all the glamour and the trauma • • l o u i s

Louis’ eyes flew open as he heard the door open and felt the blonde’s delicate hand press against his chest. His eyes focused on Gabby first, then on the couple in the doorway. Though unlike him, the Bellefeuille was initially angry that they’d been interrupted – a hot feeling rising in his chest and his hand balling into a fist—then Gabrielle got to her feet and snapped him out of it. The feeling dissipated as quickly as it had come, to be replaced with one of mild confusion.

Disbelief.

Mouth hanging slightly ajar, he looked up at Gabrielle from where he sat on the edge of her bed. She… they had just been kissing. He remembered it but… almost like an out of body experience. He blinked. How in Merlin’s name had that happened?

Marco and the girl he’d brought with him (Louis was unable to make her out by silhouette alone, backlit by the hallway light) had retreated back down the stairs, and Louis waited patiently. He didn’t want to speak first, in case she turned down an invitation to return to the bed – and he was thankful he hadn’t been so eager as to ask, when she suggested they return to the party.

His brow furrowed in confusion for a brief second before he got to his feet and picked up the bottle of Dreams. Louis crossed the room to stand next to her, holding the alcohol out for her to take. “I’ll be downstairs.” He said quietly. Still unsure exactly what had just happened, he hesitated for a second before slipping out the bedroom door and down the stairs, mixing back into the party in a light daze.
 

[end]

As much as a part of her would have preferred for him to come over and kiss her right there, she was mostly glad that Louis listened. The teenage boy had no idea - there was no way he could have known - where her head had been at a moment ago. How far she'd have let it all go, if he'd been a pushier type. She'd been drinking enough to make bad decisions and if he'd been more forward when they'd come into her room (or, she thought, as he held the bottle out to her, even if he came up and pushed her against the wall right now), he might have become one quite easily. "See you down there," Gabrielle said graciously, feeling a touch of her less-convincing-than-before host persona slipping back in place as he moved past her.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and momentarily she actually wondered what she might do if he stayed, kissed her again. If he was silent but insistent. She was absolutely projecting here, imagining him grabbing handfuls of her dress as he pressed his lips to hers, perhaps pinning her against the wall behind her - things she didn't think Louis would ever spontaneously just do. At least she was aware that it was all in her head. It wasn't a usual fantasy for the blonde - an extremely "nice" boy who'd rip her clothes off behind closed doors - but she indulged the idea for a short moment before he was gone.

When he was out, she closed the door again and leaned against it, allowing herself a second to relax and gather her thoughts. Louis Proulx? Really? She'd never really noticed him before. Not in that way. Louis had always been sort of peripheral; a friend of hers, yes, but really more of a friend of a friend. Besides, Gabrielle's last two boyfriends had both lasted more than six months each, and they were both two years older than her. She didn't tend to look at boys in her year as romantic options and hadn't done so since her first year or two at school.

But Louis had made her smile tonight, she thought distantly. The thought called an echo of her earlier smile to her lips as it crossed her mind. And that was nice. Anyway, she thought, she needed to fix her makeup; her lipstick must be messed up at the very least. Gabrielle unscrewed the cap on the bottle he'd handed her and took another long sip before placing it open on her dresser. Lipstick, powder, hair, then back to the party, she thought distantly.