Because even for the people who are so in love that it simply radiates off them, the Haze ends sometimes.
For Eleanor and Louis it ends three months later then it usually ends, but end it does. It starts simply.
"Louis, can't you ever take anything seriously?" Eleanor demands, shooting him a glare. Louis rolls his eyes.
"I take things seriously. Why do you need to be such a drama queen?"
Usually, that would be the end of it, and she'd say, laughing, "Did you just call me a 'drama queen?'" And then he'd laugh and everything would be okay. But they were cranky. Louis hadn't slept very well the night before and Eleanor had had a terribly long day at her job and they were both tired and just wanted to relax.
So it's not over, and everything isn't okay.
"Oh, yeah? What do you take seriously? Enlighten me."
Louis is about to speak, but falters. What has he really taken seriously? "I take the band seriously."
"Wow, one thing."
He has the overwhelming urge to sing 'One Thing' but doesn't. He has a feeling that won't help his situation much.
And so they fight. They fight over things that don't evem bother them, that are blown way out of porportion just to be used as knives. The hours drag by and they're still screaming at each other. About how Louis can't calm down, about how Eleanor is always wearing his shirts, things that they really don't care about (and actually sort of love).
And finally, Louis shouts angrily, "WELL FINE! IF YOU CAN'T STAND ME THEN I GUESS WE'RE OVER, BECAUSE I CAN'T STAND YOU EITHER!"
They both freeze, because even though they've been fighting for hours, the thought of ending it all was never considered.
Eleanor starts to cry and runs, slamming the door behind her. Louis groans and bangs his head against the counter.
He didn't mean, he didn't mean it.
He runs for the door and goes after her, hoping to god she hasn't already called Dani or gotten a cab.
She hasn't. She's sitting a block and a half away on the curb, her knees drawn against her chest and her hair hanging as a curtain over her face.
"Eleanor," he pants, skidding to a stop. She doesn't look up. He sits next to her. "El, please. I didn't mean it."
She still doesn't say anything.
He scoots a little closer. "Eleanor, I love you. I love you so, so much."
She looks up slowly, and his heart jolts because her cheeks are stained with tears. "I really do," he hurries. "I love you, the way you wear my shirts and the way you smile and laugh and joke. I love you so much that it hurts to see you cry."
She sniffles. "I love you, too," she says, her voice hoarse from crying. "I love you, too."
He exhales in relief and wraps his arms around her tightly. He doesn't want to ever let her go.
