starts to move away when he tightens his arms, not ready to let go. He can see Harry and Ben awkwardly shuffling into Harry's living room, asking each other if they knew what was happening. But Louis wasn't going to say anything. Doesn't know if he can.

"You're such a shit," Louis laughs and half cries. It's a mix of both, really.

Presley laughs. "Not even sorry about that."

"Good."

And yes, Louis' hopes Presley is never sorry about that. Hopes Presley will never be sad again. He'll hope even if his goal is impossible. Because fuck, Louis' going to do everything to make it anything but impossible.

Notes

Whether or not you were wondering, I wrote it. It came out, okay. Xx