Christmas Day, for Louis Tomlinson, went well. After dropping Liam off at his parents' house, he went to Doncaster to visit his family for the day. His parents engulfed him a hug, and his sisters ambushed him, wrapping their arms around his torso as tight as they could. The day with his family was nice and quiet, just as he preferred his Christmas day to be.

However, as ridiculous as it was, he wished there was a light-hared girl by his side to keep him company. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Louis knew he'd become attached to the girl. He didn't fathom how he could, but he knew he formed some type of attachment to her, even if she only existed in his dreams at night.

The next couple days after Christmas, he was busy with his four best friends. They were writing songs for an upcoming album. Lately, Management had them working their asses off with promotions, interviews, and planning a tour later in the year after the album was released.

There were times when Louis wanted to take a step back and completely forget that he was in the spotlight. But then, during those times, he remembered to look at the bigger picture—he was doing this because he loved singing, performing and entertaining thousands of fans.

It always put Louis back in his place.

It was a Tuesday, and writing at the studios in a room Management provided. That day, it was just Liam and Louis. Everyone else had to take a day off due to other plans. Except Niall, he'd gotten sick over Christmas and hadn't been in for a while.

After a while, Liam spoke up, breaking the silence between the two of them. "Louis, have you dreamed about that girl again?"

He raised his head from the piece of paper on his lap. "Not really. I mean, I didn't dream of her again after that first time. I'm beginning to think it was my imagination getting carried away."

His friend nodded his head, understanding completely. "Yeah, sometimes people can conjure p some pretty weird dreams. Like I told you, I dreamed about the dancing pickle."

Louis silently agreed, pulling out his phone. When Liam asked what he was doing, he answered with, "I'm asking the fans what their weirdest dreams were. I'm curious."

After Louis sent out his message, he set his phone aside, turning his attention back to the task at hand—writing a half-decent song. It hadn't been going well, simply because he couldn't get his mind to focus. All he thought about was that girl in his dreams.

He groaned and pushed the paper away. Since the only instrument he knew how to play well was the piano, he walked over towards the one in the corner of the room and sat down on the bench. He made sure he was situated before lifting up the cover to the keys. He ran his fingers across, feeling the cold and smooth keys beneath the pads of his fingers.

With no tune in mind, he began to play the piano. The notes he was playing sounded off and nothing remotely good, so he tried different combinations of notes. If t his didn't give him any inspiration, he didn't know what would have.

The keys that were cold and untouched were now warm from being pressed down upon so many times.

After a while of nothing, he removed himself from the piano, his fingers retreating from the keys. He closed the cover and turned to Liam with an exasperated expression.

"I can't get any ideas," he almost whined, running a finger through his brown, disheveled hair. "I've tried everything and I can't get a single, good idea."

"Why don't you go get something to eat?" Liam suggested, looking up from the paper he seemed to be so invested in. "I would go with, but I'm kind of working on something at the moment. You could go get something from me. A cheeseburger from McDonald's would do."

After gathering what Louis needed, he headed out of the studio and to his car. It didn't take him long to go through the drive-thru to order some food—that was beyond unhealthy, but he didn't care much—from McDonald's. He paid, grabbed the food, and was on the way to the studios again when he remembered he left his phone charger at home. Now was the perfect time to get it.

Louis turned the car around, driving towards his flat. He also thought he could change his shirt—he was slightly smelly and sweaty; from what, he didn't quite now.

He pulled up to his flat, minutes later. He decided to leave the food in the car, knowing he wouldn't be long. Five minutes at most. After climbing out, he quickly locked the door and headed towards his home. Shuffling with the keys, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. When Louis closed the door behind him, he noticed there were two pairs of shoes by the door.

His eyebrows furrowed. The elderly lady upstairs didn't have people over, and judging by those shoes, he knew one was a man's and another a woman's. That could only mean one thing...

Louis was irritated with the thought of another fan breaking in. It only happened once before, but he had to move after that. He went through so many measures to make sure his location was hidden. He now saw that it all went down the drain, all that effort. It was shit now that a fan knew where he lived.

Opening the door to his flat, he turned towards the living room, eyes scanning the place for a hormonal, teenaged girl. But what he found was something he hadn't expected—never in a million years.

Sitting in the living room was a girl with mid-length, light hair and green eyes. It was the girl from his dreams—the same girl he formed an attachment with. It wasn't her that caused him to freeze in his tracks and for his blood to run cold, his face paling in seconds. It was the person sitting next to her.

An exact replica of himself, Louis Tomlinson, with a huge grin on his face.

"Oh, my fucking God," he mumbled, not believing his eyes.

.

.

He was there, in the flesh. Jaime's heart sped up in anticipation, watching as his eyes widened, his face paling. Her fists clenched at her sides nervously as she took in his features. His brown hair was tousled and disheveled—like he ran his hands through it too many times in a stressful manner. His blue eyes wide with shock, his lips parting in an 'o' shape. Her heartbeat took off in an instant, beating wildly.

But then he stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Immediately, Jaime rose to her feet and rushed over to him. Before he could fall over, she gripped his arm and steadied him.

"Please don't throw me out," she whispered, pleading shamelessly. "There's a good explanation for all of this. Just let me explain."

The last thing Jaime wanted was to be thrown out by Louis, who was probably the only other person in this world she could honestly trust with the Charlie situation. For crying out loud, she made a wish and got a replica of him. Either he could make funo f her or try and help her how to fix this. No matter what, she at least wanted him involved and to know the truth of how this whole situation came to be.

Louis looked at her warily, almost as if he wouldn't believe anything she said. He crossed his arms, and looked at her expectantly. When she didn't say anything, he spoke up. "Well? Aren't you going to explain to me how there's an exact copy of myself sitting on my couch? And also, you are going to tell me how you got inside my flat without breaking in."

Jaime's cheeks turned a bright red, heating up in embarrassment. Suddenly, she realized just how crazy she seemed at that moment. Even though she wanted to back out and run back home, forgetting ever setting eyes on the real Tomlinson, he was in front of her and deserved the answers he asked for.

"It's a rather long story."

"I've got time," Louis said, barely raising an eyebrow.

Jaime nodded her head slowly before going back to the couch, where she had been previously sitting. As she made her way back to her spot next to Charlie, she thought she heard Louis say, "Made yourself comfy already, have we?"

His rudeness towards her made her uncomfortable and wanted to tell him off, however, she had to keep reminding herself that she broke into his flat. Louis had every right to be angry wi th her. Hell, he even had the right to throw her out this very moment. He was kind enough, though, to let her stay and tell him her story. Rudeness, Jaime didn't mind.

Now the three of them sat in the living room. Louis on the arm chair, Jaime and Charlie on the couch. Charlie sat in silence, letting Jaime do all the talking. He understood that Louis wouldn't exactly take a strong liking to him—not at first, at least.

Jaime chuckled nervously, rubbing the palms of her hands together. "I don't know where to start..."

"How about from the beginning?" Louis offered.

She nodded, knowing that was probably the best. And so, Jaime did start from the beginning—the night she wished upon a star. She went through every detail and explained the back story as much as possible without going into detail. She explained that the wish was made, because for once this Holiday, she didn't want to spend it alone. The truth was told from beginning to end. There wasn't a single necessary detail that was not spoken aloud.

However, when it came to explain how she got to England—and most importantly, inside Louis' apartment—that's when the stammering, the blushing, and stumbling over her words started.

The amount of motivation she had to find Louis Tomlinson allowed herself to break a few personal morals. First off, she lied to her parents and dug into her college fund to pay for the trip—dipping into the college fund alone was a sin; her parents have been saving that money up for their daughter for ages. She miraculously managed to sneak Charlie into another country with forged papers, so she broke a major law or two there.

"After we got off the plane, we had no idea what to do. We barely had any money with us, only the amount I managed to swipe from my college fund," Jaime's eyes fell on the floor, shame lacing into her voice and appearing on her face as she spoke. This part of the story, she wished she didn't have to tell. "I mean, we had a general idea of where you lived, thanks to your fans, but nothing more.

"For a while, we decided to travel the city to see if we ran into you—which obviously didn't happen. When the day passed and nothing happened, we ended up sleeping on the curb. For a few days, that's how it went. We knew nothing about you, and we couldn't just stalk you knowing nothing."

Jaime fell quiet for a few moments to gather herself. Admitting she had no roof over her head was a hard thing to admit, especially to Louis Tomlinson. When she found the strength to continue, she looked up at Louis and realized he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He was listening to every word she said very closely.

Taking in a deep breath, she continued. "Then, we ran into someone who recognized Charlie as you. I had no idea who he was, but he seemed to be one of your closer friends. He commented on how Charlie looked like crap—at the time, he thought Charlie was you—and asked what was wrong. I managed to convince him you were drunk and couldn't get home by himself, that I was helping you. He seemed to believe me enough to give me your address.

"I-I'm sorry, really... I just thought you deserved to know about him. About Charlie. I'm sorry I broke into your house, but people were looking at Charlie and I weird, just staying outside of your flat. I'm really sorry. We can leave now if you want."

Emotions swirled inside of Jaime. Shame. Guilt. Regret. Embarrassment. All she wanted to do was run out of the apartment with Charlie in tow, and escape to America again. Climb underneath the couch's cushions so she was out of sight. Run around the corner and go into that small hotel she saw on her way over—anything, as long as she didn't have stay in Louis' sight with all of her emotions piling high.

Jaime glanced up to see him opening his mouth to respond. But just as words began to spill out of his mouth, the shrill sound of a phone ringing cut him off. His eyes widened and a couple profanities left his mouth.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I got sidetracked. Something important came up, but it's fine. I'll be there in a few minutes. Yeah, be there soon."

He shoved the phone into his pocket, standing up. "I've got to go back to the studio, but I'll be back in a couple of hours. Help yourself to the kitchen, but please don't leave. I've some words for you."

And before Jaime could give him a response, Louis was flitting around the house grabbing a few items here and there. He disappeared down a hall, reappearing moments later with a clean shirt. He gave Jaime and Charlie a quiet, feeble, "goodbye," before he shut the door behind him.

***

Here's the seventh chapter! Thank you all for being so patient with me. I really appreciate it x 

PS: I'm pretty curious myself... what was your weirdest dream?