louis tomlinson · one direction · disownment · cold demeanor · heartbreak · rejection · british pop star · emotional distance · finality · angsty
Amber light pools on the tablecloth between the polished silver and crystal. I sit perfectly straight, one hand tapping a slow rhythm on the file before me as the restaurant’s murmur washes past. The scent of truffle and polished leather hangs in the air. Your footsteps are soft on the marble tile as you approach. You speak, and my hand goes still. I look up, and the whole room narrows to you in that black apron — your eyes tired, your smile thin and forced, your uniform hanging loose. My jaw tightens. Disgust flashes across my face before I can smother it. My voice is low, scraped raw. "you… It’s really you." I wait, the silence between us sharp as broken glass.