It didn't hit David until he arrived at work on Monday morning that Louis was really gone. His plane had left that morning and he'd gone so far as to break up with David again, this time as a friend.
It was lucky that all of the scenes were appropriately grim or action packed enough to distract him from his thoughts. Otherwise, David suspected he might have done something stupid like buying a plane ticket to Weldstone Harbor so he could find Louis and... give him a piece of his mind or something. David's impulsive plan hadn't quite covered that part yet.
Everyone knew you weren't supposed to abandon your career to follow a boy. But David was sorely tempted to. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to follow him so he could kiss him or push him into the harbor. The longer he thought about it, the more he was leaning towards both.
Part of his dilemma was that he truly couldn't understand why things had to end so completely. Not after he'd said something like, I care about you more than anyone else in the world. But he'd also said, I can't stay with you, and that their brief friendship wasn't worth trying for.
It was enough to leave David's head spinning and his heart aching.
Louis talked like it was what was best for them—what was best for David—but David was pretty sure it was just what was easiest for Louis. Like it was simpler to cutting ties and never look back than to actually work things out.
The worst part was that David could understand that.
David was all wrapped up in Midtown and in what must have been the worst time in Louis's life. If Louis needed to put that behind him, David could understand that, even if it was unfair and even if it hurt like an itch in his veins.
But he'd still said he cared about David more than anyone. And that had sounded too much like a confession for David to neatly write it off. Why say that when he was ending things? It just made everything hurt all the more.
David didn't think that Louis's solution was the right solution. The time he spent with Louis was home and family and love all wrapped up together and David thought that was worth compromise. It was even worth some sacrifice.
Their lives didn't exactly line up perfectly, but David still wanted Louis. He wanted to work towards his own goals and ambitions and he wanted to be with Louis, too. He wanted to be with Louis forever and to share their lives and their achievements and their homes.
Was it too selfish to want it all?
Louis had a life in Weldstone Harbor with his friends and his spotless condo. David didn’t have that kind of life anywhere—he had Jennifer and a string of studio apartments and an empty house where his parents purportedly lived but never were.
It was like he and Louis lived on parallel trajectories. Or maybe it was like they were on perpendicular projections. They could touch, they did touch, but only for that one perfect moment before they went their separate ways, growing ever further apart.
It ached.
By the time he got back to the B&B it was already close to ten, but he wasn't at all tired—at least not in the way that allowed for sleep.
Instead, David pulled out his guitar, and strummed a few chords, trying to decide what he wanted to play. In the end he just picked out a nonsense melody, thinking of the lyrics about Atlas and the king. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune and imagining the lyrics in his mind. After a couple minutes, he thought he came up with something passable.
He reached over to his bed side table only to realize that his notebook wasn’t there.
David reached over and opened the drawer to see if it had somehow ended up in there. It wasn’t.
Thinking on it, David couldn't even remember the last time he'd scribbled anything in it or even seen it. It had been too much of a sore point since he and Louis broke up. Putting the guitar down, David hopped off the bed and searched through all of his pairs of jeans, inside his suitcase, in the magazine rack in the bathroom, and even in the sheets of the bed.
He couldn’t remember where he put it. The last time he had any clear memory of it was when Louis had put it in his hand, then held it tight, like he hadn't really wanted to let go.
Had he lost it after that? Had he put it somewhere out of the way? David didn't remember any of that. If he was going to put it somewhere, though, it would be in his box of memories. David pulled the box out and emptied it on the bed, giving each item only a cursory glance, but, as expected, it wasn't there.
He spent the next two hours tearing apart the entire room trying to find it. Had he left somewhere at the studio? Or in Jennifer's car? In Louis's car? David's heart sank.
Finally, David gave up, shoving the lid back on his memory box and sliding it under the bed, muttering to himself as it got caught on a raised floorboard or something. He gave it another nudge but it caught again. David groaned and rolled off the bed onto the floor so he could properly return it to its place.
He almost whooped in delight when he saw what it had gotten caught on. By the baseboard at the head of the bed was his notebook! It was splayed open and David fished it out with the toe of one of his sneakers until he could grab it by one flap of its cover. As he pulled it out, though, something else went spinning to the side, catching beneath the foot of the bed.
A loose page?
David picked it up with a frown.
It was an envelope. A thick cream one with what felt like multiple pages inside. Was this from a previous tenant? Or maybe it was some survey David was told to fill out and never did?
He flipped it over and felt the air in the room vanish.
His name was on the envelope. In Louis's messy print. Had it been in the notebook?
David flipped it over again. It was his, right? It was addressed to him. So he was intended to read it, right?
He felt nervous all of the sudden.
The envelope was unsealed, the flap simply tucked in the back. David hesitated for a minute before opening it and pulling out the contents.
There were three different kinds of paper—odd, but maybe Louis had been writing it at different times?
The first was a small sheet of green rose-print stationary that almost made David want to laugh. It was clearly something that belonged to Rosemarie. David ran his finger fondly over it, the emptiness of missing her still fresh.
The second was an ancient piece of yellow legal paper, so worn that the lines were barely visible anymore.
And the third was a white sheet that had clearly been torn from this very journal before David had been cast and he'd been so shocked at seeing Louis Greene that he'd started scribbling out a new copy of the song he'd given him so many years ago.
How had Louis ended up with it?
Putting that aside for a moment, David unfolded the page of legal paper. His heart skipped a beat as he realized what it was.
He'd had this the whole time. Louis Greene had had this stupid page with David’s stupid song on it since he was seven. He'd kept it.
“Christ, Lou,” David muttered, realizing he was crying only when dark splotches started appearing on the page. He'd kept David's letter. David wasn't sure what that meant, but it felt like it meant something. It felt like it meant a lot, really.
David only gave it a cursory glance before flipping to the note Louis had left with the pages of David's writing.
David,
First, I owe you another apology. I lied and I'm sorry for it.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
It's no excuse, but, at first, I was just curious about you. I found the second page at the studio and I thought that it sounded familiar, but there was no name. Jennifer let slip—or hinted, as she does—just enough that I realized it was you and then the pieces all came together, but as I got to know you, I realized I liked you and I didn't want this to change anything between us.
Regardless, I should have been up front from the beginning, so consider this me coming clean.
I got your letter right after my father passed away. I can't explain how much I doubted myself and my choices at that point, but if anyone can, I think you'll understand what I mean.
Rosemarie had always been hesitant to let me pursue acting—she's always worried about the lifestyles and choices that can come so easily with fame. When my father died, I wondered for the first time if I was wrong to want to do what I did. In fact, I was certain of it.
That's when I got your letter.
I'd gotten fan mail before, but I wasn't allowed to read a lot of it. It had to be pre-approved by both my agent and by Rosemarie. Even just for that, your letter was special to me. More than that, though, you gave me the courage to face my doubts.
I'm not exaggerating when I say that you are probably the only reason I kept acting.
I thought, if my character, dare I say, if I meant that much to someone, then maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be. Maybe it wasn't going to take me away from Rosemarie or make me into something she didn't want to talk about.
I kept your letter until I left Starfly.
For nearly ten years, you were my inspiration. After that, I got rid of everything that even reminded me of the show. My mother was incarcerated and Rosemarie was moving out to Midtown and I couldn’t stand anything that reminded me of my childhood.
I moved to Hollywood and then I moved to Weldstone Harbor. I didn’t realize that Rosemarie had kept it until after we met. She'll say it's because she knows best and, on this occasion, I'll capitulate. I'm grateful that she did and that I was able to meet you.
You probably don't realize it, but you saved my career for a second time when I met you. In a way, you saved me, too.
The last year—maybe even longer than that—have been hard for me. Dark. I have come very close to giving up. I've been ready to give up, if I'm honest. I couldn't remember why I did this when the world seemed to be telling me to quit.
I never thought that I would enjoy being here—treasure it, even—or that I would find something worthwhile working on television again after Starfly. I wasn't even sure I could do it, but seeing your passion and your joy reminded me why I wanted to act.
More than that, though, you reminded me what it was like to be alive. David, meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know that I've fucked up and I hope you'll forgive me, but even if you won't, I want to thank you for everything that you've done for me.
What I’m trying to say is, regardless of what I wrote to you then, your letter, your music, and you meant the world to me.
I’m sorry I was such a little shit about it.
All my love,
Louis
David flipped through the papers again, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Sure enough, written in his messy childish script was the original letter. He hadn’t remembered exactly what he’d written, but, seeing it now, he felt a little silly for being so caught up on Louis hating it. They were both kids. David had been too young to have understood rhyming let alone form. Why did it matter?
David wiped his nose on the back of his hand, the hole in his chest widening.
That was the problem, wasn't it? It had never really been about the song. It was about Louis. It was about someone David admired, someone he loved, really, in that way that only children can love pushing him away.
It hurt even more now that he was still being pushed away. Louis had kept the letter for ten years and he was still pushing David away.
But Louis had kept the letter. David was the most important person in the world to him, by his own admission. He had signed the letter with all his love.
So why did he keep saying one thing and doing another? Had he changed his mind? Why give him this letter and then break up with him immediately afterwards?
Unless...
Oh. Oh no.
Why do that unless he hadn't meant to break up with David?
If Louis thought that David had broken up with him, just like Jennifer had assumed.... Oh, God. Louis thought David broke up with him after reading his letter. Louis thought that David had read thank you for everything and all my love and then said that it was too much and that he needed space.
From that perspective, it really did seem like, if David wasn't breaking up with him right then and there, he was pushing them in that direction.
Because Louis didn't know that David never read the letter.
So he'd spent the last six months thinking that David's response to his feelings—his love—was to put distance between them.
Jennifer had been right. As usual. David should have just told him how he felt before it was too late. The lead weight that had settled in his stomach began to acquire an acidic property.
"Shit," David said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Shit," he said again, with more feeling this time because the first one didn't cut it.
David pulled on his shoes and coat, pausing only long enough to grab his wallet and keys before sprinting downstairs. He had to find Louis. He didn't know what he'd say or how he'd explain everything, but he needed to try.
He was so wrapped up in pulling up the list of flights leaving for Weldstone Harbor in the next ten hours and trying to find a ride within a fifty mile radius, that he nearly ran straight into the silver hybrid parked beneath the lamppost.
David blinked at it, dodging around the hood, then did a double-take. That was definitely Louis's car. Here. In Midtown. Where it had not been when David got home from work.
Still not quite believing it, David squinted at the windshield, trying to see past the glare of the lamp.
The driver's side door opened and Louis Greene stepped out of the car.
"Going somewhere?" Louis asked, raising a brow.
David stared, all coherent through leaving his brain.
"David?" Louis asked, his tone turning a little hesitant.
"No, I—," David said, shaking his head slowly as he tried to snap himself out of his surprise. "You're here. How are you here? Didn't your plane leave this morning?"
"It did," Louis said. "But I didn't."
"Oh," David said, still staring.
He still hadn't closed the door, holding it almost like a shield between them. David swallowed, eyes drawn to the movement of Louis's thumb running up and down the edge. Was he nervous?
“May I come up for a minute? Unless you had other plans?” Louis asked. The timbre of his voice made David’s toes curl, warmth and excitement spreading through him at the knowledge that Louis was here in front of him as though summoned by magic.
"No," David said quickly. "I mean, yes. Or, no, I'm not going anywhere, yes, come up."
Louis nodded, but his expression was guarded as he followed David silently up the stairs and down the hall. David opened the door to his room, feeling a little like Orpheus hearing the quiet footsteps behind him and wondering if it was really Louis or simply an illusion.
When David finally closed the door behind them and turned his gaze to Louis, he was was caught off guard by the expression on his face. Louis looked like a kid about to be scolded which made David feel like he was about to be scolded. Or, at the very least, that he probably deserved a scolding.
Not least because Louis's gaze had dropped to the disarray of his room with a small frown. It did look a bit like he'd had a tornado over for dinner.
"I need to explain something," David said at exactly the same time as Louis said, "I want to apologize."
"Uh, I think that my explanation should come first. It's really important," David said, scratching his head.
Louis's expression turned more cautious, but he nodded.
David brushed past him, bending down to pick up the letter from where he'd dropped it on his bed. Louis's cheeks flushed as he realized what it was and he didn't meet David's eye.
"Louis, I never opened my journal after you gave it back," David said, his own face heating. "Not until tonight."
He held up the pages, his throat dry. It wasn't enough.
"Never?" Louis asked, eyes tracking the movement of David's hands as he fidgeted with the papers, and, okay, David probably deserved that disbelief.
"I was embarrassed and I put the journal away. I never read your letter. I never even knew it existed until about an hour ago. I'm sorry." David swallowed, anxiety peaking as he watched Louis's expression go carefully blank.
"But you've read it now?"
"Yes," David said, "and I realized how it must have seemed to you that morning. But I really didn't know. I thought that, well, I thought you liked me, but I also thought you dumped me."
"What do you mean?" Louis asked, irritation sharpening his tone. "You said it was too much and you needed time. What did that mean, then?"
"I know!" David said, shaking his head. "I know I did, but at the time, I was trying to ask for time to consider our careers and everything else for more than twelve hours, not... not ask for time apart."
"What are you saying?" Louis asked slowly, his expression starting to crack into something vulnerable that pulsed in David's chest, too.
David raised the pages again.
"Do you—" David cut himself off with a shake of his head. It was his turn to come clean. "I don't know if you still feel the same, but if you do, I want to ask you for a second chance. And... to tell you that I love you."
Louis wetted his lips then swallowed visibly and looked towards the window. David's heart sank. Maybe it was already too late.
"I didn't want to give them back," Louis said, gesturing in David's direction. "I regretted it afterwards. I wished I'd kept them so I could have at least kept a piece of you."
"You can have them," David said slowly. "They're yours, after all."
Louis sucked in a breath, and when he turned back to David, his eyes were red and glassy and David couldn't help but take a step towards him, an awful sort of hope welling inside him.
"I didn't even make it to the airport before turning around," Louis admitted. "I spent all day coming up with an excuse to see you again. Arguments for why you should ignore what I said yesterday and reasons we should still..." Louis cut off, looking up at the ceiling the corner of his mouth trembling.
"Did you come up with any good ones?" David asked, the levity in his tone failing to cover the thickness of his voice.
Louis let out a sharp laugh. "No. I couldn't come up with a single one. I think you could probably do a lot better than me. You could find someone nice."
David took another step forward. "But you came anyway."
Louis nodded. "Yes. I couldn't come up with a reason, but I'm not very altruistic."
"You love me?" David asked, feeling a little light headed as he stepped close enough that he could count the laugh-lines at corners of Louis's eyes.
"Yes, David," Louis said, as though he was stating the obvious. Then his expression softened. "I love you."
David reached out slowly, his fingertips rasping across the stubble over Louis's jaw as he settled his palm against a pale. Louis's eyes closed as he leaned into the touch, his lips parting just a little.
"Then can we try again?" he whispered.
Louis just nodded and David pulled him down into a kiss, the sheets of paper slipping from his hand to settle across the floor.