A paradox of a man was Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson was way too curious for his own good and inevitably they were bound to crash and burn.

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"What are you still hiding from me, Niall?"

"I think, I know who sent the flowers."

Princess, we are so twisted aren't we? Let me straighten you up.

Niall gulps eyes darting around the room. My fingers fumble with the buttons of the coat in my lap. Zayn seems cool and composed, that git.

Niall clears his throat,"I think they're from Ansel himself."

Zayn beats me to the punch,"The fuck, why would he send Louis flowers? He isn't exactly the one to shower people in flowers."

Niall pinches his lip, formulating the words. "Because he was the only one who knew about the yellow thing."

"But it doesn't explain why he'd send white heathers when they mean protection. All I ever needed was protection from him, Niall." I groan into my hands, the contacts making my eyes water and irritation spike in me.

Orange drapes itself over the sky, the sun burning as it sinks even more.

One day I promise, Princess, I'd take you to witness the sun immersing itself in the ocean.

I zone out, memories of Ansel and I attacking me. There are happy nights, haphazard kisses, howling laughter. Along with those are the flashes of horrendous midnights, hazardous bruises, hellish tears.

The first time I ever kissed him, I felt grounded, comfortably sinking in the ocean. I never found myself resurfacing until Harry Styles. My nothing.

"Louis? Lou?" Someone shakes my shoulder.

I raise my head and gently remove the contacts, tears rapidly slipping down. I put them in the case and let the tears loose.

I'm sandwiched between Zayn and Niall. They're rubbing my sides while I break down.

"I hate him, I hate the person he made of me. I wish, I wish he was dead!" I yell, everything in the past two days crashing over me in strong currents.

I continue,"He's a brute, a brute who didn't deserve an ounce of my love. Yet I gave it to him, I gave so much of me, Zee, I don't know what I am anymore."

Zayn rubs my back, Niall strokes my hair, the nails pierce my palms, digging into the skin and letting red bleed down my wrist.

Zayn leaves my side, rummages around in Niall's cabinets and comes back with a first aid kit. He gently wets my hands and dab the little crescents with antiseptic. He wraps my hand in gauze.

Niall leaves my side to give us privacy. For what I don't understand.

Zayn cradles my face in his palms and thumbs at the tears. I keep my hands limp.

"Let go of it, babe. Let go, don't choke yourself anymore," Zayn soothes me.

I cry, cry until my eyes burn and my nose looks like a tomato.

"Call Niall. I want to tell you both something."

Zayn peers at me with hesitant eyes. I try to give a smile and wipe my tears but the gauze chafes and the corner of my mouth protests.

I wince in pain, the familiar old pain.

Niall drags a beanbag and plops down on it. Zayn sits beside me.

I breathe, it comes of watery and shaken. "I understand the flowers and their meanings, I know what they mean. But before I tell you that, from where did you purchase the cluster of forget me nots?"

They have confusion pass over their faces, no doubt thinking I've lost my bearings. They have a silent conversation. It's annoying usually but it gives me more time to brace myself to share my theory.

Purple is the first colour of love, Princess. I love you in purple.

"Lou?" Niall's voice jerks me out of my stupor, shutting down the annoying voice in my head.

"Sorry, yeah?" I cough into my hands, my lip throbbing.

"Niall could you get me some chapstick? My lip is being a bitch." I plead, pointing at the cracked corner of my mouth.

Niall rummages around and comes back with a bubblegum one. "It's Harry's. He's the only one to have endless chapstick supply." He says as a way of explanation.

"His lips are beautiful and if he grates chapstick for it then so be it. They're—never mind it." I apply it to the best of my ability with gauzed hands and creaky bones.

Zayn answers my previous question. "I bought them for Niall from Holby's florals. Why?"

I scowl and point out,"I didn't ask whom you bought them for. I just wanted to know from where. I just got lost in Niall's theory of Ansel sending me flowers. There's something I'm not seeing. It's clear but I'm not seeing it."

Niall laughs, bright and happy,"You're fucking blind without your glasses you tosser. Of course you won't see it!"

I burst into surprised laughter. It feels nice to let go for a minute.

.

"Do you reckon Payne would help about Harry's disappearance?" Niall asks with a giggle, as we lie on the floor, carpet scratchy under my elbows, smoke in the air.

The weed makes everything hazy and soft around the edges. Sweet smoke is stuck in my lungs while bitter thoughts fly away from me.

I roll into Niall's side, tucking my head into his neck, I mumble,"Payne is really a pain in the arse. He won't help. Hell he doesn't know where Harry or that dickhead is for that matter."

Zayn piles on me and bites my nape, I yelp and wriggle on Niall who in turn tries to kick us off and we all are in a pile of various shades of limbs and giggly smiles.

"Let's just forget everything for a while. Let it be just us, like before Ansel and me moving out and Harry Styles." I raise my hand in a silent cheer.

Niall knocks it down and snuggles into me, Zayn spooning me and as the smoke gets headier, sleep pulls me close.

Beautiful in blue, Princess.

.

The morning after consisted of lots of hissing, swearing, bad breath and rug burns.

"Someone get me my glasses, I don't enjoy seeing blurry silhouettes of you tits." I spread myself on the sofa, eyes still closed, mouth still stinking.

Zayn grunts, maybe with a toothbrush in his mouth, most probably looking disgruntled and annoyed. Niall spits, the sound is loud enough for my fuzzy ears to catch.

Something hits my chest and I open one eye to see the ugly puke coloured toothbrush that laid on my chest.

I watch them move in a blur of shapes and bright colours.

We are out to get breakfast, my eyes burning with the contacts. Zayn motions at a quaint flower shop at the end of the street.

The shop seems very familiar, I voice it out to Niall and Zayn who look far too engrossed with each other.

"The shop looks so eerily familiar, Ni. Have we been here?" The pair allow a glimpse at the shop.

Both shake their head in unison. "I've never got anyone except me mum flowers, and she's all the way in Mullingar. I've got no idea, mate."

They're disgustingly cute.

My heart pings for Harry Styles, the boy I kissed under a cobweb covered ceiling, letting him take everything of me.

"Lou, you here?" Zayn pats my back, eyes apprehensive and worried.

I nod, willing myself to snap out of the reverie I keep losing myself in.

We find ourselves in a bakery, the sweet smell of cinnamon enveloping me. I hesitantly tell Niall my order, he shoots me a glance at the tone of my voice.

As Zayn leads me to the door, I find myself meeting the eyes of Grethe Elgort.

I freeze in my tracks, my grip on Zayn's hand tight and unrelenting. The woman notices me too, the flicker of recognition is clear.

She struts towards me and envelopes me in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry," she apologises, kissing the top of my head.

I wrap a single arm around her, eyes screaming my internal panic, my hands shivering and tightening the grasp on Zayn's inked arm.

She pulls away and Zayn pulls me to his side. I slump against him, fighting off the tears.

"Who's she?" Zayn whispers, eyes narrowed and stance protective.

Niall's voice answers, I'm still dumbstruck and frozen,"The dickhead's mum."

Grethe doesn't even flinch, I gently nuzzle into Zayn's side seeking comfort.

"Yeah. I apologise for everything he's put you through, Louis. I'm so sorry I couldn't see my own son was becoming the devil."

"We hope he rots in hell or wherever he is, Mrs. Elgort," Zayn spits.

"Holby. Not Elgort anymore," she corrects.

It all suddenly seems to fall in place.