~ 10 years later ~

Steaming hot water is pouring from the hideously light green kettle into the brown mug covered with tiny teddy bears. The liquid is instantly turning red brown as it collides with the Earl Grey tea bag inside. It is left to steep for five minutes. This makes the tea turn into something that reminds more of thick brown gravy but that's exactly how Louis likes it.

Sleepy eyes still half closed, he is reaching out for the bottle of milk next to him and gets hold of it at the top – only at the top. The cold glass slips from his hands and, following the laws of gravity, drops to the ground, covering the kitchen floor with tiny shards.

For God's sake. Louis presses his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose while the cold liquid is soaking through his socks.

This is one of those days when you'd have been better to stay in bed. Louis has had lots of these days recently. Apparently, his run of bad luck is not yet to stop. He grabs a towel from the counter and bends down to clean up the mess he's just made. The rest of the day could only get better.

After half an hour of crawling and wiping the kitchen floor, Louis is finally finished. Glass shards had made it into the furthest corner of the room. When eventually putting away this cleaning utensils, he notices that the tea bag is still floating in what was now tar – cold tar.

Since it is impossible for Louis to start into his day without a cup of tea, he has no other choice than ringing the door of his neighbour downstairs and ask for some milk. The young guy moved in about two months ago and Louis has only exchanged a few words with him every once in a while, when they see each other in the hallway.

He already helped Louis out when he ran out of sugar and rice last week. Louis will return it to him as soon as he is in the mood for shopping. To ask for a third favour is probably acceptable.

Louis grabs the key to his post box before leaving his flat and nearly falls over a bunch of shoes that must belong to the family next door. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way downstairs and carefully knocks at the door. No response. He tries again and this time, he hears muffled voices and steps, then a few seconds later, an extremely tired face appears in the ajar door.

"Oh, morning," the young man yawns.

"Sorry for waking you up," Louis responds and gives him an excusing smile. "I've just had a little kitchen accident and wanted to ask if you could lend me some milk...?"

"Oh, sure," the other guy answers and disappears for a minute before returning with a nearly empty milk carton.

"Just keep it, it's the rest anyway," he adds before Louis can say something.

"I'm going to go shopping today, promise," he quickly retorts. The other guy nods lazily.

"'s okay," he mumbles, yawning again and closing the door without another word.

Louis stares at the piece of wood in front of him for another couple of seconds before he turns around and walks towards the post boxes at the main entrance.

Bill, insurance, advert, bill, advert... The rest of those letters are probably just the same. With the milk carton in one hand and mail and key in the other, he scuffs upstairs and slams his door shut.

The morning is dragging on and Louis is spending most of it in front of his laptop, searching for the latest casting calls around London. Some may call it naive, others utterly stupid but Louis has wanted to become an actor ever since playing Danny from Grease in a school musical.

Ignoring the advice of his family, he went to a drama school in London after passing his A-levels. They tried really hard to convince him to study something with better career outlook but as stubborn as he is, he did it anyway. His time there was great, with lots of freedom and parties and no one who told him what to do. He made friends for life, could live out his creativity, try out whatever he wanted to do.

The hard time started afterwards. He hadn't expected to find jobs easily. But to be honest, he thought it was possible with some effort. Well – it wasn't. The only job he has managed to get within the past six months was for a breakfast cereals advert. Which didn't even make it into television because the firm went bankrupt shortly after.

However, bills want to be paid and no landlord in the world lets you live in his property without seeing any money in return. Therefore, Louis spends his days with delivering newspapers in his neighbourhood, selling buns and unbearably sweet pieces of cake at a bakery and preparing Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccinos at a Starbucks store nearby.

This isn't quite what he studied for but, in a way, it is acting, too. Always smiling, always being friendly and courteous, always making customers believe that they need to buy a little more than originally intended.

He discovers three different projects that could be interesting. One turns out to be a TV advert for toilet paper – it somehow matched his current mood. The second one is an unpaid acting job for a short film produced by drama students. Not really helpful. Number three sounds quite promising – until he reads that the role is for someone between 50 and 60. Even with a capable makeup artist, it would be rather impossible to make a 28-year old look double his age.

Groaning in frustration, he slams his laptop shut and pulls at his hair. He needs a proper job, as soon as possible. His eyes travel towards the stack of letters on his desk. He grabs the first one and, after a short look, throws it into the bin.

"No, I don't want to an insurance for my swimming pool," he hisses, slightly annoyed.

None of the other letters seem worth his time, so he drops them on top of his laptop and gets up from his seat. It is time for a walk. And some shopping. On his way to the door, he puts his used cup into the sink and grabs his wallet from the chest of drawers in the hallway. After his shopping he'll have to hurry a little to make it to his shift at Starbucks in time. And in the evening, he'll be annoyed, exhausted and desperate – as always.

Just as expected, Louis comes home in a rather bad mood after a way too long shift and the worst customers in the world. His co-worker was nice enough to send him home and clean up the mess of the day himself. Louis has a bit of a bad conscience because he has left him alone with all the work – but he also assumes that the guy would rather work for three than spend more time than necessary in Louis' depressing orbit.

Since his mood can't get any worse today, he plops down on the chair in front of his desk to make a remittance – or two. He wipes the mail on top of his laptop away a little too snappy, sending it to the floor.

Cursing loudly, he bends down to pick up the paper and throw it somewhere else. He doesn't like any kind of mail in general, but he starts to develop a particular hate on this pile of letters.

He thinks about setting it on fire on his balcony until he spots a creme-white envelope with elegant golden writing on it. It is small and plain, so he must have overlooked it this morning. He turns it around to look for the sender and nearly drops it when reading a name that he has been trying so hard to forget for the past ten years – the name is Styles.