Corinne,

I know this is random and slightly uncalled-for, but I was wondering if you'd like to catch up sometime. I feel like we've had some things to talk about since that one night, and I think we should do it soon. I had to ask you this through letter, as I know you changed your number. I look forward to hearing from you.

Louis

Midnight.

That's what we agreed on, so there were no rumors. Or, at least I think that's why. He never really told me. Maybe he didn't want to be seen with me. I'll never know, though I really don't care.

He was wrong. I hadn't changed my number. I just told him that when he called me the first time because I wasn't ready to talk to him yet. I'm not sure if I'll ever really be ready, but I have to do this. We have to settle what has been hanging around in the air ever since that night.

The night we broke up.

For the fifth time.

For the last time.

We were known in the tabloids as, "The couple who cannot make up their minds," which is actually pretty accurate. We aren't necessarily the most decisive people. But we knew we loved each other. I still love him. I'll always love him, but I'm not sure the feeling is mutual.

I look at the tabloid magazine sitting on my bed and cringe. There she is. Camille Guillame. Louis's new girlfriend. They apparently have been dating for nearly a month, but you can never trust the tabloids. (They said I was pregnant at one point which was certainly not true.) But I wouldn't be surprised if they were dating. Camille is the daughter of a member of the Parliament and is rich and pretty and… everything I'm not.

It's eleven-thirty. I'm getting different feelings about this as the minutes tick by. What could he want? I thought we settled this already. I thought I could move on with my life. But I can't. I still love him. And I feel like I'm betraying his father after I promised him that I would stay with Louis. It wasn't my idea to break up anyway, but that feeling is still there.

It's been almost three years since Louis was inaugurated. And three years of attachment toward one another. Several times we contemplated marriage, but we eventually decided to wait until the end of his first term. I'm not seeing how we'll work out, though, anyway. Let him marry what's-her-face and live a long, happy, rich life.

Eleven forty-five now. I want the time to pass because I do want to see him again, but I also want it to go back to before I received that letter. I was living fine on my own, but he just had to ruin my peace with this whole "wanting to talk" crap.

I stand up and subconsciously adjust my white tank top and tight skirt. I stare at myself in the mirror and sigh. It's plain old me. Plain old Capitaine D'Artagnan of the First Regiment. Blonde hair, blue eyes, skinny, tall, cynical, touchy, mean, tough, feisty, sexy. I'm nothing special, but I was special to him.

It's nearly midnight, so I start heading down the stairwell of my apartment building to meet him outside. I check my watch. 11:59. I hear a car pull up outside, just as I expected. He's always on time no matter what. And that's why I purposely wait until a few minutes after midnight to walk out.

As soon as I set on foot out the door, I see him in his leather jacket, jeans, and white t-shirt. He's leaning against his black, convertible Ferrari that we bought together with his back turned to me. Our car. He still has it. What's more noticeable is the glowing stick he's holding in his hand. I sigh.

I silently walk up behind him and snatch the cigarette out of his hands and drop it onto the ground, stepping on it with my foot. As I do that he gasps and kneels down to grab it. I roll my eyes. "Since when do you smoke?"

Louis stand up and shrugs. "It doesn't matter,"

Letting my fingers trace the beautiful designs of his car, I don't look him in the eye. "It does though. Don't smoke."

I glance at him just in time to see him smile. "Bossy as ever, I see."

"You kind of have to be when you boss around grown men all day."

He nods. "I heard about your new promotion. Congratulations."

"Thanks," I say.

And that's when I finally look up and face him. Those eyes. Only one person comes to mind when I stare into them. James Dean. Teenage heart-throb. Race car driver. Amazing actor. Died at twenty-four.

But those eyes.

Oh, Lord, he just has that James Dean daydream look in his eyes. And to think that those were mine to stare into all day is… Dammit, I missed him.

"Corinne?" he says, snapping me back to reality. "Are you alright?"

I can feel myself blush, and I suddenly feel thankful for the darkness. "Oh, uh, yeah. Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we should go?" he asks, a mischievous tone etching his voice.

I roll my eyes. "Louis, you know I'm the most indecisive person on this planet. Do not ask me that."

He laughs. "So true,"

Louis leads me to our car, opening the passenger door for me, but I shake my head. "I'd like the backseat."

He smiles. "You never change, do you?"

When we bought this car, I only wanted to sit in the backseat because I loved that feeling that the wind gives off. You just don't get that in the front seat. Well, that, and I'm not so sure about sitting next to him quite yet.

He opens the backseat door for me, and I slide in, loving the feeling of the leather beneath me. Louis walks around the car and takes his seat. And to think, I'm the one who taught him how to drive, but that's a different story.

Louis starts the car and drives down the road without his headlights on. I lean over his seat and put my lips to his ear. "Headlights, Louis. You always forget the headlights."

I can feel him slightly shiver, and I smirk. Maybe he's not completely over me after all. He turns his headlights on, and I sit back down, satisfied with myself. I still see the way he can never keep his eyes on the road ahead of us, and I realize that this little trip could either end in burning flames or paradise. The top of the car is down, and the wind blows gently as we drive to create a peaceful, yet awkward atmosphere around us.

Where do I start with this conversation? Am I even supposed to start the conversation? Why should I? He's the one who wanted to break up, so he should be the one who starts this damn conversation. If it were up to me, we would still be together, we would still be happy! I had always dreamed that we would stay together, but then he just cut it off for no good reason.

"Are you hungry?" he asks me, taking me out of my thoughts.

"No," I answer bitterly. Actually, I was starving, but I am just not in the mood for him right now.

He sighs. "Corinne, if you're just going to act like this, then why don't I just take you home?"

"Acting like what?" I cross my arms over my chest. "Acting like I haven't forgot what happened between us three months ago?" I glance over at the side of the road. We're at least a few miles outside Paris. "Stop the car."

"What, are you crazy?!"

Yes. "Stop the car now."

He does so, and I immediately jump out of it, thanking God I have my sneakers on. Louis gasps a little before chasing after me. "Where are you going?"

I don't stop walking away from his as I say, "Anywhere but here,"

He runs up to me and grabs my wrist. "No, please, talk to me about this!"

I look at him in disgust. "Talk to you? After you wouldn't talk to me?"

He looks at me, confused. "What are you-?"

I cut him off. "Oh, don't act like you don't know. That night when we broke up, I wanted answers, I wanted to know why you would do this to me, but, no, I'm just a lowly commoner! I don't need answers!" I suddenly notice the rain clouds above us, and I know there will be a storm soon.

Louis lets out a breath, but his hand does not let go of mine. "Corinne, please, let me explain all of this to you."

I scowl and shake my head. "I think we're past that point already." I suddenly twist my wrist and pull it out of his grasp, and I run across the street into a small clearing of trees. I know he can still see me, but I don't care. I fall to my hands and knees and let the tears fall. I want to hate him. I want to hate him so badly. But I can't.

I stay in that position for a few minutes before I hear a rustling of leaves. At that point, I wished it was a wild animal that had come to take my life. Sadly, it wasn't. Louis sat down at a respectable distance between us and looked up at the sky. He was silent for a few minutes but spoke to soon.

"Do you remember when we would sneak out of the palace and sit out here until the sun rose?" he asks me.

I don't answer, but I do remember. How could I forget? It was some of the best fun I had with him.

He laughs a little. "And do you remember when we would take a few bottles of alcohol from storage and lock the doors of my room, and then get drunk, facing the hangover together?"

I remember that too. As it turns out, he's a lot more tolerant of alcohol than I am, a gift I will always envy him for.

"Remember when we would go into old restaurants and tip the waiter a hundred Euros for a late night snack?"

I almost smile. Of course I remember. He called it giving money to the less fortunate, but I know he just didn't like have that kind of money on him. I gasp. I need these stories to stop. I should just tell him to leave, but I know exactly where it leads because I just go around and around each time.

I need him back.

But I can't have him.

I start to cry again, but this time I scoot over to him. He wraps an arm around me. "Why don't I take you back to your place, and we can talk there."

I nod, and he lifts up my chin to meet his eyes. His James Dean daydream eyes. I notice them stare down at my lips, and then I realize again something I forgot about him. He always loved my red lips. He said they were classic and looked good on me. So corny yet sweet.

We slowly walk towards the Ferrari, and this time I take the front seat. We drive in awkward silence, me directing him where to go since he couldn't remember. When he glances at me, I shift uncomfortably in this seat. I've never felt this awkward with him, not even when we first met and that was awkward.

I can tell he wants to speak, and part of me wants him to. But I don't either. I don't want to know why he broke up with me. Yeah, I know I'm not perfect. I know I'm not the epitome of patience and kindness… or pretty much anything unless you count fighting. But I loved him, and he loved me, so I would think that my flaws wouldn't get in the way of that. But of course they did. He needs someone by his side that is perfect. Someone who doesn't drink until intoxication or someone who doesn't throw a book in their face when they're angry.

Fairly soon, we pull up to my apartment complex, and I get out of the car. Louis gets out right after and follows me up the stairs. I moved out of Viveca's place when the other girls did, and then Mia went to boarding school a couple months ago, so I've been living alone ever since. I never realized how quiet everything could be.

We reach my apartment door, and I take out my keys, unlocking the door. I walk in and try to turn on the lights, but it doesn't work. "Dammit, the power must've turned off with the storm."

Louis smiles and brushes past me, taking off his coat and making himself comfortable on my couch. "Remember when the power went off in the palace, and when they couldn't find the generators, so we just walked around in the dark, scaring everyone we could."

I laugh slightly, joining him on the couch. "That probably wasn't the best idea considering they could've shot us."

I pull one leg up under me and set my elbow on the arm of the couch. It thunders, and I jump like a scared cat. I don't like to admit this people, but I am afraid of storms. But Louis knows this about me.

He sets a hand on my knee and turns my chin toward his. "Hey, it's just thunder."

I look at his hand, which is under my jaw, awkwardly, and he releases me. "You said you wanted to talk?"

He nods slowly, and I can just see the silhouette of his face. "I didn't want to break up with you that night," he blurts out.

I stare at him confusedly. "Then why did you?"

Louis takes a deep breath and takes my hand into his own. "I thought it would be best for you. I didn't want to condemn you to this life."

"Why not just let me decide that!" I shoot up out of my seat and start pacing. "Do you realize just how much you've hurt me?!"

He stands up and sets a hand on my shoulder. "I know, and I'm so sorry, Corinne. I never meant to hurt you." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. "I was stupid. I thought you would have been better off without me. But now I realize I don't want you to be with anyone but me."

I let out a little sob and move closer to him. I say, "I heard that you've been out and about with some other girl." Some other girl.

He says, "What you heard is true, but I can't stop thinking about you and I."

I say, "I've been there too a few times."

And then suddenly lightning strikes, and I jump into his arms. I look into his eyes and see what should be mine. Those are my eyes. I grip his back and close the distance between our lips. He immediately kisses me back. I run my hands up his back and he caresses my arms before he pulls away.

"I never stopped loving you," he says quickly, breathing heavily.

"Neither have I,"

Louis kisses me again, this time harder than the last. He suddenly pulls away again, and I'm about to object before he pulls off his shirt and kisses me again. My chest pressed against his, I let my hands find their way up to his face. His hands grip my waist of my tight, little skirt, and I rake my hand through his slicked back, long hair, missing the feeling of it.

I miss the feeling of this. The feeling of being with him. And now I know what I have to do.

I pull away from the kiss. "Take me home," I whisper.

"What?"

"Just take me home… back to the palace."

He smiles and kisses me again before grabbing his leather jacket and dragging me out of my apartment and into the rain.

Yeah, just take me home, oh!

Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye.

And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like.

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time.

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!

And as we ride back to the Élysée Palace in our Ferrari, I can't help but feel like my entire life is some cheesy Taylor Swift song.

(A/N: Hey, guys! How are you doing? I'm fine and dandy. So, anyway, this is a songfic based off Style by Taylor Swift. I used to not like this song (because I literally thought it was about clothes), but now that I've really listened to it, I've understood the deeper meaning to it all. I tried to create all the aspects of the lyrics and some of the video, but that was actually pretty hard to do, so I'm proud of myself. And, gosh, I love James Dean.

The next songfic will be Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding, which I'm super excited about, and you'll see why soon! But first I have another fic (not songfic) coming soon. It'll be kind of depressing and more for adult audiences because of content but can be read by teens if you can handle the triggers.

Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think about this and my other ideas if you have time to review. I'll try to update my profile with up-to-date upcoming stories here soon! And if you have any oneshot ideas for me to write, whether it be a songfic or not, go ahead and say, and I'll see what I can do!

Sincerely,

Weatherbug02)