She says “if life was a movie then it wouldn’t end like this, left without a kiss.”

Andy’s P.O.V

I shuffle some papers on my desk, thinking about my meeting with One Direction. For such famous people, they really were quite stupid when it came to business deals, I muse.

On another note, Paul and I decided to film the commercial tomorrow, because the boys weren’t going to be in New York forever. In fact, they were delaying their stay just for this commercial. I’m glad I’m paying them well. The door opens and I glance up, feeling the air in my lungs suddenly leave, leaving me gasping.

Louis slides into my office, closing the door behind me and locking it. My breath hitches in my throat as the thought of why I was so happy to be near him a year ago flashes in my mind- being abused by Beau.

“So,” he smirks, effectively trapping me in my office. “We finally meet, Ms. Kirsche.”

Despite his obvious jab at my last name, and the hinting that he knows who I am, I hold my composure. “It’s a pleasure,” I reply icily.

Louis’ smile drops slightly. “Ah, so cold, Ms. Kirsche?”

“You have to be to be in my business,” I say, meeting his stare.

Louis comes closer, making me back into the corner, trapping my by placing his hands on the wall by my head, tilting his head to look me in the eyes. “You weren’t always this way, were you, Andy?”

 My breath hitches in my throat as my name is revealed. I don’t know how Louis figured out who I was, but then again, it couldn’t have been that hard.

“So,” Louis accuses. “Is it you or not, Andy, ‘cause if it is, I would like an explanation of why you left me outside a club.”

From somewhere inside me, a smirk rises to my lips. “Why? That still bugging you? That a pretty little billionaire got ditched by a nobody?”

“Not a CEO?” Louis cocks an eyebrow.

“No,” I agree. “Not a CEO.”

“You’re quite confusing, did you know that?”

“Good,” I whisper back. “Means less people to know my secrets.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.  “What sort of secrets could a young CEO have?”

I meet his eyes, recognizing that I’m still trapped against the wall. “Quite a few.”

“Care to share, Andy?” Louis asks his lips quite close to my ear as he whispers.

I lean forward and as I speak, my lips brush against Louis’ ear, causing him to shiver. “Are you sure that’s even my name?”

With those mysterious words, I push Louis off me and make to stride out of my office but Louis grabs my wrist and pulls, making me whirl around and slam into my office door as Louis pins me against it.

“Now, Andy,” he hisses. “You’re gonna tell me exactly who you are, and why you are this way towards me, or we’re gonna be here a long, long time. So what’s your real name?”

“Adrienne,” I squeak, intimidated by Louis’ show of violence.

“And are you really German?” Louis questions.

Slightly offended, I reply, “Na klar, du blöd Junge.”

“What was that?” Louis whispers quite close to my face.

“German,” I say, a small smirk on my face.

Louis presses a little harder against my wrists. “No, what did you say?”

“I said, ‘of course, you stupid boy,’” I translate.

Louis’ eyes glint. “So you’re sarcastic in German.”

“I think we both know I’m sarcastic in either language,” I say honestly.

Louis chooses to ignore this. “So why did you leave me outside that club?”

“I was done with boys,” I answer honestly.

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

I laugh bitterly, reminiscing on my experience with boys. “Jungen sind blöd.”

“What?” Louis crinkles his nose in confusion, and I can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“Boys are stupid,” I translate again.

Louis shrugs. “Can’t deny that one.”

I bite my lip when Louis doesn’t let go, just leaning against me, weighing a little on me. I can feel his chest against mine and it’s making my cheeks heat up. I cough, alerting that I am still here.

Louis blinks before opening his mouth. “But you couldn’t even say goodbye?”

“Didn’t realize you cared that much,” I tease.

Louis’ face hardens and he presses harder. “I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm,” he growls. “So I’m going to ask again, you were edgy that night-why?”

“I was nervous,” I mumble, reluctant to talk about my past.

“But you kissed me,” Louis says, confused.

So he does remember it. I do too, and whenever I see Louis all I can think of is the sensation of his lips against mine.

“No, you kissed me,” I correct gently.

Louis pulls an adorable thinking face. “I did?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Louis pauses. “You were quite stiff, if I recall correctly.”

“Well, I was nervous around boys,” I say flatly.

“Why though?” Louis tilts his head, studying me curiously.

“Well, I was a bit busy being abused by a boy at the time!” I exclaim.

Louis releases me in shock, gaping at me as I realize what I just said.

Oh, shit.

“Y-You were abused?” he croaks, still looking at me like I have a second head.

I sigh. There’s no point in denying it now. “Yes, I was, or do you want me to say it again?”

“I-I,” Louis is speechless. “Seriously?” he asks desperately, searching my eyes and face, as if I’m lying to him and he’s trying to prove that I’m not.

I sigh again, sitting on a chair in front of my desk. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Louis face transforms into one of shock and under it-anger.  All of a sudden, Louis is in front of me, hands grasping at my wrists. “Who was it?” His tone is urgent. “Who did that to you, Andy, I swear to God, I’ll fine them I’ll-”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt. “It happened a long time ago.”

“Is that why you were on edge that night?” Louis whispers, truth dawning in his eyes. “Because you were beat up?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “He was there, he was drunk and he hit me because I was dancing with another guy while he flirted with another girl.”

Louis’ face is expressionless. “Who is he?”

“I-I,” I pause, hesitant to even think of him.

“Tell me, it’ll make you feel better,” Louis urges. When I hesitate again, he says knowingly. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“He told me not to,” I whisper, still horrified that he still had this pull over me, even when I haven’t seen him in over a year. “He told me if I told anyone he would beat me even worse.”

Louis clenches his jaw, clearly trying to hold back his anger in front of me, but he crouches in front of me and tilts my chin upward with his finger. “Andy, I was dating this girl named Eleanor,” he starts telling a story, making me sit up and listen as I recognize that name. “She was beautiful, I really, really loved her, and I was with her for almost my whole career. But the fans were jealous. They gave her hate, telling her to do things like kill herself, and how she was only a beard for me, because I was supposedly gay for my best mate.”

I blink several times, trying to keep up. I knew about Larry Stylinson, the relationship with Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, and how many fans shipped them together, but I didn’t know a lot about anything else.

“Eleanor was strong, she took the hate,” Louis continues. “I admired that. I thought she was the most incredible girl I’d ever met.”

I start to feel slightly uncomfortable as he goes on and on about an ex that he loved so much. Let’s just say it’s something no girl wants to hear.

“But she started changing,” Louis says, his voice wavering now. “She wasn’t as funny, wasn’t as relaxed around me, and she didn’t text me nonstop when I was on tour. When I was on tour, we texted and called, not really Skype, as we usually did,” Louis pauses, taking a deep breath. “One day, I came home from tour early to surprise her and when I opened the door-” Louis stops now, gulping a little, his eyes looking a little wet. “She was with another guy, a completely random guy, just… cheating on me while I was gone.”

I gasp at this. Personally, I think abusing your significant other is the worst thing you can do, but cheating comes pretty close.

Louis nods at the expression on my face, agreeing with my shock. “I felt like you look, completely and utterly shocked. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to kill the guy she was with but when he saw me, he turned to Eleanor and shouted that he thought she was single. He apologized to me as he was leaving. He was a good guy. Eleanor was the bad one.

“When I confronted her about it, all she said was she was tired and that she wanted to talk about it tomorrow. I said that no, I was tired; I had just flown halfway around the world to surprise my girlfriend who was cheating on me while I was gone. She started yelling. Told me that maybe if I wasn’t gone so much I would have seen this coming. That maybe if I could take something seriously for once in my life, she wouldn’t have done what she did.”

Louis laughs bitterly. “I didn’t know Eleanor could be that mean to someone, much less me. I thought we were soul mates. She knew me better than anyone did, and same for me to her, at least, that’s how I thought it was. I was so, so blissfully unaware of how much the girl I thought loved me the most was the girl that hated me the most.”

“Louis,” I say softly, placing a hand on his arm, trying to tell him that he didn’t need to tell me anymore.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I need to say this.”

I just nod, feeling bewildered and awkward at how this went from Louis trying to get me to tell him my abuser’s name to him telling me about his breakup.

“She just hated me, so much,” Louis mutters, and I feel even more incredibly awkward when I see tears in his eyes. “And the worst part is, I didn’t even understand what I did to her. But now, I’ve had time to think. I think about it all the time, and I’m so tired of it, and I just want to let her go, but I always compare other girls to her, and it sucks because it makes me think that I’ll never find another girl I loved as much as Eleanor, and she hurt me, so, so bad, Andy, so bad.”

With that, Louis is sobbing, and I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to lend him some comfort, and I wonder how long he had that pent up inside, and another part of me wonders how this managed to escalate so quickly.

“Louis,” I say quietly but he doesn’t even move. “Louis,” I try again, but he just shakes his head, burying his head in his arms, trying to hide that fact that he’s crying. So I try something else. “Louis, sie ist eine Miststück. Sie ist keine gut für dir. Es ist okay,” I repeat several more phrases in German, trying to comfort him.

And then he’s repeating over and over again, “No, it’s my fault, my fault, it’s all my fault, I drove her away.”

“Nein,” I say firmly. “Es ist nicht dein Fehler.”  

Louis wipes at his eyes and meets mine, the bright turquoise not really bright anymore. “Do you know what I did? I left her, I abandoned her, I didn’t care enough for her, I didn’t love her enough.”

I shake my head. “No, Louis, if you’re sobbing about this over a year later, you loved her a lot. You loved her a hell of a lot more than she loved you.”

Okay, maybe that end wasn’t the nicest thing to say to a boy who is heartbroken by a girl, but the harshness of my words seems to get through his head. Louis sniffles and sits up, wiping his eyes and looking at me.

“See?” he whispers. “Tell someone, and you’ll feel a lot better.”

“That was all just a metaphor?” I exclaim. “You just poured your heart out just to prove something to me?!”

“Yes and no,” Louis says. “Part of it was to prove something to you, but seeing you reminds me of how much you reminded me of Eleanor when I first met you, and so I was feeling kinda sad, so I… told you everything.”

“Everything?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, everything. No one knows that except you,” Louis says. “Not even the boys,” he adds.

“Louis…” I say softly. “You’re really torn up about this. I mean, you’re seeing me as Eleanor, as every girl as Eleanor. Maybe you should tell someone else.”

“I don’t see you as Eleanor anymore,” Louis says bluntly. “You’re quite different. You’re quieter, and Eleanor was loud and funny, and you’re kind of annoying. Like, not an I-want-to-punch-you kind of annoying, just kind of an I-really-wish-this-conversation-was-over kind of annoying.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly, and Louis chuckles.

“No, it’s not a completely bad thing. And you’re German, which is much, much cooler than being British,” Louis says.

“You think?” I ask in surprise, as most people prefer a British accent to a German one.

“No,” Louis says, leaning quite close to my face and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. “I know.”

 I swallow hard and feel a blush come to my cheeks, and Louis is still really close to me, and I kind of want him to kiss me, but then again-I think that would make things complicated but I really, really want him to kiss me.

Louis clears his throat and scoots away slightly, rubbing his nose lightly before saying, “Your turn.”

____________________________________________________________________

I just need to say I have no idea where this went, and i've been reading @cathartics too much and i'm kind feeling some major feels, so i decided to write this, as i already had this planned for this chapter, except not the louis telling his sob story part, and the eleanor thing is made up, sue me, and yeah i hope you like it and this is just one huge sentence. So yeah, um, please like it, it's literally like the longest chapter i've ever written, it's 2390 words, like damn T, where did that come from anyway enjoy! Bye!

Love ya!

-T A Y L O R